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thesvnandthemooon · 2 days ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: this is a story i wrote + published on wattpad (user: thesvnandthemoon). i recently finished writing the last chapter and i love it so much i decided to post it on tumblr as well (my first fic i’m posting here hehe)

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: none! :) (i think. if you find any, let me know!)

word count: 5.8k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

They say one summer can change everything — you never thought it would be yours.

In hindsight, you won't be able to say when exactly it all started, but it must've been at the town's annual fun fair. Popcorn and fried dough, old carnival rides and duck ponds, neon signs and bells ringing.

You come reluctantly, dragged along by a friend who insists it'll be fun (and then proceeds to ditch you after meeting some guy at the hot dog stand). You don't expect much — just the usual: sticky cotton candy fingers, cheap thrills, and a fleeting distraction from the monotony of summer evenings. What you don't expect is her.

Green eyes and a black bomber jacket that looks way too warm for a hot summer day, her red hair in a loose braid. Bruised knuckles, painted in all shades of blue and purple, and a faint scar above her left eyebrow. She's leaning against the side of one of the booths, a cigarette dangling from her lips. For a moment, your eyes get stuck on her. But when her gaze meets yours, you turn back to the shooting gallery in front of you.

It gives her the opportunity to let her gaze linger on you, sharp and assessing. It's not the kind of look that makes you uncomfortable — if anything, it's curious, like she's trying to figure you out. Her eyes trail from the sundress you're wearing to the smudge of sunscreen on your wrist, then back up to the necklace that glints against your skin as you lean forward to aim.

Your fingers curl around the grip with a mix of hesitation and focus. In front of you are bright red and yellow circles, each one suspended on a flimsy wooden board. Some are shaped like ducks, others like stars, but they all feel impossibly far away.

The gun's plastic body feels awkward in your hands, too light to mimic the real thing, but you pull the trigger anyways. Just as expected, you miss, the dart-like projectile whizzing softly as it flies past the target.

You miss one shot. Then two. Then three.

Natasha, deciding she's had enough of seeing this pretty girl embarrass the hell out of herself, stomps her cigarette out with the heel of her boot before approaching you. She steps up next to you, the sound of her boots quiet against the pavement. You turn your head, a frustrated look on your face that doesn't waver even when she smirks. Without a word, she grabs the fake gun from your hands.

"Let me show you how it's done", she says, her voice low, just for you. She doesn't wait for your response before taking aim.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she hits the first target, then the second, then the third — each shot landing perfectly. You huff quietly as you watch her, trying to hide that you're somewhat impressed by this stranger's skill. She's not even showing off, just doing what she knows best.

It makes you wonder who she is. You don't know her, despite this town being quite small. You'd remember her, you're sure of that. She seems like the kind of person who'll float around your head like a little faded cloud until the day you die.

When she looks at you again, you quickly clear your throat and force a small, teasing smile. "Not bad", you say. "Now let's see if you can do that blindfolded."

Natasha smirks, her eyes glistening with amusement. I like her, she thinks, handing the plastic gun back to you. She feels a spark deep in her bones. She doesn't want to let it fizzle out.

"How about you let me take you on a date first? Then, maybe we'll talk about you blindfolding me."

"Wow", you muse, suppressing a small smile. This is dangerous territory, flirting so shamelessly with someone you probably aren't allowed to have. The odds would be against you. However, nobody said you can't have a little fun. "A marksman and bold. Lucky me."

"You don't know the half of it", she says, raising an eyebrow. She nods at the targets in front of you. "Come on, your turn. Let's see if you're a visual learner."

You adjust your grip on the gun and aim once more, feeling her eyes on you. There's something predatory about the way she studies others, like she's waiting for them to slip up, but there's also a hint of something softer underneath. In that moment, it's reserved for you.

Right before you pull the trigger, she leans in and whispers: "Hit the target and you're going on that date with me."

For a moment, you consider giving it your best.

You could take the shot. You could make it. But for some reason, the thought of it feels too simple.

The projectile misses the target by a wide margin. Natasha frowns, her arms crossing in front of her chest. You turn around and your eyes meet.

"Guess I'm not ready for that date yet", you say.

"I'm starting to think you're making this harder on both of us", Natasha mutters, giving you a look that's somewhere between amusement and frustration. "Good thing I'm stubborn."

"Half of this town is stubborn", you say, unimpressed but equally intrigued. This woman seems determined to take you on a date, and honestly, you like the thought of being pursued so actively. But you're convinced your family is more stubborn than whoever she is.

"If you think this is stubborn", Natasha says, her eyes glinting in the afternoon sun, "you haven't met the real me yet."

Your lips twitch into a small smile at the sheer confidence in her voice. It's attractive, in a way, but also riling you up. You can't tell her why you're so adamant about saying no, so pushing her away is your only choice. Deep down, however, you know you'd say yes in a heartbeat if you weren't such a coward. And maybe she realizes that, too.

"Let's assume I say yes", you challenge. "Then what? You think a few hours with you will change everything?"

"Maybe it won't change anything", she says, though she's convinced it will. With Natasha, it always does. "But something tells me you're the kind of person worth taking that risk for."

Her words make you hesitate. She watches your expression fall in a way that makes her frown.

"You don't know me", you start carefully.

Before either of you can say anything else, you hear your name being called. Your friend comes hurrying back, this time with a peace-offering bag of popcorn. She gives you an apologetic grin and tugs at your arm. You avoid Natasha's gaze as you let her lead you away.

You don't expect to see her so soon again, but maybe that's just your luck.

You're on the ferris wheel. Natasha spots you a few gondolas away, lost in thought, your friend talking to someone on the phone.

She's used to being reckless, but not in order to impress other people. This time, it's different.

You caught her attention. You made her ask you out on a date. You said no.

Maybe she should give up. She doesn't even know what this will be, after all — a fling? A quick flirt? A one night stand, perhaps?

It could end up being nothing. Something about the way you looked at her earlier makes her believe otherwise, though. She can't give up so soon.

As the wheel slows to let others on, Natasha stands up and carefully grips the framework on the sides of the gondola. She stands on the small seat for a moment, balancing her weight, before she begins climbing to where you are. She moves expertly, ignoring the gasps of a few onlookers.

You look up when she reaches your gondola, and your friend almost drops her phone. Gaping, you stare at her.

"Are you insane?", you finally ask, reaching out to steady her. She slides into the seat next to you, loose strands of red hair fluttering around in the wind.

"Say yes to that date", she says, "or I'll jump."

You ignore the stunned look your friend gives the two of you. Sighing, you realize that this woman has managed to chip away at your resistance with ease. You didn't want to say no before, to be fair, but you felt like you didn't have a choice.

You still don't. You just decide to ignore that fact.

"At least tell me your name."

"Natasha", she says, smiling.

You tell her your name as well. You spend the remaining ten minutes of the ferris wheel ride in uncomfortable silence, trying to escape the stares of both Natasha and your friend.

. . .

The date goes better than expected.

She takes you to a diner, where she talks the owner into letting you stay after closing hours. With the door locked and the lights dimmed, your focus is entirely on Natasha. She was charming before, but it doesn't compare to the way she's treating you now.

You twirl the rose she handed you between your fingers, noticing that someone has carefully removed all the thorns. This town doesn't have a flower shop, you quietly remind yourself.

"It's nice here", you say, your eyes scanning your surroundings very briefly. Checkered tiles, a jukebox, red vinyl booths. Chrome finishes on tables, counters and stools, and milkshakes with cherries on top. It's like a place straight out of the 1950s. "Can't believe I've never been here before."

"You're here often?", she asks, dipping the end of her straw into the whipped cream and licking it off.

"Every summer. I'm visiting my grandparents."

A hum forms in her throat. You smile faintly, catching her eye.

"I've never seen you here before", you eventually say, stealing a dollop of her whipped cream with your own straw. She doesn't complain. Her smile widens instead.

"Looks like this town does have its secrets, after all."

You soon figure out that Natasha's different from the other people you've gone on dates with before.

She makes you laugh. It spills out of you before you can stop it, surprising you.

She's all bruised knuckles and scarred hands, hinting at a grittier life — she's not polished or sheltered. Instead, she's resilient and strong and self-assured.

Her presence feels electrifying. Every brush of her fingers against yours sends shockwaves down your spine.

When you exit the diner, you pause. You don't want to leave, and neither does she. Her hand touches yours meaningfully, and she lingers — just enough to make you pause. Her eyes search yours, her confidence softening just enough to feel like a plea. It's intoxicating, the way she makes everything else disappear. The moment feels unhurried, deliberate, like a silent question.

Are we on the same page?

You should turn around and go home. Your family is probably wondering where you are.

Instead, you let her pull you into a kiss.

For Natasha, it's more thrilling than climbing a ferris wheel.

. . .

You're used to keeping secrets, but this one is your favorite so far.

Natasha is a force that keeps drawing you closer. Before you know it, you're sneaking out of windows and hiding behind corners of buildings. Her lips seem to be getting softer each time you touch them with your own.

You meet again on a Friday night, this time in the quiet of her car. An SUV, surprisingly, one that you wouldn't have assumed would be hers.

"You seem more like the pickup truck type", you tell her, a genuine smile on your face.

"That's insulting", she replies, smirking, and starts the car. "Tell me where you want to go."

You can't think of anything, so you shrug. You let her surprise you. With her, everything seems to be a surprise.

Natasha doesn't appear to be in a hurry. She handles the steering wheel with calmness, a sense that, no matter where you end up, it'll be a night to remember.

In the end, the silent streets take you to the outskirts of town. An old sign reads Sunset Drive-In. The parking lot is almost empty, save for a few cars littered across the place. The screen stands tall and cracked against the backdrop of dark trees. Neon lights, once-vibrant and now dead. It feels like a place lost in time.

"Here?", you say, trying to conceal your amusement.

"Trust me, it's better when no one else is around."

She parks the car in the middle of the lot, far from the old speakers that still dangle from rusted poles. A breeze sweeps through your hair when you step out of the car and follow her. She pops the trunk, revealing a blanket that she uses to cover the hood. Side by side, you sit down.

You both stare up at the starry sky, feeling each other's presence. Her hand touches yours.

"Not what I expected", you admit, glancing at her. She smiles.

"I told you it'd be different," Natasha replies. She leans back against the windshield, folding one arm behind her head. The soft hum of the old projector flickers in the background. "But you can't say it's not romantic."

"Never said it wasn't."

A black and white movie starts to play. Your smile widens and you laugh quietly.

"Is everything about this place old?", you ask.

"Apart from us? Probably."

You hum in acknowledgment and nod, watching the scenes in front of you slowly flesh out into a full story. Your hand slides across the blanket, fingertips touching hers. She takes your hand and holds it in her lap. Her calloused fingers trace your knuckles, one by one, repeatedly.

Occasionally, you glance at her. You shift closer to her on the hood, so your sides are flush. At some point, she wraps her arm around you and you rest your head on her chest. Her heartbeat is steady and grounding in your ear. You allow yourself to close your eyes — you haven't been focusing on the movie for a while now, anyways.

Natasha's lips brush against your hair, lazy and soft. You turn your head to press your cheek against the fabric of her shirt. She smells like leather and mowed grass, perfume and something faintly metallic. It's the trace of a life lived on edge, so very different from how you were brought up.

What you remember from your childhood are two things: the inability to choose for yourself and the knowledge that you're safe and protected.

Money was never an issue, and neither were security or stability. But with it came rules — endless, unyielding rules about how to act, what to say, who to be. Every choice predetermined, every step carefully calculated.

Who are you taking to prom? Who's taking you to prom? What dress will you wear? What will you study? What kind of life are you aspiring to have someday? Kids, no kids?

Don't drag your family's name into the mud. Don't even think about doing this your way. Your grandmother would be so disappointed. You'll ruin your future.

Quiet voices in your head, echoing past questions and letting the hollow pit in your stomach grow again.

Automatically, your head turns. You breathe Natasha in. For a moment, you dare believe she might be the freedom you've been wishing for.

The movie plays on, its lights flickering across the parking lot. Sometimes, the screen goes dark, pulling you into the darkness as well. The stars above you seem brighter than ever, twinkling sympathetically.

Then, the end credits start rolling. You glance at Natasha, realizing she's been looking at you.

"Enjoyed the movie?"

"It's old", she simply says. You smile faintly.

"Not a fan?"

Her hand starts drawing circles on your shoulder, your arm, your side. You exhale to suppress a quiet laugh.

"There's exactly one thing I liked about it", she says meaningfully. It makes you want to kiss her.

Unfortunately, the moment is ruined when some drunk guy starts yelling at his girlfriend. She yells back. Then, glass shatters. A high-pitched 'what did you do to my fucking car??' rips you out of your moment of contentment.

The shouts echo through the nearly empty parking lot, piercing through the quiet night air. Natasha's arm around your shoulder tightens when the man jumps out of his car. He's clearly drunk, standing there unsteadily and waving his arms. His girlfriend yells once more.

You sit up slowly, Natasha following in suit. Her jaw tenses as she watches the fight — she looks like she's about to spring into action. Something sharp flickers in her eyes, alert and calculating, and it sends a jolt of attraction through your body.

Again, you quietly wonder who she really is. She doesn't show much of herself. But something about her promises an escape from everything else.

"You okay?", she asks. The arm that's lazily draped over your shoulders gives you a squeeze. Her eyes, however, stay glued to the offending couple.

"Yeah", you confirm. You lean into her subconsciously. She feels like stability in a world that's falling apart.

Her gaze doesn't leave the scene until the couple's fight fizzles out. A car door slams, tires screech against the gravel, and the lot falls silent again.

Natasha exhales and her shoulders relax as she looks back at you. The intensity in her eyes softens. "Sorry about that. Not exactly the ending I had in mind."

You smile faintly, unsure what to say. The bubble you were in moments ago has popped. Instead, you're surrounded by darkness and the sound of crickets. Her green eyes search your face in the darkness.

"Do you want to head back?", she asks after a beat. You shake your head so quickly you even surprise yourself.

"No." You pause, watching her carefully. "Unless you want to?"

Her lips curve into a small smile, the tension melting away. "Not a chance." She nudges your shoulder gently, coaxing a laugh out of you. "I know a spot. If you're up for it."

You quietly decide your parents can wait a little longer.

. . .

You tell Natasha about everything.

She tells you about nothing.

You're in her car, tucked into the backseat. You're leaning against the car door and your knees are pulled to your chest. The milky moonlight bathes your features in a gentle glow. It makes it hard for Natasha to focus on what you're saying, but she tries her best.

"They're strict", you begin, absentmindedly playing with the laces of your converse. "It's hard to explain. I guess it's how they were brought up, which doesn't excuse things, but whatever. When I date someone, it's not without their approval."

Natasha trails her fingers down the length of your shin, leaving a pleasantly tingling feeling in their wake. She's grown increasingly comfortable around you.

"They're rich, too. Like, really fucking rich. It's crazy." You pause. "I don't even know. I guess I'm trying to say that this — whatever it is — won't be easy."

Her eyes find yours, green and steady. She rests her hand atop your shoe, her fingers tracing the laces.

"You're still here", she says. "Guess that says something."

You smile weakly. You haven't thought about it that way yet, but she does have a point — despite everything, you're here. In her car.

You reach out to grab her hand and intertwine your fingers. Natasha leans in closer, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Her skin is pale in the light seeping in through the window behind you.

"When do you have to go home?", she asks. Something needles at your chest as you realize how that question makes you feel. Despite being an adult, you're acting like a teenager with a curfew.

Cheeks warm, you shrug. "An hour?"

"That's not much", Natasha points out. "We'll have to make it count."

"Or you kidnap me", you suggest, half-joking but also half-wishing she'd take you up on the offer. But she just smiles and shakes her head. Her hands push your legs apart as she crawls in between them.

As your eyes meet hers, you can't help but wonder how you ended up here — how everything in your life seemed to collide with this moment, with her.

"Can't imagine you being on the run, if I'm honest." She leaves a quick kiss on your lips. "You'd miss the AC and the fancy espresso machine."

You cup her cheek with one hand. You coax her into another kiss, a firmer one this time. Her hand, resting on your hip, slowly slides under your shirt. Her warm palm feels electrifying against your skin.

"You don't know me that well", you mumble yet again. You dive into another kiss. "Maybe you will one day."

Natasha looks at you. Something unspoken passes between the two of you. Your thumb grazes the faint scar below her jawline.

"I'd be thrilled", she replies, her voice softer, then kisses you deeply. Her tongue pushes past your lips. Her hand moves higher until her fingertips brush under the fabric of your bra. Rain starts pattering against the fogged up windows, quiet and steady, but you don't notice it happen.

Instead, you cradle Natasha's face. You taste the beer you had earlier on her tongue. It's mixed with something uniquely hers. You let her in, completely, and you suddenly find that you don't care about the consequences anymore.

. . .

She takes you to a small house by a lake.

It's afternoon when she suddenly shows up. You're not entirely sure how she managed to find your grandparents' house, but she did — she's right here, leaning against the gate with her back turned to you. Her red braid is a pattern against the smooth fabric of her black leather jacket.

You'd be thrilled to see her if it weren't for your grandfather walking past the kitchen window.

Your heart leaps into your throat. With one swift movement, you sling your bag over your shoulder.

"Be back soon!", you call out as you rush through the door, letting it slam shut behind you. You don't wait for a response — you don't want to risk it. Instead, you hurry to the gate and push it open with a quiet creaking sound. Natasha glances at you and smiles.

"You're insane", you whisper harshly, grabbing her arm and yanking her away from the gate. You glance back at the house. The kitchen window is empty for now, but it won't stay that way for long.

"Nice to see you, too", she says, a smirk on her face. She lets you drag her along without protesting. "What are you so worked up about?"

"Are you being serious? You were supposed to pick me up at the diner, not here! They could've seen you!"

"Yeah, yeah." Natasha frees her arm from your grip to take your hand. She's so utterly at ease that it makes your chest tighten.

What's it like, not caring about anything or anyone?

It's a thought you don't dwell on. Natasha spins you toward her, her free arm encircling your waist. Before you can process what's happening, her lips are pressed to yours. Firm but soft, a lingering taste of mint on them.

You let out a soft noise and wrap your arms around her neck, momentarily forgetting about the looming risk of being caught. She smiles against your lips and slowly pulls away.

"Now", she says, leading you down the sidewalk and toward her car, "let me take you somewhere."

"Where?", you ask as she unlocks the car. She doesn't answer, so you sit down and buckle up, the scent of her leather jacket surrounding you. The engine of the car hums to life. You reach out to tap the back of her hand. "Nat, where are we going?"

"I thought you liked surprises."

"I do", you reply and glance out the window. The winding road, shaded by towering oak trees, takes you past lush gardens and monotonous picket fences. A neighborhood that screams uniformity, but to you, it's nostalgia in its purest form. "I'd still like to know. Finally taking me up on that kidnapping-offer, maybe?"

Natasha smiles. Her hand moves to yours thigh, just barely brushing under the hem of your skirt. "Just be patient. You'll like it, I promise."

Her skin on yours makes you feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer heat. You put your hand on hers, squeezing lightly to distract yourself. It doesn't work.

"I'm curious", you say. The pad of your thumb finds a scar on the side of her hand and you start tracing it.

"Patience", she repeats. She looks at you and smirks. "How much time do we have this time?"

You hesitate before eventually telling her the truth. "A few days. I told my parents I'm staying at a friend's house."

"Lying to your parents for me already?"

A red flush blooms on your cheeks. "Don't let it go to your head."

You drive past the slow life of the town you're in. A post office with a fading American flag fluttering outside, a little café where locals sip coffee, a general store. You spent years exploring everything on your bike and getting to know every nook and cranny.

Eventually, you reach the more rural part of town. Natasha drives down a hill and brings the car to a stop. Grass brushes against your bare ankles as you step out of the car.

In front of you, you spot a small house that's nestled into the landscape like it belongs there. It's surrounded by swaying trees and green grass, the summer sun making everything look like straight out of a children's picture book.

Your breath hitches for a moment. Your hand touches the hood of the car for a moment, grounding you.

"Is this...?"

"It's mine", Natasha confirms. She grabs a suitcase and joins you. A few strands of hair have escaped her braid, curling slightly. "I bought it a while ago. Just, you know. For someday."

You inspect the house. It's small, unassuming. Completely unlike the modern apartment you'd imagined her retreating to whenever she wasn't with you.

You love it.

"Someday?", you ask, glancing at her.

She smiles and averts her eyes. There's something vulnerable to her. "I just thought...maybe one day, I'll need a place like this. Away from everything. Away with someone."

You're not sure how to respond to that, so you don't. Every word you consider seems to fall short.

You fall into step with her, following her up the creaking wooden steps of the porch. The door swings open quietly. Natasha, red-cheeked for the first time since you've met her, quietly admits that she oiled the hinges.

You barely hear what she says. The house, albeit minimal and almost spartan inside, feels like a memory.

A mattress on the floor. A table with mismatched chairs in the kitchen space. A few boxes, some overflowing with blankets.

You absently adjust a few books on the bookshelf, pushing them backwards so their spines are aligned. Natasha's silent, not daring to disrupt the silence.

She doesn't tell you that you're the first person she's ever brought here. She doesn't have to.

"It's cozy", you murmur. You faintly hear the gentle thump of the suitcase as Natasha sets it down. "You've been here before?"

"A few times." She tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans and watches you explore. "Don't expect too much. There's no WIFI, no cable. Not exactly a five-star getaway."

"No WIFI?", you tease, picking up a ceramic mug that's sitting next to the sink. It's patterned, chipped at the top — so ordinary it makes you smile. "How will I survive?"

Natasha smirks. Her hand finds yours and she leads you to the back of the house. Through a sliding glass door, you reach a small porch. Beyond it, a lake stretches out, its surface shimmering in the sun. A hammock swings between two trees, a bed of wildflowers underneath. It smells like grass and cedar.

The warm breeze washes over you. You breathe in the air and let it seep into your system. Out here, the rest of the world seems very far away.

"It's beautiful", you finally say.

"It is", she says quietly, her gaze never leaving you. You look at her when you feel her fingers intertwine with yours. The sunlight softens her sharp features into something gentle and fragile.

You reach out and brush some hair behind her ear. The light touch of your fingertips against her skin is enough to make her relax.

Natasha puts her hand on yours, keeping it pressed against her cheek for a moment. Then, she nods at the hammock.

"Come on", she says. "Let's see if that thing still holds."

. . .

The days are a blur.

You sleep on the mattress on the floor, one with a dip in the middle that pulls you together by dawn. The bedsheets, soft and worn, have a faded floral pattern on them. Morning light streams through the windows.

You wake slowly when the warmth of the sunlight hits your face. Natasha's arm is draped over your waist, her breath hitting your neck. Sometimes, she wakes before you. She kisses your shoulder and pulls you closer.

You eat sitting on the table, legs idly swinging over the edge. The table wobbles slightly, but it's nothing a folded napkin can't fix. Natasha stands next to you, her hair unbrushed and falling over her shoulders in auburn waves. Her voice is quiet and raspy when she speaks. The faintest hint of a Russian accent is present, making you wonder about her more than ever.

You still don't know much about her. She's a mystery you can't solve, but you're dangerously close to promising yourself you'll spend your entire life trying to.

You share your coffee from the chipped mug that you found sitting next to the sink. You steal bites of food from her plate. You bask in the warmth that's ever present in this little house.

The rest of the day, you're mostly outside. Staying indoors doesn't seem to be an option in a place like this. You enjoy the butterflies, the sun, the lapping of the lake far too much.

Natasha finds a canoe behind the shed that's next to the lake. It's old and doesn't look like it'll keep you above the water, but Natasha insists it's still seaworthy. To your surprise, she's right — the canoe, paint peeling and wood scuffed, stays afloat.

She rows you to the middle of the lake. Her muscles flex under her shirt as she pulls the oar. You sit behind her, legs dangling over the side, and enjoy the view.

When she suggests you go swimming, you give her a skeptical look. But the redhead has gotten up already, her shirt peeled off to reveal a black bra underneath. Scars crisscross her skin in a startling blend of old and new — some pale and softened with time, others pink and raw. A past she's never spoken of. You know better than to ask.

Her jeans follow. The canoe rocks precariously as she jumps. When she comes back to the surface, her hair is slicked back and water drips from her face. Natasha looks happy, unbothered, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

You ignore the plea of your body to stay warm and dry. Instead, you take your clothes off as well and join her in the lake. Water, cold and refreshing, envelops you. Her hands find your waist and you meet her lips with yours.

After this, you start bathing in the lake every day. You run around the house naked, lake water dripping on the floor and Natasha's laughter trailing after you.

Corners and hallways offer little moments of intimacy. Her body feels warm against yours. You let your hands run over her sun-kissed skin, her lips pressing against the side of your face. Natasha's hand trails down your front and dips between your legs. You're hers entirely.

At night, you curl up on the mattress. Hair damp and skin sunburnt, you feel like the season has claimed you. You've soaked up the joy of summer, and from now on, nothing will be able to compare to this.

Not everything is perfect. As you spend so much time with her, you realize that Natasha and you clash like fire and ice — two forces that shouldn't mix but somehow do.

It's the little things and it's the bigger things. Jackets left in random places, or arguments caused by different ideas of what comes next. Somehow, you're both curious about the future — but you also avoid that topic as much as you can.

You try bringing it up. Gently, carefully, as if not trying to scare away a wild animal. Your head on her chest, the pads of your feet pressed against her calves. Her heartbeat is steady in your ear. You close your eyes and speak, asking her what she thinks.

Natasha is not one to hesitate. This time, she does.

You have no clue why. You don't know that her job requires her to be able to up and go at any given time. You don't know that her life, unlike yours, is fragile and unstable. You don't know that she doesn't want to drag another person into this mess.

There's just one issue: Natasha has fallen in love with you.

It was meant to be a fling. A quick summer flirt. Just a pretty girl to make her days less lonely in this strange, unfamiliar town.

She couldn't have possibly known you'd end up meaning so much to her, but here you are — all messy hair and sweet smiles, burrowing your way into her chest as if you were always meant to be there.

This transition from casual to everything but happened way back. She never noticed it happen. And now, she's in love.

It's the kind of love that takes root deep inside you. It doesn't always fit into neat plans or pretentious families, and it's not always easy, but you both try. Some days, trying is easier than on others.

The days are a blur, and they're a dream as well. But dreams don't last forever.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #wlw #lesbian #the notebook #fanfic #x reader #marvel mcu #marvel #fluff

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mistakenot4892 · 1 day ago

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Thief of Joy is done. Final count is 88k words over 17 chapters, which is the most I've ever written in one work, and my first finished long-form story.

It's about an eevee who wakes up in a meadow with no name and a head full of memories of being a human in a world without pokemon. Pseudo-isekai, really just the framing device; it's mostly about our foul-mouthed hero trying to get to grips with their new position in life, which is complicated by almost immediately being badly injured in a bike accident

The purpose of writing and posting it was to break myself of the habit of deleting my work right after posting, and of being very anxious about my writing, and it definitely did the job there. If anyone reads it and is keen, I would love to hear any feedback (positive, negative, critical, vibes, whatever) so I can improve for whatever I work on next (probably the porygon crimes fic I've posted about before).

Quite pleased to have made it to the end. Yay.

#pokemon #fanfic

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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 days ago

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A Practical Demonstration

Chapter 4: Reciprocation

here we go again lol

for anyone who doesn't know, my debut into the Hazbin fandom was a fic about Alastor and a reader using a sex toy. It was meant to be a oneshot- they never really stay that way though, and it ended up at 3 chapters before I decided it was done. It's coming up on a year since I posted that first story (that I thought was long finished at this point), and I finally finished the bonus chapter that I've had planned forever. I hope you enjoy! ❤️🌹

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert; established relationship

When you open the box that’s been delivered to the hotel for you, your first thought is that the marketing team at VoxTek doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing- the letter that they sent along with it is nice, if a little embarrassing, thanking you for being a devout purchaser of items from the sex toy lines and explaining that high dollar customers have all been sent a free product to try out as a thank you for their loyalty. Which is dandy in theory, if they had sent you something that you could actually use.

What the fuck were you supposed to do with a fleshlight?

They obviously didn’t do any sort of research into what products you were buying, or how long it had been since you had gotten one. It had been months since you had used any of your VoxTek purchases, since you and Alastor had become an item, and you didn’t really have much need for them anymore; let alone something like this that was meant for someone with different parts than what you were working with.

You’ve just resolved to give it to Angel, claiming an incorrect delivery, when the hum of static behind you alerts you to Alastor’s presence. “Good evening, my dear,” he greets, an eyebrow quirking up when you shove the toy back into its box before he can get a good look at it. “What could possibly be holding your attention so well that you didn’t see fit to return to the bedroom after returning home after your dinner with Velvette?”

You hold the box behind your back. “Just a delivery- something for Angel,” you tell him. “I was going to take it up to him, and- hey!”

His shadow snatches the box from your hands, ducking between your legs to present it to his master. “Interesting! Do you frequently open other people’s mail? That is a crime, you know,” he teases. He opens the flaps of the box- and promptly closes them when he sees the toy. “I see! Well, allow me to give this back to you to return to our effeminate friend- ah, but what’s this? Addressed to you…” His eyes skim the letter, his grin growing with alarming speed along with the blush that paints your face. “Why didn’t you just say so, dear? I know all about your little collection- you have no need to hide such a thing from me.”

“I know!” You snatch the box back from him, cheeks flaming. “I know that, obviously. This one is just- not for me. I don’t think they checked the, uh, preferences of who they were sending this to. It’s- fuck, can we not discuss this in the lobby?” You plead, hearing voices coming around the corner towards the door, and Alastor hums softly before enveloping you both in shadow and depositing the two of you into his bedroom. “It’s not something I can use, it’s more of a- male-parts oriented toy,” you tell him once you’re alone, and he reaches into the box again and removes the toy, turning it over in his hands and slipping his thumb into the opening, pushing softly at the soft silicone as the digit is enveloped.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I see- I hardly see what the fuss was, darling, you could have simply told me the misunderstanding. We shall simply ship it back; if they’re so determined to give you a free product perhaps they can try again. I suppose I do understand the appeal of this, though,” he adds thoughtfully, continuing to move his finger inside the thing before he pulls it back out. “Soft material, sufficiently tight for when one doesn’t have a partner to indulge with. Certainly not for your use, but-“

“Do you want to try it?” The words blurt from your mouth before you can really think about them, something about the way Alastor was casually fingering the sex toy doing something pleasant to your brain. You immediately want to swallow the words back down with how quickly his gaze swings to you, your cheeks flaming when he quirks an eyebrow at you. “Fuck, I mean- sorry, that was a stupid question. I didn’t-”

His fingers come up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing along your cheekbone. “I don’t understand how you are still so shy when it comes to your desires,” he says quietly. “Everything that we’ve done, and yet you still hesitate to ask something of me. Tell me, my dear- would you like to see me use the thing?” Not trusting your words, you nod, and he chuckles under his breath. “Then there we are; I shall try it. You’ve indulged me plenty of times, I don’t mind a bit of reciprocation for your sake.”

He leads you over to the bed, stripping himself down before laying back against the pillows and giving you a moment to situate yourself comfortably on the edge of the mattress. It’s a view you could get used to- his chest bare and fluffy with soft fur, cut across diagonally from the battle with Heaven so long ago and deeply scarred. Sometimes when you were intimate with each other he would allow you to inspect it, run your fingers down the soft groove of sensitive skin that rested there. You let your eyes wander further, along the lean lines of his arms, the apex of his thighs where his erection grows under the scrutiny, the firm muscles of his legs leading down to his hooves. Alastor was beautiful-

“Ah.” When you look back to his face, his skin is flushed, a pink tint that spreads across his cheeks and down his exposed collarbones. “I understand your embarrassment now the first time you were in this position for a ‘demonstration.’ To be laid bare beneath the eyes of the one you want and show them something so intimate feels… flattering. And unnerving.” He glances at you sideways. “I hope you find it to your liking.”

“No complaints over here,” you breathe as he snaps his fingers and produces a small bottle of lube, drizzling it generously over the opening of the sex toy. He was really going to do it, just for you, and the thought hits you like a cloud of aphrodisiacal smoke; that he was laying himself out like this, prone and vulnerable, because you wanted to see it.

You almost miss his sharp intake of breath when he lines up and pushes into the opening of the fleshlight, sinking halfway into the slick grip of the silicone before he pulls back out with a shudder that courses through his whole body. He presses in again, this time with a slew of muttered curse words as he sinks to the hilt and holds it there for a moment, his head dropping back against the pillows. The angle makes it all too apparent when he swallows, his free hand clenching to a fist in the sheets.

“Does it- does it feel good?” You ask him, perhaps somewhat stupidly, but the way he moans at the sound of your voice makes it worth it. You think about the way that he had asked you questions the first time you were in his position, how embarrassed you had been to have him witness such a thing, how turned on you were for the same reason. A blessing and a curse to have someone watching you so closely and commenting on it, expecting an answer- which he hasn’t given you yet. “Alastor?” You run your hand up his calf, not missing the way his hips buck up into the toy with a wet noise.

It seems once he’s started that he can’t stop; fabric tears as he digs his claws in, his pelvis rocking between his hand and the bed as he fucks into it with a steady rhythm. “Tight,” he says, his voice strained and shooting heat into your blood. “I didn’t think- fuck, it’s good.” With the curse on his lips you clench your thighs together, twisting on the bed to properly face him. He watches you move and settle, his expression hungry and desperate as he continues to buck up into the toy. “I would much prefer you, though,” he purrs after a moment, releasing the sheets to place a hand on your thigh, thumb brushing softly on the delicate skin there.

You take his hand and bring it to your lips to press a soft kiss there. At the contact he groans and tries to reach for your neck to pull you closer so he can steal your lips in a kiss- you resist, pulling away from him, breaking the contact between the two of you. “Now you know the struggle of an inadequate replacement for what you really want,” you say, delighting in the look of anguish that takes over his features at being denied you. “Come on now, I thought you were giving me a demonstration.”

“Wretched, wonderful woman,” he murmurs, but he fists his fingers back in the sheet rather than reaching for you again. “Would you like to hear the ways this blasted thing is inferior to you? It feels good,” he moans, slowing his pace to drag his cock in and out of the object, the lube glistening in the low light that he’s provided. “But you, my love, feel divine. You gasp my name and whine and clench down on me so sweetly- accomplishments this cheap replica could never hope to achieve.” His red locks spill across the pillow as he works himself, sweat dampening his bangs from the effort as he locks eyes with you. “Why would I keep one of these when I could have the real thing whenever I desire?”

Ever observant, he notices the way your thighs tremble sitting beside him, and he relinquishes his fistful of the sheets to turn his hand palm up, like he’s offering you a hand to help you out of a car. “Why don’t you allow me to assist you?” He purrs, dropping a few of his fingers so that only the pointer and middle remain extended- he crooks them in a familiar ‘come here’ motion that makes your cheeks flame as you realize what he was offering.

You consider telling him no- that he had gone through your demonstrations without any relief, and you could do the same. But he looked like he needed it, some sort of connection to your pleasure to ground him in the moment that you determined from the crease of his eyebrow and the tremble of his fingers where he offered them to you. You stand from the bed, noticing the way that Alastor ceases his movement of the toy along his length until you start to pull your panties out from under your skirt. Then there’s a groan ripping free of his throat, static that makes the hairs on your arm stand at attention as you position yourself above his hand.

The sink onto his fingers is embarrassingly easy, the force of your arousal offering a near frictionless slide until the pads of his fingers are pressed against that perfect spot inside of you. His name escapes you in a soft whimper as he begins to move, his thumb coming up to swipe lovingly across your clit as you ride his fingers in earnest.

He glares at the way your skirt blocks his view of the proceedings, and you almost laugh when his shadow emerges from under the bed to almost petulantly shove at the fabric; you take it in hand to hold it out of the way, the chuckle breaking forth when he hisses between his teeth as he starts to slowly thrust his hips again. “There we are, darling,” he purrs, his pupils blown wide as he watches your thighs tremble where his hand parts them, fingers damp with your slick as he rocks them in and out of you. His other hand moves with the same steady rhythm, fucking into the soft silicone with a single-minded determination.

It’s difficult to focus on the show being put on for you when Alastor has taken to curling his fingers just so, your mind fuzzy with the pleasure of it all; your body tips forward, a hand darting out to catch yourself on Alastor’s lower abdomen, the skin and fur that meets your palm damp with sweat. When you make contact he swears, something that never fails to make you giddy with arousal; a sure sign that he was losing control of himself, it makes your breath come faster, lungs constricting with the knowledge that it was your doing. He says your name in a breathless whisper, his voice crackling with feedback that makes your inner walls clench. His hands move in desperate tandem, messy, wet noises coming from the slide of the toy along his length and the thrust of his fingers inside you. Alastor’s teeth bare in frustration as he cants his hips back and forth, the pleasure in his expression evident but not enough to tip him over the precipice.

“Please,” you finally whine, hovering at the edge of orgasm yourself with Alastor bare and vulnerable before you, his movements against your body practiced and as perfect as they always were. At your plea he moans, low and sweet, and then the hand he had wrapped around the toy is curled tightly into your hair and pulling you down to crash your mouth into his.

His breath is labored, hot and damp as his tongue brushes against yours while he crushes you to his body. The fingers inside you do not cease their masterful ministrations as he kisses you desperately, the circuit of your bodies complete at last. Since the view is evidently no longer a priority, you release your skirt to slide that hand gently into his locks, fingers gentle against the base of his antlers like you’ve learned he likes; the noise he makes into your mouth is broken, pleading.

The lightning-quick strike of pleasure catches you off guard, your gasp lost to Alastor’s mouth as the dam breaks, ecstasy flooding your body and brain in a crashing wave that pulls your limbs taut, muscles clenched and shaking over your partner. The aftershocks of it roll through you, a tremor to your body that Alastor would usually calm by holding you tightly to his chest until your frame went lax against him when it finally passed.

In this moment he is too adrift, his eyes hazy when you pull back to watch him; his hips jerk fruitless beneath you, apparently unwilling to release his hold on you to resume use of the toy. You have mercy on him, reaching further back with the hand that had been braced on his abdomen to wrap around the hard outer frame of the fleshlight, tugging it away and replacing it with your hand. He hisses at the contact, pupils turned to dials as he watches your face, a plea on his lips. It’s a mere two, three pumps of your wrist before he’s spilling over your fingers hard with a quiet, almost pained sigh of your name.

You’ve hardly thought about wiping the mess into his fur when his shadow reaches a snaky tendril across the bed with a warm rag, a fond, satisfied grin stretched across its face. You shoot the extension of your partner a wink before using the offered item to wipe the evidence of Alastor’s release away, brush it gently over the sweat-soaked skin of his abdomen with your head still pressed to Alastor’s heaving chest. “What do you think?” You asked, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone, and it’s a moment while he wipes his own hands clean behind you before he answers.

“Satisfactory,” he says simply, “though I believe you were a large contributing factor to that.” He brings his arms up to circle your frame, holding you tightly to him as his heart rate slows beneath you. “Were it not for your suggestion I’d hardly have bothered with the thing- and without your participation I doubt I’d have finished. But it is… thrilling, I suppose, to try something new.”

You can’t help the chuckle that you release into his skin. “You know, usually people don’t bring toys into the bedroom until the relationship has gotten boring.”

He smooths his hands over your frazzled hair before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You know how this started between us,” he says, repositioning your body more comfortably so you can fall asleep entwined with one another, your breath already slowing at the sounds of his soothing voice. “When have we ever had any fun doing things the usual way?”

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #my stuff <3 #back on my bullshit lol

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Ahhh thank you, my friend!!! 🥰 Omg I'm so glad you've heard of The Clock! (And oh YES, same with Vought Rising. 😭 I foresee so much SB fanfic coming soon from this fandom lmao.)

Love how the first line of this story is an easter egg. You never cease to amaze me, Alex 🤓

Hahaa I love you for catching that! It's funny, when I was trying to decide how much time after WWII to set this in and finally landed on November, I couldn't not do November 2. (Because I'm a nerd. 🤓)

*furrows brow* The Producers?? 🤔

Oh my God, you got me again!!! I freakin' LOVE The Producers (2005 version), and since it's set in New York (albeit in the 50s), I couldn't help a little easter egg. 😝 (again, big nerd alert)

Oh yes, we all remember that episode. Of course he would 😂 Poor Sam lol

lmfaoo Sam is so long-suffering, ain't he? 😂

Uh-huh... Dear Lord he needs help 🙈

Alllll the help. Pre-decent psychiatry, unfortunately. 😭

Btw, I've been doing my own 40s research for a fic and came across the contraception question. Idk why but condoms and methods of that time freak me tf out. Wondering what your experience with that was (if you came across it) lmao 😂

Oh dear lord yes, but I first learned about it from Downton Abbey. Condoms back then were the weirdest effing contraptions I've ever seen. As a woman it would scare me to have that come near me. 🤢

Ooof so rough 😮‍💨 PTSD and seeing all the dirty shit that goes on during a war is really brutal 😢 (My grandpa was in WWII and told a lot of stories when he was still alive) And then they were seperated too and didn't even know what happened to the other. Heartbreaking 😭

Oh wow, the stories your grandfather must have had. ❤️❤️ From what I've been able to research, it was truly horrific. And in the case of this story yep, compounded by the fact that Sam and Dean were separated for about three years with little to no way of knowing the other was still alive. 💔

The sass! Already love her 😂🩵

LOL she's got plenty of fire in her. ❤️‍🔥

*vibes* 😍 (even though I know MMM is set in 1958 lol)

Oh I love MMM!!! Love that comparison lol.

You don't know how fucking weak it makes me that he smokes in this. That vice will be the death of me ��🔥

Ahaha I remember from one of your comments on Break Me Down where SB was smoking (literally and figuratively)! 😜 I figured Dean smoking here would be true to the time period, and one of the few ways he can cope with his PTSD.

Aww yeah, Sam's just doing his job. Not easy having a vagina in 1945 and dealing with dicks... 🙄

Ughh exactly -- a major theme in this story. 😪

I get abusive vibes from shitty husband. There's more to it than cheating. Either he's emotionally abusive, physically or threathening to be. She seems like she wants to leave quick and quiet, fearing retaliation 👀 I loved how "damn" counted as cursing 😂 (Darn it!)

Ooh you're on the right track, unfortunately. 😢

And LOL gosh darn it, she just couldn't help herself! 😂😂

Yes, thank you!!! I knew Dean's spidey senses would turn on. (And I know that darn rat bastard can't hurt her now as long as soldier!Dean's around 💚)

Oh you already know, Dean's sharp enough to connect those dots. But darn right he's gonna be around to look out for her.

Melted 🫠 (I legit die every time I write "Sergeant Shaw" in TCF, but I married a military guy myself, so makes sense I can't resist a uniform and a rank 😂🥵)

Oooh I love it!! I can't resist a man in uniform either, and I'm not even married to one. 🫠 But while I'm incredibly behind in my reading, I haven't forgotten about the new chapters of The Exit Strategy, which I can't wait to dive into soon!!! 💜💜 (TCF is the prequel, right?)

I love the 1940s cadence, by the way! You can tell it's a different time period the way the characters speak, the words they choose, and how they phrase things. So well done, my friend! 👏👏

Aw thank you, Wayne!! That makes me so happy that you think so. 🥹 Especially after watching The Clock, I tried my best to make the reader's cadence feel like a woman from the time period (and Sam and Dean to some extent too). 💕

Mama's smelling mob activity... 🤌

Ooh you're not the first person to have made that observation. 😏

Such a Dean statement lol I do hope he won't feel so hopeless for long ☺️

Oooh shall see. 🥰 But I'm glad you thought it was a "Dean statement" loll, he's so self-deprecating sometimes. 🥲

Aww, they could've almost met. I love these little coincidences when people meet each other. It's fate 😍💕

Hahaa that's exactly what I was going for! (Imagine if they had met before she met Michael. 🥲)

I'm too busy plotting a gruesome murder in my head to properly get into how much I despise that guy 😂🙈

LOLL girl I don't blame you -- Michael is hot garbage, but it's a case of "got married hella quickly in wartime," so she didn't exactly know who he truly was when she married him. 😭

This was such an amazing start to this series! The storyline is so intriguing and the world-building is, well... simply otherworldly. You really took me on a journey to the 1940s here. Speechless, honestly 🩵 I so can't wait to see what else you have in store with this, but I think there will be lots of yelling from me lol 😅

I appreciate you so much, Wayne, thank you!! 🥹🥹 I'm so glad you enjoyed the start of this, and that it managed to transport you to the '40s. This chapter was a bit short, but it's a jumping off point for a lot more drama and hyjinks to come! (I anticipate lottts of yelling lmao) 💞💞

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut.

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said.

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?”

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap.

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once.

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?”

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said.

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks.

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly.

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.

His brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.”

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.”

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff.

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so.

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly.

“Hmm. No real loss there then.”

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.”

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner.

“Excuse me?”

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.”

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

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for-a-longlongtime · 2 days ago

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Good lord what is the young Joel and Marcus wip 😏

ANON come here and let me kiss you on the forehead!! This one is special to me 😍

First of all... young!Joel Miller x young!MarcusMoreno is not a pairing that comes completely out of nowhere. As a matter of fact, they're lurking in my masterlist, tucked into a story, but I don't want to spoiler it for other people who may not have read some of the fics I wrote last year.

However, if you know - you know. 😏

Let's get into it:

This is probably one of the heftiest WIPs that I haven't posted anything from yet, as the doc clocks in at about 5K so far - and it's actually going to be a series! I'd say a tentative 9 to 10 (not super long, hopefully LOL) chapters at this point. And I'm actually going to try to have most of this written, or at the very least have half of it done before I post the first chapter, just to make things a little more manageable for myself.

We meet Joel and Marcus in Austin, TX when they're about 20 and 21 years old, and the series will span a period of approximately twenty five years actually, so I'm very excited about that! They meet in a bar - that Joel isn't supposed to be at, because he's not of legal drinking age - when they're trying to break up a fight among their friends, which results into the two of them getting kicked out.

Joel has been working long, long days in construction for a few years in order to support himself and Tommy, as their parents died when Joel was 16/17 years old. One of the reasons why he rolled into that line of work - besides the money - is because the childhood house that they still live in needs so much work done, and the only way he could think about being able to afford that somehow is by learning how to do all the work himself because he'd never be able to afford a contractor.

His life couldn't be any more different than Marcus', who is busy with college and who tries to hide a part of his life for most people - namely that his father is the leader of the Heroics and his mother is a Heroics trainer. There is the expectation that he's going to follow in their footsteps, but his powers haven't shown up yet, so he's trying to focus on blazing his own path.

They end up becoming friends, and music plays an important role in that; the series takes place in the (early/mid) nineties, so get ready for a good amount of grunge / rock / etc. There are a lot of twists and turns in their story (apparantly Little Beast was only the beginning of a whole lot of angst/drama pouring into my fics), so I don't want to reveal too much it, but let's just say that it's a tough ass road and things don't go the way they've planned.

But! I do have enough written so far that I can show you a little snippet of a very rough outline from chapter 2:

Joel and Marcus listening to grunge music and smoking so much pot at Joel's place. Careful first kisses. Giggling about it as they’re so stoned and kind of nervous. (They only smoke pot when Tommy isn’t around/going to be home that night, also to help manage Joels aches as he tends to be sore after a long day at the construction site - that's half of the reason why Marcus brings over weed). They’re both too high to do anything that requires much coordination but Marcus starts grinding against Joel’s dick and they eventually get eachother off that way, clothes still on, sitting on the couch. There are more kisses while they're both still panting, now with a giggle in between breaths every now and then, and the weed just makes them lose track of time - and it's not all that long before Joel finds himself grinding his hips up against Marcus again. "Fuck. Fuck, I…." He can't find the words, especially not when Marcus rocks back against him, just a little slower on his refractory period. "I want…. Fuck. 'm too high. I can't…" Marcus hushing him with another kiss and Joel moans, grabbing Marcus' hips and shifting on the couch, until Marcus is on his back and Joel on top of him. Nudging his hips into Marcus until they line up, still fully dressed, and the little “oh my god” once he gets it right. "Take it, take it, take it," Marcus panting under him, holding onto Joel's broad shoulders, which makes Joel moan against him, and when Marcus' hands grab Joel's ass, something just clicks inside of Joel's brain. And despite that everything is still slow and soft, he just goes feral because he wants it - wants Marcus - so goddamn bad "Wish I was inside you," against Marcus' ear, and Marcus cries out at that, imagining it, and because it feels so good that Joel is fucking his cock against him. "I wish I…" And not all of it is coherent, it's a string of words that fall from his lips, but he kind of talks Marcus through it, what he wants to do to him, and Marcus just loses his shit because holy fuck, Joel's voice is so deep when he's been smoking like this, and nobody has ever talked to him like this while getting off, and he loves it.

Thanks again for asking, Anon!! I honestly can't wait to write more on them and to eventually share these boys with all of you.

Want to know more about fics in my WIP folder? Check out the original post!

pssst, this is me looking innocent and tagging y'all for no reason whatsoever except for that you might be interested to see this WIP that's in the making 😇😘 thank you all so much for the support you gave to GP! @oliveksmoked @ohforficsake @wannab-urs @baronessvonglitter @angiewatson

@iknowisoundcrazyreads @gruaig-rua @thebeldroramscal @milla-frenchy @reallyrallyauthor

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@almostfoxglove @rebel-held @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@din-cognito @penvisions @alltheglitterandtheroar

#pedro pascal characters #bi!joel miller #marcus moreno #queer fic #wip #wip folder #my writing

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littlcdarlin · 2 days ago

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Freaking loveee your work. If you don’t mind sharing, what are your favorite Joel fics? Cause I’ll have what you’re having (and serving obviously)

First of all, thank you so much!!! My work has been influenced by so many lovely Joel fics out there & I’ll try and name them all — if possible <3

favourite writers

@virginreprise (read on AO3)

they have some absolutely delicious oneshots if you’re into big juicy age gaps (my favourite has to be Indebted To You! But the way they write guilty!Joel in Raise Me Up…ugh, I would read 200k words of it)

@toxicanonymity

Love most of their work, haven’t read anything noncon though! My favourite is the second part of their free use kink list. Their work got me into sleazy!Joel (read responsibly and mind the tags! They’re not responsible if you read something you don’t like)

@joeloverture

Such a good plot/smut ratio in their fics, the buildup is amazing. I read the one where Joel and reader’s Dad are enemies first, and it got me completely hooked. Have needed Joel to fuck me in a headlock ever since they blessed us with their writing

@cavillscurls

I devour anything they write. So hot, and so well written (Daddy Next Door is an ongoing multi chapter fic which I love, but the oneshots are just as good!)

@/kiwisbell on AO3

So much good stuff here. Whiskey Sour made me sob in the middle of the night when I just wanted to read some hot smut. Yellow Bird is perfect for when you’ve had a bad day. This writer truly has it all (if you like Narcos, check out the Javier Peña stuff!)

Long fics

Fourth Of July by @/jrrmint on AO3

dbf!Joel Love their depiction of Joel! He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got such a sweet heart. The mix of plot & smut is wonderful, and I loved the ending. Very cohesive, very fun, very hot. Might be my favourite ever, it just hits the spot

Idle Threats by @/pearlessance on AO3

Joel & reader are on watch duty together (takes place in Jackson), and Joel wants to teach reader some manners. Wonderful character development, perfect smut - plot ratio, and just the right amount of Joel not caring what anybody (Tommy and Maria) thinks!

To the Light by @/moderatelytroubled on AO3

really beautiful falling in love story (with some really really fucking hot sex) taking place in Jackson. Got me into Daddy!Joel, so if you like stuff like Into Temptation you might enjoy this

Oneshots/shorter fics

Brand New Cherry Flavor by @/crowjrose on AO3

dbf!Joel 23k words of young reader & old!Joel taking her virginity. Takes place in the QZ, I thought the setting was very well done. This story has a very particular tone that I loved! Also, big juicy age gap

To Freeze Or To Thaw by @joelscruff on AO3

2 part series about lowkey dark!joel (kind of tame though — consent is enthusiastic) making use of his free use agreement with reader. PWP, very hot. I prefer part two (I really like how the structure isn’t basic, it’s not buildup-foreplay-fucking-orgasm. It’s very hot and does build, but through the plot rather than the sex itself if that makes sense)

#hope this is helpful <333 enjoy reading guys #ask #anon

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shad0wvisi0n · 17 hours ago

Text

Caffeinated Monster

Summary: SV3 drinks coffee for the first time in order to stay up late for SV4 gaming night, but things take a twist when the power in the studio goes out and a monster hunts in the dark.

Tags: Flashing Art, Body Horror, fluff, angst with happy ending, hurt and comfort

AU Created by @b-r-i-n-g-x and @shygirl4991

ALL ART IS DONE BY BRINGX DO NOT REPOTS

Shout out to our other Assistants @merp0515 @anartisticalniche Last Chapter Main Fic

Liko tosses and turns, flashes of SV4 injury played in her head every time she closed her eyes. She sits up on the bed letting out a sigh as she runs her fingers through her hair, she turns to see Flor floating asleep next to her. With a small chuckle, she gets up and walks to the kitchen. She groans as she looks around noticing that she used up the last of the coffee last night, the lack of sleep is killing her motivation to continue her experiments. She leans against the counter confused, she never felt this way towards something she created so why was she so haunted. She looks at the front door then to her bedroom door before she makes up her mind, she changes into her usual outfit and checks the time. “It’s not too late, maybe i could pay a small visit and make sure that kid is taking care of his eye,” she knew with SV3 around she wouldn't have to worry about how 4 was doing yet something pulled her to them.

As she gets in her car she rehearses her greeting “Hey ran out of coffee and who needs to buy some when i got you guys!” she lets out a smile before dropping it. Leaning back on the car seat she couldn't understand why these events were bothering her so much, they were just subjects she invented. Just like how she ‘fixed’ Mr Puzzle, the boys were made to please that first project and that's all. She grabs the steering wheel and stares silently at the road ahead of her, letting out a sigh as she starts the car heading to the studio. SV3 hums letting his hair free of their constraints, he walks over to the kitchen where he hears an upset SV4 in his room. 3 giggles hearing his partner as he grabs a plate from the cabinet, looking at the assortment of snacks the man grabs a couple of SV4 favorites and places them nicely on the plate. With a hop in his step, he walks to SV4 room with the plate “Hey 4! Got you some snacks and remember not to get too into your games, last time you forgot your pain medication your powers went pretty crazy.” SV4 takes the plate with a small smile before letting out a groan “Look not my fault the boss fight was such a challenge, you know i dont back down!” SV3 shakes his as he opens the door, he turns, staring at the bandaged eye feeling a pang of guilt hit him before he leaves.

As he closes the door behind him the doorbell rings, confused as to who would be coming over so late he walks over to the front door. He opens the door then shuts it in a panic, the person on the other side of the door was Liko. 3 looked at his face and frowned, it was close to his normal time of sleeping meaning any trace of his iconic make up was gone. He bites his lips as he awkwardly opens the door hoping Liko doesn't ask about his face, after all someone as fashionable as SV3 isn't a fan of walking around certain people with a naked face. Liko gives him an annoying look “Can feel how welcomed I am, can I come in?” SV3 moves aside to let Liko in “I’m so sorry Ms. Liko, you caught me by surprise. You don't normally come at this hour.” He follows the scientist to the kitchen where he watches her search their cabinets. Liko sighs as she peeks at SV4 room “He taking care of that eye?” Hearing the question 3 turns looking at the yellow door, he smiles softly as he nods “Yeah, he has been good at that. Only thing he isn't good at is walking around without hitting himself against everything.” 3 frowns staring at the door, if he didnt get so angry and left the studio the way he did then SV4 wouldn't have gotten hurt. SV3 felt the sting of his tears wanting to escape, Liko turned and noticed 3’s face. She leans over the counter and pats his head. “We didn't know what that place had…only one who did was Mr puzzle, you could always do what SV4 does.” Liko lets out a chuckle, SV3 smiles at the woman's chuckle as he turns to her “SV4 really is angry at him…I just worry about him, I don't care so much about Mr puzzle. 4 just seems different now, I can't help blaming myself for this…”

Liko lets out a sigh as she pulls back, she doesn't need to comfort him there is no need he is just an experiment. As she continued her search in the cabinet she couldn't help herself “Look, it's only part of being alive that these things happen. Science knows that I have done a lot of stupid things out of emotions…but mistakes are what helps you grow.” She grabs a bag of coffee beans and turns to show she got her prize, SV3 eyes go wide seeing the bag of coffee. He felt his stomach flip at the site, as she put the bag on the counter “Now coffee?” SV3 felt himself break into a sweat seeing the bag, he then turned looking at the yellow door. Then turning back to Liko shaking his head in a panic, she tilts her head at his reaction “You’re not a fan of coffee?” SV3 lets out a nervous chuckle as he nods “I dont have the best history of it, I’m sorry Ms. Liko but if you're going to make a cup I should excuse myself.” She watches as he gets up and runs to his room slamming it shut, she stares at the door confused before slowly turning to the yellow door. If she wanted answers it wouldn't hurt to ask, she grabs the bag of coffee and walks to 4’s door knocking on it.

Why did she even want answers when she thinks about it, she shouldn't get herself involved in their life. They’re experiments, something to please the first project and test her knowledge. Yet here she is watching the yellow door open as she looks down at the injured man, SV4 looks annoyed before his expression changes to one of surprise “Liko?” She shows off the bag of coffee catching his attention, he looks around before stepping out of his room “Not like you to be a friendly neighbor, what do you need? More blood for a test?” Liko’s eyes go wide as she watches 4 slowly walking trying not to trip over furniture, he sits down in the kitchen staring at her “Or are we going to throw a pity party over me being a pirate, cause if that's what we are doing save it. I get enough puppy eyes from SV3 when I'm doing things outside of my room.” Liko shakes her head as she walks to the kitchen to start brewing the coffee, she grabs a green cup before facing SV4 “Nothing special today, well i guess i do have one question. I wasnt a fan of going shopping in the middle of the night so I thought I would come here for coffee, SV3 seemed panicked at the bag. Any idea why?”

SV4 sighs as he grabs a cookie from the jar in front of him, he looks at it with some excitement before taking a bite “You know how you said sugar is like a battery charge for me? Well I think I learned a few weeks ago what SV3 battery charge is…and let me tell you I lost someone important that day..” He frowns, staring at a small gravestone near his room, Liko follows his gaze and stares surprised at the spot “How did i not notice that before?” Ignoring her 4 takes another bite from his cookie “Let me tell you a story that changed us in this studio.”

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Few weeks ago SV4 smirks as he waves a ps1 controller “Alright, the only real way to welcome you newbie is the great crash challenge!” SV3 bounces in excitement as he watches 4 walk over to his set up, he takes out crash team racing from its case showing it before popping it in the system. SV3 takes his seat next to 4 as he grabs his controller, SV4 smirks as the character selection screen shows up “Now let's have a fair race, don't get too pouty when you lose to me!” SV3 smiles as he picks Coco as his character “I won't! This is just us hanging out right?” SV4 slowly nods, hiding that he was in fact picking this game to show off, as the race start 4 made sure to use every shortcut he knew to his advantage. SV3 eyes go wide in awe seeing how fast his new partner was “Wow you really know your way around the game huh!” SV4 leans back holding back his smile “Eh i know i trick or two,” it was strange to think not too long ago he felt so alone. He would play these games, study them and attempt the best time in order to do videos on them. He never noticed how he felt lonely while he wouldn't confess to it outloud, he truly needed someone he could just play games with. SV4 didn't care much for SV3, the man would talk so much about how to match yellow with green and other assortment of colors. Stuff 4 didn't care for after all why would he change out of his overalls? After a couple of rounds SV3 felt himself nodding off, he looked around the room and noticed that there wasn't a clock “Hey…SV4 what time is it?” As he selected his character 4 reached over to the bedside table, picking up his phone he causally flashes the time to SV3. Seeing the time 3 gasp “IT’S 2AM?!” it was no wonder the man felt his eyes getting heavy, he got up from the bed making SV4 frowns “Yeah so? It’s still early, plenty of more matches can happen.” SV3 notices the excitement that was on SV4 vanishes and now replaced with an annoyed frown, feeling guilty he looks at the kitchen. Slowly an idea came to him, SV4 energy boost is sweets perhaps his could be caffeine and it will help him keep his partner company.

SV3 attempts to mask his exhaustion as he points to the kitchen “Oh yeah totally…so we should make coffee,Keep spirits up!” SV4 face lights up before making a face of disgust “Coffee? Meh rather have soda but hey we all have our own preferred drinks, i'm sure that box head keeps some coffee in the cabinet.” With a nod the pair head to the kitchen, SV4 takes a seat as he watches 3 look around for a cup. SV3 was feeling strangely nervous as he grabs a yellow cup, he then goes to the top cabinet grabbing a bag of mocha coffee. As he stares at the bag his mind races, he had no idea if he would even enjoy the beverage perhaps the right path was just to go to bed. He turns to see SV4 eating pocky as he reads a game guide for a final fantasy game he is playing, remembering the face the man had was enough to give him the answer he needed. SV3 puts everything together then watches the coffee maker brew, he had to do this to bring that smile back on SV4's face. They are partners there was no way he could let 4 down, he grabs the cup of coffee and stares at it nervously. SV4 notices the silence then turns to 3, he stares at the man’s face for a moment before letting out a sigh “You don't have to drink it, not everyone can live the gamer life like i do.” SV3 lets out a soft giggle “I want to play more, plus nothing has ever gone wrong with someone drinking coffee!” with a bright smile he chugs the cup.

SV4 nods as he gets up from his seat “Let's go then,” SV3 nods following his partner to the room. He was feeling good, more alert he was confident that in a few minutes he would be wide awake, as they pick their characters SV3 giggles as the screen flickers. SV4 looks at the tv annoyed as he struggles to find the shortcuts with the flickering “The fuck is going on with my tv?” SV3 was getting more into the game as his eyes slightly glowed, the static getting worse, SV4 swears under his breath. The moment SV3 made it past the finish line the tv stopped glitching letting SV4 able to see where he was, he pouts seeing he was in fourth place “Stupid television, maybe it's time to stop given my tv is acting up.” SV3 frowns hearing the comment “What? But I drank coffee to play more!” The room lights start to flicker as the tv screen showing the game goes static, SV4 gets up looking around his room confused “SV4…we are going to play more right?” SV4 shakes his head as he stares at his tv “Don't think so, something weird is going on with the power here.” Deciding to get answers he looks annoyed at the tv knowing he will have to talk to Mr. Puzzle, SV4 lets out a long sigh as he walks to the door “Hate that i have to do this but i need to bug box head about this issue, otherwise we won't be able to game.” SV3 eye twitches as 4 leaves the room “But…we were supposed to play games together….why are you leaving me?” SV3 started to feel his body heat up as the lights in the bedroom exploded, leaving the static on the tv being the only source of light.

SV4 stops walking as the living room goes dark, he groans as he starts to walk again only to feel something squishy under his foot. He looks down squinting to see something moving on the floor “The fuck is that?” He bends down trying to get a closer look, only to see the normal studio floor. SV4 stands up pinching the bridge of his nose, he was officially losing it. SV3 leaving 4’s room frowns as he calls out to the man “SV4! I dont get why he is so upset,” he lets out a sigh as he walks following SV4. He noticed that the man in front of him seemed to be on edge, SV3 wasn't sure what was going on with his partner as he looked around. Determined to help his partner out he reaches out hoping his hand on the man’s shoulder would give comfort, he smiles brightly ready to hear what's bothering the man. SV4 hears steps behind him causing him to be alert “This is starting to feel like a cheesy horror film,” he feels a hand touch him causing SV4 to speed up on his walk. He is a TV guardian he knows better than to turn around and face whatever phantom is in the studio, SV3 blinks as he sees SV4 avoiding his touch. He growls as his eyes start to glow, the color in the room to fade, slowly being replaced by a strange black ooze leaking from the walls as SV3 anger grows.

“WHAT THE STARS!? WHY IS MY OFFICE ON FIRE!” hearing Mr Puzzle yelling, SV4 runs to the office to see Mr Puzzle's desk on fire. He sighs, closing the door and grabbing the fire extinguisher, as he extinguishes the fire from the corner of his eye he notices something green. SV4 drops the extinguisher as he approaches the green object “Thank you…wait what are you doing over here, aren't you busy with those video games?” 4 gasp as he grabs a green cloth “This looks like…SV3 sweater?” Mr. Puzzle walks up to 4 staring at the cloth confused before the lights start to flicker, remembering why he came over in the first place 4 gives an annoyed look at his boss. “Hey boxhead the power has been acting up, get shit together i have games to play!” he puts the cloth in his pocket still staring at Mr. Puzzle. The screen flickered showing confusion “The power? Given that Liko set everything up, there is no way things could be on the fritz.” SV4 sighs as he walks towards the door waving his hand to sign at the man to follow. Mr. Puzzle screen changes filled with concern as he sees the door leaking a black liquid “SV4…step away from the door.” SV4 takes a step back and looks at the door, he stares at the liquid before reaching for the door again. Mr puzzle panics reaching out to the guardian, it was too late as he watches SV4 open the door. They gasp seeing SV3 form, Mr. Puzzle shakes his head at the sight “How..did this happen?” SV4 was shocked seeing tentacles wrapping themself around SV3 arms and legs, slowly another one wrapped around his face covering his blue eye. 3's green eye glowing staring at the pair as he gives them a wide smile, the black liquid leaking from his eyes. SV4 couldn't stop staring at the as the man reached for him, the eyes on the tentacles open looking at him, 4 feels something drop on his feet and notice SV3 gloves were stained black.

Mr. Puzzle runs slamming the door on SV3, he then grabs SV4's hand, making him run to the hidden door in the office. “SV4 I need you to move and tell me what happened to SV3, there is no way Liko made a mistake creating him…right?” The door opens showing an angered expression on SV3, seeing this 4 let out an awkward laugh “heh Oh hi SV3, are you…are you in there? Remember how you said you can handle coffee?” mr. Puzzle drags SV4 as they run through the dark halfway. As they run through the hallway Mr puzzle thinks over what 4 said “You're telling me that SV3 drank coffee then turned into that?”

SV4 shrugs “Hell do i know, shit didn't start going weird till he drank coffee! If I go over what Liko told me about sugar, it's supposed to give me a boost like an energy source. We thought coffee would be the same, but I think coffee just put him into overdrive!” the pair stop running looking around. Things were quiet, making Mr. Puzzle nervous “The fact he can use this power without stars…SV3 must have come out unstable. As much as I hate to say this given I will lose a star, we might have to kill SV3 and create a new one.” SV4 eyes go wide looking at him “What?” Mr. Puzzle screen showed a serious expression, 4 pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs “Listen box head, I could care less about him you won't see me risking my life for the man.But, isn't killing jumping the gun, plus we don't know what those tentacles and weird black ooze is.”

Mr. Puzzle stares at SV4 before looking away, it was best that his star stay blind to the power in his body. Things will be less hostile knowing how SV4 can be about making content, he shivers at the thought of what the man would do with those kinds of powers. Then again as he looks at 4 he lets out a small chuckle, the man is too distracted by video games he wouldn't even bother using his power. SV4 turns, giving him a strange look “Why are you chuckling at a time like this?” with a shake of his head Mr. Puzzle stands up straight showing off the height difference between the two of them “My star, i chuckle because i'm surprised you claim not to care about SV3 yet you pick a route to save him? I do have to admit it would be a shame to go out and collect more DNA for one person.”

SV4 crosses his arm “Do you see SV3 as just some replaceable tool?”

Mr. Puzzle screen flickers with a charming smile as he pats SV4 back “Of course not! SV3 is my darling star with so much…talent to bring to the channel, don't you agree? We are all just a growing happy family!” SV4 squints at the Mr.Puzzle taking in his words, only to hear something approaching them. He swears under his breath “Shut it box head..something is coming.”

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SV3 knocks on the door letting out a sigh “I wonder why he is ignoring me, also strange to see him run to Mr. Puzzle wonder if something bad happened?” As he walks to the office he hears panic in the room, worried he slowly knocks on the door. He waits for a moment as he hears footsteps approach the door, he smiles brightly when he sees SV4 open the door. He stares at the pair and notices the fear and shock on their face, he tilts his head confused. Slowly he reaches out to SV4 “Why do you look so scared?” Before he could touch his partner the door suddenly slammed in his face. Annoyed by the rude behavior he opens the door glaring at the pair, SV4 lets an awkward laugh, catching 3’s attention “heh Oh hi SV3, are you…are you in there? Remember how you said you can handle coffee?”

He pauses confused about the comment as Mr. Puzzle drags the man away, he looks around the room then himself. The more he thought about the comment the more his head started to hurt, his vision getting blurry. He felt sick as he walked over to sit down at the desk, the energy he felt at the start was slowly fading away. After a small break he gets up determined to figure out what's going on, remembering how SV4 was still talking to him SV3 knew the only way to get answers was to get SV4 alone. He learns the same path as the others, following the hall he sees the familiar glow of Mr. Puzzle screen.

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SV4 takes out his cell phone and turns on the light, seeing this Mr. Puzzle takes the phone from his hand “What are you doing? The light from your phone will give us away.” 4 glares at the taller man jumping up to grab his phone “Your head is literally a television, if your big ass glowing head hasn't given it away why would my small phone light do it?” Mr. Puzzle’s screen flickers, showing an annoyed expression realizing that the smaller man had a point, he hands over the phone as SV4 smirks at him. With his phone back in his hand he turns only to see a tentacle reaching out to Mr. Puzzle, without thinking he shoves the man away.

SV4 wiggles as the tentacle wraps around him, SV3 tilts his head, the black tears still falling. SV4 notices 3’s mouth moving “Want…you.” SV4 stops wiggling as he stares at 3’s mouth, then he feels a hand grabbing his “SV4 hold on i have you!” he turns seeing Mr. Puzzle grabbing on to him as his other hand was pointing at SV3. Mr. Puzzle knew he didn't have enough power to stop SV3 completely, as his view turned to SV4 wrapped in the tentacles he knew he had to still try. SV3 attempts to pull 4 closer as Mr. Puzzle grip tightens “Ow! Puzzle just let me go, I'm not going to end up in two pieces thank you!” Realizing he is hurting SV4, his view swaps from 4 to 3 unsure about letting go “And if that thing hurts you?”

SV4 looks at the mutated SV3, his grin borderline psychotic and yet SV4 didn't feel he was in danger. 4 looks at Mr. Puzzle with an bored expression “Cause me and him are partners, pretty sure that link we have wont let him.” Mr. Puzzle sighs letting 4’s hand go, seeing the tentacle pull 4 into a hug, SV3 purrs in excitement as he runs off with SV4. Seeing SV3 start to run Mr. Puzzle starts to chase after “Not going to let anything ruin my plan, I won't let my best star get hurt.”

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SV3 gets excited when he gets closer to the pair, the closer he gets to the pair his head starts to pound. The pain in his head causes him to pause as the room begins to spin for him, the moment he sees SV4 in front of him 3 shakes his head and smiles “SV4! I wanted to talk to you, please I want to understand what's going on.” 3 grabs his arm hoping that the man would listen to him, SV4 lets out a sigh and starts to walk towards him. Finally the chase is over, that is until Mr. Puzzle grabs SV4. The tug made SV3 look at the man confused “SV4 hold on i have you!” the television screen showed a worried expression. He frowns as tears escape his eyes “Why…i don't understand…” To his surprise SV4 walked up to him, he gasped feeling the man hug him. With a soft giggle SV3 takes 4’s hand “Thank you for trusting me…come on let's talk.” As they walk away SV3 wipes his tears, he was so confused as to why the pair were acting so strange. Suddenly the room around SV3 twisted, worried he turned to check on SV4 only to gasp seeing SV4 eyes glowing red. His partner readies his fist and attempts to attack SV3, quickly he kicks 4’s legs making him lose balance. Once he hits the Floor SV3 gets up looking around for something to hold down SV4 “Is this why you two are acting weird? Don't worry I will figure this out, I will get Ms. Liko and everything will be okay!”

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SV4 hums as he is carried away in the tentacle wishing he had his psp to play with, suddenly he gets tossed across the room. His back hitting the table in the kitchen “Ow…the hell just happened?” SV3 lets out a chuckle as he slowly approaches him “Naughty…” 4 sits up ignoring the pain in his back. SV4 knew he had to keep alert in case the coffee made 3 do something else, seeing the slow moments made 4 smirk. The coffee is wearing off the exhaustion SV3 felt earlier in the day is starting to show, he was placing a big gamble on his theory. He watches SV3 move away for a moment, he turns his head to see 3 going into this room “What on earth is he thinking?” A few moments later SV4 sighs as SV3 ties him up “You know while I don't mind being tied up, WHY MUST YOU USE MY FAVORITE PLAYSTATION 2 CONTROLLER!”

He felt panic everytime he moved, the thought that if he did the wrong move he could damage his controller had him almost holding his breath. SV3 sits in front of him staring at him, he is able to get a better look at the form that has taken over 3. SV4 notices how the man in front of him was relaxing, a good sign it let SV4 know that his controller was safe. He needed to figure out how to save his baby before 3 snaps and breaks it, he looks at the cord feeling his heart break at the knots they were in. SV3 reaches out and starts to pet him, SV4 relaxes from the contact “Don't take this as me liking the attention, i swear if you remember things after i will deny everything in this moment.” As he relaxes from the other man's touch, SV4 thinks over the situation as he looks at the knots in front of him.

He slowly wiggles which gets SV3 to stop petting him, 4 looks up seeing if he alerted the man only to see the man falling asleep. “There you go, just let sleep take over and things will go back to normal.” Before SV3 could fall asleep Mr. Puzzle’s kick the door open holding his finger up, he glares at SV3 who wakes up growling at him as he stands “LEAVE!” SV4 could just about cry at the timing, “Don't you worry now SV4, I wouldn't let down my star after all we have a video to make tomorrow.” SV4 blinks at him before rolling his eyes “Seriously? US MAKING A VIDEO TOMORROW IS THAT IMPORTANT?!” his eyes then go wide seeing Mr. Puzzle pointing his glowing finger at his constraints “Wait dont do it, do you know how rare this controller is?” Ignoring the guardians complaints, Mr.Puzzle fires a bolt of energy at the cord of the controller. SV4 panics and attempts to throw himself out of the way, sadly the bolt was faster burning the cord off of SV4 body. 4 sits there in shock, he slowly looks down seeing the golden controller without a cord. “You're welcome!” shouted Mr.Puzzle as he kept his eyes on the growling SV3, SV4 slowly picked up the controller, a tear running down his face “I will never have something as beautiful…again” SV3 roars seeing the tear coming out of SV4 eyes, Mr. Puzzle readies himself, his hand sparking “This isn't the time SV4, the eldritch creature is about ready to attack!”

SV4 lets out a shake breath as he gets up and walks to a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out a knife he walks back to the spot where his controller is. Mr.Puzzle keeping his eyes on SV3 quickly peeks at SV4, his screen changes into an expression of shock as he sees SV4 digging into the studio floor with the knife “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” SV4 hearing the man shout just picked up the controller and showed it to him “I’m not a monster, I'm doing a grave site for my baby. SO SHOVE IT!” Mr. Puzzle could only stare at 4, baffled at what was going on. Annoyed at being ignored SV3 summons a tentacle to attack Mr.Puzzle, he smirks as he points at the tentacle blasting it exactly as he did SV4 controller. Since the gamer wasn't planning on helping him, Mr. Puzzle knew what he had to do as he readied his hand at SV3. The moment he was going to blast the creature, SV3 charges at him then collapses. Mr. Puzzle stands there confused about what happened, hearing SV3 hit floor 4 makes a comment as he digs “Caffeine crash..along with too much power must have drained him to sleep.” Mr. Puzzle lifts up the man, the eldritch traits are all gone. No black liquid or tentacles to see, there in his arms was a drained SV3, soundly asleep. “Your theory was right it seems, ahem good work SV4 i shall place him in the room.” As he carries SV3 the dark stains along with any other signs of the eldritch power 3 was throwing around is gone, the studio went back to normal beside a couple of broken furniture. SV4 gives the makeshift grave a sad smile “I will never forget you, ah the memories of fighting for you on ebay…good times.”

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SV3 frowns seeing SV4 struggle against the restraints “Sorry SV4, I hope you don't mind I used the first thing I found. I really want to go get Liko to help you but…it breaks my heart to think about leaving you alone like this.” nervously, SV3 reaches out and pets 4. Seeing SV4 glaring at him with red eyes, SV3 wondered how this happened when they were playing crash. For a moment he thought the game could be cursed, as he stares at SV4, notices a flicker of something in his eyes. SV3 started to feel his eyes go heavy, shaking his head he knew he had to stay awake if he didnt what would happen to his partner. He wasn't even sure if Mr.Puzzles wasn't acting strange also, the door to the room burst open catching 3’s attention. He gets up staring at the door, surprised. “Don't you worry now SV4, I wouldn't let down my star after all we have a video to make tomorrow.” SV3 slowly walks towards him “Mr.Puzzle im not doing anything to him, please believe me i think there is something wrong with SV4!”

Mr.Puzzles lifts up his hand firing at SV4, 3 panics as he turns towards the spot “SV4!” Once the smoke cleared up SV3 relaxed, seeing that his partner was safe. Then he noticed the constraints were now broken. “Oh no, what did you do….” SV3 was ready to face the worst, he watched ready for SV4 to attack, only 4 looked down seeing his controller broken and started to cry. Seeing that made SV3 smile slightly “He is still in there, now Mr. Puzzle, it isn't nice to just blast at people!” SV4 then gets up catching SV3 and Mr.Puzzles attention, they watch as he walks to the kitchen grabbing a knife. SV3 feels nervous seeing him with a weapon, he keeps his eyes on the man then relaxes when he sees SV4 digging a hole into the studio floor “Huh…I feel terrible that I got his controller broken, but at least some of SV4 came out for this.” Mr. Puzzle sighs then lifts his finger at SV3 catching him by surprise “W-what? Mr. Puzzle please listen to me, I didn't harm him!” As his hand starts to glow SV3 knew the only fighting chance he had was to knock him off balance, after all 3 wasn't a monster that wanted to fight his friends. SV3 charges at Mr. Puzzle hoping that he can stop the blast, only his body suddenly feels drained of energy as he slams onto the cold floor, everything going dark.

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SV3 groans as he sits up from his bed, he looks around and sees he is tucked into bed “Did I dream that up?” The door to his room opens catching his attention, he feels himself getting panicked as he sees SV4 walk in the room. SV4 looks up from his psp and looks at SV3 surprised “Hey you're not dead, someone's been sleeping for three days really like that number hm?” SV3 relaxes letting out a giggle before it clicks, he gets up startled at the comment “Asleep for three days?! How? All I remember was…” he closed his eyes thinking over everything that happened. Given SV4 is acting normal things must have gotten fixed at some point, SV4 walks up to him with his cellphone “When you grab me i didn't notice that my phone took a photo, it will be shocking to see.” SV3 tilts his head confused “Grab you?” He looks at his partner's phone and gasps, seeing himself. He felt sick seeing the tentacles around him along with the strange dark liquid that came out of his eyes and hand. “This…can't be, you agreed to walk with me and you started acting weird…right?” SV4 frowns hearing the man's panic “No SV3, you drank coffee and became this mutated creature. You went and hunted down me and box head.” SV3 sits on the bed his hand shaking as tears threaten to escape, SV4 awkwardly looks around the room unsure what to do. SV3 reaches out to hug him only to get a gentle push “I don't do hugs, but I don't blame your reaction it was pretty surprising for us to.”

SV3 moves himself in order to give himself a hug, he had memories of SV4 acting strange. He swore he never saw himself look like that with his reflections “What…did i do? Did I hurt you guys?” SV4 lets out a soft chuckle “Nope, you kidnapped me and tied me up with my controller which broke me. Ahem you also set box head office on fire. That was pretty funny, but you didn't hurt anyone, you just kept chasing us for some reason.” SV3 stays silent hearing SV4 before breaking down crying, unsure what to do SV4 awkwardly pats 3’s head. SV3 couldn't believe he hallucinated everything while he was tormenting his friends, how much of a monster is he?

SV4 sighs looking at the photo “Would it make you feel better if i tell you, this only happens after you drank coffee? I think your body isn't a fan of it and well this happens.” he stares at the photo before turning to SV3. The man kept crying into his hands showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, SV4 sighs as he scoots closer to SV3 giving his head another pat. SV3 looks up to SV4 as he wipes his tears attempting to hold back the rest of his tears, he lets out an awkward chuckle “I must look gross and weird without make up huh?” SV4 giggles and shakes his head “Nah you still look good, hell you slayed the eldritch look too.” They both laugh as they continue talking about the event and planning their rematch. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Present day Liko stared at SV4 in shock, how could something this huge happen and no one bothered to tell her. She watches as SV4 places a small flower on the grave “I was never the same after that,” ignoring SV4 being sad at his makeshift grave Liko asks the question on her mind “Why did no one tell me about this?” SV4 steps away from the grave and pouts at Liko “Heartless of you to not show empathy over my loss, but to answer you Puzzle said not to talk about it.” Hearing this she nods chugging her coffee, after cleaning her cup she marches to the front door. SV4 slowly follows after her as he watches her reach for the door “Where is the fire?” “I need to go to my lab and see what is causing this,” she turns and smiles softly at SV4 “Thank you for this information, take care of that eye cause those bandages are coming off real soon!” With that she leaves the building, SV4 frowns as he turns, staring at 3’s door. He walks over to open the door, he hums as he enters the room closing the door behind him “SV3 i know your not sleeping, i think we have shared a bed enough times that i would know easy.” SV3 slowly gets up wiping his tears, seeing this SV4 runs over to 3’s side hugging him “Hey hey you're okay, is this because of the coffee?” SV3 wraps his arms around SV4 crying, they hold each other for a few moments before 3 pulls away “I’m scared to be that monster again, just the smell makes me worry…”

SV4 gives a soft smile to 3 “Well if it happens again i have your back, as long as we are together coffee can't turn you into a monster!” SV3 slowly smiles before patting the spot next to him “Can you stay the night?” 4 nods as he gets up from the bed, he looks at the time and lets out a dramatic sigh “Gee i guess i could clear my busy gaming time for you,” SV3 chuckles as he watches 4 head out of the room “Hey 4…how did you know I needed you?” SV4 stops walking as places his hand to his chest “I just had a feeling, after all Liko mentioned you freaked out seeing coffee. What kind of partner would I be if I didn't come over? Now let me grab a ds and we can play some games till we sleep.” SV3 blushes as he watches 4 leave the room, he touches his face “oh gosh why did my face get so warm again…” he flops on the bed then looks at the spot next to him with a soft smile “I hope this cold doesn't stop SV4 from sleeping over…”

#smg4 #shygirl4991 #b r i n g x #smg4 au #mr puzzles #shadow vision #lizaluv #sv ask #projectsv #sv4

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fall0utmind · 2 days ago

Text

the finale

Chapter 17 is here... it's done.

Guys, i CANNOT thank you all enough for everything this fic, this community and you all have given me. I have never written anything before so this has been a real labour of love and a bit of a process.

Anyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, left me an ask, messaged me, or even silently enjoyed -THANK YOU.

ao3 here

epilogue and alt ending will be here soon!!

Last one is for all of you - lmk what you think.

CH17 -(You are) Home

The champagne flows for a long time afterwards. The team is rowdy with it, pulling the brothers around as they dance and sing, rejoicing in the feeling of another win. Marc somehow ends up being thrown into the air by a group of mechanics, he tosses his head back and grins, laughing loudly in exhilaration. Someone is filming it; he just prays they don’t drop him. His mum only seems slightly concerned, standing aside with glistening eyes. Unlike his dad, she rarely comes to their races, so he’s delighted he could pull this off with her here.

There isn’t a time without a hand on his shoulder or around his waist. Frankie pulls him into a tight hug and Nadia holds him like his mother would, kissing his cheeks and patting his hair. Marc clambers onto Alex’s shoulders and lets his brother parade him around. His parents watch fondly. Marc laughs until he can’t breathe and wants to stay in this moment forever.

In the interlude of celebrations, Marc sneaks off to throw himself into the arms of his old Honda team. They welcome him enthusiastically, congratulating him with fervour. Luca is there too and Marc accepts a firm hug from him, thankfully devoid of any awkwardness from last night. He misses Honda dearly but knows they will always have his back and be there to celebrate his wins. He tries to wipe a tear away surreptitiously; the hand Santi lays on his shoulder suggests it’s redundant.

They dump a bottle of champagne on him when he returns to the Gresini garage. He tries to shuffle in without causing a commotion; to pretend he hasn’t just left for ten minutes without telling anyone. It is obvious that they notice, but no one says anything. He is grateful.

It is what he loves about this team, they recognise his strengths alongside his weaknesses; turning a blind eye to his oddities. Instead, they once more soak him with champagne and love. They party with him and match his energy with loud laughter and stupid dancing. He joined Gresini to enjoy racing again; he didn’t think he would find a family. Suddenly, he understands that he regrets nothing. Being here, surrounded by so much love and joy, makes every sacrifice worth it.

He’s soaked and sticky by the time he leaves. Begging off for a shower before he is dragged into more celebrations. There have already been extravagant promises of a fun night – Marc has left someone else to organise it. He knows with their parents here, it will at least start with dinner and drinks as a team, and maybe progress to a bar, or a club - somewhere private and tucked away. The whole team will attend and inevitably meet a bunch of other crews and riders while they’re there. There’s an aching familiarity to it.

Familiar in the same way that it's Valentino who seeks Marc out first. It is inevitable, in a way, how Marc is freshly showered and halfway through attempting to tame his hair when someone knocks on his motorhome door. How the shock courses through him when he opens the door to see Valentino on the other side. Marc thinks his poor motorhome has been the domain for enough drama in the past few weeks.

He lets Valentino in any way.

(He always does)

Valentino slips through the door quietly, shutting it behind him. It is the only sound that rings in the space between them. Marc looks at the man in front of him and prays that he hasn’t read this wrong. He begs the universe for this one last thing, that Valentino wants him back and will learn to treasure him like Marc so desperately wants.

Mercifully, Alex left a little while ago. Marc has his suspicions about that. The timing is awfully convenient and his brother smiles at his phone more these days.

(So does Franky)

Marc observes Valentino, standing in front of him, on this random day in 2024. He thinks about how much has changed from 2013, 15, and 18. It feels like a world away. Marc considers the longing in Valentino’s eyes, the differences in his behaviour, and the way he stared whilst Marc was on top of the podium. Like Marc was the sun, the stars, and all of the planets.

Marc takes a step closer.

It feels monumental – make or break.

It has been years, years of aching, of pain, of hatred.

Valentino meets him halfway. Wrapping his arms around Marc and pulling him in; he presses his cheek against Marc’s hair. There is comfort in the way Valentino sighs and the warmth of his breath against the crown of Marc’s head. It feels like home. A long abandoned, slightly dilapidated place, but home all the same.

Marc pulls back, which makes Valentino tighten his arms on instinct, unwilling to let go. It has been an age since he last had this.

Marc finds himself tipping his head back to meet Valentino’s eyes and tentatively brushing their lips together. Squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for a rejection which never comes.

“I’m so proud of you” Valentino murmurs in between kisses, his breath ghosting over Marc’s face as he speaks.

It is that which tips him over the edge, breaking his fragile self-restraint and sending shock waves through him.

Marc pushes forward, crowding Vale up against the wall and laying his hands on firm shoulders. Distantly. Marc knows this is too brittle to rush, to sustain any kind of pressure. He doesn’t care.

He’s been waiting too long - to win again, to heal, for Valentino to come to his senses.

He pushes himself onto his toes, screwing his eyes shut as he takes and takes, everything he’s ever wanted. He kisses Valentino like a dying man. as if Vale is oxygen and Marc is suffocating. He refuses to break for air.

He revels in the way their lips seem to fit perfectly, how Valentino still automatically nips at Marc’s lower lip whenever they part and are pulled back together, like the tide. Valentino’s tongue swipes at the seam of Marc's lips and Marc opens his mouth on instinct, humming into it. He is starving for this.

Eventually, they have to part, their foreheads pressed together as they gasp into each other’s mouths. Marc is the first to recover, trailing open-mouthed kisses across Valentino’s jaw and down his neck. It makes the older man groan softly.

A hand pushes at his shoulder.

“Marc,” Valentino whispers, choking off a quiet groan as Marc sucks lightly below his ear.

The hand pushes harder.

“Bambino, stop, we need to talk”, he urges.

Marc hums against his skin, Valentino’s not being particularly convincing. He doesn’t stop.

Valentino huffs but doesn't sound too annoyed.

“Gattino,” He warns. Marc shifts slightly, it’s been a very long time since he’s heard that one. He hates the way he goes ever so slightly pliant.

It gives Valentino enough time to switch their positions, pushing Marc away from him and spinning him around until his back meets the wall. Marc pouts at him grumpily.

“Unfair.” He mutters, but won’t meet Vale's eyes.

“Later, I promise. I’ll take care of you, but you deserve more than this, than here.” Vale pushes, pressing a soothing kiss to his cheek. He steps away, putting some distance between them for his own sanity. He has to get this right.

Valentino sighs, eyes flitting across the room before falling back to Marc, who has finally gathered the strength to meet his gaze.

“I know we have so much to work through” Valentino reflects; Marc nods in agreement.

Valentino pushes down the bitter reflux which tells him this would be easier if he’d done it a decade ago. He continues.

“I think we both know that it’s not going to be easy. There’s a lot for me to atone for. You’re worth every second of it. Every argument, every second of my discomfort and pain.”

Marc scoffs. Valentinos sighs,

“That’s fair. I know you’ve gone through it worse than me”

There’s a pregnant pause; Marc waits for Valentino to continue.

“It’s not- I’m- cazzo.”

Valentino tries again, “I hate this, I hate admitting I was wrong.”

Marc replying laugh is brittle, Valentino winces.

“I know I’ve fucked up Marc, I know I’ve caused enough pain. Everyone came to see it clearly; I became stupid with it a long time ago. You make me stupid. Even the people close to me have been practically begging me to shut up for the last few years. I’ve become bitter, and cruel. The pain I felt back then has become so twisted and out of control, sour and rotten.”

He’s not meeting Marc’s eyes.

“there’s not much more that I can do to fix it. Just admit it, try to atone for it, promise to make it up to you.”

Marc frowns, “what’s changed?”

Deep inside Marc, alongside the soothed content, there is a burning injustice and rotting pain. Valentino looks so very sad. Marc doesn’t budge.

“Frankly, I’ve been an idiot. Last weekend was a big wake-up call. I re-evaluated, well, just about everything. I’m sure the boys told you just how much of a mess I’ve been. It turns out I’ve been wrong this whole time, I’m not sure that sunk in before. And I’ve managed to fuck both of us over in the process. I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused. I won’t lie to you; I still feel my hurt was justified after Sepang-”

Marc squints at him, mouth open to protest but Valentino beats him to it.

“I handled it awfully. And I was horrible. And I did irreparable damage to you and your family and I will never not be angry at myself for it. I was hurt, yes. But I was also the older one, I should have been the one to handle it like an adult but instead, I was too wrapped up in myself and my anger. I will spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make up for it if you will let me.” He implores.

“But you, Marc, you are the most incredible man I have ever met. I spent the week watching the races, and the documentaries. Looking for everything I missed, realising that I should have been there for you. You are so unbelievably strong. So brave.”

Valentino takes a shuddering breath.

“It felt like I opened my eyes for the first time in years. You truly are incredible, and not just on a bike. I see how the boys look up to you, how they could learn to love you if they don’t already. You’ve won over Bez and Pecco in a couple of weeks. I don’t think you ever needed to try with Mig or Luca. And well, your brother’s helping a lot with Franky.” He is choking on his words now, a small laugh escaping at the thought of the two together.

When Valentino looks up from the floor, there are tears in Marc’s eyes.

“Please let me make it up to you. Let me make this right. I want everything. I want to take you out properly. Somewhere nice. Please Marc?” He begs.

Marc chuckles in disbelief, “You don’t need to ask twice to wine and dine me. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry we ended so catastrophically. I was so angry; I felt so small and stupid. It still hurts, I’m not sure if it’ll ever fully go. You realise that right? And I’m not the same man I was when I was twenty. I have scars now, physical and metaphorical. I’m weak, I cry, I have a therapist. I don’t want you to be disappointed that I can’t be the same person. I will always be too much.” Marc sniffs.

Valentino smiles gently.

“You could never be too much for me. I think you are everything I need. Everything I could ever want. I don’t care that you cry. I love everything about you, emotions and all. I want you to be happy, I want to make you happy.”, he assures.

Marc can’t help it, he can’t hold back any longer, he practically launches himself at Valentino. He knows all is not fixed, and it certainly isn’t all forgiven and they probably both need a fuck tonne of therapy but still.

Waiting is boring and Marc has never been one to do things at normal speed.

He fists his hands into Valentino’s shirt and slams their lips together, smirking when Valentino groans into the kiss.

Marc takes control immediately, pushing their chests together and trailing his hands up Vale’s body so he can lick into his mouth the minute he gasps. It isn’t gentle, maybe it should be, or perhaps the time for gentle has long since passed.

Marc tries to push them away from the wall but Valentino holds steadfast, keeping Marc bracketed by his arms.

Marc grapples at Valentino’s shoulder and then moves to dig his fingertips into Vale’s sides, underneath his shirt. Valentino smiles when he breaks the kiss, soothing Marc’s hands away.

The younger wiggles against the wall, trying to regain purchase on Valentino, who simply cups his jaw and pulls him into a gentler kiss.

Marc doesn’t want slow; he wants rough and preferably the bedroom. Valentino hums. Marc’s hands find their way under his shirt, running up and down Valentino’s smooth, flat stomach, trying to get a reaction.

Valentino shifts, and Marc follows. The older man pulls away, resting their foreheads together. He chuckles when Marc tries to kiss his neck, pulling the same dirty move as before.

He takes Marc’s hands in his own, his grip commanding. In one swift move, Marc’s arms are pinned above his head, straining against one of Vale’s own.

Valentino raises his eyebrows, “behave” He orders.

Marc whines, high and girlish. His cheeks flush red instantly, embarrassment flooding him.

Valentino’s answering grin is wicked.

Marc forgets that they’ve not really done this before. Sure, they had a one-night stand, years ago. Not enough to know each other properly, to discover what elicits the best reactions out of each other.

Sometimes it feels like they are two sides of the same coin, prophesied to come together.

When really in some ways, they are strangers and have spent more time hating each other than loving.

Marc can’t help but feel like he’s just let a big play slip.

“Like that, hm?” Valentino murmurs, pecking his lips, pulling him into a soft kiss, making him chase.

Marc wants to hide his face, to shy away, but there’s nowhere for him to go. He drops his eyes. Valentino tuts,

“Look at me” He commands.

Marc can’t help it; he brings his gaze up.

Valentino looks like the cat who’s got the cream, Marc scowls.

“Don’t make fun of me” He grouses.

Valentino laughs, but it isn’t cruel, instead sweet and slightly awed.

“Trust me, Bambino, I’m not. This is good. I’m looking forward to working out the best ways to make you come undone.” He smirks.

Marc can feel his cheeks burning. It’s been a long time since he’s been with someone like this in bed, someone who will make him work and reduce him to a babbling mess. Excitement stirs in his gut.

He tries to pull his hands free, to get this going again but quickly realises that he can’t move. He wonders why they haven’t been doing this for years and spares a thought for the fact that Valentino can apparently at least somewhat hold him down.

It’s such a turn-on, making him rut against Valentino’s thigh, looking up at the older man from beneath his lashes. The older man looks breathless, his pupils blown wide as he watches Marc writhe underneath him. Marc moans enthusiastically.

Valentino draws his leg away.

“I’m sorry Carino, not today, okay? Slowly, we have to go slowly. I’m not ruining this now I’ve only just got you back.”

Marc’s eyes fly open, and he huffs miserably when he sees nothing but honesty and slight regret in Valentino’s eyes. He pushes against the arms holding him firm, and tries to arch into Valentino’s space, to push them together again.

“Come on Vale, just once? Please? I’ll be good” He pleads.

There’s a sharp intake of air, Valentino drops his head, looks like he’s gathering mental strength.

“Later, Tesoro. Not now.” He groans through gritted teeth.

Marc could push this; he could sway Valentino into fucking him up against the wall. But for once, Valentino is right. Marc finally relents and stops fidgeting, allowing them to calm down without increasing the space between them. He sighs, looking into Vale's eyes.

“I love you. It might be the worst decision I’ve ever made, but I love you so much” Marc whispers.

Valentino smiles gently, “I love you too, Gattino”.

“I just don’t want you to leave. I couldn’t do that again. Do you mean it, you love me, no matter what?” Marc searches, his eyes wide and sincere.

Valentino hums. He presses a kiss on Marc’s forehead.

“I will always love you. I will spend the rest of my life proving it. You could tell me every worst thing about you and I would cherish those. Tell me all your darkest secrets, I will still love you. Always. Forever”

He whispers it against Marc’s lips and promises himself that he will never let this go.

Valentino holds Marc tight in a motorhome in Aragon and vows to be at his side for the rest of their lives.

Till death do them part.

*fin*

#its done #finally #i might cry #epilogue soon #motogp #marc marquez #rosquez #motogp rpf #my fics #valentino rossi #medical leak au

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hinny-canons · 3 days ago

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okay okay okay. so.

i have officially written a multi-chapter hinny fic! i have spent so so soooo long on it, and i can't wait to share it with you all!

It is a half texting, half writing muggle au called Maine Pyar Kiya, which means "I loved" in english. It has a romcom vibe to it.

every time i have tried to stay commited to a posting schedule on here, i always end up deleting the story due to lack of motivation. this time, all the chapters are done and just need to be released! i will post every friday meaning the first chapter is up on valentine’s day!

I hope you will enjoy it! Here's the summary:

When football team captain Harry Potter finds himself smitten with extraordinary football player Ginny Weasley, his life takes a turn for the better. They spend glorious sunlit days together before the jealousy of another stands in their way.

#hinny #hinny fanfiction #harry x ginny

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teaandjumpers · 2 days ago

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✨✨Fic/Stats Game ✨✨

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fewest words.

1st most Hits: Tales from the Bunker of Domesticity

This is my season 8 Destiel fix-it fic that I started writing when I realized the writers were not going to keep Cas around. It's a series of domestic moments between Dean and Cas (and Sam). Mostly fluff. I'm not an active destiel shipper anymore, but I still love this one, especially the last chapter.

2nd most Kudos: That's My Type

My first chaptered Obikin fic. I think I was in some kind of trance throughout most of this because it wrote itself.

3rd most comments and 4th most bookmarks: Obi-Wan (Anakin's Version)

My topwanfest fic! I regret not going with my alt title for this, which was The Marks We Bear, but there's a popular drarry fic with that title. This was me working out/reaffirming my obsession with Obi-Wan (and Ewan).

5th most words: Holiday Attire Required

Wrote this when I had too much stuff going on, BUT I loved writing it, so much so that I commissioned @unspuncreature to create art for it--which was lovely, like all his work.

Fewest words: Word in the Senate Is...

Still working on an Obianidala followup for this one!

Thank you to @starwalkertales and @mutteringretreats1 for tagging me! This was a lot of fun, and the AO3 filtering option continues to be such a gift.

I'm sure you all have been tagged before (or have already done this), but no pressure tags for: @voidseoul, @virahaus, @somethingsteff, @thegingerwrites, @comebackali, @barmadumet, @renlyslittlerose, @sky-kenobye, @lostinsnow, @ragnarlothcat, @piecesofeden11, @nightoncydonia, @asteroidmiyoko

I'd love some bts thoughts on your fics!

#stats game #my fic

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obsessivestar · 2 days ago

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'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

// General Warnings: 18+ fic (MINORS dni), Reader implied to be afab!, under 5'5. She/They pronouns used.

// Chapter Warnings: More angst, a lot of yelling n REAL exposition about the wedding

Word Count: 5.4k

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 , @callsign-scully , @limecorpse & @schlattandcompany

☆Love You To Death!☆

Chapter 20: I Remember That.

I wake up that morning feeling...uneasy. I feel nauseous, like I've only woken up because my body is signaling to me that I'm gonna be sick. I can feel a loose arm draped around my side behind me, I must've woke up before our alarm. I didn't sleep well. I kept tossing and turning, I kept waking up. Ted would whisper sweet nothings to me, he'd hold me close, kiss my cheek and my ear. He doesn't know he's the reason I couldn't relax. I...didn't even want to be in here last night. Not after what I heard. Not after what I know.

He lied to me last night. Lied to my face. Right to my fucking face. It was so casual, too. It was easy for him. A little white lie for him, maybe...but to me?...Man. Fuck. How long has he been able to do that?

Without moving too much, I reach out for my phone to check the date. It's Friday. Joe said he needed to tell me by Monday, but honestly, I...I don't know if I can wait. I don't think I can even trust that Ted will tell me the full truth. I know it now. I know that look in his eyes when he's lying. It's burned into my memory. He lied to me when we were high, too. I can see that now. Got me high just to lie to me. How did I not see it the first time? I could feel it. I could fucking feel that something was different, I...

I feel Ted shift a bit behind me, pressing his body more against mine, burying his face into my back. His breathing is still steady and quiet. He's still asleep. I...I don't think I should confront him first, not when I can't figure out exactly what he lied about. Did he lie about his girlfriend leaving him? Did he lie about how or why he left? Did he say something to someone? Do something? What is he so ashamed of that he had to lie about it? And why wouldn't Joe just tell me the first time? What is this big secret? What kinda shit could one guy pull at a fucking wedding? What makes not one, but two people want to hide it from me?

As I hear Ted's alarm begin to go off, I silently decide that I'll be going to Joe first. I don't think I can trust Ted to give me the entire truth. He's been too keen on hiding it from me, even if he wants to be with me. At least this way, if he does try to tell me on Monday, I can call out any inconsistencies. No, I can call out any more lies.

I set my phone down to pretend that I was also waking up, stretching my limbs out as Ted reaches back to hit snooze on his phone with a grunt. We both have quite an early morning, so there isn't a lot of time to speak or cuddle, outside of a quick 'Good morning' from Ted.

I leave the room to head into my own, letting out a small sigh of relief. That's not a good feeling, feeling relieved to be away from Ted. It used to be the other way around. I used to feel nauseous if I wasn't with him, I used to feel colder, used to imagine myself in his arms, imagine his lips on mine. Now, I can't think about any of that without frowning. None of it feels genuine anymore. I shake my head and let out a deep breath. I can't be getting all up in my feelings right now. I still have a job to do. I have to try and finish this. Not for Ted or Joe, but for Tanner. He has no idea what's going on, I don't want to let him down. Production has been nothing but smooth. I'm not about to ruin that because of some...bullshit. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let him down.

I push all of my uneasy thoughts and feelings down as I get dressed, making sure to wear something easy to move in. The weekend will be spent officially rehearsing the ballroom dance sequence. We've done some basic practicing, got the wardrobe and such, but now the camera's will be involved to figure out which angles work the best with the right lighting. This is the one scene that Tanner's REALLY fixed on looking perfect. We've got the entire weekend to figure out what works before we get into costume and everything. I'll...have to be hand in hand with Ted for it all, but that's fine. I'm doing this for Tanner. I'm doing this for Tanner.

I step out after getting dressed, moving past Ted's room to head downstairs for breakfast. This is the first morning in a while where Ted and I haven't come downstairs together. I get a few looks from the team, but I don't entertain them. I don't really care what the fuckin' team thinks. Nosey fucks.

I meet up with Tanner and Joe in the kitchen, getting one of the bagels to toast as they greet me. Tanner asks where Ted is. I just shrug and make a passing comment about how he'd slept in. Tanner buys it, but I can see that Joe is giving me a look. He'll be connecting the dots quickly, I already know it. I heard you, Joe. I heard both of you.

The morning goes by in a blur. My brain feels like it's on autopilot for most of the day, honestly. We get into position with some members of the wardrobe team who would be acting as background extras and go through the choreography step by step. If Ted makes a comment, I force a laugh but I'm mostly stoic for practice. We're supposed to be focusing, so I can kinda use that as an excuse to be more silent. The choreography isn't that complicated anyways, it's just a lot of spinning and stepping on beat. Ted has more trouble grasping it than I do, so oftentimes I'm just guiding him while he figures it out. A couple days ago, I probably would've thought this was cute. Now, I just wanna get it over with.

Thankfully we get to have a lunch break later in the afternoon. Some members of the crew end up going out to nab something to eat. I expected Ted to try and ask me to go out to dinner with him, but Dan had stepped in first, asking him to go out with him and Tanner to some new sub place. Convenient. Ted asks if I want to join, but since Joe isn't going, I politely decline, claiming I didn't like sandwiches or something. Ted reluctantly buys it, giving me a warm smile and a kiss on my forehead before he sets off.

"Be back soon, princess.."

I hate it, but...that makes me smile. For a brief moment, that warm, funny feeling spreads along my chest and I smile as he heads out the front door, giving me one final wave before shutting it. I can still see his affectionate little smile, those cozy hazel eyes....

And then the feeling fades about as fast as it overcame me. I can't let my feelings cloud my judgement. Not this time. He lied to you. He lied to me. Now, I just gotta find out exactly what he was hiding.

I head over to the living room where Joe is scrolling on his phone, brushing some of his hair out of his face with his other hand. He seems to be in the same funk that I'm in. I stand in front of the couch, anxiously picking at my nails a bit. I'm unsure of how to even...start this. I'm about to face the biggest mystery of my relationship with Ted...without Ted. I don't feel good, that uneasiness returns, but I have to push past it. I need to know what happened.

"Joe?" I clear my throat before speaking, keeping my fidgeting hands in front of me. He looks up from his phone, giving me big, curious eyes.

"Mm? Wassup?" He pipes up, pursing his lips out slightly. I'm nervous, but I know I can trust Joe to tell me the truth. He may have lied to me first, but I just know he won't make that mistake again.

"Can I...talk to you upstairs?" I point one of my thumbs back to the stairs, trying not to appear too nervous. "It's important.."

I see Joe's expression shift. Now he looks worried, but in an almost fraternal way. He's not worried about what I want, he's worried about how I'm feeling. He's a good friend.

"Yeah! Yeah, absolutely." He gives me a reassuring smile, standing up off of the couch to walk with me upstairs. We quietly step into his room and I close his door, taking in another deep breath. I feel like I can't breathe right, and christ, I'm still nauseous...

"...I, uh.." I speak up ever so slightly just to make sure I'm not going to throw up before I can ask this, placing one of my hands over my stomach. Joe looks even more worried now, his eyebrows furrowing at me.

"Yeah?" Joe speaks up in a concerned tone, placing his own hand over his own stomach as well. "Did I do something?"

"No! No--" I take a step forward with my hands out in front of me, trying to reassure him. I don't want him to think he did anything wrong. Yeah, he lied first, but he's not the one I'm mad at. "It's not--I'm not upset with you, I promise.."

"Okay.." Joe let's out a small sigh of relief, resting both of his hands in his lap. "So...what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

When he asks me that, the anxiety in my stomach only grows. My hands suddenly feel cold, and they're shaking. I go from feeling nauseous to feeling like I hadn't eaten anything in days. I open my mouth to answer, but only a shaky stammer escapes me. It's like I'm being frozen from the inside, but I can't freeze up now. I need to face this. I need to fucking face this.

"I heard you last night."

Joe gets it immediately. His concerned expression fades into an almost...disappointed look. He's not disappointed with me, no....with himself. His eyes fall from mine, looking down at his lap for a moment before a quick sigh leaves him.

"Shit.." He curses quietly to himself, firmly sliding one of his hands up his arm to rub his bicep, turning his head away as he rubs over his shoulder to let out another heavier sigh. He's uncomfortable with confrontation. Honestly, so am I sometimes, but I want answers. "How much did you hear?"

"Pretty much all of it." I admit, making my voice a little lower to hide how shaky I've become. I'm ignoring any panicky signs my body is trying to send to my brain. It feels like my soul is about to jump out of me, but I ignore it. "That you wanted him to tell me what happened, that you gave him until Monday..."

"Fuck, (Y/N)...I'm sorry.." Joe frowns at me, leaning his head down to place it into his hands. I hear him let out a quiet groan as he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the back a little. "I...didn't want you to hear that.."

"You said I should.." I added with a small shrug, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "You said I should hear you two.."

"Okay, but I didn't mean it! I didn't--" Joe raises his head to look at me, letting out a nervous scoff. "I didn't want you to find out that way. I was just...mad at him. I was pissed."

"I know, Joe.." I speak softly to try and calm him down, moving over to sit next to him at the edge of his bed. "I didn't bring you up here to get mad at you.."

I let Joe take his time to collect himself a bit, watching as he ruffled his mullet up with a stressful huff before turning to look at me. "...Then why are we up here?.." He asked, placing his hands back in his lap.

"Because I...I want to know what happened..." I admit with a long pause, glancing at the ground a bit before meeting Joe's nervous gaze with my own. "And...I don't think I can trust Ted to tell me the truth..."

It hurts to admit it aloud. The second I say it, I feel my eyes get a little teary, but no. I'm not going to let myself cry. Not about this. I'm just scared. I'm panicking, because I truly have no idea what he wanted to hide from me. I let out a shaky sigh and turn my head up to the ceiling, blinking my eyes to dry them.

"(Y/N), I...I don't know if I should..." Joe speaks up, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "It's not my story to tell. I wanted Ted to be the one to explain himself..."

"Okay, well it's not a story Ted wants to tell, Joseph..." I admit with a slight scoff, giving him a small shrug. "I don't think he's gonna tell me."

"I gave him until Monday to tell you." Joe replies, straightening his back a bit. "I know you're upset, but..."

"He's had many opportunities to tell me, Joseph."

"I know, I just--"

"and frankly, I don't trust him to tell me the full truth anymore..."

"I think he will, (Y/N). He--"

"He literally lied to my face last night, Joseph." I huff, smacking the back of my hand down in my lap. "I asked if he was okay, I basically gave him a chance to come clean, and he lied to me. I had to lay in his fuckin' bed next to his fuckin' body, KNOWING he's been lying to me.."

Joe falls silent and gives me a worried frown, glancing away briefly to shake his head with a heavy huff. He knows I'm not leaving until I find out the truth. Neither one of us are leaving.

"I'm just--I'm fucking paranoid, Joe." I continue, my shaky demeanor beginning to reveal itself in my voice. "I don't know what he did, I don't know why he's hiding what he did and it's freaking me out. Did he fuckin' punch someone out? Did he call you a slur or something?"

"Nothing like that.." Joe spoke up with another shake of his head. "He's not like that."

"Okay, but how the fuck am I supposed to know? I don't have anything to go off of, Joseph! I did--I don't--I've got fuckin'--I've got no idea! Nothing! No context, no idea, nothing! I just--I don't even know if I fucking care what it is anymore, I just want to know! I'm so--I'm sick of--"

"Okay! Okay--" Joe places both of his hands down on mine to calm my shaking, taking a deep breath to encourage me to relax. He takes a slow inhale through his nose while keeping his gaze on me, giving me a slow nod of his head as he exhales through his mouth. It feels a little patronizing, but I take a slow, deep breath anyways, following his lead until I stop feeling so shaky.

"I'll tell you..." Joe gives me a slow nod, speaking in a softer, lower tone. "But you have to promise me you're gonna wait until Monday before you say anything, alright?.."

"I--ugh.." I let out a soft scoff, running my fingers along my scalp stressfully. "Yeah, fine.."

"I'm serious." Joe insists, making his tone a little more firm. "I know you're frustrated with him, you'll probably be even more frustrated after I tell you, but I think you should give him a chance to come clean; give him this one last chance. At least then I won't look like a fuckin' dick for telling you after I've warned him.."

That last sentence gets a slight chuckle out of me and I shake my head, turning away to think about it. I can...probably do that. If it's not as bad as him hitting someone or saying a slur or something, I can wait until Monday. Maybe I'll feel a little better just...knowing what they wanted to hide. Maybe it's something stupid.

"...Alright." I turn to look at Joe again, giving him a little nod. "I promise, but if he doesn't tell me by Monday, I'm not holding back."

"That's fine, I could barely hold back myself." Joe admitted with a little shrug, turning his body a bit more to face me. "Now...I know he told you a little bit about the wedding, but what exactly did he tell you?"

I think back to what I already know. It's a little hard to remember details at first. I mean, he did get me high before telling me.

...No, I don't know if it's fair to keep saying that, actually. I didn't exactly fight him on it. I could've easily given a firm no and Ted would've backed off. We're both adults, I chose to take the blunt. It was...fun. That's on me.

"He...told me he came to the wedding with his girlfriend, and he made a comment about what their wedding might look like in the future.." I begin to explain, narrowing my eyes a little, like I had to focus on every detail. "...and that caused and argument and she left him..."

"That's why she left?.." Joe's eyes widen a little. He sounds...surprised. "Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?" I furrow my brows at Joe, giving him a confused look.

"I didn't know that." Joe admitted in a 'matter of fact' tone. "That's not what he told me."

"What do you mean you didn't know that?"

"That's not what he told me!"

"He didn't say they had broken up?"

"No!"

"What the fuck did you think when she left??"

"He said she had an emergency, then he said after, like, a week later that they had broken up!"

"Ah great, so he's just fuckin' lying to everyone.."

"Okay well it wasn't really my business, (Y/N). He was probably embarrassed."

"He really didn't tell you that?"

"No! He honestly didn't! I'm just learning this now, from you!"

That's...surprising. Why would he tell me that, but not Joe? Not anyone else? Is he just a habitual liar? Is that who I've been sleeping with the last 2 weeks? Christ. I really know how to pick them.

"Okay, so..." Joe pauses after a moment, an awkward chuckle escaping him. "What did he say happened after?"

"He said...he drank a lot of wine, watched the ceremony, saw me up on the stage as your maid of honor and left." I explain, giving a small shrug. "And that was it."

"He said he stayed for the ceremony?" Joe asked, interjecting rather quickly. "That's what he said?"

"After drinking a lot of wine, yes." I nod my head, keeping my eyes on Joe. I see an immediate shift in his expression. He looks disappointed again and maybe a little annoyed.

"That's not what happened." Joe says it plainly, shaking his head before adjusting himself a bit on the bed, finaly taking his hands off of mine to scratch his head. "Not what fuckin' happened at all.."

"Okay, so what did happen?" I ask again, clasping my hands together. Here it goes. No turning back now.

"Ted...is an entirely different man when he's too drunk.." Joe began to explain, gesturing his hands out to really emphasize that point. "It's actually fucking weird how he gets when he's drunk. It's gotten to a point where he avoids drinking heavily unless he's at a house party now, he's talked to me about it before.."

It's hard to imagine Ted with a drinking problem, but I'm starting to get an idea of why he'd want to hide this...

"So...He did drink a lot of wine, but...he didn't stay in for the ceremony. I kicked him out before then." Joe admits, clasping his own hands together.

"Why?" I ask again, narrowing my eyes at Joe. I'm getting sick of asking this. "Why did you need to kick him out?"

"He...God, honestly, now that you've told me about his ex..." Joe raises his gaze to the ceiling with a small smile, as if he's figured out the world's greatest secrets. "It makes sense. It fuckin' makes sense. Okay! Um...so he got REALLY drunk, and...he started to hit on every single woman that was at the wedding. Every single one of them."

Joe looks at me as he explains what went down, curling his lips inward a bit as we make eye contact. "And he was sayin' some...wild shit. He was making a lot of people uncomfortable. I almost didn't believe it was him when I was told by Tanner that he was acting that way."

"What wild shit? What was he saying?" A slight scoff leaves me, half of me honestly doesn't believe it. It just sounds ridiculous.

"I don't even know, I don't even know that part." Joe admits with a nervous chuckle. "He was just being...kinda inappropriate. I mean, he knew almost all of the girls there except you, but we were getting hella complaints. I didn't want to kick him out, I was just gonna ask him to tone it down, but then..."

Joe pauses as he looks at me, giving me this apologetic smile. Why is he looking at me like that? And...why is this starting to sound...familiar?

"...He tried to approach you." Joe gestures to me, raising his brows at me. "With two glasses of wine in his hand...while you were up on the stage, and he spills it everywhere, and I mean fucking everywhere, all on the front row. I don't even know how that much wine could get on that many chairs, but some got on my husband's mom. It was bad..."

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, I REMEMBER that.

"That was HIM?" I stand up off the bed in complete and utter shock. Jesus fucking christ, I can't even remember what he looked like at that event, but I remember that moment clear as day. Some stupid drunk fuck got wine all over the front row, but that was HIM?

"Yeah! Yeah, that was Ted.." Joe gives me a nod, ruffling up his mullet slightly. "You remember the guy I had to walk out? That was him."

I REMEMBER THAT. That happened basically right in front of me! I remember watching them leave, but it's like...everything about Ted being there was a blur. That was Ted? THAT was TED? How?

"That...that doesn't make any fucking sense." I admit with a nervous chuckle, sitting back down next to Joe. "I remember that."

"Yeah." Joe nods again, giving me a knowing frown.

"No, I remember that, Joseph.."

"I know."

"I don't remember that being HIM."

"It was him. A younger, clean shaven him."

"Why the fuck don't I remember it being him?"

"Because I wouldn't let him anywhere near you." Joe admitted with a shake of his head. "Like I said, I didn't want to kick him out. He sobers up quickly, usually, and he was already going through a lot, not just the girlfriend shit, but...he was being weird about you, I don't know. Kept saying you were the one and shit.."

I feel my cheeks warm up a little at that, but it still sounds a little ridiculous. I scoff, letting out a slight laugh. "What do you mean? He was flirting with every girl there, wasn't he? What made me different?"

"No fuckin' clue, but he was a lot more aggressive about you. Kept saying 'No, she's the one. She's gonna be the one. Look at her, she's the one. Watch. Watch' and then he tried to force his way past me, so I had to kick him out. It was too much."

I remembered Joe and most his husband's family rushing the poor guy out, but I didn't know he had been trying to get to me. Is...that why he remembered me? Is that why he's been so...fixated on me? Am I the one that got away? The one girl he couldn't hit up? Was I just a lot prize he finally got his hands on?...

"And...that's pretty much it." Joe admitted with a single clap, resting his hands in his lap. "He got too drunk, hit on everyone, and then when he tried to get to you I had to kick him out. He reached out the next day and apologized and we all just kinda moved on.."

"Except you lied to me about it." I bring up, giving him an annoyed look. "So, doesn't seem like you moved on.."

"When did I lie?" Joe asked, furrowing his brows. "I genuinely don't remember lying. I told you to ask him."

"When Ted and I got back with Dunkin' Donuts on the first day, you said he never asked about me at the wedding." I explained, pointing at Joe. "You even said he left after the ceremony. He wasn't even there for the ceremony."

"....Alright, you're right. I'm sorry.." Joe nods, closing his eyes for a moment. "But c'mon, I was over it. So was Tanner. I didn't expect you two were ever gonna cross paths again."

"We were gonna be working together on the same fucking set, Joseph." I smack the back of my hand on my palm. "You knew that beforehand."

"Okay, but not as romantic co-stars! He was supposed to stay behind the camera, I didn't expect you two to ever interact! You didn't even recognize him!"

"It was 2 years ago! Of course I wouldn't recognize him, what was there to recognize? He's not even in your wedding photos!"

Joe knows I've made a good point and he looks annoyed by it. I didn't intend to get mad at him when we came up here, but he's starting to make excuses and it's pissing me off. He looks up at the ceiling and turns his head away with a huff.

"You were all worried about Ted makin' moves on me, but you wouldn't even tell me why." I continue, keeping my hands together. "It's like you banked on me not remembering him, and I can't figure out why."

"I thought he was going to tell you a lot sooner.." Joe admits, lightly smacking one of his hands down on his lap. "I didn't expect you two to sleep together before he told you."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I ask, sounding more annoyed. "You knew! You could've let me know! Why count on him? He's been lying to me since the beginning, Joseph."

"Not since the beginning."

"What?"

"Not since the beginning."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he didn't know he did all that until last week."

"You didn't fuckin' tell him he flirted with all of those women when he apologized?"

"I did! I'm not--(Y/N)--" Joe rubs his forehead with a frustrated groan, shaking his head. "You don't understand.."

That makes me a little mad. I stand up off of the bed again, crossing my arms. "What don't I understand?" I ask, sort of glaring down at Joe. "What am I not understanding?"

"(Y/N), he....he likes you." Joe admits in a softer tone, raising his head to look at me again. "He really likes you."

"Yeah, he likes me enough to sleep with me, but not enough to actually tell me the truth..." I mutter somewhat, rolling my eyes. "What's that got to do with this?"

"He told you he remembered you, right?" Joe asks, shrugging his arms out at me. "Right?"

"Yeah. I'm sure he remembered trying to rush me and every other girl there like we're some extinct animal."

"Okay, he doesn't fucking remember it like that." Joe clarifies, waving his hand slightly in a disapproving gesture. "He genuinely doesn't remember any of that."

"What the fuck do you MEAN?"

"He only remembers YOU!"

Joe stands up off the bed as he points to me, holding both of his hands out to me to really emphasize his point. Ted only remembers me...

"You said he apologized." I bring up, furrowing my brows at Joe.

"Yeah, he did, for getting drunk. I thought he knew what he did, but he fuckin' didn't, I guess. I just learned this last week. So did he." Joe admits smacking his hands together again. "The only things he can remember from the wedding is, apparently, getting broken up with and then seeing you. I fuckin' swear to you, he hasn't been lying to you from the beginning."

"Okay, so why are you suddenly defending him? Did you want it to turn out this way?" I nearly cut Joe off to ask, taking a step towards him. "You've sat on this vital piece of information since the beginning of production. You were all up in a fuss about him making moves on me, you've known for a full WEEK that he's been hiding this from me, but now it's all okay because he likes me?"

"I've been trying to convince him to tell you for that full week, (Y/N)! I haven't just been sitting on my ass watching you two!" Joe cuts in, his own hands getting a bit shaky. We haven't fought like this in a long time. "You KNOW I would NEVER want to hide shit from you, (Y/N)! I love you! You're like my fucking sibling, but he REALLY wanted to make this shit work with you and I wanted to give him the chance! I'm not apologizing for that!"

I didn't mean for this exchange to become so...heated. Joe's right. I can't pin this on him. Should he had told me the first time I asked? Maybe, but...I can understand why he didn't. He didn't want to but in, and he trusted Ted to be the one to tell me. He's known Ted longer than I have and he seems just as disappointed in him as I am, maybe even more. At the end of the day, Ted was the one who kept lying to me, kept hiding it from me. That's who I need to face. Not Joseph. Not my brother.

"...You're right..." I speak up with a shameful frown, my voice cracking ever so slightly. "I'm sorry..."

Joe gives me a sad smile, moving in to pull me into a warm, comforting hug. "I know. It's alright..." He speaks quietly, rubbing my back to soothe me. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry.."

"No, don't apologize, please.." I shake my head in the hug, once again having to hold back tears. God, I hate this feeling. This whole thing...what a stupid fucking thing to keep from me. I'm not even anxious about it anymore. I'm angry. I'm angry that Ted lied to me. I'm angry that what's seemingly a white lie turned into this. Maybe it wasn't for the entire trip, but he's been lying to me for a week now. Ever since we slept together, he's been lying to me. That's not okay.

"Are you okay?.." Joe asks after a small moment of silence, pulling back from the hug to look at my face. I blink a few times to fight back any tears, wiping under my eyes just in case with a small sniffle.

"Yeah." I nod a little, blinking up at the ceiling to dry my tears. Thank God the makeup team didn't work on me today. Christ. "Yeah, I will be.."

Just then, I hear the sound of a large door opening and closing downstairs along with Dan, Tanner and Ted's voices laughing and playfully yelling at each other over some joke that was probably told in the truck. They're back. Guess it's time to get back to work.

"You gonna be okay?" Joe asks again, raising both of his brows at me with a concerned expression. I know what he's really asking. He's still making sure I'm gonna wait until Monday to bring this up. As angry as I am, yeah. I can wait. I can wait until Monday. Ted has 3 days to tell me the truth. I can play the part until then. I'm already an actress.

"Yeah." I nod, looking at Joe with an almost stoic expression. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I....might be lying.

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 (smut) || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 (here) || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || Chapter 23 || Chapter 24 || Chapter 25 (final) ||

#ted nivison #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison x you #ted nivison fanfic #ted nivison fanfiction #allaromcom

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ifishouldvanish · 2 days ago

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For Love (Pt. 3/5)

SHIPS | Mizrak/Olrox, Past Alucard/Olrox, ...future AluMizRox RATING | M (will probably become E next chapter... 👀) WORDS | 2,005 FIC SUMMARY | After the hard-won battle, Alucard can't help checking in on how Olrox and Mizrak are doing. When he finds them hiding in an abandoned Parisian apartment, he's furious to learn his old companion has turned the valiant warrior monk into a vampire. And yet... his heart won't let him leave. [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] [READ ON AO3]

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Sometimes it was Alucard who came to feed him. Sometimes it was Olrox. Sometimes, both of them came, with some kind of rodent or fowl or other small game.

They had dragged a human in this morning, but Mizrak couldn't bring himself to feed on it despite all their coaxing. Despite all their insistence that he would have to make his peace with it, for he could only sustain himself on animals and the generosity of two other vampires for so long.

When Olrox fed him, he would strip and lie on the bed in offering, encouraging him to embrace the base instincts of his thirst. To let go of guilt, let go of shame. To indulge in the pleasure of it, instead of denying himself like he had all his mortal life.

Alucard's approach was to show him how to exercise restraint. To ride out the episodes of frenzy and desperate hunger so he could feed with a clear head. So he could confront this thing he'd become on a more conscious level, rather than let it take over and his feedings become blackout moments that felt somewhere between reality and dream, memory and nightmare.

The hunger pangs were becoming less intense, at least. Easier to get through, to stay in control of. Which was leaving Mizrak with the time and faculties to think.

He sat on the edge of the bed once again, still toeing the line of sunlight that cracked through the curtains. The world had become strange, with his new, heightened senses. He thought he might miss the sunlight, but his eyes now saw so well in the dark, he'd hardly given it a thought.

Instead, he wondered what his eyes looked like now. If they were the same hellfire red most of the vampires he'd seen had had, or the emerald green Olrox had. But while the lavish apartment they were in had plenty of mirrors, he couldn't see himself reflected in any of them.

He liked to think they'd be green. Perhaps, he wondered one time after Alucard had fed him, the color might be influenced by his food source. Perhaps right now, they'd be something in between Alucard's gold and Olrox's emerald.

He supposed he could ask either of them, but he was a little bit afraid of the answer.

And then there were his ears. He could hear everything.

Alucard and Olrox spoke often in the other room. Sometimes they argued, sometimes they laughed. Most of the time, they did both.

It was plain to see that they were close. When they weren't arguing over how best to get him acclimated to his new life, they reminisced about a past spent in the New World. People and places with names that sounded strange to Mizrak's ears.

He'd gleaned that at some point, some kind of demon had brought Alucard to the brink of death, and that Olrox had brought him back to life with the gift of his blood.

When Mizrak had first come to after his turning, angry and frightened and confused, Olrox had simply assured him that he’d done it for love.

But back in that quiet room at the inn in Machecoul, Olrox had also told him that he'd only ever truly loved once in the past—and that that man was dead.

It made Mizrak wonder: If Olrox had given Alucard his blood for some reason other than love, then what had it been? Selflessness? Honor? Respect? And why was Alucard here? Still, after three days? Patiently feeding another vampire’s spawn every few hours?

It could only be love, couldn't it? Because Mizrak had gleaned that too. That Alucard had been in love with Olrox. That he probably still was.

Yes. Each time Alucard restrained him through a fit of bloodlust and offered his wrist to him, it was an act of love. Love for Olrox. A desire to spare the man he still loved—a man who did not love him back—the pain of losing him.

The thought made Mizrak feel sick to his stomach with shame.

What had he done for love? Olrox had protected him time and time again, risked his position with Bàthory’s court to warn him, gotten himself branded—all for love. But what had he, Mizrak, done for love?

You're an animal, which lost its soul centuries ago.

You're a creature without honor.

Every moment I spend with you dishonors me.

Get thee behind me, Satan.

Everything he'd known about a vampire’s nature had been a lie, it seemed. Had made it so easy to look at everything Olrox did and assume it could only have been for selfish, duplicitous reasons. So easy to believe that he'd turned him out of nothing more than a refusal to let go of something he felt belonged or was owed to him. An act of possession. That he was a damned creature determined to drag his soul down to hell with him.

But it wasn’t true, was it?

All those things he'd thought he'd known had simply made it easier to pretend he hadn't felt the way he did. To put the onus on some demonic spell Olrox had cast on him, rather than the stirrings of his own heart.

When Mizrak thought back on the things he'd done—the deal with Bàthory, the harvesting of bodies for night creatures—he liked to think it was for the love of God. And God was supposed to forgive. But He had not. He'd let the flames of hell lick at his heels instead.

Olrox had forgiven him, though. Olrox had—despite all those terrible things he'd said—only ever met him with love and compassion, with patience and understanding.

Olrox had turned him for love. Of that Mizrak was certain now. But what about him? Why was he here? Why had he let Olrox turn him without a word of protest?

It had to be either because he loved him back, and was ready to accept an eternity at his side—or because he was a coward, too afraid to accept his punishment.

The more he heard the two of them talk, laugh, argue in the other room—the more he saw the pained look in Alucard’s eyes each time he fed him—the more it felt like the latter.

And didn't Olrox deserve better than that? Deserve someone who loved him in turn? Someone like—

Mizrak's ears pricked as the doorknob rattled from the other side. The door creaked open, and Olrox appeared. “…You’re awake.” He observed in a quiet voice, and there was a slight smile, too—but it faltered when Mizrak failed to say anything. “…What's the matter, darling?”

Mizrak looked down at the floor. “You say you love me,” he said.

Olrox closed the door behind him and crossed the room, sitting beside him on the bed. He cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes. “I do.”

A wave of feeling crashed over him, and Mizrak clenched his eyes shut—holding back the sob threatening to come out. They were words he'd already heard countless times before from Olrox, but this time… this was the first time he'd listened to them, let them in.

“Why?” He sniffled. “I've… called you terrible things, denied you so many times. The only reason I let you turn me is because I was too much of a—” he choked on the admission and swallowed. “Too much of a coward to face my death with honor.”

“I don't believe that,” Olrox dismissed, shaking his head. “I can see what's in your heart, Mizrak,” he said, and took his hand. “I am a coward, and you are everything that I am not.”

Mizrak let himself be pulled into his embrace, let himself be held. Let himself be rocked in his arms like a newborn, let himself be lulled into a state of safety and calm.

“…Come now,” Olrox said, giving him a final squeeze before letting go. “You should feed again.”

Mizrak nodded lifelessly, watching as Olrox began the familiar routine of removing his clothes. He would undress, lie down, and tell him to let the hunger take over. And for two days, he had. Fed upon him like an animal, telling himself he couldn't help it. That his new, vampiric instincts were to blame. But now his head was clear, and it just felt wrong. Wrong to take even more from this man that had already given him so much.

“Wait,” Mizrak said, stopping his hand where it was fingering the first of his buttons. Green eyes locked with his, brows furrowed in confusion. Swallowing thickly, Mizrak began to brush his thumb to and fro over Olrox's.

He really was beautiful, Mizrak thought, and all that feeling came flooding back. Mere days ago, he'd bent and twisted it into disgust, contempt, hatred. Anything to deny the truth. But now Mizrak knew them for what they really were. All the things Olrox had told him they were.

Longing.

Desire.

Love.

“…Let me,” Mizrak whispered, undid the first button for him.

Olrox lowered his hand and let him, watching him intently as he worked—looking not at his hands, but at his face. It made Mizrak begin to feel self-conscious, but when he dared to meet Olrox's gaze, he only saw the same tenderness as always.

He undid the next, and then another, his hand hovering in the place over Olrox’s heart. There was still some bruising there from prior feedings, and Mizrak thought of the Sacred Heart. A symbol of God’s boundless and passionate love for mankind. But the man before him wasn’t Christ. Just Olrox—this man, this vampire—with a boundless, passionate love for him.

As Mizrak reached the last of the buttons, he saw Olrox's hand resting in his lap and stared at it in hesitation—but what for? When had Olrox ever rebuffed him? Ever turned him away?

It had only ever been him, turning his back to the love Olrox so desperately wanted to give him.

Olrox kept inviting him to give into his hunger, give into his bloodthirst. Inviting him to devour and take as much as he wanted from him. But Mizrak didn't want to take or devour anymore. Didn’t want to take of him like an animal. God had still given him free will, after all, and Alucard had shown him that he could still use it. That he could feed consciously, with intent.

And now that Mizrak’s head was clear, he was seeing the man in front of him in a different light. It wasn’t predatory instinct, or temptation, no. No, love was the reason that, as he looked at Olrox’s bruised chest and serpentine eyes, he wanted to give back to him. Wanted to pray to him. Wanted to adore him and to praise him.

Slowly, Mizrak reached for Olrox's hand and laced their fingers, and by God, this feeling was everything. Such fullness and lightness, such warmth and peace. It was everything God's love was supposed to be. It would have been more than enough, had he known. Would have been worth facing an eternity of hell’s torment, had he let himself feel it before.

To think, he had almost been dragged to hell without ever knowing this feeling. But now he would have it for eternity. And Olrox had given him that.

Mizrak brought Olrox's hand to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss to his knuckles, the tears that had been welling in his eyes finally rolling down his cheeks as he clenched them shut.

“…Mizrak?”

“Forgive me,” he uttered before giving his hand another kiss. “Olrox, please forgive me—”

Olrox let out a string of placating shushing noises, wresting his hand free so he could cup Mizrak's face instead. He waited for him to open his eyes, and wiped his tears away with his thumbs.

“You're already forgiven, my love,” he said, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then his lips. “You'll always be forgiven.”

#castlevania nocturne #mizrak #olrox #mizrox #alucard #alurox #alumizrox #castlevania

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marc-elly · 2 days ago

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This chapter got to me a little :')

Chapter 8 of my post season 2 battle Caitvi fic is now live. In which: Cait and Vi share an intimate moment; a memorial service is had; there's a search for Ekko.

Here's a little appetizer:

From the first time she’d seen Vi’s reaction to her touch, she’d wanted any excuse to keep touching her. She’d known that Vi could never be casual. The way their first kiss felt only confirmed that for Cait. Vi’s love was life-altering, devastating. Maybe that was why she’d pushed her away so soon after.

Caitlyn had a brief flashback to that day down in the tunnels when she had lashed out in anger and grief and fear. She had hurt Vi physically and emotionally and left her in tears. Looking at Vi now – she hated herself for it. How could she have done that to such a precious soul?

Despite so many facets of their relationship being new, loving Vi felt like something ancient and sacred. Like something she’d been born to do. Touching her felt like coming into contact with destiny. And the rest…

She had so much to make up for, and she hoped she had the rest of their lives to atone. She knew Vi had a lot of healing to do, as did she. But she never wanted Vi to have to go through that alone again. She shouldn’t spend another night alone or want for any sort of warmth. So yes, she would comfort Vi wherever, whenever, and however she could.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62669680?view_full_work=true

#caitvi #violyn #vi x caitlyn #vi and cait comforting each other heals my heart #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi #vi arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #this chapter made me super emotional but maybe there's just something wrong with me #there's definitely something wrong with me #i'm sorry #vi and caitlyn #vi and caitlyn are in love

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loftec · 3 days ago

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Gallavich Masquerade 2024

I had a Very Stressful Week last week and it was such a lovely surprise to wake up to a bunch of sweet comments on the weekend, I had quite forgotten that it was time for reveals! 6 days of recovery from the Stress Week later, here’s a little post about:

or the foreseeable future

I hadn’t planned to join the festivities, but realised last minute that I could use the first chapter of a longer fic I had abandoned and post that, so I rewrote the ending of the chapter and then cobbled together a genius disguise consisting of:

1- changing the tense to past tense (how do you do it? I only had to change the tense, I didn’t have to write it, and it nearly broke my brain)

2- gave it an all-lowercase title

Did I fool anyone? Did I? Many thanks to @gallavichthings for organising, and good job on everyone dressing up and everyone guessing <3

Here is the 0,2 of chapter 2 I’d also written before losing steam:

“Hey! Look at me!” someone yells over the music, booming out through the open windows, followed by a crash and effusive cheers from inside the house.

Mickey sinks down in the plush cushions of the loveseat hammock and rocks his heels against the porch floorboards, something squeaking as the seat slowly starts swinging.

It’s getting late and he’s feeling the long day out in the sun catching up to him. Getting home to some peace and quiet sounds like a dream right about now. Holding up his beer to inspect it against the multicolored string lights hung around the porch, he finds it half full. He’ll finish it and then find Kayla to make his excuses and then go home. He’s kept his schedule clear tomorrow in case he finds himself hungover, or in someone else’s bed and unwilling to leave it, but an early night sounds just as good.

“Right, I’m leaving now.”

Mickey stills his foot on instinct and the hammock stops swinging and squeaking as the silhouette of someone moves out through the brightly lit rectangle of the wide open front door.

“Wait,” someone sighs and comes out after, and the two of them stop in the shadows by the porch steps, the first guy out getting stopped and turned around by a hand on his shoulder. “Just–, wait.”

“For what, Ian?” Freezing still, Mickey tries his best to sink into the cushion and disappear, and also hear everything. “For you to catch up with the fact that we’ve been together for over six months and somehow that doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“Come on,” Ian says, “I said I’m sorry, ‘a couple of months’ is just a turn of phrase.”

“A turn of phrase which indicates two, Ian! Two months! Four less than six! Don’t minimize my feelings about this!”

“Jesse–”

“No, you know what? My eyes are wide open. I’m done. I’m leaving.”

The shadowy shape of Jesse walks down the steps and out on the street, before he does a full turn and strides back, stomping determinedly back up the stairs and into Ian’s space. The hammock lets out a small apprehensive squeak as Mickey is led by his left ear to lean closer.

“Actually no, I’m going to say this!” he yells, and from where Mickey sits it looks like he’s poking Ian menacingly in the chest. “You! Are afraid! Of commitment!”

Suppressing the urge to scoff, Mickey frowns when it looks like Ian’s shoulders slump.

“And you’re hung up on some guy from High School! High School, Ian! Grow up!”

“I’m not–, I didn’t know he was going to be here–”

“I don’t care! He can be here if he wants to! I care about you turning into someone I don’t recognize just ‘cause some trash ex from fucking High School shows up!”

“Hey,” Ian says, his voice noticeably harder than before. “You know nothing about him.”

Jesse huffs out a humorless laugh.

“No, no I don’t. That’s the point, isn’t it? And I’m beginning to think I don’t know very much about you either.”

“It’s only been–”

“A couple of months, I know, thank you. So let’s just break it off now and not waste any more time.”

He flounces back down the stairs without waiting for a response, calling over his shoulder: “Good thing I didn’t invest a full half year into this or anything!”

The sounds of the party inside once again fill the silence left in Jesse’s wake, and for a minute Mickey simply looks at Ian, so still and wrapped in shadows that he’s starting to wonder if he’s imagined him. Then he turns and light falls on his face and reflects the shine of his eyes as they lock with Mickey’s.

He jerks back like Mickey had jumped out of nowhere and scared him, one hand honest to God clutching at his chest for a second before he squeezes his eyes closed, hands coming up to cover his face.

”Shit, Mickey,” he says, and drops his hands, “didn’t see you.”

“I know,” Mickey says, “kinda the point.”

”Enjoy the show?”

Mickey shrugs. “Depends. You want me to be honest or nice?”

Letting out a short laugh, Ian shakes his head.

”Uh-huh,” Mickey mutters, tearing his eyes off Ian to look out at the street. The hammock squeaks and creaks as he shifts over to make space next to him on the loveseat, a silent invitation.

“Sit down,” he says after a moment without Ian taking him up on it. “Let’s fucking–, catch up, or whatever. Haven’t seen you in over ten years, asshole, I’m sure you’ve got a ton of shit you wanna chat about.”

He resolutely doesn’t look, and probably holds his breath for the full minute it takes before Ian sits down next to him, the hammock shifting and complaining under his added weight.

”You, eh–,” Mickey starts, fingers picking at the label on his beer, mind blank. “You doin’ good?”

“Besides just getting dumped?” Ian snorts and shifts a little in his seat, shoulder brushing against Mickey’s. “Yeah, I’m doing pretty good. You?”

”Yeah, same,” Mickey says and then frowns at himself, “I mean, I haven’t been dumped in a while but I’m good. Things are good.”

”Good,” Ian says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. If that’s at Mickey’s expense or because he’s simply that thrilled by their titillating conversation, Mickey couldn’t possibly tell. Either way would be fine.

”You said you just moved back to Chicago?” Mickey tries to press on, turning his head to glance at Ian only to find him looking back, a small smile playing on his lips.

”Mh-hm, last year,” Ian says, raising an eyebrow. “When was the last time you got dumped?”

Mickey grins and looks away from him, takes a sip of his beer. How about ten years ago, asshole, and I’m still fucking bruised over it. Beat that!

“Not usually the one getting dumped,” he says instead, smiling against the lip of the beer bottle when Ian lets out a sarcastically impressed whistle. “Where were you?”

It doesn’t sound nearly as casual as he meant for it to sound, but whatever. Guess casual’s not really likely an option for any of this conversation.

”Before moving back?” Ian confirms, shifting a little in his seat. “Springfield, Clayton had a friend there who wanted him to move anyway, help him with his

Aaaand here is where I stopped writing, realising that I actually needed to think about when in the canon this story diverges from, and what Ian’s been doing for the last ten year, and I couldn’t think of anything lol

And here are my notes for the rest of the story:

Chicago pride parade is on 30th of june from 12 noon to 11 am on monday? Anyway, PARADE is at around 4 pm

Sunday 5:19 parade

Sunday evening at the house party 10:30

Monday morning at the club 12:01

Monday morning at the club lost / found 3 am

Monday morning on the rooftop 5:19 am sunrise

Monday morning 10 am - tylenol

12 hours??????????? I mean

that could be fun as hell

They both end up at a house party and Jesse leaves, and Mickey and Ian end up talking on a hammock on the porch

Some friends of Ian’s are moving on to a club called “wish” and they both join them.

They end up on the floor of the wardrobe at some point looking through the lost and found (maybe one of Ian’s friends lost something) they are also metaphorically lost and found

They end up on someone’s rooftop patio in the small hours of the morning, sitting squished together on an old sofa someone has dragged up there for the occasion. Ian’s arm is slung casually behind Mickey, tips of his fingers brushing against his back.

Rooftop “Hey, look at me”

Tylenol - Mickey wakes up alone, but then Ian walks in with a glass of water and some tylenol and gets back in bed.

#shameless us #gallavich masquerade 2024 #GM2024

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