#the question was literally why would he BOTHER but it turns out that the then-current 5th talon is Threatened (tm) by him

[inquisimer]

I don't normally outline for oneshots but there were some glaring holes in this Arlow & Viago origin story so I was doing like a free-write sort of brainstorming

she certainly knows of the Crows - maybe asks him, are you a Crow? “Yes. Do you know what that means?” She nodded. “Are you going to kill me?” So matter of fact, seemingly unafraid except he saw the tremble of fear in her wide eyes. “Is there anyone with a lot of gold who would want you dead?” She thought for a moment. “The dockmaster, maybe.” Viago laughed. “He could not afford me. You are safe, parajito, for tonight. As for tomorrow…”

I just love them so much 😭❤���😭❤️ and this did help me flesh out why on earth Viago would all but adopt a small child so 🙏

[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[stevie-petey]

episode three: holly, jolly

Jonathan, your Jonathan, would never do this.  He tries to approach you again but you find yourself stumbling back, knocking against Steve’s chest. Hurt flashes in his eyes, you’ve never flinched at Jonathan’s touch, but what he did has changed everything.  Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.”  He begins tearing up the pictures, and you can’t believe Jonathan of all people is making you agree with Harrington, yet here you are.

summary: you and jonathan talk it out and things are better (spoiler alert: they aren't), you somehow end up agreeing with steve harrington ?? then you have a minor breakdown in front of the kids and once again fail to prevent them from experiencing more trauma.

rating: general, slight cursing.

warnings: cursing, use of the word “slut”, fem!reader, use of y/n, and description of a dead body. this chapter is pure angst, steve is steve, jonathan is jonathan, and... well. we know how this episode ends.

words: 6.2k

before you swing in: hello ! i'm currently in the early stages of chapter 5, and it's a loooong chapter, so i figured i'd treat y'all to this one before taking my time with updating. this chapter was a bit difficult in terms of bug and jonathan, but i promise that they'll have more time later to really figure out why they keep clashing - for better or for worse lol. if their relationship feels stilted: that's why ! after all, season 1 is literally titled: we don't talk about it or have the time. the title has immense meaning for the overall tone of season 1 (and the song for the series shhh). anyways, enjoy <3

-

The next day you bike to school alone, not bothering to see if Jonathan’s car will pick you up as usual. 

The two of you have never fought before, at least not like this. From the moment you met him when you were twelve, there has never been a time where the two of you haven’t been on the same page. You’ve been in sync from the moment you met. 

Now it feels like everything is off between the two of you. It feels as if the tiny planet you live on is now off kilter, angled ever so slightly now, rotating out of sync. The change is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. You can feel it. 

Last night just proved that there’s something wrong with your relationship with Jonathan, but you can’t figure out what.

Jonathan has never yelled at you before, and you’ve never turned your back on him; then again, he’s also never kept anything from you. While he didn’t admit it last night, you know him. He was hiding something from you last night and it frightens you that he seems too ashamed to tell you what it is. 

You trust him, you do, but the guilt you saw in his eyes makes you uneasy. 

As you walk the school hallway towards your locker, you overhear some girls from your English class talking about Steve and Nancy. You normally wouldn’t eavesdrop on such a conversation, but the girls were talking obnoxiously loud and by the tone of their voice, they weren’t being kind about what they were saying. 

“I heard Harrington got little Miss Wheeler to sleep with him.” One of the girls giggles, looking around to make sure no one is listening.  

“What a slut!” Her friend sneers.

You clear your throat loudly, making sure they hear it, and send a glare their way. “Well, aren’t you guys just peachy?” 

The girls lower their eyes and shift uncomfortably, which pleases you. Good. They should feel bad. What does it matter if Nancy slept with Harrington? It’s always the girls who get labeled the slut, never the man who has slept with more girls than classes he’s passed. 

Typical. 

You roll your eyes at them and continue towards your locker, spotting the couple in question up ahead. Your locker is a few down from Nancy’s and usually you’ve been able to avoid their gross lovey-dovey sessions in the mornings since Jonathan is always running late, but since you didn’t ride with him, you’re forced to deal with two hormonal teens who you don’t necessarily like. 

“Hey, Henderson!” 

Steve stops you as you walk past, causing you to look up in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“How’s Byers doing? Ya know, with everything going on?”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what the punchline is supposed to be. Steve may not be a massive dick, but he’s still a dick, and you can’t imagine he’d ever ask about Jonathan given the fact that he can’t even remember Will’s name. 

“He’s… dealing.” You say, uncomfortable with the entire conversation. 

Steve nods, letting out a slight hum. “Well, tell your guy that any friend of Henderson’s is a friend of mine.” He sends a wink Nancy’s way, and it’s then that you figure out what he’s doing. He’s playing the nice guy card, trying to impress her with his “generosity”, and you’ve had enough of idiotic and emotionally constipated men these last 24 hours. 

“Funny, I don’t tell my friends to get fucked, yet here we are: get fucked, Harrington.” Steve’s eyes widen at your words, taken aback, and Nancy goes to say something but you cut her off. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Nancy. Why don’t you ask him why everyone’s staring at you? I’m sure it’ll be a thrilling conversation.”

You shove past the two of them and make your way to class. 

– 

You don’t see Jonathan for your next three classes, which only makes your shitty day worse. Not only have you guys never fought before, but you’ve never done the silent treatment either. As far as you can tell, there’s no reason for him not to be in class today besides your fight the night before. 

When it’s your lunch hour you try to find him, because at this point you just want to put it all behind you and move on to focus on Will. You never got the chance to tell Jonathan about El last night, you hadn’t had the time to before things blew up. 

You wait at your usual corner of the lunchroom for Jonathan, but he never appears. You sigh in defeat and pick at your meal, which honestly looks more like prison food than anything else, trying to figure out what you should do next. 

While you’re thinking, Carol’s obnoxious moans carry through the lunchroom. “Oh, Steve! Steeeve!”

Tommy joins in now, banging the table to get a bigger reaction. You see Steve trying not to smile at their antics, but it’s obvious to everyone how uncomfortable Nancy is. You feel pity for her, she deserves better than Harrington and his immature friends. Then again, you suppose she chose this for herself the second she started dating him. 

King Steve has never hidden who he is. 

You watch as Steve says something to appease her, but something catches Nancy’s eye and she turns to face it. Curious, you turn as well and spot Jonathan staring right back at her. They share a look, one that you can’t decipher, and you feel something twist within your stomach. 

It’s not jealousy, at least, not in that way. Jonathan is your only real friend in Hawkins (the kids don’t count, you recognize how embarrassing that is), and you’ve never had to share him before. Clearly Nancy has taken an interest in him of some sort and Jonathan, being ever the private person, has allowed her to, so you just have to swallow down your pride and accept it. 

Besides, you did always tell Jonathan that the two of you needed more friends. 

Taking a deep breath to will your nerves away, you ditch your lunch and follow after Jonathan. Screw whatever silent treatment is in place, he’s your best friend and you honestly don’t think it’s possible for you to ever be angry at him. It just isn’t in your nature. 

For better or for worse, you could never hate Jonathan Byers. 

You catch Jonathan as he’s leaving the photo developing room. He’s holding some pictures in his hands but quickly hides them away when he sees you. 

“Y/N, hi.” 

You ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you that something’s wrong, that he’s still acting weird with you, but you ignore it because you just want some normalcy in your life. You need your best friend. “Hey,”

“Look, I’m so sorry for what I said last night…” 

You brush him off, “It’s okay, I promise.”

Jonathan huffs at you, exasperated as always whenever you let people get away with things that they shouldn’t. “No, it’s not okay. You’ve been nothing short of amazing and I was the dick who yelled at you for it.” 

The two of you are walking out of the school as you talk, and you let out a weak laugh. “I guess you were pretty awful, huh?”

He doesn’t laugh along with you, instead shaking his head in shame. “You didn’t deserve that, not after all you’ve done for me and my mom. I was lying through my teeth last night, you are family, Y/N.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s genuinely okay-” 

“Bug, I was a dick. End of discussion. I just… sometimes it feels like I don’t deserve your help, you do so much for us. I let it get to me last night, and I’ll never stop apologizing for it.”

You don’t know what to say, caught off guard by the vulnerability. “Just… don’t do that again, alright? If something is bothering you I’d rather you tell me about it than take your frustration out on me.”

“Deal.”

“Anything else on your mind?” 

Jonathan thinks for a moment and you can tell he’s trying to word whatever is on his mind correctly. “While I know you’ve always loved to help, there’s some things that I have to do on my own, okay? Will, my mom… they’re my responsibility, not yours. I mean, not in a bad way-” 

“Hey, I understand. I need to back off a bit, I recognize that now. I’m sorry, bee.” You kick at a rock in the parking lot, “so we’ve got ourselves a deal?” 

The boy gives you a quizzical look and you laugh at him, extending your hand. When he grabs it, you turn the hold into a handshake. “I’ll calm down my fretting antics and you’ll come to me about whatever is on your mind, no matter what; we don’t hide anything from each other.”

The slight smile Jonathan briefly had on his face vanishes. He pales slightly and quickly releases your hand. “Right.” 

You eye him. “Bee, what aren’t you telling me?”

Caught up in conversation, you and Jonathan don’t see Steve and his gang resting against his car until it’s too late. 

“Hey, man.” Steve approaches, effectively ending your conversation with Jonathan. He glances at you. “Henderson, good to see you again.” 

“I highly doubt it.” 

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asks, putting himself between you and Steve. 

“Nicole here was telling us about your work.”  

Confused, you look at Jonathan. “What, did you start another photo series or something?” 

Steve laughs coldly. “You could say that.” 

Jonathan ignores him and pulls you close behind him, ducking his head down to whisper into your ear, “it’s not what it looks like, trust me.” 

“Bee, what-”

“Henderson, want to take a look with us as, you know, connoisseurs of art?” 

You look at Steve now, more confused than ever, but you feel a slight sense of dread. You know that whatever photo he’s about to pull out will be bad. You know it’ll be connected to Jonathan’s behavior last night, to the guilt he’s been carrying, to the way he hid the same pictures from you not even ten minutes ago. 

You look back to Jonathan now, silently pleading with him for more of an explanation, but he averts his eyes. Exhaling deeply, you face Steve. “Show me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jonathan says, trying to walk away, but Tommy grabs at his backpack. 

“Hey!” You run up to Tommy and start pulling at the bag, but the guy is twice your size and easily wins, accidentally flinging you to the ground. 

Jonathan runs over to check on you. “Y/N!”

At the same time, Steve berates his friend. “Woah, Tommy, easy man! Henderson isn’t who we’re here for, leave her out of this.” 

Both boys crouch next to you and offer you a hand, but you bat them away. You’re irritated and confused and pissed the fuck off at both of them right now for vastly different reasons. You pick yourself up and brush away some dirt that got on your jeans. “Show me the photos, Jonathan.” 

He looks at you, hurt. “Do you not trust me?” 

“Do you trust me?” Your words hang in the air.

Steve is now right behind you. “Oh man he’s like, totally trembling. He must really have something to hide.” 

Jonathan tries to step closer to you, but Steve is now the one who blocks him. You watch silently as he unzips Jonathan’s bag and pulls out the photos, ignoring the pleading look that your friend sends your way. You trust Jonathan more than anyone else in this world, but something doesn’t feel right. 

The photos are tame at first, though admittedly creepy. They’re all still shots of Steve and his friends from the night before, you recognize the famous pool that the whole school talks about when it comes to Harrington’s parties. 

“Your boyfriend is a creep, Y/N.” Steve says, nudging you with his shoulder as he continues to flick through the pictures. 

“He isn’t my-” 

“I was looking for my brother.”

Jonathan’s words make you freeze. “You went looking for Will without me?” 

Steve says something else, but you don’t catch it. You stare at Jonathan, hurt that he’d search for Will without even telling you first. He’s his brother, you understand that, but what would you do if Jonathan went missing too?

Nancy then appears, causing Jonathan to finally look up to catch your eye, but he quickly looks away. “Here’s the starring lady!”

She laughs nervously. “What?”

Carol explains what was going on, and you’re too upset to speak. There’s too many thoughts going through your mind, but when Carol flashes you a picture of Nancy, naked, it takes everything in you not to throw up. 

Jonathan, your Jonathan, would never do this. 

He tries to approach you again but you find yourself stumbling back, knocking against Steve’s chest. Hurt flashes in his eyes, you’ve never flinched at Jonathan’s touch, but what he did has changed everything. 

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” 

He begins tearing up the pictures, and you can’t believe Jonathan of all people is making you agree with Harrington, yet here you are. 

Nancy is his girlfriend, and even outside of that, Jonathan had no right taking pictures of her naked without her consent. You agree with Steve’s actions, but then the camera comes into play. He reaches for Jonathan’s camera, causing him to dive forward to stop anything from happening to it, and it’s finally what breaks you from your shock. 

You react as well, shoving past Steve to try and get to the camera first, but it’s no use. He beats you to it, Carol now holding you back as she digs her claws into your skin. Jonathan is being held back by Tommy, and all the two of you can do is watch helplessly as Steve dangles the camera high in the air. 

What Jonathan did was wrong, there’s no denying that, but you know how long it took him to save up for the thing. How many awful shifts he picked up at the theater to pay for it, adamantly refusing any money both you and Joyce offered him to help pay for it. 

This camera was his and his alone. Paid for with his own money, bought for his own enjoyment, his pride and joy. 

“Here you go, man.” Without even hesitating, Steve lets the camera fall to the ground. 

You gasp, watching as the lens shatters and you crouch down to try and piece it back together. Your hands are shaking, you don’t know what to feel right now, but with how badly your hands shake, it’s no use trying to fix the camera; you need something to distract yourself with. 

Jonathan and Nancy join you on the ground, but you’re too overwhelmed to really notice them. The combination of emotions leaves you wondering if you’re about to cry, throw up, or both. It’s only when Nancy begins snatching up the torn pictures that you acknowledge her presence. 

You grab her hand and catch her eye, “I’m so, so sorry.”

She doesn’t respond, only giving you a slightly confused look, and you recognize how stupid it is that you feel the need to apologize for Jonathan’s actions. You aren’t his keeper, and until now you never even considered he’d do something like this, and yet the guilt creeps in. You open your mouth to say something else, but Steve calls her over to join them and she leaves. 

Jonathan is still next to you, remaining silent even after Nancy’s departure. You can feel his eyes on you as you continue to fumble with the broken camera pieces as a gust of wind blows away the remaining photo shreds. 

“Shit!” A shard of glass from the lens cuts your finger, drawing blood. 

“Bug, let me-” Jonathan grabs at your hand to inspect the cut, but you pull away harshly. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Y/N…” The hurt look on his face is almost enough to make you crack, but the blood drips from your finger and falls onto a picture that somehow didn’t blow away. You look at it, seeing the outline of Nancy’s back in the photo, her beautiful side profile perfectly captured. 

The urge to throw up returns. 

“You’re hurt, let me look at it.” Jonathan pleads, his voice soft, with more empathy than he’s ever shown you these last few days. It’s as if last night never happened. As if you’re some idiot who is always ready and willing to come crawling back to those who discard you whenever they please. 

In a way, you suppose that you are. 

You hate it. 

Jonathan tries to grab your hand again but you stand up before he can. “I said don’t touch me.” 

He tries to grab you once more but again you pull away. Your brain is a mess right now trying to comprehend everything that happened within the last fifteen minutes. You look down at the broken camera pieces still laying on the ground, its glass reflecting in the late afternoon light. 

Those photos of Nancy… 

God, you’re an idiot. 

“Nancy is the reason you were such an asshole to me last night, isn’t she?”

“Y/N, those photos-”

“You knew that the second I looked at you I’d know you’d done something terrible.”

Jonathan is silent beside you, but you don’t need to hear whatever excuse he’ll give you to know that you’re right. Instead of telling you what he did last night, he kicked you out of his home in a guilt-crazed daze, saying horrible things to you that he can never take back. 

Instead of being honest with you, he had been a goddamn coward who hurt you in the cruelest way possible. 

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, you know I’ve never been able to lie to you-”

“So naturally you resorted to screaming at me and saying we aren’t family-”

“I regret what I said, but how was I supposed to tell you about the photos if I don’t even know why I took them in the first place?” 

You start pacing around the parking lot, too overwhelmed to stay put. Jonathan’s words only confuse and upset you more. In the midst of your frantic pacing the cut on your finger begins to bleed more, which causes you to wince and catch Jonathan’s attention.

“Bug, you’re in pain,” his voice is gentle now, the worried crease between his brows now prominent in a way that you’ve always found cute. “I’m not just going to stand around while you’re hurt. Let me help.” 

Unfortunately for Jonathan, his words only piss you off more. 

“You’re not just going to stand around while I’m hurt? That’s fucking rich coming from you, Jonathan.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This entire week I’ve been hurting! I mean,” you let out a laugh laced with tears threatening to spill out. “I lost Will too, did you ever consider that? And I understand he’s your brother and I would lose my mind if anything ever happened to Dustin, but I’ve done nothing but love and support you through this shit show and you haven’t even asked how I’m holding up. I mean, what kind of best friend does that?”

Shame washes over Jonathan. “I didn’t think-” 

“I’ve been exhausting myself trying to help and not once have I considered it a burden because I’m doing this for Will, for you. I’m doing what any decent person is supposed to do, and I’m not asking for praise or-or for a reward but holy fuck, Jonathan! I mean, I understand now that maybe I was bit too much but,”

You’re yelling at him now, all the frustration you’ve been swallowing down these last few days now spills out. “At least treat me like a human being! I mean, the stunt you pulled last night was such bullshit and I was ready to excuse your actions because you’re my best friend and you’re hurting, but then you hide those damn photos from me? Scream at me like I’m some pathetic fucking child because you’re too ashamed of your own actions? We don’t lie to each other.”

Jonathan steps towards you and it isn’t until he’s cradling your head in his hands to wipe away your tears do you realize you’re crying. He’s so tender, gently wiping the tears as they fall, and you feel weak against him, closing your eyes as you soak up the affection. 

“Bug…” His voice cracks, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your eyes now. “You went looking for Will without me… did you even think about what your mom would do if you disappeared too? What I would do if you disappeared?”

“I…”

“And Nancy…” you pull away so that he’s no longer touching you. “That was a line I never thought you would cross. And to lie to me about it, I just… why?”

Jonathan shakes his head, a few tears of his own now beginning to fall. “I don’t know.” 

There’s nothing else you can say; you’ve drained all your energy. A headache is beginning to form and with the parking lot clearing out, indicating the end of the school day, you know you need to leave for work soon. 

Normally when you look at Jonathan, you feel a sense of security, but now all you feel is dread. His shoulders are hunched, the bags under his eyes darker than ever, and at this moment you’re not sure you know who he is anymore. It terrifies the shit out of you. 

“I should go,” you wipe your nose with your sleeve, side stepping Jonathan as you start walking towards the bike stand. 

“You’re leaving?” There’s fear in his voice, and you can hear the undertones of are you leaving me, too?

“I have to work tonight, so I need to-” 

“Let me drive you then, it’s cold and-and we can talk more about this-”

He follows you to your bike and you feel such pity for him. You know he’s right about needing to talk more, but all you want right now is to crawl into bed and pretend that this whole week has been a dream. A horrible, awful dream. 

You offer Jonathan your hand, the cut on your finger no longer bleeding, and intertwine your fingers with his. “I want to be alone right now, okay? Please, just give me some time.” 

He wants to argue with you, you can see it in his eyes, but just like you know him better than anyone else, he knows you just as well. He knows there’s no use trying to change your mind when you get like this; when the feelings become too much and solitude is your only solution. It's happened before in the past, but never with him. 

All he can do is wait for you to come back when you're ready. 

“Okay, I can do that.” 

You squeeze his hand, like you always do, before you let go and bike away. 

He watches as you leave. 

– 

Tonight’s shift is another slow one, which you’re grateful for. 

It was just last week that Jonathan had been driving you, Will, and Dustin to school. You’d been singing some song on the radio and the November air had a slight nostalgia of August warmth. Will and Dustin complained about your singing as you wailed on, Jonathan eventually joining in so that the two younger boys could only cover their ears with their hands and groan in annoyance. 

Now Will is gone, taking the August warmth with him and leaving behind only November cold that leaves your bones feeling raw. 

The laughter is gone, and now you’re afraid that your best friend is gone as well. 

You come home to an empty house, a note on the kitchen counter informing you that your mother is at her knitting club and that Dustin is off with his friends. 

Wonderful. Your brother has once again gone off on some adventure without informing you first. What a lovely addition to your already horrible day. 

You call the Wheeler’s first, hoping that maybe you don’t have to bike around the entire town to find the little shit, but like always: you’re mistaken. 

“I’m sorry, but the boys went out biking right after school.” 

“Oh, lovely then. Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler, have a good night.” 

“You too, dear!”

As soon as you hang up, you allow yourself a moment to just scream. The headache that formed during your fight with Jonathan hasn’t left, you’re tired, you have so much homework that you’re too afraid to even look at, and you still have no idea who El is or what she really knows about Will. 

And now you have to bike all around Hawkins to find said girl, because there’s no way the morons have listened to your orders to stay put with her. 

You check Lucas’ house first, but Erica tells you that they aren’t there and requests that you inform Lucas that her lying fee has been raised to $5. 

“That’s a bit steep, don’t you think?”

“Do you wanna pay?”

“Good point, have a good night then Erica.”

You then search around the middle school, but there’s no sign of them anywhere. After another thirty minutes of nothing, you finally give in to your hunch and bike to the Byers. You’re not sure if Jonathan will be home, but your idiot brother may need you, so you just have to suck it up and check. 

Ultimately you’re glad you do, because as you ride up the driveway you see the boys circling around El. 

“Why did you bring us here?” 

“I have a better question Mike, why did you bring us here?” None of the kids had noticed your arrival, so they all jump at your voice. 

Dustin’s face goes pale. “Y/N! What-what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you little assholes for an hour now,” you park your bike and step closer to the kids. “Why do you never listen to me when I tell you guys to keep me updated, huh? Do I have a giant sign on my head that says ‘hey, ignore me and treat me like utter shit!’, is that it?” 

No one responds, too stunned by your words. You never cuss at them, and apart from last night, they don’t think they’ve ever seen you so angry before. 

“I’m just so sick and tired of people treating me like I’m some throwaway toy, just casting me aside and forgetting about me until it’s convenient. I have feelings too, isn’t that a wild concept? I mean, who knew Y/N Henderson had any real emotions behind her pathetic need to help everyone around her!” 

Dustin can hear the hurt in your voice and knows that this isn’t just about them sneaking off. You’re upset about something else, someone hurt you and he needs to know who, so he softly asks, “Y/N, what happened?” 

You spin around to face him. “Nothing! That’s what happened! None of you told me anything, everyone has just decided to keep me out of the loop because god forbid I deserve any honesty after years of being there for you guys-”

“Okay, this is definitely about Jonathan then.” Lucas mumbles, which Mike nods in agreement to. 

“This is not about Jonathan-” The sound of sirens cuts you off. 

Everyone freezes, and your heart stops. This is Hawkins, where nothing ever happens; cops don’t just go flying down the street late at night. 

You know, even before you can fully comprehend how, that it’s Will. You can feel it; the sirens are for him, the precious boy you’ve come to love like your own brother. 

Then, to confirm your fears, an ambulance follows behind the line of cop cars, and you feel your entire world shatter.  

“Will…” Mike exhales, and the second the name leaves his lips everyone scrambles for their bikes to follow the cars. 

You know you shouldn’t, you know this won’t end well, but it’s Will. Maybe he’s alive, maybe he simply got lost in the woods and has been wandering around the last three days or so. There’s so many other possibilities, an endless array of explanations, and yet…

Your legs feel heavy as you pedal after the kids. You know that, no matter what you guys end up finding, that nothing will ever be the same again. As you follow, the route you take begins to look familiar, back when you and Jonathan would spend your summers exploring the forest and its surroundings. 

The quarry. 

Suddenly you can’t breathe. “I… I can’t-” 

“Y/N, we have to see if it’s Will!” Dustin calls behind him, too eager to realize exactly where you guys are going. 

If you could just warn them, maybe speed up to block their paths, you could convince them to turn around, but it’s too late. The five of you arrive at the quarry’s edge and toss your bikes behind the fire truck. You see the firemen in the water, sloshing around for something, and you realize what they’re doing a second too late.

Immediately you begin to pull the kids away, not wanting them to see what you desperately hope you’re wrong about, but you’re too late. “Guys, get away from the truck, we shouldn’t be here-”

You’re always too fucking late. 

“Please, we need to leave,” your voice shakes as you try to shield the kids from the sight of Will’s body being pulled from the water.

Mike pulls away from you. “No, it’s not Will. It can’t be.” 

“Mike…” 

The firemen lift the raft up higher and the light lands on Will’s lifeless body, and you feel a piece of you die. He’s always been the smallest of the boys, but as the men lift his dead body out of the water, he’s never looked so small. Will is gone; he’s taken all the light with him. 

Dustin reaches for your hand and is the first to start crying. You pull him into your chest as he sobs. Lucas looks over at you, a silent acceptance in his eyes. “It’s Will. It’s really Will.” 

You grab the boy and pull him into you as well, the two of them now crying as you hold them. All you can do right is hold your boys, staring off into space as you feel them shake with grief against you. This isn’t real. 

From the corner of your eye you see El approaching Mike, and you’re too numb to warn her against it. “Mike…” 

“‘Mike’? ‘Mike,’ what?” He slaps her hand away, which causes you to become alert. He’s hurting, you know Mike loved Will more than anyone else, but he’ll only hurt himself more if he pushes everyone away. 

“Mike, I know you’re upset-” 

He faces you, a betrayed look in his eyes. “Upset? She was supposed to help us find him alive. She said he was alive!” he turns to El now, “why did you lie to us? What’s wrong with you?”

As he yells at the girl you hear his own tears beginning to form, and as you hold his friends, you lean closer to Mike and use your other hand to console him, but he begins to run away. 

Dustin and Lucas watch helplessly as their friend leaves, you all call after him but are ignored. They beg him to stay, too scared to be separated once more now that Will is gone, but Mike doesn’t listen. He grabs his bike, leaving you and the boys alone with El. 

She looks at you, tears in her eyes and a pleading look on her face. She’s looking to you for reassurance, to console her and tell her that everything will be okay with Mike, that he’ll forgive her, but you can’t. 

You also feel betrayed by the girl. You don’t think she was lying, in a sense, but then how can she explain Will’s dead body 50 feet away? El promised you and the boys that Will was alive, but he’s not. 

Tears start to fall down her face. “Y/N?”

You’re sure that when you look back on this moment later, you will have wished that you had done something braver, something more kind to the terrified girl, but you don’t. Instead of wrapping her into your arms alongside Lucas and Dustin, you give El a curt shake of your head, dismissing her. 

It hurts to watch her leave, and you’re ashamed of yourself, but then Dustin lets out another sob while Lucas tightens his hold around you, and you know that you’ve made the right choice for now. You don’t know El or her intentions, but her actions have hurt the people you love the most, and right now you have to put them first. 

You let the boys cry, barely registering anything else. 

– 

Later, much later, after getting Lucas home and tucking Dustin into bed, you finally allow yourself to grieve. You lay in your bed, staring at the framed drawing on your desk that Will had made you for your birthday this year. It was a sweet gift, having drawn you as a princess in one of their DnD campaigns with your sword and shield. Jonathan stands next to you in the picture, holding his own sword and wearing a crown, while Will and the boys are next to him, dressed in their own armor. 

In the picture the six of you are facing a dragon, but there’s a smile on all of your faces as you fight the creature together. You, Jonathan, and your boys; together, there’s nothing that you guys cannot defeat.

It’s your favorite drawing of Will’s. 

And now it’s your last drawing from him. 

The tears come slowly at first, then all at once. You find yourself hunched over, letting out anguished sobs as you mourn for the boy, for Jonathan and Joyce, for your brother and his friends. You mourn for the Byers losing a child, a brother. You mourn for your brother’s now tainted childhood. He’s too young, they all are too young to be experiencing such a loss. 

Will was too young. 

You cry until there’s nothing left within you, and yet the sobs still wrack against your body long after the tears have dried up. It’s a pain like no else. 

Then, as you’re finally beginning to calm down, you hear a knock at your window. 

You get up and fling your curtain open to find Jonathan on the other side. 

Neither of you say anything as you open the window and let him in. Once he’s inside the two of you face each other, unmoving and silent for what feels like years. There’s still a tension there from earlier, though this afternoon feels like decades ago. Jonathan stares at you, a guarded and unsure look on his face, as though he’s afraid that if he breaks in front of you that you’ll push him away. 

Instead, you surprise him by throwing yourself against his chest and into his arms. 

You’re not sure who begins to cry first, but it doesn’t matter. His cries only make you cry harder, having never seen your best friend this heartbroken before, and it’s all so fucking unfair. He doesn’t deserve this, no one does, but especially not Jonathan. He loved his brother so much, with such an intensity that rivaled your own love for Dustin. 

Jonathan pulls away a bit so that he can look at you; tears stream down his face. “He’s gone, bug.” 

“Bee,” you don’t know what more to say. What can you even say? While it feels like your heart has been ripped from your chest along with your bones, you know it only feels worse for Jonathan. No words could ever soothe that ache. 

“He’s gone,”

You grab at his jacket and gently guide him so that you sit on your bed. “Jonathan, look at me.” It takes some coaxing, but eventually he listens. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Your voice cracks at the end, your own grief getting in the way, but it’s all you can say right now. You’re not sure how else to phrase it, how else to tell him that even if everything and everyone else is gone, you’re still here. You’ll never, ever leave him, especially not when he needs you the most now. 

Despite the vague words, Jonathan nods, always able to understand you, and he rests his head against your shoulder as the two of you cry. Faintly you can hear Dustin’s cries through the wall, but you leave him alone. You know he needs to process this alone, just like you needed to, just like Jonathan had before coming here. 

Tomorrow you’ll comfort your brother, you’ll bake the cookies that Joyce loves, and tonight will pass. A day must always end. This day will end, and tomorrow will come. Then, you’ll face this together with everyone you love. 

For now, your best friend needs you, so you let him cry into your shoulder and you run your nails against his scalp and whisper soothing words. Fuck whatever is going on between the two of you. 

Will is dead. The best of you, the purest of you, is dead.

-

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[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. Enjoy reading. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

ONE THREE

TWO

You doze off during the rest of the car ride. When Jacob parks, you open your eyes and find yourself at the place where you spent the beginning of your life. Jacob has brought you near Sam's house, probably knowing that Uley would be upset if he wasn't one of the first to see you when you arrived in La Push.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam Uley says in the most concerned big brother tone you've ever heard. As soon as you got out of the car with Jacob, you expected to hear comments about your current state.

"So good to see that you're still the same. I'm fine, even though I'm in this chaotic state, in case you wanted to know how I am." You say, walking up to him and hugging him. Jacob stands silently right behind you.

"You let her get hurt?" Sam asks as he steps back from you. He's questioning Jacob, who seems bothered by Uley's questioning.

"She got hurt before I was with her. Not that I'm not used to being the guy who takes the blame for any mistake you find. But it makes me curious that even when I'm no longer part of your pack, I'm still the first one you want to blame." Jacob says, not moving a muscle, looking both irritated by Sam's question and satisfied with his response. Sam, on the other hand, looks quite annoyed by Black's comment.

"Look, as much as I love watching a good fight, I'm not in the mood for it right now. Can you both pretend to tolerate each other while I'm here?" You say, stepping between the two and looking especially at Jacob. He sighs and takes a few steps back.

"Emily is inside making tea for everyone. I'd like you to meet her." Sam says, turning his attention back to you. Your gaze shifts to Jacob, who seems calmer now. You all then walk towards Sam's house to go inside.

"Y/N, did you have to pass through a pack of vampires or something to get here?" Embry almost shouts, rushing towards you as soon as you enter the house. He hugs you so tightly that you almost lose your breath.

"She just got here and you want to bring up those topics, you idiot. No wonder she ran away from us." Paul says, smacking Embry's arm and coming towards you for a hug. You missed all this chaos.

"You definitely haven't changed at all. You two seem like two fools fighting to see who's the biggest fool. But I loved the welcome. Tell me, how's dealing with Black and Uley without me?" You say as you walk towards Quil to greet him. Quil laughs when he sees Black and Uley's reactions to your joke.

"Believe me, without you, we're lost." Quil whispers as he hugs you. You look at him, expecting to see him smile as if he's making a joke, but as you look at him, you're not sure if he's joking.

"We can't complain. Jacob left the pack and took two with him, which made the pack less chaotic. Who knows, maybe you, Y/N, can convince those two that their split in terms of the pack doesn't mean they're enemies." Jared says as he helps a woman make tea. She must be Emily.

"That's literally what it means." Sam and Jacob say in unison, and everyone in the room laughs as if they were kids. Of course, everyone except the two boneheads.

"Poor girl. Just got involved in some accident, and you guys are expecting her to solve an ego battle that's been going on for years. No wonder she ran away from you all. No offense, dear." Emily says as she sets the cups on the table and kisses Sam's cheek.

"Sorry for the rudeness. I walked into your house without even introducing myself. My name is Y/N." You say, greeting Emily. She smiles sweetly and shakes your hand.

"I'm Emily, and don't even worry about apologizing. This pack drives anyone crazy. But I don't need to tell you that. I hope you're here to stay with us." Emily speaks kindly as she serves tea for everyone. You look at her and then glance at Jacob.

"She's staying with me." Jacob speaks quickly, surprising everyone. Sam looks at you and then at Black, as if trying to understand what's happening.

"And it's almost like nothing has changed…" Embry tries to whisper. However, everyone hears him, and Emily looks confused.

"Don't you think Y/F/N would be disappointed in you for dishonoring his daughter even though you're in love with Swan?" Sam says, holding his tea cup, looking at Jacob as if he wanted to provoke a big commotion.

"Unlike you, I'm pretty clear about what I want and who I want. I don't deceive anyone or take advantage of feelings. Y/N and I have been friends for years, there's room in my house, so obviously she's staying with me." Jacob responds to Sam with a certain sharpness. The two clearly aren't able to interact with each other peacefully. You set your tea cup down on the table and step in between Jacob and Sam.

"Sam, I find it disrespectful for you to bring up the memory of my late father in such a ridiculous situation as this little spat with Jacob. Jacob, I think you owe everyone an apology for your behavior. Now, I hope you understand, but I'm going to go clear my head. If anyone follows me, it will be the last thing they do on this earth. Consider yourselves warned." You say and leave, without seeing anyone's reaction or caring about being rude. The truth is, you were waiting for a good excuse to go see Carlisle. You know Edward well. If you don't go get examined by his doctor father, he'll surely bother you. And you need to forget about him. Walking, you arrive in a short time at the spot that used to be the meeting point you and Edward used for your romantic encounters. You remember how you used to spend the whole night together, talking about the future.

"Miss Y/N, it's been a while. Would it be very vampiric of me to say that you've aged?" Carlisle speaks, obviously trying to show his humorous side. You smile a little as you approach him, carrying a medical bag that looks just like any common human doctor's.

"Mr. Cullen, you have youth on your side in many aspects, but not in the humor department. Would it surprise you to say that even though I'm older, people still treat me as if I have no choice?" You say, sitting on a tree trunk nearby. Carlisle begins to examine you.

"Edward has the best intentions in his actions, I can assure you. He still cares a lot about you." Carlisle speaks compassionately, as if genuinely justifying Edward's actions. You smile, thinking it's nice that they care for each other in this way.

"So, how am I?" You ask, changing the subject. Carlisle smiles a little as he finishes examining you.

"With superficial wounds on your face and arms. No signs of concussion or anything like that. But going to the hospital for an X-ray would be most appropriate." Carlisle says as he packs up his medical items.

"Thank you for the consultation, Dr. Carlisle. I'll take your recommendation seriously. And do me a favor, ask Edward to stay away from me." You say to Carlisle, who seems to know that you've noticed Edward hiding behind a tree not far from you.

"In my opinion, you two should at least have one last conversation. To finalize the relationship. But know that my family and I will always have regard for you. If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out." Carlisle says, looking kindly at you. Seconds later, he disappears. That must be one of the best parts of being a vampire.

"Do you think it's fair to come after me while you're committed to someone else?" You say loudly, making sure Edward hears and responds.

"I can't get you out of my mind. But I agree it's not fair. So far, my love for Bella has made me the kind of vampire I always wanted to be. And you know, it's an uncomplicated love. Sure, our situation is complicated because she's human, but the feeling has never been complicated. With you, it's like you're consuming me." Edward appears suddenly in front of you and declares this as if it were the best thing in the world.

"If I'm consuming you, why are you here? Go back to your beloved. Forget about me and do everyone a favor." You say, approaching Edward without realizing that you're almost face to face. You were immersed in old feelings when you let yourself get so close to him. His cold hands gently touch your face, pushing back the strands of hair that were in your face. He leans in, as if to kiss you. You feel that it's wrong, but you want it so much that it's like you're out of control. Before you realize it, your lips touch his. A gentle, slow kiss. As if you both wanted to savor every second of it. Or prolong the kiss because you know that this moment signifies many things. It signifies infidelity on Edward's part. Betrayal on yours. And it signifies that there are feelings between you.

[krispycreamcake]

If you killed someone in the Sakamaki household (part 2)

Laito Sakamaki

🃏- Ok so Laito might be the most complicated to explain so far, so bare with me I beg

🃏- He'd find it amusing that you managed to actually bring yourself to kill someone, especially a vampire

🃏- He'd use this person's death to teach you a thing or two about "discipline"

🃏- And to further dig into that, he'd basically use it as a way to show dominance over you

🃏- An example of this could be him slicing your neck enough to draw blood but not deep enough to kill you, while simultaneously feeding off of you

🃏- Seeing as he's the closest with Ayato, compared to the rest of his brothers, I don't think it'd bother him that much to be honest

🃏- He'd definitely be taken aback but like I said, find it somewhat entertaining

🃏- And remember that thing I said about him disciplining you?

🃏- He'd make sure you remember your place as prey

🃏- But internally, he'd wonder why you didn't kill him, which in turn would bring up a lot of unwanted questions

🃏- He'd question whether or not you actually might have feelings for him because of this seeing as that's the only possible outcome

🃏- On the opposite side of things, he might think that you murdered one of his brothers just to torment and spite him

🃏- And I say this because it's canon that he does crave death

🃏- So he might think that you're secretly torturing him, playing mind games

🃏- And if we go back a bit to him questioning if you really do have feelings for him

🃏- He'll think your pathetic or slow witted seeing as how he thinks he's "broken" and no longer can be his authentic self

🃏- He'll also consider the possibility that he might also be next and question your motives

🃏- He'd slowly come to dislike you because of this and other factors as well

🃏-For one, he'd wonder why this was bugging him so much and he'd try to force your motives out of you and your true intentions

🃏- This will have a domino effect which will then cascade into him reevaluating himself and thinking about how you both may be similar in a sense

🃏- Give me like a quick second to explain

🃏- By him feeling the need to "reveal" yourself and why you did what you did, he's then hit with the realization that he too hides behind a facade to trick others

🃏- In any case if he finds out you killing his brother is as simple as you being driven past insanity like he originally thought, he'll find himself a bit pathetic for delving into something so trivial as deep as he did

🃏- If it was maybe Ayato that you killed by chance, he'd be a bit devastated honestly

🃏- Him and Ayato are definitely close despite their hatred towards one another

🃏- Would probably lock himself in his room but knowing Laito, he'd pretend to be okay even if he wasn't

🃏- He'd feel as if Ayato was still yet to help him from back then and now he'll never have the opportunity to prove himself as the big brother he once knew

🃏- If you killed Yui, he probably wouldn't care as much

🃏- Like I said many times before, this is highly dependent on their current relationship with her

🃏- Like Ayato, he'd feel the need to punish you for taking away something that was his

🃏- If his and Yui's relationship was well developed, he'd go into a depressive slump and kill you out of blind rage

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸- Wouldn't care honestly

🧸- I know that's a strong start but let me explain

🧸- Kanato doesn't really hold any strong ties within his family seeing as he often isolates himself

🧸- Like everyone else, he'd question how in the world you managed to pull off such a feat

🧸- In a similar sense to Laito, he'll use this as an opportunity to remind you of your place and reinforce the whole predator and prey dynamic

🧸- He might even think you did it out of love

🧸- If that was the case, he'd be literally overjoyed and encourage you to kill the others like he did to Yui in one of his route endings

🧸- I can't honestly say he'd act any particular way if you killed a specific brother

🧸- Might ask you how you killed them and even ask you to see the body

🧸- Would be shocked if you were still somewhat sane after that

🧸- And I say that because he's one to be perceptive of others, but just doesn't voice it until he needs it as leverage

🧸- So if he noticed you were still mentally intact, he'd be glad because he loves you

🧸- I'm joking, that's not the reason

🧸- He'd be glad because this meant he gets to try breaking you, seeing as you can withstand killing in cold blood

🧸- He's also curious as to what exactly your limits are and try different things to cross your mental line

🧸- Would subtly give you hints on how to kill the rest of his brothers

🧸- Might also get an erection

🧸- Who honestly knows

🧸- Okay but in all seriousness, wouldn't care that much and would rather dive into YOUR mind and figure out what made your gears grind

🧸- Super sorry his was so short, he's just a nonchalant dreadhead 😞

Subaru Sakamaki

🥀- Surprised honestly

🥀- As much as he hates his brothers, he does still see them as his brothers no matter how annoying they are

🥀- Which in turn makes that more annoying

🥀- He'd definitely be the one to give the eulogy and tear up a bit, just a bit

🥀- If you killed out of self defense instead of just plain murder, he'd 100% understand and wouldn't even be mad

🥀- He'd ask you the whole runaround with why and how you did it

🥀- "Heh, you're a lot stronger than you let on"

🥀- He'd think a bit more highly of you and say you have more sense than a lot of the women who came here as sacrifices

🥀- Like Laito, wouldn't be able to wrap his head around why you didn't kill him

🥀- You'll probably have to explain why though if you ever want him to open up to you

🥀- Would get frustrated with you because you didn't choose to kill him despite him being a "monster"

🥀- Due to his relationship with Christa, he has a beyond fucked up interpretation of death

🥀- Would get a little jealous if he thinks you killed them out of love

🥀- He'd never show it though (he would)

🥀- Speaking of never showing things, if he was even a tiny bit sad that his brother died he'd try his best to hide it

🥀- Might criticize his brothers for not caring enough

🥀- And I say that only because the only other brothers left are siblings

🥀- So he'd kinda question how shallow they really were if they weren't even the slightest bit affected

🥀- Since we know Subaru's favourite brother is Shu, he'd honestly be sad if he was the one who died

🥀- He'd probably think about him from time to time and be the one brother who references to back when he was alive the most

🥀- The others would pick up on this but never say anything

🥀- Except for Reiji

🥀- If it was Yui, he'd be so upset

🥀- Since we all know how Subaru is

🥀- He'd never show it in case of being embarrassed by his brothers

🥀- Would be mad at you but to keep up his facade, he'd need to avoid you so it looks like he isn't affected

🥀- If he already had a bond with Yui, yes you guessed it

🥀- Death, death, death, you die. I cannot emphasize this more, you WILL die

From author: Firstly, sorry this one was kinda late, we didn't have wifi😓 Secondly, I loved this request and I know I kinda went character analysis-y with this so I apologize for that😭 Anyways hope you guys are doing good!

[yoru-no-seiiki]

https://www.tumblr.com/yoru-no-seiiki/751614308271718400/hii-so-like-ive-been-starving-for-yandere-eren

def something w/ canon eren! but other than that you can could go as wild as u want! :p

god where do i start?? i’ll mostly write for early seasons eren since i refuse to watch the whole thing until i’m done with season one on my quotev book as a motivator but i’ll add some tidbits that i got from other fanfics. go check it (my book) out btw!! it’s called Walk With Me!! (currently on the next chapter which is around 10k words atm huhu)

as always he’s aged up to 18 during enlistment and massive spoilers for those that don’t know the lore/story yet.

MDNI. DDDNE!!

yandere! eren is a force of absolute willpower. he is obsessive, he is protective, and very much goddamn possessive. he needs you, he needs you to need him too if not moreso. he grew up in a very traditional household and expected to be the provider in the family. the least you could do is have him in your thoughts at all times.

if you want max yandere! potential with him, it’s best to have known him even before armin. be close family friends. maybe your parents worked with his dad since marley and were similarly banished (but not turned into mindless titans).

as children he’d always been protective of you. he’d always stick to you like glue. and because of future him’s influence over grisha and essentially your parents, you were arranged to even sleep in the same bed.

but this sort of backfired in the long run cause you saw him as this annoying brother figure that just wouldn’t stop bothering you.

and one day you just blurt out, tired of the suffocation you felt with your friend, with your parents that vehemently kept pushing you two together, of everything in your life that you couldn’t control.

“i wonder what it’s like beyond the walls.”

i feel like armin would still be the true trigger of eren’s obsession with the outside and freedom (after all, he doesn’t give a shit about yours so why and how would you influence him in that area?), but you probably pushed him in terms of the survey corps.

you were dumb at the time. i mean as a kid, who isn’t? so you announced to literally everyone you knew that you planned to join the military and eventually explore the outside world.

you didn’t really understand the concept of death and all but whatever that was, you still thought it would be better than eren’s basically isolating you from anything that moves.

you dont truly understand death until eren kills those intruders in mikasa’s house right in front of you.

you were supposed to help him, but only stood there frozen in fear.

thankfully mikasa awakened just in time, with eren shouting at her to save you.

speaking of mikasa, her true allegiance/ackerman blood thingy is still with eren in this fic but i headcannon that since his first command was to for her to fight for you she also has the same knee jerk reaction for whenever she perceives you’re being harmed.

in anycase, that day ™️ happens and you all start training.

it had already been obvious since you were teens but eren started looking at you from a different angle. the sexual kind.

your lack of contact with other people due to his influence had made you a bit of a pushover, as such he’d often coerce you into sex or other related acts.

i mean, you had to pity him! he never had the opportunity to explore and act on his urges. mans stayed a virgin til he enlisted and he’s pent up. you try to argue that it’s cause he was so hung up on revenge that he’s bitchless but that only leads to him questioning you if you’ve been seeing other people behind his back.

i mean you two were basically together, why would he see other people? don’t tell him that you’ve been �� cheating on him? how could you!

so yeah he does the same thing to mikasa (the manipulation not the sex lol) and forces her to guard the two of you during your ‘trysts’ (which is just him, the inexperienced boy rutting into you and getting off while you stood/laid there uncomfortable silence)in addition to basically shutting down whatever feelings she might have brewing for him (poor mikasa dude)

but surprisingly eren is the most lax to you during this time period. despite the literal r*pe, he basically allowed you to roam around and do whatever for a change. frankly, it was mostly cause he had to catch up in terms of training, but also cause his FREEDOM ideal is the strongest during this phase.

anddd depending on your behavior you might get pimped out. only to those that he can trust though. god even jean got a taste of you because he lost a bet. he promptly beats up the man afterwards though.

if you’re more focused on training and acquiesce to his demands (hormones) however you’ll be enjoying the only three years of your life where eren’s presence wasn’t looming like dread of your death by a titan’s hands.

now i can’t vouch for how accurate i can portray later seasons eren but basically he’s the worst in yan levels at that point.

once he can fully utilize his powers there is literally no escape for you, not even his death, unless you have some sort of power that hides your ass. he’d already prepared for everything from your captivity to how your life will be like after his inevitable demise.

like i said before, he’d be the type to give you an illusion of freedom. he hates the idea of being caged and vice versa. so specifically speaking after his death and the end of the series, you’ll go from being stuck in a remote area to being free but with hundreds of armed guards watching your every move. hell maybe even the whole “town/village/city” you live in will all just be paid actors he had staged. he will never let you move on from him. whether you like it or not, you’re his in life, in death, as he is dying, and beyond that.

[gunilslaugh]

Haiii, ik you’re on hiatus but I miss your writing sooooo muchhh and I got this idea that I couldn’t get out of my head and I thought that you’d be the perfect person to turn this idea into a masterpiece. Hyeongjun having a s/o who is his total opposite, like he’s all punk and rockstar and she’s all cutesy and bright, like how he has black nail polish and she has pink.

Yk the “he was punk, she did ballet” kind of stuff.

-🫧

Hi 🫧 anon! I am currently on hiatus but I just had to write this lol. As a former ballet dancer I always take the "she did ballet" literally so you're getting punk Hyeongjun x ballerina reader lol. I hope you enjoy

Han Hyeongjun Summary: Hyeongjun was a punk, you did ballet. [yes that’s the summary I’m going with lol] (non-idol au) WC:~1.6k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

“Y/n come with us to open mic on Saturday,” Jiseok says. 

“Can’t I have dance,” you reply. 

“You always have dance,” he sighs 

“Exactly, so you should have known better than to ask her,” Seungmin chimes. 

“I just feel like we only see her in school. I want to hang out with you y/n.” Jiseok grabs onto your arm and shakes it.

“Yeah it’s funny we only see y/n during school and only see Hyeongjun outside of it,” Seungmin chuckles. 

“Who’s Hyeongjun?” you ask, never having heard the name before. 

“Our friend who is killer at shredding the guitar. You could meet him if you come on Saturday.” Jiseok tried to persuade you. 

“I can’t I-” 

“Have dance,I know. What time does class end? Maybe you could come after.” You shake your head. 

“We have rehearsals for our summer show. I won't get out till late,” you state. 

“Well what time does it start? Maybe you could pop by before.” Jiseok tried again, not ready to give up. 

“I have a pas de deux class at five,” you  inform, shrinking into my shoulders. 

“I give up,” Jiseok throws his hands up. 

“I told you I don’t know why you bother,” Seungmin said. 

“Would it seriously kill you to miss one class?” Jiseok questioned. 

“Yes! There’s nothing worse than missing dance for me,” you say. Jiseok grumbles at your response. “Look, I have a two week break after our summer show. We can hang out then.” Jiseok perks up. 

“I’m holding you to that.” He points at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jiseok indeed was holding you to your word. That’s how you found yourself in a small crowd of people in front of a small stage. 

“It’s kinda cramped,” you speak loudly over the music playing. 

“It’s part of the fun,” Jiseok smiles. 

Soon the lights dim and a band walks onto the stage. 

“This is Hyeongjun’s band,” Seungmin tells you. He points out which one is Hyeongjun. He had long black hair. Was wearing baggy jeans, a band tee and his fingernails were painted black. The complete opposite of your bright and feminine aesthetic. Down to your light pink fingernails.  His aura intrigued you. It seemed dark and a little mysterious. Seungmin wasn’t lying when he said he had killer guitar skills. The way his fingers moved along the strings captivated you. 

After the performance was over Jiseok and Seungmin took you to meet Hyeongjun and his band. 

“And who’s this little lady? Doesn’t really look like this is her kind of scene.” One of Hyeongjun’s band members asked. 

“Jooyeon, this is y/n.” Jiseok points at you. “Y/n this is Heyongjun and Gunil.” He points to either of the two males. 

“Nice to meet you. You guys were good,” you compliment them. 

“Really you thought they were good? You were just awkwardly standing while they were playing, so I kinda thought I made a mistake taking you out of the studio.” Jiseok says. 

“Studio?” Hyeongjun asked. 

“Oh I do ballet,” you inform. 

“Oh my god we’re punks and she does ballet!” Jooyeon joked excitedly. 

“You do look like a dancer now that you say that,” Gunil said. 

“Wait, so you can do the splits?” Jooyeon cut in. 

“Why does everybody ask that?...Yes I can do the splits,” you say. 

“Do them-”

“How long have you been dancing?” Hyeongjun cuts Jooyeon off. 

“Since I was three,” you tell him. 

“Do you have any videos?” he asked. 

“Yeah in fact we just had our summer show.” You pull out my phone to pull up the videos. “Here.” You flip your phone around to show him the video of your performance. “I’m right here.” You point to yourself. 

Just as you became captivated by Hyeongjun watching him play, Hyeongjun became captivated by you watching you dance. Seeing your delicate lines, soft flowing movements. It stirred something inside Hyeongjun’s heart. The others are quick to notice the daze-like state Hyeongjun is in as he watches you dance. Seungmin smirks, having noticed your daze-like state earlier when you were watching Hyeongjun play. 

“You look really pretty when you dance,” Hyeongjun compliments when the video ends. 

“Thanks,” you smile. “You look cool while playing guitar.” Hyeongjun smiles too 

“Thanks,” he returns. The others share glances at yours and Hyeongjun’s exchange. 

“Hyeongjun, have you ever thought about learning to ride a skateboard?” Jooyeon randomly asked. Jiseok laughs at his question. 

“Um..no. Why?” Hyeongjun responded. Jooyeon smiles. 

“Just asking.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re gonna hang out with Hyeongjun and the others this weekend. Do you want to come?” Jiseok asked. 

“I almost forgot I’m on my two-week break. I was about to say I have dance.” you laugh, so do Jiseok and Seungmin.

“So do you want to come?” Seungmin questioned. You couldn’t deny that the thought of seeing Hyeongjun again made your heart feel a certain way. 

“Sure I’ll come,” you agree. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You brought Ms.Ballerina,” Gunil notes upon your arrival. 

“She usually has dance so we’re taking full advantage of her two week break,” Jiseok says. 

“Yeah I’ve seen the outside world a lot recently,” you joke. Hyeongjun smiles. He’s happy to see you again. The bright aesthetic of your white flower blouse and pastel blue skirt feels like a breath of fresh air to him. Not that he could imagine not dressing in his punk rock aesthetic nor was he tired of it. Just something about you and how you appear to be the complete opposite of him really pulled him in towards you. 

“Talk to her.” Gunil nudged Hyeongjun, easily noticing the way he was looking at you.

“About what? I doubt that we have much in common.” 

“Just go.” Gunil literally shoves Hyeongjun over to you. Hyeongjun stumbles his way over to you. 

“Hey,” he greets you. 

“Hey,” you smile at him brightly. Your heart rate picked up a little with joy that he was talking to you. Hyeongjun tries to think about what to say to you. 

“I’m glad you came today,” he expressed.

“I am too. It’s nice to see you again,” you reply. Hyeongjun’s heart warms at your words. A silence comes over the two of you. Neither of you know quite what to say, but you remain walking side by side. 

“Do you paint your own nails?” you asked, looking down at his hand covered with black polish.

“Oh yeah I do,” he answers, bringing up his hands. 

“They look nice,” you say.

“Thanks, your pink nails look cute.” he gestures to your hands.

“What bands do you like?” you carry on with the conversation. Hyeongjun’s a bit shocked by your question. Not really expecting you to know much, if anything about bands, but he tells you nonetheless. Giving you the names of his favorite songs and bands he finds inspiration from. 

At some point you and Hyeongjun broke off from the others without even noticing. Being too caught up in learning (and falling) for one another. It wasn’t until either of your phones went off with a text from Jiseok with a picture of the two of you sitting on a bench together with the caption. “He was a punk. She did ballet” that you both realized the others were nowhere to be found. A blush brushed over both of your cheeks.

“We should find the others,” Hyeongjun said. 

“Yeah we should.”

Of course when you reunited with the others they had to tease the two of you by asking how your date went. Even though the two of you denied you both liked the thought of going on a date together. 

3 months later

“Hyeongjun!” you happily called your boyfriend as you walked out of the dance studio. His punk attire certainly sticking out amongst all the dancers also leaving the studio. He smiles, sticking out his hand for you. 

“How was class?” he asked as you linked your pink painted nails with his black ones.

“Good. I’m gonna be sore tomorrow though,” you chuckle lightly. You continue to tell Hyeongjun about your class and even if he only understands every other ballet term that comes out of your mouth he still listens to you intently. 

Yours and Hyeongjun’s personalties were polar opposites, yet somehow the two of you blended together so perfectly. You were bright and he was dark. You brought light into his life and he brought a sheltering shade into yours. It was the perfect balance. He was a punk. You did ballet. What else is there to say?

Bonus Scene

“Heyingjun come here,” you call for your boyfriend. 

“What is it?” he asked, entering the room. He sees you sitting on the bed with a bottle of pink polish out. 

“Sit down.” You pat the bed. 

“The pink is making me nervous,” he says pointing to the bottle. 

“Just a little tiny bit,” you say, making a small space between your thumb and pointer finger. 

“I don’t know,” Hyeongjun said. Yet he still lets you take his hand in yours when you reach out for it. You take the bottle of pink polish and open it. Then carefully you take the brush and paint a french tip across the black nail on Hyeongjun’s ring finger. “See just a little” you smile. 

“Let me see your hand” Hyeonjun tells you. You stick out your hand for him. Hyeongjun grabs a bottle of black nail polish then carefully uses the brush to paint a black french tip across your pink nail. “There now we match.” The two of you smile like two fools in love holding your ring fingers next to each other. Hyeongjun imagines that one day there will be a pretty ring sitting on your finger too.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @ezlynkisses @chewednails @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

comment or message me to be added!

[happy-beeeps]

Domesticity

Summary: a slice of life moment of a very anxious Gale, and a very relaxed reader!

Pairing: gale x drow!tav (gn i thiiiiiiiink?)

warnings: mention of alcohol, suggestive content but no smut

a/n: posting this in the airport I have no shame!!!! this is based on my current playthrough with my drow paladin. so there are some references to drow and tav finding a found family within Minthara, but it's not really a fleshed out oc!

Cooking doesn’t come quite as naturally to you as you’d hoped. It’s a complex balance of flavor—spice and savory and salty and sweet—that challenges the palate you’ve grown accustomed to in Menzobarrenzen and your time in exile. Still, you move slowly, carefully, over the faded recipe card, make precise cuts to the carrots in front of you.

There’s a movement in the counter, and your wine glass is moved closer to you. “One for the pot, one for the cook. Or so the saying goes.” Tara hums, curling up on the edge of the counter. You can’t imagine Gale would say anything, so you don’t bother asking her to move away from the cooking.

“If I want to have any hope of this turning out, I’m going to need to slow down.”

She tuts in response, kicking her legs out long and rolling onto her back. 

“Why is this so hard?”

“What, cooking?”

“Yes!” You toss the carrots into the steaming pot, and move to toss in the onions and garlic nearby. “He makes everything look so effortless.”

“Funny enough, I seem to recall him saying something similar when he attempted to wield your greatsword.” She moves off the counter with ease, “perhaps that’s what makes the two of you work so well.”

You’re so wrapped up in your cooking that you don’t head the door open, and don’t sense the heavy weight moving across the wooden floor until his hands are on you, wrapping around your waist. You’re carefully moving the dish onto two plates, and nearly drop the spoon in surprise. “You should be grateful this isn’t a dagger,” you mumble against his neck as places his chin on your shoulder. 

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve taken a calculated guess that you wouldn’t be wielding a weapon in our kitchen at this hour.”

“Then you don’t know me at all.”

“On the contrary, but perhaps we could get reacquainted.” He moves to pepper soft kisses along your jawline, but pauses at the realization of what’s in front of him. “Is that…”

“Your mother’s shepards pie?” You’re blushing now when he turns to you. “I wanted to surprise you, you’ve been so busy with grading.”

“Well, color me surprised.” He moves to grab both plates and begins setting your table. “Sit down, let me get your glass.”

“Only if you have one too.”

He smiles and grabs another glass, along with the bottle before settling in front of you. You try to contain your excitement when he moves to take his first bite, trying to nonchalantly watch him out of the corner of your eye. His eyes light up, and his gaze rockets to yours. “How did you get this? It’s perfect.”

“It’s not a far walk to your mothers,” you pause to take a sip of your wine, a delightful red decidedly nicer than the bottle you had been sipping from earlier. Sneaky. “I’ve been going by on my slower days for tea.”

“You’ve been spending time at my mother’s?” It’s not an accusatory question, on the contrary, his eyes glow with warmth at the thought.

“She’s sweet, and it’s nice to spend time with family, and I told her I wanted to surprise you.”

He’s quiet at first, simply smiling at his plate and eating. After a moment, he speaks up. “Family, yes?”

Your cheeks burn with color at your minor slip. “I mean, in a sense-“

“And in the literal skin enough.” He reaches across the table to gently graze the top of your hand, hesitating on the knuckle above your ring finger.

Dinner passes in relative simplicity afterwards, casual conversation about his classes, your work at the temple. 

“While on the topic of families, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you who I saw today.” 

Your eyebrow quirks up in response, “Oh?”

“Your sister is in town.”

“Minthara?” Your brows furrow, “I didn’t know she was headed this way, are there cultists in Waterdeep?”

“Hardly, she’s heading back to Baldur’s Gate, something to do with Nine Fingers. I told her to tell you more tomorrow. She’s found company for the evening.”

“Sounds like Minty,” you smile at the thought of your pseudo-sister. “I’m happy to see her tomorrow, but I’m not heading to Baldur’s Gate with her.”

He blinks in surprise, “You’re not?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I just assumed you’d be interested. It’s been quite a moment since you’ve done a daring rescue, some savvy swashbuckling.”

You snort at the word choice, “Swashbuckling is more Astarion’s style. Besides, I’m busy with my work here, and then we’d be apart. You can’t leave in the middle of the semester.”

“You bring up a valid roadblock, my love.” He smiles at the end of his thought, but there’s an uncertainty in his eyes that doesn’t miss you.

You’re on your back, clad in nothing but one of Gale’s impossible comfortable tunics. He’s beside you of course, reclining beside you on the plush blanket laid out on the terrace of his study. His hands twirl above you, and lights dance overhead. You’re mesmerized by him, by even the smallest of spells that hardly take any effort. You burrow deeper into his side, transfixed by the colors moving overhead. 

He moves after a moment, propping himself on his elbow. “Can I confess something to you?”

“Of course,” you move to cradle his cheek in your hand, rolling on to your side to face him. “What is it?”

“I’ve been feeling… a flavor of insecurity as of late. At first, I couldn’t believe my good graces, to not only survive our encounter with the brain, but to bring you home to Waterdeep, to see you in my tower. It’s still surreal. A student, however, noticed you in the market recently, and asked what it was like to live with a great warrior like you, and I realized I’d neglected that. You are a great warrior, you’re an excellent paladin, I’ve watched you slay more enemies and heal me more times than I can count. And then I saw Minthara, all disheveled, hair messy, but happy. I’m worried I’m keeping you trapped in this tower, not unlike how I felt when I encountered my orb. You know you’re always free to go, frolick the sword coast and slay enemies the whole way down, correct?”

The honesty of his confession catches you by surprise for a moment. You haven’t the words to reassure him, you’re not sure you could string them together if you tried. Instead you kiss him, leaning forward and cupping his cheek. He leans in hungrily, interpreting your gesture as your answer. His lips are soft against yours, the taste of wine making you drunk with anticipation as you pull back.

“When I became a paladin, it was because I wanted my people, Seldarine, Lolth sworn, just drow in general to be respected by surface dwellers. I do too. My oath to bring balance and light, not to slaughter every prejudiced person on the sword coast. I can fulfill my oath with the work I do here, at the temple in Waterdeep, with you, and frankly, you’re selling yourself short as a wizard, you’re quite the catch,” his hand slides down your back and you feel yourself being tugged closer, “Where Minthara, gods bless her, needs blood and sex to satisfy her, I can get by with a good wine and a dinner with you.”

He kissed you again, quickly, and pulls his hand away to smooth your cheek, “Well, perhaps we don’t need to count out sex as satisfaction just yet,” his hand rubs slow circles along your back as he pulls you in closer, “after all, I am quite the accomplished wizard.”

[yourmomxx]

Hotch X plus size reader? I need some self-representation and don’t have enough energy to write myself yet.

a/n: anon, I got you! I threw in some insecurity/reassurance, because you said you wanted representation and if it’s not about that topic, I always try to angle my writing in a way that it fits for (women) of all body types and races..thank you for your request, I hope you like this!!

Aaron knew that something was wrong when you didn’t throw in commenting remarks while you were curled up by his side, you both slouching on the couch in the living room, watching The Nanny.

He didn’t say anything about it, he let you be, thought you might have just had an exhausting day at work and weren’t currently in the mood or condition to interact with anyone.

He knew those days.

Aaron knew, that if there was something obviously bothering you, you would tell him about it, you always did.

But when Cece and Niles started going at it on the TV screen, verbally slapping each other around without ever so much as raising a finger and even his mouth broke into a slight grin, and you still weren’t reacting to any of it, he wondered.

Without saying anything, Aaron reached for the remote and put the TV on mute. It was only when the continuous background noise suddenly stopped, that you looked up from where you had been intensely focused on fidgeting your fingers, and furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“Why did you turn off the sound?” You asked him, voice smaller than usual, although he was sure you thought you were great at concealing that something was bothering you.

Aaron signed and adjusted himself in-between the cushions. He made sure you stayed tucked into his side, though.

He nudged your head with his nose. “Tell me,” he murmured lowly, “what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and did your best to avoid his eyes.

“I fucking hate profilers, you know that?” You grumbled. Aaron’s chest shivered as he let out a quiet laugh.

“So,” His free hand grabbed for your chin and tilted it to focus on him, his thumb slowly smoothing out your eyebrows. “Tell me. You know I will listen.”

You sighed. Honestly, there was no point in denying it anymore. You knew how your boyfriend valued the subject of communication in your relationship, and also now that he knew that something was plaguing your thoughts, there was really no way to escape.

You had really thought you’d done a good job at hiding it, that something obviously had you troubled.

But apparently not well enough for Aaron.

You always asked yourself if his job was the reason why he was able to see through your facade that easy, or if your facade was simply that easy to see through.

“Look, it’s just-“ You picked up the habit of fidgeting your fingers again, “-I know I shouldn’t even think like that, because it’s childish, and stupid, and pathetic, and -“

“Hey, hey, hey.” Aaron pulled you closer into him. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You hear me? Whatever you feel, it cannot be either of those things, because it is your feeling, and as such, it is valid. Do you understand me?”

You couldn’t do more than nod. The question of how you deserved someone as kind as him made the knot in your throat only grow tighter.

Your hands were much easier to look at than his face. You felt like a sinner confessing.

“It’s just that-“ You started, embarrassment and self-consciousness weighing heavy on your chest, “I’ve been thinking, for a while now. And when we go out, with your friends, and I see someone like Emily Prentiss, who could probably run a ten mile sprint right now if I asked her to, or JJ, who had a child and still looks like she could get hired by every second modeling agency, I-“

You blinked away tears, but even though the hot fluids didn’t run down your cheeks, the way your voice trembled and broke was enough evidence that they were there.

“And when I’m alone with my mind at night, or literally any time, I start to think about it, and I think, I never could be them. And I ask myself, why would you be here, and why would you stay with me, with someone like me, if you had women like them as an option? And I know that’s not fair to you, but even everytime I watch TV, I am reminded that I am not one of those stereotypically pretty women, and it just messes with me so, so much.”

Now, the tears were flowing. Big, salty drops were trickling down your cheeks, taking chunks of mascara down with them.

You didn’t care in that moment.

Aaron just held you closer.

It felt good, to cry, for the first time in a long time. It was cliché, but it felt relieving.

Aaron waited. He was good at doing that, and you appreciated it.

It took a short while for your sniffles to die down, and for you to shakily accept the tissue that your boyfriend was handing you, but you managed.

Aaron brushed a stray tear off your cheek and pressed a barely there kiss on the top of your head.

“Are you ready to listen to me, sweetheart?” He asked.

You took a deep breath.

“Because if you want to continue making points on how Hollywood makes biased casting choices, then I’m fine with that, too.”

You couldn’t help the shaky chuckle escaping your throat at his words.

When you didn’t make a move to say anything, your boyfriend slowly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and let his thumb trace soft patterns on where it rested on your shoulder.

"I want to reassure you that there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that you have to worry about. Not when it comes to your appearance, my co-workers, women I see on the street, or, most importantly, my feelings for you."

You opened your mouth, but Aaron forestalled you.

"I know that you didn't mean to tell me you doubted me, but I want to tell you anyways. Y/N, what I want is to grow old with you. To spend every last minute of my day coming home to you, having you in my arms. Looks wither, and therefore would never be the reason for me to fall in love with you or perceive you as beautiful merely on them."

“Yes, but the way someone looks is the first way one notices about them, if they want to or not!”

Aaron shook his head.

“No, the first thing I noticed about you was that you ran into me and spilled brewing hot coffee all over my suit,” Aaron corrected you. “And then continued to pay the bill for my coffee for a whole month after that, even though I told you it was fine.”

You dipped your head in thought. It’s true, you had done that. Every time you’d come into the small coffee shop, the barista had already known to bill your coffee, and Aaron’s on top of it.

Until someday, you both walked in at the same time, together.

“Do you hear me?” Aaron continued, “I don’t mean to invalidate the way you feel, but I want you to understand, that, from me, you have nothing to worry about. Because, after a long day, or days, of work with Prentiss, and with JJ, it is you I come home to, and happily so. It is you who I will get down on my knee for at a beautiful, private beach on a day when it’s neither to warm nor to cold, because I know it is exactly what you want. It’s you who I want to fall asleep next to, and wake up next to again, and who I would skip a day of work for just so I could stay longer in bed with you. And I know I said looks don't matter to me, because don't get me wrong, they don't, but you are singlehandedly the most beautiful woman I have ever come across the entire time I have spent in this world. Now maybe call me biased, because I love you so much, but I don't care. Do you understand me?”

You craned your neck the slightest bit to look him in the eye, and his hey held so much sincerity and passion - for you - that you couldn’t do anything else than believe in what he said.

You sniffled slightly and nodded as an answer to him.

“I’m afraid I need to hear you say it,” Aaron said.

Another shaky nod. “I understand.”

“Good.” Aaron leaned closer and pressed a kiss to your lips, and your muscles slumped together at the comfort and the exhaustion, and a sigh escapes from your mouth into his even as he broke away.

“Now please, come on.” Aaron stood up from the couch and rested his hand on your cheek, lips leaned in close to yours as he whispered, “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.” Another soft kiss.

“Until you believe me.”

—

“Here’s the file about the Colorado murders you wanted me to get you.” Without knocking, David Rossi strutted into Aaron Hotchner’s office, because it’s simply what he always did.

Aaron barely raised his head to shoot him a brief thanks as he dropped a beige folder on his desk.

Rossi was almost out the door, when Hotch spoke up again and stopped him.

“Dave, do you happen to know how far our authority range reaches?”

David Rossi stopped in his tracks, one eyebrow raised suspiciously at his friend’s odd question.

“I don’t think we’ll get the President to destroy his big, red button,” He responded, “But the answer to that question really depends on what you’re asking for.”

Hotch dipped his head slowly. “Well, let’s say, maybe … Hollywood?”

[camels-pen]

Hgggggh fic between arcs post timeskip, possibly on the way to Punk Hazard

warning: Usopp having issues related to abundance of food (too much food), self blame

-

The crew was running low on food.

Most of the others had their fair share of worries and thinking of their own solutions and Usopp was no different.

Until he was.

The initial announcement- of needing to cut back on snacks, to up the hours and people fishing- it filled Usopp with utter relief.

And the very next moment, a horrible horrible guilt.

He started to question his own intentions, actions.

Had he really tried his best to lure and catch fish? Why did he still agree to sneaking late night snacks with Luffy and Chopper, all those times before? Why did he bother when he hardly ate their pilfered food anyway?

And on and on and on.

Usopp had a feeling the others would try to say it wasn't cut and dry. That there was no easy blame to give, and no point in trying to find it. That maybe he should go easier on himself- or harsher, depending on who he asked. But even trusted voices like these- ones that were so much stronger now than during his time away- were no match for this particular failure. And yet, even though he'd admitted it to himself- that yes, it was a failure and definitely up there as one of his worst- it didn't mean he knew what to do about it.

The brave thing would be to fess up and figure things out with the crew, with Chopper. The cowardly thing- what he actually did- was fall back on old habits, lying and pretending and hoping they didn't see how he was dragging them down, literally killing them the longer he was there.

Workable solutions were hard to come up with, but he did his best to fix things without admitting anything in the meantime. Like making excuses for fishing duty, refusing late night poking in the fridge, that kind of thing. It wasn't exactly hard or suspicious thanks to their current dilemma. Usopp had been trying to fish for most of the days leading up to his excuses, asking for a break didn't seem so unreasonable. And they were already low on food so of course he'd avoid sneaking any more.

He never did come up with something workable, but still they survived until they docked again, ready to restock.

And they restock they did.

Sanji was antsy for a long while about the food getting low- and for some time before his announcement too- and Nami didn't want a repeat either, so she gave him extra shopping money. A good chunk of the purchases were things that would last ages and could be packed in the back of the pantry. Now, Sanji hummed a happy tune, a pep in his step as he put things away.

They'd all noticed how stressed Sanji was when the food started dwindling and the fish weren't biting. Usopp had heard him once, in the galley, tearing up paper and grumbling to himself. Muttering things about how he wasn't on some rock anymore, wasn't a little kid anymore, and he needed to keep it together. How the crew needed him to keep it together.

So Usopp should've been happy, seeing Sanji like that. Seeing him too preoccupied with his task to tone down his smile or the chipper in his voice. To notice he'd forgotten to fix his mussed up hair from countless nights of pulling and tugging at it. To drop the aloof, cool guy persona for a single moment in time, piecing himself back together bit by bit with every ingredient he put away.

Usopp should've been happy.

Instead, he was afraid.

Because with every piece Sanji built himself with, a piece was torn from Usopp's own body in turn, bloody and screaming.

Usopp wasn't afraid of Sanji. Wasn't afraid for him either.

He was afraid of the abundance.

The last time they'd stocked up this much, they were headed to Fishman Island and threw a reunion feast as soon as they could. He was overwhelmed with the euphoria and sense of rightness that filled him up, seeing his friends again. He didn't have the space to spare even the slightest thought to what hid behind the galley door.

And every meal since, Usopp had found comfort in watching Luffy scarf down most of the table himself. Almost like he was eating the danger away. And seeing Luffy do it, well, it helped Usopp finish his own plate. It felt odd- like he was using his captain as a poison tester- but knowing, logically, there was no danger to speak of, it didn't bother him. A rarity, considering the way his mind seemed to constantly twist in on itself.

But while Sanji put away the last of the groceries and Luffy asked for an early lunch, requesting something with meat- while the rest of the crew was lounging on deck, chiming in with their own requests- Usopp could only feel a growing indescribable dread. One framed by vines, ramen rivers, and cake flowers.

The others cheered, startling him. Lunch would be done soon and everyone was headed for the galley.

"Aren't you coming?"

Sandalled feet were in front of him.

The dread surged.

He needed to finish his drawing, he said.

He was making good progress, he pleaded.

He just needed a little more time, he begged.

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence. It dragged on long enough Usopp was sure he would drown under the mounting feeling suffocating his-

"You should eat when you're hungry."

A sharp inhale through a long nose. A pair of large, wobbling lips.

A moment's pause. Then the hat shading his eyes was replaced with another. Tattered, worn, and straw.

There was not another word before those sandals were slapping their way into the galley, the heavy door following behind.

It closed with a thorny snap.

Usopp's sketch pad was pressed to his chest. He scrambled to pull at frayed edges, trying desperately to block the blinding sun with his mangled grip.

His sketch pad fell to his lap.

The page was blank.

Usopp stifled a sob.

[mariamakeslemons]

Chapter 1 (Angered Crows)

TW: slight mention of gore

There are some things being set up for later, while some things are just funny to me.

“I found your necromancer,” Laswell tells them over the phone. It’s been only a day since Gaz watched the Austrian get risen by the very tired looking necromancer, surprising all four members of the 141.

“‘O is it?” Ghost grumbles, flexing his hand to release some of his agitation. Gaz can’t really blame his Lieutenant, as König tends to go after Ghost first when they face him in the field for one reason or another. Knowing who’s reviving him would make finally putting the bastard down so much easier.

“Well,” Laswell hesitates, surprising the task force again, “that’s the thing. They’re a civilian. A witch, yes, but a civilian with no connection to any PMCs or governments. So, why they’re raising König is currently the biggest question.”

“Ye think ‘e might ‘ave somethin’ on th’ poor bastart?” Soap asks, leaning forward on the table. Gaz frowns at that thought, something in his gut saying it’s close to the truth.

“Your guess is as good as mine at this time,” Laswell confesses, “But, they’re closer to you than me.” She rattles off a name and address, in the small section of London that is practically nothing but witches and magic users. Gaz frowns, still mulling over what he saw back on the field. How you had tried to get away from the behemoth of a man. Tilting his head back and forth, Gaz stands at the table, getting the others’ attention.

“Let’s go meet ‘em, then,” he throws out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------The sneeze that escapes you is hard enough that you slam your head into your desk due to the recoil. Ogun gives you the most judgmental look a bird can as you whine in pain.

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” you hiss, glaring at the phoenix, “You flew into a door.” Ogun squawks and flaps his wings indignantly, obviously upset you brought up something so long ago (It was literally three days ago). You roll your eyes and blow a raspberry at your familiar, which only makes him squawk again. The bells above the door tinkle, catching your attention before you could pull your tongue back into your mouth.

At the door is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, looking around your shop curiously. His brown eyes taking in the crystals and herbs, the books and potions, with a quirk of his full lips that practically beg to be kissed. He strides in, confident and powerful, knowing exactly what he came for but enjoying the journey to reach it.

He turns his brown eyes to you and arches an eyebrow.

“You, uh, you gonna keep blepin’?” he asks, drawing attention to the tip of your tongue still poking out of your mouth. You pull it back in quickly, feeling your face burn in embarrassment, only to choke when Ogun flies up to the man. The phoenix puffs up and preens, showing off his black feathers gleefully before flaring his tail to show off his multicolored flames.

“Ogun!” you croak, swatting at your familiar while hissing, “Go! Get! Stop bothering him!” Ogun shrieks and takes off, flying over to his perch with a huff. Already, you’re planning on burning lavender and mint to appease his flaming-ness in apology as you brush out your apron to suppress your embarrassment.

“Sorry about that, sir,” you offer with a sheepish grin, “How can I help you?”

“I’m lookin’ for some information,” he tells you, leaning on the desk, “Just a question.” You’re immediately on edge. Did he realize that he’s your soulmate? Does he think you’re going to force him to be with you? Fuck, maybe he’s one of those humans that fear witches. How does this work? How do relationship work again?

“Do you know a man by the title of König?” he asks instead.

“Oh fuck. What did that fucking moron do now?” you ask with a strange combination of dread and relief. The man blinks at your response, like he wasn’t expecting you to be forthcoming with information.

“Uh,” the man trails off, blinking at you. You wait patiently for your soulmate to tell you what the creepy fuck’s done, when a ghostly hand touches your shoulder.

“Liebling, why do you speak with him?” the ghost of König asks, growling and hissing while looming over your shoulder.

“Because you’re a pain in my ass that won’t let me leave you in the ground,” you snap with a glare, shooing off his hand. The man before you arches a brow while the idiot behind you whines pathetically.

“Sorry, the fuckhead’s dead again,” you groan, “Gotta go revive his stupid ass. For the… sixth time? Sixth time this month.”

“But it’s the tenth,” your soulmate points out. You give him the best ‘and yet, here we are’ look you can muster, before patting him on the hand.

“Look, I’ll be about ten minutes,” you assure him, “I can tell you anything you want to know afterward.”

“You will not,” König growls, only to whine as you wave your hand through his abdomen. Your soulmate mulls it over before offering you a pretty, shy grin.

“I guess I can wait,” he agrees, “I’m Kyle, by the way.” You manage to give him your own name and an attempted flirtatious wink (God, how do flirting work?), before summoning the stupid fucking portal to get to the stupid fuck’s body.

Stepping out into the field, you blink at the mess before you. His eye needs to be completely remade while he’s missing his liver and part of his lung.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” you ask while kneeling beside his body, even if you don’t really care. You just want to raise him and return to your shop. Hopefully, Kyle’s still there and you can try flirting with him. Maybe you should Google how to flirt with a handsome man…

“I yelled at a crow,” he confessed. You freeze before slowly turning up to look at him.

“You yelled,” you slowly draw out, “at a crow.” The idiot gives a nod, flinching when you snap, “And you didn’t think there would be repercussions?!”

“It wasn’t a raven,” he tries to defend himself. You groan, before getting to work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------A witch can be Bound to only one being at a time. If the person the witch is Bound to dies, then they must follow the laws of necromancy before trying to revive them. The death must not be tied to entropy or illness, nor must the soul have been sold to a demon. Should the death not fall into those categories and the witch is Bound, then they must revive the person.

“And he Bound you to him?” Kyle asks, sipping the tea you made upon your return to the shop.

“Unfortunately,” you tell him. And it is. If you had been half a second faster with that decay spell upon his first revival, you never would have needed to be König’s respawner. Kyle hums sympathetically, sipping the tea while looking at you. You groan, “This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if the dumb bitch just listened to me, but noooo. The witch doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Dumb bitch?” Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow. You look up at him and huff, spinning your sad tale for him. From the murderous idiot to the break in, you tell him everything. Even how you killed König again with a decay spell.

“Really, you can argue if it’s called decay or rot,” you end up rambling again, “I was always taught that the spell is ‘decay’, but that word sounds softer than the spell’s effect.”

“Oh?” Kyle intones, perking up in interest. You almost continue on, only to pause. The last time you had dived into what a spell does, it had been a more harmless spell, yet the guy you were talking to (also a non-witch) had looked at you weirdly.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asks, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

“Uh, n-nothing,” you spit out, looking down. Ogun coos and nudges at you, the only thing that you could talk to about the spells and how they might be misnamed or how they work in a different manner than their name would indicate. Kyle frowns and rests his hand on yours.

“Hey,” he coaxes softly, “It’s okay. You wanna talk about th’ spell?” You blink, surprised that he seemed to know just what you wanted to do.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling your face warm in embarrassment.

“Well then,” he declares, settling into his seat, “Have at it.” You perk up, and it rushes out. How aggressive the spell can be, which doesn’t quite sound like decay. How the spell is also a cause of the decay, thus it wasn’t really decay, which only occurs over time. Rot, however, is due to something causing the break down.

“So basically, it should be a rot spell instead of decay,” you finish with a nod. Kyle smiles at you, obviously amused as he finishes off his tea.

“Well, you gave me more than I asked. Thanks for that, Love. I’m gonna go, but I’ll come by again,” he declares, offering his finger to Ogun. Your phoenix forgoes scenting for just being the little tart he is, rubbing against the finger like a tart. Kyle seems surprised at his whorish behavior while you are aghast.

“Ogun! You little slut!” you choke out, making Kyle laugh.

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

Gaz finishes reporting what he found when he visited you, telling everything that you explained about the König situation. Price rubs at his jaw thoughtfully while Ghost leans back in his chair.

“So, ‘ow bonnie are ye talkin’?” Soap asks, leaning forward eagerly. Gaz tries to give his fellow Sargeant a warning look, but he is too flustered at the memory of you. How excited you were, talking away about spells and scolding your familiar for practically rubbing all over his hand for scritches.

“Doesn’t matter,” he decides to say instead, averting his eyes.

“Ach, don’ be lik’ tha’,” Soap whines, splaying out on the table with a pout. Ghost huffs and smacks his boyfriend on the back of the head while Price sighs.

“Is there a way to break a Bond?” the Captain asks.

“I was gonna go back and see if that’s possible,” Gaz admits with a shrug, “Or, you know, find a way to offer the bastard’s soul to a demon.”

“‘Ow ‘bout we don’ risk that,” Ghost says, rubbing his hand on a scar of his. One that he had eventually confessed was from an attempt by a member of his past squad to do just what Gaz had offered. Price nods in agreement.

“If we can trick him into doing that himself, that would be the only way we’re including demons,” Captain orders. Gaz nods in understanding, feeling a bit like an ass for bringing up the option. Luckily, Ghost seems to have understood it was just a thought about how to take care of the current thorn in their side. Still, he’ll have to be more careful around you. After all, you never really know what will occur around magic.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Smut under the cut!

C/W for consensual biting and blood.

For as long as Lambert had known him, Aiden had always taken great pains to keep his nails short, filing them down habitually (the Mutagens making them too tough to cut). His first thought was that it was a vanity of the others. It made sense to look after their hands afterall, but the only people Lambert had ever known to be that meticulous about nail care specifically were nobles who’d never done a days manual labour in their lives and acted like it was the end of the world if one broke.

It was only when they became better acquainted and Lambert gained a passing knowledge of the nature of Cat Mutagens ( or at least, the ones which applied to Aiden’s class) he’d realised that his Kitten had claws in the very literal sense and this routine was borne of a desire of Aiden’s not only to erase another reminder of his ‘otherness’ , but to not create anymore holes in his belongings or leave himself or anyone he got close to covered in scratches (they didn’t talk about the time he lost his file and had to substitute tree trunks. Lambert had found himself face down in the mud after one too many scratching post jabs and had bought him a new one as an apology).

“I don’t know why you don’t just leave them alone. So you’ve got sharper than average nails, big deal.” Lambert muttered from where he was on his bedroll after checking through their supplies – the next town over had a pretty decent apothecary who wasn’t prejudice towards Witchers so it was the perfect opportunity to stock up on any potion ingredients.

“I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had this conversation so I’ll shorten the answer to one word. Convenience.” Aiden answered as he slid the orange glass file from Lambert back into his pack (the look on Lambert’s face when Aiden had asked if he’d got that particular colour to remind Aiden of his eyes had been priceless).

“Why does it bother you anyway, you want to feel the full effect of my claws?”

Lambert was powerless to stop the unexpected flash of arousal which followed the question - all he could do was pray it had passed too quickly for Aiden to notice.

“Oh.” No such luck if the wide grin the Cat threw him was any indication as he slithered into Lambert’s lap, straddling his thighs and looping his arms round his neck, “You do!”

Lambert remained stubbornly silent as Aiden’s expression turned appraising.

“Alright Pup, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you want you want.” He lightly scraped currently blunted nails over the back of Lambert’s neck, causing a small shudder, before moving to gently coax Lambert’s mouth open and lightly run a finger over his fangs – no longer than Aiden’s own, but wider and tougher. Perfect for tearing and crushing, “If you let me feel these. Right here.” He tilted his head and tapping just above his collarbone. Lambert felt an entirely different chill run up his spine.

“Are you fucking insane? One wrong move and I could rip your throat out.”

“And I could bleed you dry with a swipe of my finger but that doesn’t seem to be much of a deterrent now, does it?”

Lambert gave a huff. His stupid fucking Cat...had a point. Damn him.

“So.” Aiden prompted, giving Lambert’s chin a pointed nip to bring his attention back, “Do we have a deal?”

Lambert let his gaze wander to Aiden’s throat, feeling a possessive something at the thought of that skin bearing a mark nobody would think to look twice at when worn by a Witcher. A claim hidden in plain sight.

“Deal. Now, if you’re staying at least shift so we can both get comfortable.”

Aiden tipped him backwards onto his bedroll in response.

The two weeks Aiden had determined would be needed were the longest of Lambert’s life. The more time that passed, the more of a tease Aiden became, deliberately dropping his gaze to Lambert’s mouth whenever he showed his fangs and tapping his steadily growing nails against any part of Lambert’s bare skin, the pinprick sensation both a promise and a question.

Still want this?

Lambert gave as good as he got, nipping at Aiden in a way anyone else would have called playful and smirking in that way which showed just the tips of his fangs and drove his Cat crazy.

Between the adrenaline of their latest contract still coursing through their veins, alongside various potions and the heated looks they kept throwing one another it was a small miracle that they had the wherewithal to stumble to the nearby river to bathe by unspoken agreement. Lambert had barely sloughed the blood and surface dirt off his skin before Aiden pounced, his own fangs nicking Lambert’s lip as he attacked his mouth, claw tips digging into the meat of Lambert’s shoulders. The Wolf groaned as he bought the lithe body to his chest in a crushing grip.

“Lambert, please.” Aiden whimpered, licking at the blood which still welled up on Lambert’s lip, “I need -I-“

“Me too.” Lambert panted, backing Aiden towards the river bank closest to their camp as he continued to press kisses anywhere he could reach.

They moved together seamlessly, bodies slick with a mix of sweat and river water – neither of them having had the patience to dry off before they were unfurling one of the bedrolls (whose was unimportant) and tackling one another to the ground. Aiden was loud in his pleasure as they rutted against one another, Lambert’s arms caging him in as he hovered over him, eyes fixed on the currently flawless column of Aiden’s throat, letting out his own bitten off curses as Aiden’s claws digging that little bit deeper into his back – a hairsbreadth from drawing blood - caused his rhythm to falter as he arched into the sensation.

“Aiden..I’m – fuck – I’m close. You still want?” He leaned in and opened his mouth against Aiden’s neck, hoping the other would catch on.

Aiden moaned and tilted his head to give him better access, “Fuck yes. Want your mark. You?” he asked, running his claws over the others back as his hips picked up the pace, crying out when Lambert reached between them and took them both in hand.

“Fuck yeah.” He breathed out against the others neck, “Mark me up, Kitten.”

He waited for the telltale hitch in the others breathing before he bit down. Hard. His own orgasm following swiftly in the heels of Aiden’s shriek of pained pleasure, his own sounds muffled given that his mouth was currently occupied. His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the white hot pleasure combined with the fire of multiple knives dragging deeply across his flesh, the sensation of something a tiny corner of his brain rationalised must be blood coating his back.

When the world stopped spinning, the first thing he was aware of was the scent and taste of blood, the second was that he still had his teeth embedded in Aiden’s neck, the third was that the other had unlatched his claws at least and was currently skimming his hands over his back whilst fretting about having gone too deep. He gave a small noise of warning before slowly unlocking his jaw, causing Aiden to hiss at the sensation of teeth sliding out, Lambert kissed the wound in apology as it started to bleed again, “S’fine.” He slurred as he sat up. Returning the favour by checking over the damage he’d left behind. It was deep beneath the blood but neat, no tears beyond the puncture marks left behind and perfectly oval. It looked good.

“Alright?” He asked, “Was...that alright?”

“Fan–fucking-tastic.” Aiden giggled, sounding a little punch drunk, “You? It doesn’t hurt too badly?”

Lambert shrugged as best as he could, relishing the twinge as the wounds pulled, “Stings a bit, but had worse.”

He took in the view underneath them before giving a dry chuckle, “Think it’s safe to say the bedroll’s fucked.”

“It’s fine, we can try and salvage it back at the river – don’t look at me like that, we’re both going to need another bath after that. First things first though.”

He pulled Lambert around and manoeuvred them so they were spooning, Aiden's chest to Lambert's back and their legs tangled together, “I want to admire my handiwork for a bit.”

[toxinoire]

Mean Girls as Senior High School students of a private school

(I am currently a SHS student in a private school and a HUMSS student so here's what I think these characters would be if they were in SHS)

~~~

• Janis, Damian, and Karen are all in the Arts and Design strand

• Regina is in Accountancy, Business, and Management (ABM) strand

• Gretchen is in Humanities and Social Sciences (HUMSS) stand

• Cady is definitely in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) strand

• Their Practical Research teacher is their favorite teacher because their teacher here allows them to cuss in class but still scares them enough to work smart and hard

• Gretchen hates the Politcs, but she gets amazing grades at it out of spite

• Cady is generally just good at Math so everyone turns to her for help in Statistics and Probability and well, General Math.

• They still wear pink on Wednesdays, but like, maybe a jacket or a bracelet because, well, uniforms.

• Janis and Damian hate the uniforms

• Gretchen and Regina have no problem with it, but sometimes it's a bother. especially when it's cold

• Karen rocks it

• Damian hates the strict dress code. especially the haircut policy

• Regina, Janis, and Gretchen hate the "not too flashy jewellery/make up" thing too

• Cady sucks at presentations. But she gets better.

• Gretchen is that student during recitations that can say anything and everything so fast but is understood and makes sense. The other HUMSS students usually want her out of debates because they know she'll kill them all.

• Karen's charisma is everything. she's friends with literally every student and teacher and her performance skills are fire too

• They all share Homeroom

• They all get along and absolutely love the Academic Director because her office is just next to their homeroom classroom

• They all have this one shared teacher that they really fucking hate

• Regina and the Junior High School History teacher have beef

• Nothing serious, they just have history-offs everytime they see each other

• He is also Gretchen's politics teacher

• Janis is now besties with the Guidance Counselor

• She is also Gretchen's HUMSS teacher.

• The Math teacher doesn't know whether or not Cady is his favorite student or not because she participates the most, but she also finishes his examples before he can input it in the calculator, and she does it without a fucking calculator

• He's a nice dude though

• He's also everyone's Statistics teacher

• Damian is the school's favorite theatre kid

• The Prefect of Discipline is so done with their batch

• The Principal is Regina's Applied Economics teacher

• She took one look at Regina and thought "This kid is a lesbian, isn't she?"

• She would know, she has a wife

• Cady's calculus teacher adores her

• She mentally adopted Cady, actually

• The Arts and Design teacher is so done with Janis's bullshit

• "Welcome to the club, sir."

• He is a very supportive straight man

• He doesn't know whether to be impressed or scared of Karen

• Their homeroom teacher doesn't question their group dynamics anymore

• Their entire homeroom just one day subconsciously picked up wearing a hint or pink on Wednesdays

• So did the homeroom teacher.

• Every admin, students, and teachers all noticed this

• But they said nothing since it doesn't really break the dress code

• It annoys the Prefect of Discipline a little

• Why didn't she have this when she was still a teacher dammit

• They aren't exactly the popular kids, but if you ask anyone "Do you know (name of anyone from the group)" it's an automatic yes

• Regina's lacrosse coach is a wholesome 50 year old man that will throw crampled paper at someone that doesn't take the drills seriously

• He's the most respectful and in tune with his emotions Gen X man anyone's ever met

• Cady is obviously in the Math varsity which is run by the Calculus teacher

• If smart kids get bullied in canon, here, they cannot be bullied because your grade depends on them

• No seriously, they're usually the group leaders and they will be all "Give me the research design by Friday or you have no group anymore, and you'll do the entire research on your own."

" ⬆️ Cady, Janis, and Regina are part of these

• Overall, it's organized chaos

[frankenjoly]

bram and aya +

“I think they’re staring at you.”

“What do you recommend?”

or the word ‘royal’! up to you how many to do alsjfkfj

aaaanddd i combined them :3

“What do you recommend?” Bram asked, letting Aya lead him to a table she had called her usual spot upon entering the cafe. It was a small and colorful place near her school, mostly filled by other students with their friends, but in some cases their parents too. Would that mean no one would deem him as out of place? Unlikely, given how a handful of heads had turned to follow them with little to no regard for acting inconspicuous.

Most of them thought twice when meeting Bram’s best ‘mind your own business’ gaze, though.

“Hm.” Aya tapped her chin with her index finger, clearly considering all the options, since there was apparently nothing the vampire couldn’t straight up tolerate from the place’s menu. Sure, it wouldn’t feed him either, but that had been a given since the start. Not like it bothered Bram much, not when he could still taste food. “All the cakes are absolutely wonderful, but if I had to pick just one, maybe the apple pie? Or ditch those and go for the mochis. And for drinkin’...” She stopped for a second, glancing in the same way Bram was proceeding to look at. “Oh, yeah. I think they’re looking at you.”

“Have I not done enough to…” It was now his own turn to make a pause, properly choosing the words. “... appear fairly common-looking by modern standards?” 

The clothes he was currently wearing, if maybe more fancy than the usual while looking at everyone else, were appropriate to the times and weather. He had styled his hair so his pointy ears wouldn’t stand out much. And there wasn’t much he could do about the scars crossing his cheeks but those weren’t that strange either.

So what was the issue? Was it simply because he was a newcomer there? Would people who were familiar with Aya’s presence find off-putting that she wasn’t accompanied by her actual, biological father? Or--?

Speaking about Aya, her first reaction towards the question was giggling.

“I think they don’t have any problem with your looks, but the other way around.” The giggle turned into a big, amused smile. “Don’t be too obvious if you wanna take a peek, but for example… one of the ladies over there’s downright blushin’ and all.”

“Excuse me?” To be completely honest, Bram had understood what she meant. He just needed a few minutes to process the whole situation. Or hours.

“What? Bet they’re gushin’ as if they just found one of their fave romance novel main dudes just turned out to be true. Which kinda checks out, since you’re from ages ago and have that royal vibe thing goin’ on.”

Bram opened his mouth for a second, then closed it, then opened it again.

“You know I am no literal royalty.” Plus, calling her his princess was more about devotion and endearment and… yes, maybe a bit based on fantasy stories too, like the ones he had told another certain little girl back then. But still.

“I doubt they think that either.” Aya shrugged. “Anyway, whatcha gonna do with that sudden wave of popularity?”

“I--” Bram, meanwhile, let out a brief sigh. “Honestly, I have no interest in acknowledging those.”

“Why? Already got a sweetheart and whatnot?”

“You could say so.” He had barely finished speaking, when Aya’s jaw dropped.

(Also on ao3.)

[bitchfitch]

you see. There's this fundamental issue with my personality where I will not bother my mother (doctor) about literally anything going wrong with my personal health. She did not find out I was hospitalized for internal bleeding until I had to turn down a mother son brunch bc I couldn't eat solids. I just didn't think to tell her bc like. why would she care there wasn't anything she could do or needed to do. This has been a problem my entire life.

But. I will bother her with hypothetical questions about how fictional traumatic injuries should be handled, Constantly.

This has gotten to the point that I am not allowed to ask her writing questions until I give her an update on my current health.

this is a problem. because the minute I leave a doctor's office. Everything they said that wasn't an explicit instruction or a diagnosis just leaves my head Instantly. Bc none of those other words mean Jack shit to me.

so I'm having to reconstruct the last month of medical issues like a forensic pathologist so I can ask her how dubious it would be to drug a kid with crushed opioids while he's got a brand new head injury so his arm can be sewn shut by a dude who lost his medical license ages ago.

[imjustdreamingig]

Run Away

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were never a shy person, until it came to talking to the boy you liked.

A/N: Well, this is my first time writing something like this so... please be nice. I was kinda tired of only seeing shy!reader stuff so I decided to base this on my personality. So yeah, kind of based on a true story. What reader does in this story I've actually done in real life which is mortifying. Anyways!!! This is just edited by me so lmk how I can improve and if I should write a part 2??? Maybe?? Idk. Enjoy!

PS: Robin and Steve work together, nothing monstery has happened, they're all in the same grade. It's a bunch of dumb teenagers together battling high school.

Warnings: sfw, cursing, fluff? people being dumb?? idk what else tbh

You've never considered yourself to be a shy person. In fact, you were very much so extroverted, never finding qualms in chatting to your classmates or asking you're teacher questions in class that some may think are stupid. You didn't care.

Aside from being a little nervous back in elementary school, that trait had dissolved as you got older, and it definitely wasn't present at the moment during your senior year at Hawkins High.

However. As much as you liked to claim to be unbothered with public speaking and your ability to make friends easily, there was one thing that you couldn't just quite get over, no matter how hard you tried. And quite frankly, it was getting old and ridiculous.

"Fuck, Robin he's coming down the hall," you exclaimed, "move, move, move, move!"

You didn't bother checking if she was behind you, already knowing she would be as you practically ran to your second period class. It was the first day of the new semester anyways, you could use the excuse of wanting to get good seats to justify your cowardice to yourself later tonight.

"Jesus Christ," you heard Robin mutter as she finally caught up to you, "You know I have asthma, I cannot keep doing this every time you so much catch a glimpse of Steve."

You slowed down your pace, your heart not feeling as though it would burst out of your chest anymore. You still sported a slight flush on your face from the thought of the almost encounter you had with the jock.

"I know, I know, this is getting so stupid. I promise next time I'll talk to him, I swear," you said as you sighed forlornly.

Robin turned to you with an unimpressed stare. "That's what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and yet here we are," she waved her hands dramatically.

Here's your problem. An issue that is a complete juxtaposition of your usual personality. The moment you've ever realized you have a crush on someone, you would run away from them anytime you saw them. Literally. You would full on sprint away in the opposite direction.

You've never really understood why this happens, only knowing that the second you saw your current crush, you're usual non existent nerves would make a prevalent appearance. You'd freeze and your eyes would widen as your brain chose the flight response when confronted with a potential dangerous situation.

"Look dingus, I love you and I think you're awesome and all that, blah blah blah, but this has got to stop," Robin stated as you both took your seats in your English class. "You're embarrassing me just as much as you're embarrassing yourself and our social status cannot take that much more of a beating."

You knew she was joking but just grunted in response, having buried your face in the crook of your elbow, not even bothering to open up your notebook. You heard Robin sigh and could tell she was rolling her eyes at you.

"You know..." Robin started, "I could always just...talk to him for you? Give him you're number or something during our shift at-"

Your raised your head immediately, almost giving yourself whiplash. "Robs, no way. We've talked about this before! I just - this situation is already awkward as it is, that would just make it worse."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help, but if you wanna suffer some more that's totally your choice." Robin says as she shrugs her shoulders. "Besides, with all that running your doing, at least you're getting some cardio in."

You let out as surprised squawk. "Robin come on! Not funny!" She doesn't reply, merely continuing to laugh at you. All you did was just groan in response again, settling your head in your arms once more.

A few weeks ago, you had been walking to your locker whilst attempting to shove a bunch of textbooks into your bag at the same time. Obviously, everything fell and it just so happened that Steve was nearby and helped you out.

"Oh my God, you don't have to, it's totally fine," you'd stammered, just the tiniest bit embarrassed of dropping your books in the middle of the crowded hallway.

"Don't sweat it, it happens to the best of us." Steve chuckled as he handed you your notebook.

And then it happened. The event that you frequently replay over and over in your mind, the event that kickstarted the affections you had for the boy.

Once everything was stored safely in your bag, Steve stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He then turned his attention to you and simply offered you his hand to help you up.

You stared into his big, brown eyes, completely dumbfounded. Here he was, an average man doing the absolute bare minimum and yet you still found yourself practically falling at his feet, your heart feeling as thought it was going to beat out of your chest.

"I- uh, I mean, thanks for the hand Steve," you stammered as you tentatively took his hand and pulled yourself off the floor. You cringed when you felt that it was sort of shaking and kind of clammy, hoping Steve wouldn't notice. "Both literally and figuratively."

You wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow you up after you blurted out those words. To your surprise, Steve let out a laugh, a genuine laugh. His eyes sort of crinkled and you could see the slight indent of a dimple. As if the man needed to get any more attractive in your eyes.

"It's no problem at all," he reassured you. "I'll be seeing you." He gave a quick wave and then turned in the direction of the cafeteria. Your hands tightened on the straps of your backpack as you watched him walk away, admiring the view.

Oh ew, you suddenly thought to yourself, now that was just pathetic.

Ever since that moment, you couldn't give yourself that last push you needed to talk to him. Even after the multitude of pep talks you give yourself in the mirror, including the ones from Robin, you still always ran away whenever you saw him.

You'd be a fool to think he didn't notice it and prayed he didn't mistake it for you hating him or something.

The sound of the bell signaling the start of class pulled you from your misery, forcing you to pay attention to your teacher so you didn't face the consequences of falling behind so early in the term.

Amidst your groveling, you'd failed to notice a particular brunet enter the class and take a seat at a desk a few rows behind you. Who knows what your reaction would have been if you did. Robin just kept her mouth shut, simply winking in Steve's direction when she caught his eye.

"Alright class, settle down and listen up," your teacher began. "I know it's the first day of the semester, but I wanted to introduce an assignment before anything else to make sure you have enough time to complete it and do an excellent job."

The entire class let out a collective groan, yourself included. How could she already be giving out assignments when she hasn't even properly introduced herself?

You turned to Robin, brows furrowed in annoyance. "I think she's got her agenda mixed up, she's introducing things in the wrong order."

"Fuck this, I should've taken Eddie's warning more seriously. Now I understand why everyone hates her," Robin gripped, running a hand through her cropped hair, already looking a little stressed.

You nodded in agreement and added, "I think I get why people hate English so much too."

Robin laughed. "But you'll still love it anyways, won't you?" she chided. Before you had a chance to reply, your teacher began speaking again.

"Settle down, please! If you listen, you'd hear that this not due until the last month of the semester and you'll be working in partners," she stated, "so not only will you have plenty of time to work on it, but you'll also have some help." You and Robin glanced at each other, hopefully smiles tugging at both of your faces.

"Your partners will be assigned by me," the whole class collectively groaned again, "which is what I'll be doing as we get through attendance. I'll explain the criteria before moving on."

"Yep, I think I hate this class at least a little bit now," you complained to Robin, already making a mental checklist of what school stuff you should at least start on later in the afternoon.

"-ohn Gilmore, Phoebe Burton, partners. Steve Harrington, Y/N Y/L/N, partners. Billy Holden, Rob-"

You froze for a second, as if you were glitching. Steve was in... this class? There was no way, you would have absolutely noticed him. But as you snuck a glance behind you, sure enough there he was, sitting in his chair, mindlessly twirling a pencil through his fingers. To your surprise, he was actually looking back at you too and- wait hold up, was he smirking?

You immediately spun back around, hand lurching to grip onto the sides of your desk. You then blinked a couple of time, praying your face wasn't as red as you felt like it was.

"Nope, nope, absolutely not. No thank you," you said as you shook your head from side to side. "Miss, this is a joke right?" you inquired out loud.

You were eventually going to talk to Steve, you were sure of it. The day was coming where you could have some sort of a conversation with him without running away, you could feel it. The moment was almost here.

Today, however, was absolutely not that day.

Just when you were about to complain to you teacher out loud again, you feel a presence behind you.

"Oh come on, you're already dismissing me as a terrible English partner? I'm wounded, seriously." The voice was laced in amusement. You did not need to turn around to know who it belonged to.

Before you could even think of a response, Robin turns to you, clearly finding your horror to the situation hilarious, and says, "Well, I think you're going to hate this class a little bit too."

Well fuck.