#thinking about something stupid about the story

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, I just wanted to ask: If you end up writing something for the monsterfalls au do you think you could do something where reader helps to groom Ford or Stan's newly acquired wings and them just loving the attention and care they give them? Also, love your stories and thanks if you decide to do this.

Stan, while thinking his new appearance was great for scaring kids on Summerween, hated his stone wings that weighed like a pair of cinder blocks.

They made sleeping difficult! How do you make sleeping difficult?! Apparently becoming a stone gargoyle.

That wasn’t even the worst thing either. Ford told him once after he complained about how his wings felt itched and irritated, almost like an itch he couldn’t scratch, that his wings needed constant preening whenever necessary as to avoid such situations from happening.

However Stan couldn’t exactly reach everywhere that needed preening and grew annoyed but his saviour arrived in the form of you.

‘Doll face! Just the person I’m looking for, would you mind helping me with my wings? They’ve been a pain in my ass this entire morning and I could really use some help in getting to the spots I can’t reach.’ He says as you examined his wings, strong and durable just like him, but oddly enough were soft like clay underneath; also just like him

‘I’d be happy to help Stanley but why me? You could’ve asked the kids or even Ford to help preen.’ You asked and Stan stiffened as he remembered the fact that Ford told him about preening; it was a mating thing to display the bond between mates amongst other reasons, which was mainly why he wanted you to preen his wings for him.

Stan scratched the back of his head. ‘Eh, none of them are in the house, doing their own thing or whether and even if they were they’d probably pull out the wrong feather.’ He quickly explains himself, hoping you’d buy it.

‘Okay, why don’t you lay down on your stomach and I’ll get to work.’ You replied after a brief moment of silence and Stanley sighed in relief as he was quick to flop on his bed, displaying his beautiful wings for you to gawk at.

Ford maybe a sphinx with pretty wings but you found Stanley’s wings even prettier, they looked as though they have priceless minerals within them, glistening beneath the light. They were a beauty to behold for those who actually cared to look at them and it never failed to take your breath away. ‘Beautiful.’ You murmured to yourself as you began to gently pull out the loose stone feathers that weighted like a pebble within your hand.

Stan felt like he could’ve fallen asleep then and there with how therapeutic he felt, he could feel his wings getting lighter with each loose feather you pulled, growling lowly in content as he closed his eyes and focused his mind on the way your hands carefully navigated his sturdy wings. He could’ve told you to be a bit rougher as they were like ordinary wings, but he throughly liked the way you treated them like they were glass and the way you run your fingertips in appreciation of them while counting the minerals within them, thinking he wouldn’t notice but he did and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

He could happily stay like this forever if he could but he knew he couldn’t, so Stanley will take whatever time with you he could and keep it close to his heart to remind himself that someone does care about him and his stupid stone wings.

Ford took immense care of his wings but he often forgets that he has them when he’s deep in thought, which leads to him knocking stuff over, smacking Stanley, you or the kids accidentally with them and so on.

His wings were beautiful, majestic and fluffy, unlike Stanley’s which were the colour of gunmetal or cold stone or even gravel.

So whenever he forgets that his wings needed preening, he won’t know until you point it out to him, which is what you did.

‘Ford, did you forget to preen your wings?’ You asked as Ford looks over his shoulder and at his wings, where he could obviously see there was a few feathers that needed to be removed.

‘Ah so that’s why I’ve been in such discomfort as of recently, thank you my beloved for pointing it out. I shall preen them as soon as I’m done here.’ Ford replied but you pressed your hand onto his shoulder.

‘Why don’t you let me preen your wings for you?’

Ford blushed, he has read somewhere that pressing one’s wings was a thing only done between mates, or even that of a courting ritual amongst some bird species, but not only that but preening one’s wings was also seen as a means of survival and self care of one’s being. So the thought of the of you doing his wings for him had a whole lot more meaning to him as he would very much like you to preen his wings, but feared that he might make some…noises of enjoyment from your actions.

You saw his hesitance and said. ‘I’ll be gentle but then again it is all up to you as they are your wings, that and I don’t want to see you in discomfort or pain.’

Ford’s features softened as the blush died down. ‘Okay my dear I trust you with my wings.’

You smile as you sat yourself behind him and began to get to work in easing the loose feathers as carefully as you could, making sure you weren’t using more forced them necessary while praising Ford and his beautiful wings. ‘Your wings are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but then again they only reflect the person blessed with such wings.’ You then sweetly kissed where his wings connect to his back, a sensitive spot for Ford, causing the man to take a sharp breath as you do so before relaxing once more.

He was a little tense to start off with but gradually Ford felt himself melt under your carful touch and caresses as he purrs low in the back of his throat, tail slowly swishing in a display of his happiness and content regarding the current situation. He knew from that moment as you placed the loose feathers into a neat pile by your feet that he didn’t want anyone else to preen his wings but you.

Then again he was never in dispute with this idea of you preening his wings, he was just a bit awkward and unsure how to ask such a task of you without it coming across too strong, or that you didn’t have a choice but to agree to preening his wings. He just wanted to spend time with you and it just so happened that his wings were also in a state of disarray when you came in, all of which was completely unplanned and purely coincidental, but Ford couldn’t help but thank fate for this moment for he would treasure it forever and always.

‘You okay Ford? I think you’re…purring.’ You spoke with a smile upon your face when you felt his tail hit against your foot, finding it adorable as the purring coming from him.

‘Yes I’m perfectly fine my dear, perfectly fine.’ Ford reassured with a smile upon his face. ‘Perfectly fine indeed.’

[itneverendshere]

Can we get something along the lines of bartender reader maybe working at the country club and some guy has been hitting on her all night, he’s older, creepy, won’t leave her alone, getting drunker as the night goes on and she’s just trying to ignore him but she has to go to the supply closet later in the night or steps away for whatever reason and the guy follows her? reader is gone for too long and Rafe notices, finds her and stops the guy?? I need protective Rafe over reader 😍

ugh i hate creeps, literally felt ill writing this but for the sake of the story i did, bc it's unfortunately very common. thank you for the request lovely 🫶🏻🫂

throw away my faith just to keep you safe - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: unwanted advances; there's a creep.

It was just another Friday night, the usual crowd of kooks indulging in their weekly rituals of wealth and excess. For you, it was just another night behind the bar.

Wiping down the counter, you glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Your shift was crawling toward the finish line, thank god, but the crowd promised at least another hour of pouring drinks and faking smiles. Not that you minded by this point — the tips were decent, and the job wasn’t hard. But sometimes, the clientele was more than you could handle.

“Another round for me, sweetheart?”

You turned toward the voice and visibly shuddered at the sight. There he was again — the guy who had been hitting on you all night, like a stupid plague. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a sleazy smile. He’d been getting progressively drunker, his advances getting bolder with every drink. You didn’t get paid enough to put up with this shit, but you also didn’t feel like getting fired for slapping someone across the face. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it professional. “Sure. Another whiskey?”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y’know you’ve got the prettiest eyes. Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit? I’m sure the bar can survive without you.”

Internally, you cringed. Outwardly, you kept your smile, though it was starting to drop. “I’m working,” You replied, “I can’t.”

He grinned like he hadn’t heard you — or maybe he just didn’t care. “C’mon, you can take a break. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You’d rather shoot yourself in the face. You turned away, busying yourself with grabbing his drink. You didn’t want to make a scene. You could handle this. You’d dealt with drunk idiots your entire life.

But something about him was different — he wasn’t just annoying, he was persistent, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Rafe had checked in on you earlier, but you hadn’t seen him for a while. Normally, you could handle yourself, but tonight you really wished he was closer.

The guy’s drink slammed down in front of him harder than you intended, and you forced another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes dragging down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “You’re too pretty to be stuck behind a bar. Bet you could find someone to take care of you, huh?”

You barely held back an eye roll as you turned away from him, grabbing the rag to wipe down the counter again just to have something to do with your hands. 

The guy cleared his throat, leaning even closer over the bar. “How much longer do you think you’ll be working, sweetheart?” His voice was low, like he was trying to make it intimate, but it just made your stomach turn. “I’ll wait for you. We could have a little fun after you’re off. I know you’re not gonna go home alone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But he did.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be like that,” he said, his grin widening like you were joking with him. “I know girls like you — all tough on the outside, but once someone gives you a little attention, you melt.”

You slammed the rag down, turning toward him, patience leaving your body. “Look, I’ve told you, I’m working. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested. So how about you just take your drink and leave me alone?”

His smile dropped for a moment, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it, sweetheart,” he slurred, clearly not backing down. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Before you could answer — or reach for the nearest object to throw at him — a familiar voice cut in from behind.

“How about you fuck off before I make you?”

You knew that tone. It was the one he used right before things escalated. Fast. You looked over to see Rafe standing just behind the bar, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto the guy in front of you.

His posture was tense, fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back from jumping at the guy. “Rafe,” you called softly, reaching out to grab his arm. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off the man. “No, you don’t,” he muttered, stepping closer to the bar, “This guy’s been harassing you all night. He needs to leave.”

He looked Rafe up and down, taking in the expensive clothes, the look in his eyes, and the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “No need to get all worked up. I was just talking to her.”

“You weren’t just talking,” Rafe snapped, “You were being a creep, and now you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Rafe took another step forward, and whatever argument he had died in his throat. He grabbed his drink from the bar, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he turned and stumbled away toward the door.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Rafe turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, but your hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

He stepped closer, “You shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that.”

“I can handle it,” you replied, “But I’m glad you were here.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb tracing soft circles against the skin in your arm. “I don’t want you handling it. I don’t want you dealing with that shit at all.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “It’s part of the job sometimes.”

“Not when I’m around, it’s not,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. 

You grinned, your fingers brushing over his collarbone as you tilted your head up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours and when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll be fine for the rest of the night,” you whispered. “Promise.”

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I know. I just hate seeing shit like that happen to you.”

“Me too, baby.” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But at least the tips are good, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would focus on the tips after that.”

“Gotta find the silver lining somewhere,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was deeper, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were still at work. When he pulled away, he glanced back toward the bar. “You need me to stick around?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I think your little display of alpha male behavior probably scared off any other creeps for the night.”

He smirked, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Good.”

“Go hang out with the guys,” you said, patting his chest. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand still resting on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, but finally, he nodded. “Alright. But if I see him again…”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And if you do, I’ll let you know.”

He gave you one last kiss, then reluctantly let you go and headed back toward his friends. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself before you turned back to the bar.

Forty minutes later, Rafe stood by the side of his truck, fingers drumming against the hood as he waited for you to finish up. He hated this place most days — hated how these old, rich assholes thought they could treat you like you were some kind of prize they could buy. It had taken everything in him not to knock that guy out earlier, but he knew you didn’t want a scene. Still, he’d been fuming ever since.

You’d be out any minute now, and the two of you would go to his house. He just needed to chill. But then, five minutes passed… then six… and a knot started to form in his stomach. You were never this late getting out, and you’d told him you’d be quick tonight.

Where the were you? He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Rafe pushed off the truck and started pacing, his eyes glancing between the front entrance and the locker room doors around the back. He knew you were still inside, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. His instincts were screaming at him now. After another minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck this.

He strode back inside and headed straight for the back hall that led to the locker room where you always changed after work. As he turned the corner, his heart stopped. There, right outside the locker room door, was the same asshole from earlier — the drunk creep who’d been hitting on you. His greasy hand was on the door, shoving it open, trying to force his way inside.

Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he surged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy didn’t have time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back against the wall. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock as he tried to raise his hands in defense, but Rafe didn’t give him a chance.

“You thought you could get away with that shit?!” He growled as he shoved him again, pinning him hard against the wall. The guy let out a choked gasp, his face going pale as he tried to squirm out of Rafe’s grip.

“I-I wasn’t—” the guy sputtered, his words slurred from the blow.

Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He threw another punch, this one harder than the first, his knuckles splitting against the guy’s cheekbone. All he could see was you — you, behind that door, completely unaware that this piece of shit had been about to force his way in.

“Rafe!” 

He stopped his fist still clenched, inches from the guy’s face. He turned his head just enough to see you standing in the doorway, dressed in your usual jeans and a hoodie, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Baby,” you said stepping forward. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

But Rafe couldn’t let it go — couldn’t let the image of this creep forcing his way into the room where you were out of his head. The thought made him sick. It made him want to tear this him apart piece by piece.

“I should fucking kill you,” Rafe spat, his voice trembling  as he pressed the guy harder against the wall.

“Please. I’m okay. He didn’t get in.”

It took every little ounce of self-control Rafe had, but he finally let the guy go, stepping back just enough for the asshole to crumple to the floor, groaning in pain.

“You come near her again, I swear to god…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The guy knew exactly what he meant.

The creep scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding face as he stumbled down the hallway, mumbling something that Rafe didn’t bother to listen to. His eyes were on you now, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline started to wear off.

His hands were still shaking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wide, “I’m fine. He didn’t get in, baby. You stopped him.”

Rafe exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe properly. The thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t come inside when he did made him want to throw up. “I should’ve been here,” he muttered “I should’ve been right here with you.”

“Rafe, you can’t be with me every second,” you stepped closer to him. “You did the right thing. I’m okay. Really.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, needing to know for sure that you were safe. His grip was tight, maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I swear to god, if he’d touched you…”

“He didn’t,” you murmured, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, “He's not going to."

He held you like that for a long moment, his heart still beating too fast, his mind conjuring everything that could’ve gone wrong tonight.

 “No more working late nights here.”

You pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “This place is full of creeps, and I’m not letting you deal with that shit anymore.”

You sighed, “We’ll talk about it.”

He didn’t argue — not now, at least. But as far as he was concerned, you weren’t coming back here. Not without him.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

You both turned to see Greg, your manager, striding down the hallway. He looked between you and Rafe, his eyes landing on the dented wall and the bloodied handprint smeared across it.

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” He barked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is there a guy running out of here with blood on his face?"

Rafe stiffened beside you.

He didn’t like Greg — never had. In his mind, he was lazy, incompetent, and more interested in playing golf with the country club regulars than actually managing anything. You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he beat you to it.

“Why don’t you fix your goddamn locks, Greg?” Rafe snapped, stepping forward, “If you weren’t so busy kissing everyone’s ass, maybe you’d realize that your employees aren’t fucking safe here.”

Greg blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Rafe pointed to the locker room door, where the knob was still hanging loosely, as if the creep had almost succeeded in breaking it off.

“Your fucking locker room door doesn’t lock. That asshole was trying to force his way in while she was changing. What the hell are you running here, man?”

Greg glanced at the door, then back at you, his face paling slightly but instead of apologizing, or even showing the slightest bit of concern, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Yeah, because you don’t pay attention to shit!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “You think you can just let her and the other girls fend for themselves? Is this the kind of place you’re running?”

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand on his arm again, trying to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

But Rafe was far from calm. His hands were shaking, and his eyes locked onto Greg. “No, it’s not fucking okay. This shit keeps happening, and it’s gonna get someone hurt.”

Greg took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’ll… I’ll talk to the maintenance guys, alright? We’ll fix the lock.”

“Not good enough,” Rafe snapped, “You better fix it tonight. Because if this happens again, I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”

Greg swallowed hard, clearly shaken. “Y-Yeah. Fine. We’ll take care of it.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You better.” 

He turned his back on Greg without another word, grabbing your hand again as he led you toward the exit. His grip was tight, and once you were outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

“Rafe,” you said softly, pulling him to a stop as you stood by the side of his truck. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you. “I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered. “He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else working here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. For a moment, he just held you like that, the tension slowly ebbing away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Let’s just go home.”

Rafe looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly, “I’m gonna get you a gun.”

"A gun?"

"Yeah," Rafe said seriously, his grip tightening on your waist. “You need to be able to protect yourself if I'm not around."

"Baby, that's... kind of extreme," you tried to make him understand, "I don’t need a gun." You placed your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing slow circles "I know you're worried. I know you don’t want me dealing with stuff like this, but a gun isn’t the answer."

He sighed, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I will be. I promise.”

He held you close for a few more seconds, his forehead resting against yours. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay. No gun. For now.”

You smiled faintly, relieved. “Thank you.”

“But if it appens again, I’ll shoot him myself.”

“Okay, James Bond, get in the car.”

[badkitty3000]

can u write a five x reader smut where five makes the reader watch him jerk off before fucking them

This request has been in my inbox for a LONG time...sorry. I set this during season four, and it's mixed with my usual sense of humor and confidently sexy Five 😉

Forced Confinement: Friends to Enemies to Lovers

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 5.7k words, one-shot, reader request

Warnings: Smut, explicit sex, masturbation

Summary: You and Five used to be friends. That is, until he got you stuck in the endless cycle of time traveling trains and no way home. Now he is the last person you want to be stuck with at the end of the world. But, after months of resentment and bickering, you and Five finally work out your differences

It had been eleven months. Eleven months since you and Five had taken that stupid fucking train to nowhere. Why you had let him talk you into going with him, you had no idea. You had been friends and you trusted him, sure, but that didn’t mean you wanted to skip out on the real world forever and live in captive domesticity for the rest of your life. You had wanted adventure and danger, which always seemed to follow Five wherever he went. But that’s not what this turned into. This had turned into playing house.

After nine months of mindless travel to various timelines that just seemed to get worse and worse, you were about ready to kill one another. The passive aggressive arguing had gradually turned into bickering, which then turned into outright shouting matches. You wanted to go home, god dammit! You didn’t care that time travel was tricky or unpredictable. He had gotten you into this mess and you demanded that he get you out of it.

To get you to shut up, Five had presented you with a temporary solution. When you came across a mostly still standing house with a greenhouse and clean water, he begrudgingly suggested that you two stay there for a few days. Just to relax, wash up a bit, and gather some food. It would also grant him some time to think about how to navigate this situation you were in. You had agreed, although you had scoped the crappy house out first to determine if there were separate living quarters. There was only one real bedroom, but Five conceded it to you and said he would take the living room floor.

A few days had turned into two months.

You knew he was trying his best. You knew that. And you knew he certainly had never meant to get you stuck in this endless loop of time travel fuckery. He had only been trying to save the world. Again. Only this time, he wanted company. And since you and he had become friends over the course of the five years you had been serving him large quantities of whiskey and beer at your bar, he had asked you.

It’s not that you were best buddies or anything. You had never hung out outside of the bar. But he was a frequent enough customer that you and he had a good rapport. You were comfortable around each other, which you had noticed for Five, was kind of a big deal. And maybe you were a little flirty with one another as well. Not that anything had ever happened between you, but the tension had been there.

So, when Five had come stumbling in one night, seemingly already drunk, and had plopped down on a barstool in front of you with a smart-ass grin on his face, you were intrigued. After a very confusing and convoluted story about something called “marigold” and Five having the power to teleport and time travel, you were already hooked.

How many times had you dreamed of doing something amazing? Something so incredibly exciting and weird that when you told your friends all about it later, they wouldn’t believe you? It was just one of those silly fantasies that never left your head. But the longer you ran that bar, and the more comfortable you got pouring shots and mixing drinks for others, the less likely it became that your fantasy would ever be realized.

But time traveling subway trains and teleportation powers? It was everything you had been waiting for! When he told you his idea of trying to get to the correct timeline and stop another apocalypse from happening, you barely even hesitated.

In those first couple of months, you didn’t really mind being lost with no real way to get back home. It was still exciting and you were getting along great back then. He confided in you; told you he had asked you along because you were his only real friend and he just didn’t want to face the unknown alone again. He had apologized when it became clear he was just as lost as you were, and he promised to get you back safely. You made each other laugh, and invented stupid games to kill the boredom, and would cuddle up together on cold nights even though there was nothing romantic going on. Those were the good times.

But now…now, it was like the two of you were living in some bad sitcom with no laugh track. Five was still good looking, there was no getting around that. Even when he was grubby and dirty and his deodorant gave out months ago. Yes, he was hot, you could admit that. But that wasn’t quite enough to cover the fact that he was an arrogant, know-it-all asshole that was systematically ruining your life. You missed your bed. And your bar. And god, what you wouldn’t do for some fucking fast food. You had dreams about McDonald’s French fries and if Ronald McDonald himself had come walking up to you and told you he’d give you a Big Mac if you sucked his dick, you’d be on your knees in a second. That’s what this had come to; you would blow a clown for a hamburger.

Instead, here you were, in some bullshit little Hobbit house, listening to Five’s snoring from the other room. And if you had to eat another fucking strawberry, you were going to vomit. You would rather eat a dozen half-cooked subway rats than choke down another one of those god damn red berries. Sometimes you laid awake at night, envisioning Five choking on one, his eyes bulging as he panicked and tried unsuccessfully to get air through his blocked trachea. It brought a small amount of comfort to you. Until the morning, when you walked out and saw there were no animals in your traps, and you wanted to cry. No meat. Only fucking strawberries.

“We need more water,” you told him as you came out of the green house where the first few sprouts of cucumbers and green beans were finally starting to come through.

“So? Go get some, then,” Five muttered back at you, his head buried in a notebook while he sat at the wobbly kitchen table.

“No. I’m always the one that has to go get the water. It’s your turn.”

Five glanced up briefly, then looked back down at his incoherent scribblings. “I’m busy.”

“You’re busy?” you asked incredulously. “How the fuck is making little pictures in a book busy?”

He looked up again, his worn-down pencil paused in midair. His eyes narrowed. “They are not little pictures. They are complex mathematical equations that your simpleton mind cannot possibly understand.”

You snorted. “Fuck you.”

One corner of his mouth turned up just slightly and he set his pencil down, leaning back in his chair and draping one arm over the back. Fuck, if he didn’t look amazingly hot like that. Asshole.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been eye-fucking me since we got here. Actually, since before we got here.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What the…are you delusional? Did you hit your head the last time you were out scavenging? I have, under no circumstances, been eye-fucking you.”

“Ok, sure…whatever you have to tell yourself.”

You placed a hand on your hip and tilted your head to the side. “If anyone is eye-fucking anyone, it’s you to me. I see the way you just so happen to look in my direction when I’m changing clothes.”

“If I do that, it’s only because I want to make sure you’re actually changing into something new instead of wearing that shitty old tank top that smells like dead rats.”

“That is my best tank top! And look who’s talking. Who wears a suit in a fucking apocalypse? It’s insane!”

“At least I don’t walk around with my tits half hanging out. I mean, fuck, those things are going to knock you out the next time you have to run from anything. It’s like you’re just begging for attention.”

You smiled. “Oh, I just bet you’d love to see me running with my tits hanging out, wouldn’t you? Probably play right into some weird-ass Baywatch fantasy you have.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” He tossed his head so that the piece of hair in his eyes flicked out of the way. “You are wearing the literal last pair of tits in the world right now and I wouldn’t care if you slathered them in baby oil and shoved them in my face.”

You watched as his eyes moved briefly to your chest before landing on your face again. You smirked. “Gosh, Five, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course you don’t want anything do with these.” You ran your hands up your sides and rested them on your breasts. Then you began to rub them and squeeze them together, all while looking him directly in the eye. You gave a little moan and licked your lips. It was subtle, but you saw him swallow and shift in his seat.

Five rolled his eyes, but you could tell you had gotten to him. “While the tits themselves may be alluring, there is the unfortunate fact that they are attached to the body that is powered by your idiot brain. Therefore…not interested.”

You gave them another hard push together, and then let out a short laugh before dropping your hands. “That’s what I thought.”

“What did you think?”

“That you’re a dickless asshole”

Five flashed you that devious smile that you had come to associate with an unfortunate fluttering inside your stomach. “I’ll concede to being an asshole. But dickless? Quite the opposite, sweetheart.”

Your mouth went dry at that implication and you momentarily had a loss for words. After a couple of seconds, though, you regained your cool.

“As much as I’m sure you’d just love to whip out your little pickle dick right now, how about you get your scrawny ass up and go get us some water? Sweetheart.”

Five gave a short laugh. “And as much as I’m sure you’d love to be choking on my pickle right now, like I told you…” He pointed his pencil at the notebook. “I’m busy.”

Without another word, he lowered his head and started scribbling again, ignoring you completely. Your mouth opened in another retaliation, but then it snapped closed again. There was no point in continuing your little childish spat. Five was a stubborn old bastard and it was a waste of time. You might as well go get the damn water yourself.

Giving a loud, dramatic huff, you flipped your hair over your shoulder and stomped away. You did happen to notice, though, that Five looked up to watch you leave. So, as a final act of brattiness, just before you were out of sight, you made sure to bend over and act like you were tying your shoe while wiggling your ass in the air. Which, if Five had the oversized brain he was always saying he did, he would remember that your shoelaces had disintegrated a month ago.

As you angrily made your way to the old well that was your water source, you mumbled out loud to yourself.

“He thinks he’s so fucking smart. Well, he’s not. Just because you’re a smoking hot asshole does not mean you’re a genius, I guarantee you.”

You tripped over a rock and you cursed before continuing on. “And he is dreaming if he thinks I’m the one that wants to fuck him. Granted, it has been a long time since I got laid, but still. I think I can do better than Five Hargreeves, even if he is the last man on earth.”

You approached the old-fashioned well pump that was still in service and started pumping, much more vigorously than needed while you ranted to no one. “Honestly, he is so hard up for some ass, it’s embarrassingly obvious. But, good luck buddy, because that ain’t happening.”

You watched thoughtfully as the water slowly poured into the plastic bucket that served as your portable water reservoir. You stared into the distance; the landscape not quite as bleak as the others you had seen. This one at least had some trees and wildlife. “Still…I did see him shirtless that one time and I can’t seem to get that little image out of my brain. The guy has sex appeal, there’s no doubt about that. And I suppose he’s not all bad. He did let me take the bed, after all. He hasn’t even tried anything, either, which I suppose makes him kind of a gentleman.”

You gave the well a few more pumps to fill the last of the bucket. “But why hasn’t he tried anything? Maybe he doesn’t think I’m attractive? He said he likes women, though. I wonder if he jerks off when I’m not around?”

You smiled to yourself, feeling your chest tighten a little at the thought. “I guess I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t used him as motivation for my own hand-fucking. He might be annoying but I bet he can deliver in certain areas.” You paused a moment more and sighed angrily, looking toward the sky. “Damn it…now I’m horny!” The water started overflowing in the bucket and you realized you’d been pumping the well for too long, wasting your most precious resource.

“Shit!” You stared at the dusty ground that was now turning into a muddy puddle around your feet. “He doesn’t need to know about this, that’s for sure. I don’t need yet another lecture on water preservation.”

Hoisting up the bucket, and holding it against your chest because the handle had given out a week ago, you started back towards the house.

“I’m going insane,” you panted as you made your way up the slight incline. “It’s official; I’ve finally lost it. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere and talking to myself. Cool.”

As you walked into the house, the water bucket was partially obstructing your view and it sloshed water down your front as you set it heavily down on the floor.

“There,” you declared, out of breath. “Here’s the water, no thanks to – Oh holy shit!”

When you had looked up, you had been assaulted with the sight of Five pleasuring himself right there in your cozy kitchen. You froze, taking in the sight, not able to look away. He was on full display, with the chair pushed out from the table, facing the doorway. His shirt was open, sleeves cuffed up, head thrown back, eyes closed, pants undone, and his cock in his hand. He was languidly stroking himself, appearing to not be in a hurry to finish the job, while he sat there with his legs spread open for all to see. Well, not all to see…just you.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry…shit…what are you? Ok, never mind, um…I’m gonna, yeah, just go…” you stammered while still staring directly at the obscenity before you.

You said you were going to go, but you were rooted to the spot. Eventually, after what seemed like an inordinate amount of time considering what was happening, Five opened his eyes and looked at you. No, not looked. Stared at you. Those bright green eyes bored into you and a small smirk played on his lips.

Still panicking, but also confused as to the very real sensation of moisture not caused by the bucket of water forming between your legs, you abruptly turned to leave.

“Stop.”

Five’s voice was different than usual. Harder. Commanding. And you inexplicably stopped in your tracks.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed and slowly spun around, nervous as to what you might see, or have him see. You were sure the look on your face would give you away.

Five hadn’t moved. He was still stroking himself and he looked like he didn’t have one ounce of shame about it, either.

You swallowed hard. “What…”

“I decided after your little show earlier that I just couldn’t help myself. And now that you’ve got some wet t-shirt action going on, I’m going to need you to stay. I think you owe me that.”

Looking down at yourself, you saw that the spilled water had created a nearly see-through situation over your chest. Even your bra was soaked through, and your nipples were visible through the thin fabric. When you glanced back up, you bit at your lower lip. Despite the blush growing across your cheeks, you were intrigued with this new game.

“Owe you?” you asked, your voice cracking as you tried to keep your cool.

Five groaned quietly, picking up his pace and ignoring your question. “You really do have magnificent tits. Now, take that ratty ass top off.”

You couldn’t believe you were actually going along with his demands. You should be telling him to fuck off and throwing the nearest heavy object toward his head. Instead, you found yourself holding his eye contact while you slowly stripped your wet shirt away and dropped it onto the floor.

There was another deep moan from Five as he worked his shaft over with his whole hand, his breathing becoming louder.

“Bra,” he rasped.

As you unhooked your bra and let it fall on top of your shirt, you smiled at his reaction.

“Fuck honey…I’ve been dreaming about these tits for so long and they do not disappoint.” He groaned low in his throat again. “Perfect.”

You eyed him up and down, taking in the detail of his cock as his fist slid easily over it. It was most definitely impressive. Much more than you had imagined and you found yourself running your tongue over your bottom lip involuntarily.

“Shit, Five…I guess you weren’t kidding. Definitely not dickless.”

“You like what you see?” he asked, looking out under the pieces of hair that had flopped in front of his eyes.

You nodded, and then began to move closer in. “Yeah, I do.”

Five shook his head, pausing his fist fucking momentarily. “I don’t think so, honey. Not yet.”

“Not yet what?” you asked, thoroughly confused. Did he not want you to jump on top of him?

“I know you’re just dying for my cock to be buried deep inside you right now, but you’re going to have to wait. That’s your punishment.”

With your eyebrows drawn together, you suddenly felt very stupid standing there topless while he continued to jack off.

“What the hell…what do you mean? Punishment for what?”

“For walking around all bitchy and complaining about everything. All while throwing your body in my face and leaving me high and dry.”

“What!? You’re the one that has been the asshole –”

“Shut up, sweetheart. I don’t need to hear your mouth. I just need to look at you. Now drop your pants.”

It took a minute for your mind to comprehend just what the fuck was going on here. Five Hargreeves, your friend turned enemy turned…jack off partner?...was ordering you around like you were his own personal interactive porno mag. And you fucking liked it.

As you started unbuttoning your shorts, you gave him a lopsided smile. “So, how long have you been using me as your whack-a-thon inspiration?”

“I could ask you the same,” he snarked back before working just a little harder when your pants came off.

“Since about 3 months in,” you admitted with a shrug, pushing your panties all of the way off.

“Fuuuck,” Five groaned loudly, closing his eyes briefly before scanning your body hungrily. “I think I lasted 2 weeks.”

You laughed, leaning back against the table with your hands behind you as you pushed out your chest. When your eyes caught his again, you let out a soft whimper.

“Damnit…I really want to fuck you right now.”

“I know, darling,” he responded, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’ve made that quite obvious.”

Neither of you said anything more for a moment. The room was filled with the sound of your collective heavy breathing and the slapping noises as Five jacked himself hard and fast. You could see the beads of pre-cum forming around the head. On a whim, you decided to lean in, bending down with your mouth open and tongue out, to daintily lick up the tempting drops. Five growled and flung his head back again while you gave one more flick of your tongue over the slit and backed away again.

“Finger yourself,” he grunted out.

When you smirked, licking all four of your fingers before lowering them between your legs, the sound Five made, a shaking, guttural sound, had you thinking he was on the verge of blowing his load. But he only seemed to concentrate harder, working his fist over his thick shaft. You watched as his thumb traced the underside of his swollen tip, the veins that ran from top to bottom prominently on display. You had never really thought the sight of a man pleasuring himself in front of you would be that hot, but the wetness dripping out of you right now proved that maybe it just depended on the man.

Because watching Five unabashedly fuck himself; his left hand tight around his cock and his hips jerking up in response; the tendons in his forearm taught and straining; his hair hanging messily around his face, his eyes never leaving yours; had you more worked up than you had ever been in your life.

“Fuck, Five,” you moaned as your own hand began to move through your slick folds.

“Damn it, I’m going to come. On your knees,” he growled through clenched teeth.

You dropped down without a second thought, just blindly following his orders. Your hand was still working furiously, and you were unsure if he wanted you to suck his dick or not, so you just waited for further instructions. When he groaned loudly and shifted forward in the chair, his own hand moving fast, you realized what he was going to do.

“Don’t you dare come on my face,” you rasped out. You removed your fingers from yourself so that you could lean back, exposing your chest at a better angle.

With a strangled moan that sounded like some sort of wounded animal, Five bit at his bottom lip while he came; long ropes of cum covering your chest and dripping down your stomach as he unloaded onto you again and again. You watched his face as it contorted in orgasmic bliss before finally relaxing again, his hand slowing, and his body easing back into the chair.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered through heaving breaths; eyes still closed. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

As you knelt before him, covered in his semen, and still horny, you frowned. “Good for you.”

When he opened his eyes, he had the nerve to laugh and he shook his head. “Give me a minute, ok? I might have a fairly quick refractory period, but it’s not immediate.”

“Hmm, yeah. Likely story,” you said under your breath, although your mouth twitched up with amusement as you stood up. “I’m going to use our most precious resource to wash up.”

“Use it sparingly,” Five reminded you.

“I think I’ll use as much as I want, considering it’s your cum that’s currently drying all over my tits right now.”

“Fair,” Five said with a breathy laugh.

After you found one of the clean rags that doubled as a washcloth, you dipped it in the bucket of cool water and started to wipe at your chest. Five watched you bend over, ringing out the cloth and letting the water run down your breasts and abdomen. His refractory period may not have been instant, but watching you like that was most definitely speeding the process along.

While you were enjoying giving him this show, what you really wanted was a little more satisfaction than just watching him jerking off. With your body as cum-free as it was going to be for the moment, you sauntered back over to Five who was still sitting in the same chair; pants open and semi-hard dick out. When you stood in front of him, he looked up at you through the fringe of hair covering his eyes, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Without even thinking, you hauled your right hand back and smacked him across the face.

As he raised a hand to his stinging cheek, he glared up at you. “What the hell was that for?”

With a smile, you straddled his lap, draping both arms over his shoulders and leaning in to kiss him. After biting at his bottom lip, you pulled back.

“That was for stranding me here in this hell hole.” You kissed him again, tugging hard at his hair at the back of his head. “And for being the world’s biggest prick.” Your groin slid over his hard cock and he grunted. “And for looking so fucking hot all the time.”

Five grabbed your chin in his hand, holding you steady as he gazed into your eyes; his deep green ones sparkling as that arrogant look crossed his face again. Gripping your ass tightly with both hands, Five stood up, taking you with him as he slammed your body down onto the rickety kitchen table. When your back hit the wooden top with a thud, the pedestal holding it up wobbled dangerously underneath. You huffed out a loud breath from the impact.

Standing between your legs that were still wrapped around his waist, Five reached down between you, grasping his hard cock and rubbing the tip against your clit. When you gave a tiny whimper, he nodded.

“I’m sorry I got you stuck here. And I’m working on being less of a prick. As for looking hot all the time? That I can’t help so much,” he said with a grin, continuing to massage your slit by running his dick up and down, spreading your wetness over both of you.

“Asshole,” you rasped after sucking in a loud gulp of air. Your hands clutched at the edge of the table and your hips rocked against him.

He shook his head, closing his eyes with a moan before locking onto yours again. “No. If I were an asshole, I would have done what I’ve been dying to do for months now.”

“Which is?”

“Sliding into bed with you in the middle of the night and waking you up with my dick shoved between your legs.”

Your head tipped back as you tried to push yourself harder into his cock that was continually sliding over you in just the right spot. “Oh shit, Five…I wish you would have.”

“You’d like that, huh?”

You nodded. “I’d still have kicked your ass, but not before I’d let you fuck my brains out.”

“How about I fuck your brains out now and we can discuss kicking my ass later?”

“Sounds good,” you breathed out.

Five used his hand to guide himself inside of you. Once the head of his cock was inside, he thrust himself into you, impaling you on his sizeable dick, and watching your face for your reaction.

“Oh god…” you cried, gritting your teeth against the intensity.

“You ok?” he asked as his hands traveled over your thighs, sides, and hips.

You nodded. “Yeah. Definitely ok. Fuck, that feels good.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, Five grabbed your ass tightly with both hands, squeezing each cheek hard and digging his fingers into your flesh. When he started to guide you by pushing and pulling you over his shaft, you let him take full control of your body. With your arms splayed to the sides and your head tipped back against the table top, you wanted him to break you down; strip you of your inhibitions, and make you his.

“Shit…” he hissed through his teeth. “I need…fuck…I need more of you.”

Without warning or consent, he pulled you roughly up by one hand before pulling out of you and yanking you off the table to standing again. Not sure what his game plan was, you just stood there until he stepped out of his pants that had dropped around his ankles, and held you tightly to him. With a long kiss that made you momentarily forget where you were, he pulled back again.

“Floor,” he gasped.

Despite having a perfectly good bed in the other room, you were thinking the same thing he was. There was no time for relocation. You needed him inside of you again. Immediately. Hands clutching at one another, you both clumsily dropped to the floor. There was a moment of ungraceful maneuvering while you hastily repositioned yourself, but once Five was on his back and you were mounting him again, his dick slid inside once more and you let out a high-pitched whine.

In between grunts and whimpers as you started to move your hips, you attacked his mouth, face, and neck with kisses. Eventually, one of his hands came to rest in your hair. When you looked him in the eyes, he was smiling. Not his normal, asshole smirk. An actual, affectionate smile.

“I’m not sure why we waited this long,” he said before kissing you deeply, while also bucking his hips up, driving his dick in harder.

“Because we hated one another,” you explained as he sucked kisses onto your neck.

“Not always…fuuckk…” he moaned when you slammed harder on top of him.

“I kind of don’t hate you now.”

Five laughed and squeezed one of your breasts in his hand, hard enough to make you hiss through your teeth.

“Five….” you whined.

“Keep fucking me, baby. Harder.”

You were fucking him as hard as you possibly could. So hard that you were seriously concerned about the health of your knees as they bore most of your weight and dug into the hard dirt floor of your crappy kitchen. But that didn’t stop you. Riding his dick like it was somehow essential to your existence, you had never wanted anyone more than you did right then. You couldn’t control the loud cries and broken sobs that filled the small kitchen, and Five wasn’t exactly being quiet either.

“Oh shit, honey…please keep doing that…I’ve wanted this so badly.”

After one more long kiss, you could feel your body start to reach its climax. As Five grasped your hips again, working you over even faster, you let yourself go with a broken moan that got louder the more your body reacted to his. With your back arched, head tipped back, and your hips twitching wildly, Five clenched his teeth and looked down between your bodies. He could see the white lather of your arousal coating his cock. With a husky growl, Five pushed you down and came inside you.

Gasping for air, you collapsed into him, chests heaving against one another. He held you loosely, his hands idly caressing your back and hair.

“Five?” you panted; nuzzling your nose and mouth into the side of his sweat-damp neck.

“Yeah?”

“If you had been fucking me like that this whole time, these last several months could have been much more enjoyable.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “If I were more confident in my time travel skills, I would go back and remedy that.”

As your playful kisses traveled over his neck and cheek, you gave him one last, deep kiss on his mouth before pulling back again. You stared deeply into his eyes that you only just now realized were so easy to get lost in.

Moving a stray piece of hair from his forehead, you smiled sweetly. “While I definitely would not mind more of your amazing dick action, I am going to murder you if I have to spend one more day in this strawberry hellhole.”

Five matched your snarky grin with his own, and smacked your ass swiftly. “Off.”

Rolling your eyes, but not able to hide the blush that dusted your cheeks again when he took that tone with you, you unfurled yourself from his body and stood up. Offering a hand out, you helped Five to his feet.

“While the thought crossed my mind to leave you in the dark just so I can get some more action, I don’t have the heart. Look,” he said as he pointed to his notebook that had just recently been pinned under your body on the table.

When you looked closer at his illegible scrawls, you frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“I did it.”

You looked back over at him with raised eyebrows. “Did what?”

“Found our way home. While you were out getting water, I figured it out.”

As the realization of what he was saying washed over you, you shrieked and threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling his damp, naked body into yours. “Five! Oh my god, you did it! We can go home?”

He nodded, a giant smile growing over his face. “I think so. And I think I figured it out so that we will have time to stop the whole mess that was starting to go down before we left, too. I think we can save the world.”

“Oh my god! This is amazing!” You pulled him tighter and kissed him hard on the lips, still smiling. “Five, you’re amazing!” Then a thought came to you and you tilted your head to the side. “Hang on…if you figured this out while I was out getting water…were you really jerking off to thoughts of me, or just your own mathematical genius?”

Five shrugged with that sexy, lopsided smile of his. “Can’t it be a little of both?”

“Holy shit,” you laughed. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and go home.”

Five pulled you close with a jerk, his arm around your waist and his hand resting securely on the small of your back. With a look that made your heart flip in your chest and your knees weak and wobbly, Five leaned in to kiss you, biting gently at your lips before pulling away and rubbing his cheek across yours.

“Why leave now? We have all the time in the world and things were just getting good,” he said, his voice low and smooth; the rush of his hot breath down your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“Ok,” you breathed out before tipping your head back so he could access your neck. “What’s a few more days?”

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

w.c: 10k

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

[hsslilly-blog]

blair portrait! i've done one for claribel, so they should get one as well. this is junior year blair!

this has been done for a while but i had been putting off fixing what was bothering me. so i did that and edited it as an yearbook. i think it's really fun to imagine blair doing american high school things since they're not american, so all of this is new for them. they're figuring everything out as they go. yearbook? aye. cheer team? sure. homecoming? i don't know what that is but yeah pal it's coming home <- not a fan of those guys though, julian.

[kayhi808]

ik you probs have so many asks about first crush but you write so well and i love the story.

imagine a kid at school notices Abby never is picked up by her dad so they ask her about it but it makes abby sad and she doesn’t want to go to school anymore. i mean like crying about it. eventually reader and bucky find out why she’s so fussy as of late and then bucky picks her up from school the next day and she has the biggest smile on her face and almost trips running into his arms

ty if you write it and even if you don’t :))))

Thank you so much for this "Ask"! I switched it a little to make Abby get bullied by the kid in her class and she's very upset. Our poor baby.

At daycare today, they are making Father's Day crafts. Abby understands that her Daddy is in heaven and not with her anymore, but she still enjoys doing the crafts and still wants to participate and the teachers whole-heartedly support that.

The little boy sitting beside Abby snatches a blue crayon out of her hand. "Hey! You can'ts do that."

"I need it for my card."

"Buts I needs it too. I not finish," Abby frowns.

Sneering at her, "You don't need it. You don't even have a Daddy."

She gasps & leans away from the boy, "I do has a Daddy!"

"No you don't. He doesn't pick you up."

"You are mean. Just cos he no pick me ups, it not mean I don't has one."

The little girl sitting on the other side of the table chimes in, "He NEVER picks her up. It's only her Mommy."

"My Daddy is in heaven. He cannot picks me up."

The kids laugh, "He ran away to heaven to get away from you. He don't love you."

"He loves me!" Abby stands with her clenched fists propped on her hips, tears tracking down her cheeks. "Don't say that. That's bad."

"Daddies don't leave if they love you," the boy taunts her. Abby starts to sob. "He doesn't love you because you're stupid! And stinky!"

Abby pulls back her fist & punches the little boy in the head. Her aim was off, never having punched anyone before, but her second & third punch lands on target. The other kids start screaming and crying, and the teachers have to break the toddlers apart.

******

You get a call from the daycare asking you to come down & pick Abby up. You leave immediately all the while in a panic. Ms. Grace said Abby attacked a boy. That does not sound like Abby. Something terrible must have happened. Sitting on the Metro, terrible thoughts run through your brain.

You finally get to the daycare and you see Abby sitting by herself at her desk, the rest of the class outside playing. Her eyes are red & puffy and her face is blotchy from crying. "Abigail? Ms. Grace?" Abby looks up at the sound of your voice and starts to cry. It's not they type of crying you're used to. It breaks your heart. Its not a tantrum. Its not her being fussy. "Baby?"

You gather her up in your arms and she starts to settle, sticking her thumb in her mouth. Turning to her teacher, "I'm sorry to have to call you in like this, but we do not condone this type of behavior. No matter what the reason."

"I understand that, but what happened? You said Abigail hit a little boy. She would never do that. This is completely out of character for her. Something happened."

"Comments were made about Abby not having a father. We don't condone bullying either. The boy and his parents have been spoken to as well. We think its best that they both be sent home for the rest of the day. They are welcomed back tomorrow, but for today, it's best that you take her home." Tilting her head to catch Abby's attention, "I hope you feel better & we can start fresh tomorrow, Abby."

"Tank you, Ms Grace" she mumbles around her thumb.

******

Its a quiet walk home. Abby hasn't said a word, just rested her head on your shoulder. You change her out of school clothes & wash her face. All the while your baby is silent which is not like your daughter at all.

you grab some juice and a bowl of grapes & sit her in her booster seat at the table. She quietly eats her snack & you brush her hair off her forehead. "You want to tell me what happened at school?" Abby shakes her head & chews on her grape. "Ms. Grace said you punched a boy. That is very very bad, Abigail. You know that."

Abby puts down the grape she was eating & large tears spill down her cheeks, "Is dat why Daddy leave me? Cos, I'm a bad girl?"

You feel sucker punched to the gut. All the air feels like it left your body. Softly, "What?"

"Justin say..." her lips pucker into a frown and she covers her eyes with her hands & cries. "Daddy don't love me, so he ran away to heaven."

If you could punt that little motherfucker into traffic, you would! You wish Abby punched him harder!

You snatch Abby out of her booster and hug her to you. "That is an absolute lie! That's the biggest lie in the whole world. Your Daddy loved you so much." Her little body wracked with sobs. Ooooh, if you could get you hands on Justin & his parents, you'd annihilate all of them! You rub little circles on her back to calm her down & yourself down as well. You're filled with rage. "You know what? Punching people is never good, but I understand now. Justin said some very mean & hurtful things and you didn't know what to do. We need to work harder to make the right choices when we get upset, ok? But I understand and Mama isn't mad at you."

"I loves you, Mama."

"And I love you, my baby. So so much."

*******

After not responding to a bunch of text & missed calls from Bucky, he shows up at the apartment to check up on you both. You just put Abby down for her nap, when he finds you a crying mess and does his best to console you, but again its hard to calm someone down when you're filled with rage as well.

Abby was happy to see Bucky there when she woke up. She was extra snuggly with the both of you. Instead of a dance party after dinner, the 3 of your curled up together on the couch watching "The Secret Life of Pets." The Kevin Hart bunny always makes Abby giggle.

Bucky offers to watch Abby while you took a shower before bed. Abby sits next to Bucky but curled around his arm. Her favorite spot to be. "You had a rough day today." Bucky rubs small circles on her back copying what you do to Abby to settle her.

Pulling her thumb out of her mouth, "It was no good."

Sighing, "Yeah, rough days are no good."

"Bucky?"

"Yes?"

"You know what Justin say?" sitting up to face him.

"No, what did he say?"

"That my Daddy leave to heaven cos he don't love me & I'm stinky & stupid." Abby's lip quivers & Bucky quickly starts sniffing her & tickling her to make her giggle.

"You don't smell stinky! You smell like flowers."

"Oh! Das cos Mama put pretty spray on me," smiling up at Bucky.

"And you are the smartest girl I know."

"My mama is smart."

"But she's a grown up. You're still the smartest girl I know. And let me tell you something, I don't know your Daddy, but I know for a fact that he loved you so much. You are also the most lovable girl I know, too. He'd never run away from you. Never ever. He would fight tooth & nail to stay with you if he could."

"Yea?" Bucky nods. She thinks about it for a bit. "Tank you." She's silent for a while longer. "What he said," she places her hand on her chest, "hurt me in my heart."

Bucky wraps his arm around Abby pulling her closer, "I know, I'm sorry, baby."

"But you know what?"

Bucky lets out a chuckle, "What?"

Abby looks behind her for her Mama, "I punched-ed him."

Bucky looks at her shocked, "No!"

"I dids. I missed the first time & only hit him in his head." She touches her forehead, "But I hit him 2 more time," holding up 2 fingers, "in his mouth." Bucky doesn't know what to say. He wants to laugh but he knows he shouldn't. He shouldn't cheer her on, but he wants to.

He ends up laughing, "Abigail Rose!" Abby joins in with her cackle. Bucky pulls her close & kisses her forehead, "That's my girl."

******

The next morning, Abby doesn't want to go back to daycare. "Abby, you need to go back. Ms. Grace is hoping to see you, remember?"

"Please Mama, let me stays with yous."

"I'm sorry, baby, no. I have to go to work and you have to go to school." You pick her up and she starts to cry. You make it out to your stoop to find Bucky and Steve all suited up. Bucky who normally wears long sleeves and gloves in public is wearing a black T-shirt, showing off his arm. Steve has his shield strapped to his back "Seriously!?"

"Bucky! Uncle Steve!" She wiggles so you let her down and she runs to them. "What doing?"

"Hey, Abs! Thought we'd walk you to school today."

"And I want to see who this Justin punk is."

"Bucccky." You give him a warning tone.

Bucky picks Abby up and she asks, "Punk? What is punk?"

"Punk. You know, like someone who is no good. Like your Uncle."

She gasps and covers his mouth with her hands, "My Uncle not punk! Don't say that."

"Thank you, Abs!" She smiles at Steve. "Maybe Bucky and I can be put on the list so we can pick you up from daycare sometimes."

"Mama! Uncle Steve wants to be on pick up list. He says so!"

Rolling your your eyes, "Well, if he says so."

"C'mon, Doll. Since her Daddy isn't able to, she got an Avenger and Ex-Hydra Assassin who can."

They get to the playground and all eyes are on them. Two Avengers just walked in. Bucky hands Abby over to Steve. "So, who is this Justin kid?" Bucky is giving his Winter Soldier glare.

"O'er dere by the slide. He had the big forehead." Bucky can't keep his glare in place and ends up laughing, just thinking about his girl punching that kid in the forehead.

"That's enough. Behave or none of you will be added to the list." You walk into the schoolroom followed by the 2 sweetest men who'd do anything for your baby girl.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool

[goodolddumbbanana]

Nexus to Moon: dramatic, mysterious, evil.

He is the monster. He forced me kneel, he hurts me, he makes me relived of all my mistakes. I couldn't fight him and the worst of it..... I. Scared. Of. Him.

Nexus to Sun: Bitch wants me to work for him and gets mad when I say no. Also... Cringe.

I am sorry but, has anyone felt a really drastically shift tones between Moon and Sun when they interact with Nexus?

Like Nexus really wants to hurt Moon, badly. He does not hesitate to cram his hands inside Moon's head, and mocks Moon for everything he did. It was intense, and we can feel it is Nexus the one who is in the control. And that Moon will not do or can try anything.

Also Moon gets kneel down and tortured pretty quick after that. Also he seems very scared of Nexus after each time he interacted with Nexus.

But Sun... I don't know man... I think I had made Nexus cooler in my head.

He is just so cringe. (THE GOD thingy makes me die a little bit whenever I hear him screaming that name)

I couldn't see the monster who hurt Moon with the way he was chasing Sun around and Sun just kept running like it is no ends tomorrow.

(Lmao dude just straight up pulling Naruto run on Nexus, really reminds me back then, of the times when Sun doing something stupid and Nexus just angrily yelling ran after him.)

And even when he had Sun at the corner, he couldn't say anything 'emotional damage' to Sun.

"What ... Are you insane?!"

"Yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious."

And baby girl is so obsessed with the fact he is no longer Moon, he thinks it is him who is still the one Sun calls for help. Which is sad and funny both at the same time.

Like we can feel a tiny small hesitant in Nexus's voice when Sun keeps saying 'Moon', like he thought Sun wants him to stop.

And how the issue gets dragged on the surface. Sun always feels like he couldn't help Nexus and Nexus also feels like he couldn't let Sun help him. (Because the same old story, Sun got hurt and kidnapped whenever he came with Nexus.)

"So now I have value for you?"

"Yeah, for once in your miserable life, you have value."

It is sad when they come back at each other like this. Especially when Nexus always says that he needs Sun back in the day.

"You had friends, you had a family. They love you."

Sun loves him. He still loves Nexus. He didn't want Nexus dead is one thing, but he seems so worried about Nexus (accidentally calling him Moon when seeing him got shot) and tries to make Monty stop shooting. Even after Nexus runway, Sun - the one who gets so infected by Negative Star power, still wants to know if Nexus is okay.

And when he was back at home, he wasn't even scared of Nexus, not like how he used to be terrified of Eclipse or Killcode or even when he interacts with Dark Sun. He seems just pissed and done at himself, and not even with Nexus.

"I didn't have friends. I was a replacement."

Nexus didn't consider Monty his friend. I mean it is totally understandable, especially when they hijacked his head before. But replacement... Really? Sure maybe at first with Sun, but what about Earth? She didn't know jack about you?

"Maybe at first, but I liked you."

Haha... Remember when Nexus said he was very appreciative of how Sun loved him more than Moon? Haha... Good times ...

"oh my..., cuz I was nicer to you."

"because you are nice."

"because I didn't beat you.... Guess what Sunny, you are nothing but a tool for me..."

He throws away any good things he did for Sun. He burned all their memories, and saw himself as a monster. He tried to make himself a monster towards Sun, and when seeing it didn't work, because Sun doesn't care about how horrible he is now, he straight down Sun with the 'I don't care about you' attitude.

"You know what... You are not worse than Moon. Hell you are not even better..."

'You are just exactly like Moon. ' I think it is what Sun wants to say. They are both so stuck in their own minds, never wanting to hear what other people say, what people are trying to prove they are so much better than this.

"I am me! NONE OF YOU COULD REALISE, I AM MY OWN PERSON!!!"

"I tried."

"No you didn't. You USED me. And now I am going to use you."

"I am sorry."

His voice seems so small. He sounds so heartbroken when he says sorry to Nexus, like we can feel the thought process behind Sun. He truly thinks everything happened was his fault, it is Sun's fault leading Nexus to become like this.

"Your apologies don't mean anything to me."

And Nexus sounds so wanting to move one, to get done with his job, to stop talking about the past. It doesn't matter if Sun says sorry or not, because he doesn't care. He doesn't want to care.

And the term he used... Dragging Sun into his lab and plug he into the machine, to let him never do any of his own will ever again....

What does Nexus think Sun will do with his own will? Like what exactly can Sun do? Yapping at his ears until it bleeds? Sun doesn't have any manipulated skills at all, he is so straightforward and honest to actually harm Nexus from behind, like, Nexus just needs to highjack Sun's head like Moon.

From my perspective, I think there are a lot of methods to let Sun do as Nexus plead, but Nexus only wants to stop thinking about Sun. Like if he fully controlled over Sun, he will not have to think about how Sun is disappointed in him anymore, He will not have to think of Sun as a human being, as his ex brother, as someone still cares about him.

And when Sun says he will not do as Nexus says? Nexus sounds didn't surprise at all. They understand each other too well to know even Sun sometimes a coward, he will not give up like that for Nexus.

Also... Why did he not just threaten Moon? Or Dazzle? Or Jack? Just like how he mocks Solar?

Did he not want his older brother to think of him lower?

"...I have you kneel at me, right ? So look at your superior being."

The way Nexus said that, it makes me feel sad. Like, Nexus so wants to cut off Sun, to make Sun think of him as a monster, to hurt Sun not even in the way it matters.

He still couldn't hit Sun at his lowest, I mean, back then, Old Moon even worse with Sun both emotionally and physically back in the days.

Even after so much nonsense craps, Sun still unharmed. He tortured Moon, he mocked Solar, but Sun.... There is no win in this fight.

Their fighting still looks so much more than their so used banter before... I wish Nexus and Sun will be still brothers ;.;

Sidenote: I love that Ruin tries to convince Nexus to think more with his head but just ends up giving up like : oh right, screw you then, asshole.

Very baby girl behaviour of him.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; weird amnesia Timberkon. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You can recognize their heartbeats?” Bernard asks incredulously–that is a very creepy and invasive thing to recognize about someone, much less be passively listening to, what the fuck–and then frowns. “Wait, got back from where?” 

“Long story,” Superboy mutters. “Alternate realities were involved. It sucked. But I got back here, and it’s supposed to be right, and there’s people I recognize, but there’s . . . different people, too. And no one here recognizes me. And I thought . . .” 

“That you were either totally insane or just stranded in the wrong reality for no discernable reason with no idea how to find the right one?” Bernard assumes. 

“That, yeah,” Superboy says tightly. “Definitely that.” 

“Good news, I guess, if you are insane, it’s a shared delusion, and if you’re in the wrong reality, so am I,” Bernard says. “Because again, I definitely remember you. And Hawaii. And Superman being dead. And like, all that shit in general. Also you kinda died that one time too? There was a statue, I’m pretty sure. Actually I think there were two.” 

Superboy’s smile is tight and humorless, and he digs his fingers into the inside of his wrist. Bernard has no clue how a dude in such severe and obvious distress can look so fucking good about, like . . . literally everything he’s got going on over there. It’s a lot of “everything”, is all. Superboy is a lot no matter what, obviously, but still. Like, extra a lot. Secret bonus levels of a lot. 

A lot. 

“I mean, there used to be,” Superboy says, and the pained smile he’s wearing turns–bitter, kind of. 

Fuck, Bernard feels so bad for this dude. Like so many levels of so bad. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I need to google some shit,” he says as he digs his phone out. Tim is clearly taking his sweet-ass time in the bathroom, and since he isn’t actually in there waiting for Superboy, it’s gotta be a Bat thing, which usually gives him a good fifteen or twenty minutes of fuck-around time before Tim makes it back with the weak excuse du jour. Or, like, three and a half weeks, one very memorable and kinda fucking awful time that Bernard had spent wondering if jumping into the timestream was how vigilantes ghosted you. “And maybe check some forums or something.” 

“I don’t think ‘is this weird dude at the boba shop crazy’ is gonna pop up on Bing, man,” Superboy says, still wearing the same bitter smile. Bernard wonders why he didn’t just go to the Justice League and explain himself to them. Like, they’d probably believe him, right? Or at least they wouldn’t instantly not believe him; they’d check things out or whatever. 

Alternately, though: half-Kryptonian full-telekinetic with Lex Luthor’s DNA and Superman’s face who doesn’t even know if he’s crazy or not.  

So like . . . that seems like an awkward conversation to have with Superman, maybe, Bernard allows. Or just fucking agonizing and terrifying and wildly, wildly likely to end in one of those stupid misunderstanding-based super-fights and, like, maybe also getting drop-kicked into the Phantom Zone because said stupid fight would be against Superman and that is, apparently, what Superman usually does with supervillain Kryptonians. And probably Superboy is having some very understandable issues about getting drop-kicked out of reality right now, if that’s a concern he’s had. Which–the Phantom Zone isn’t the same thing as an alternate reality, as far as Bernard’s aware, but also what the fuck does he know about the Phantom Zone? 

Bernard googles, in quick succession: Superman’s death, the Phantom Zone, and Superboy. He gets a ton of articles and photographs and blog posts with absolutely zero trace of Superboy in a single one of them, a lot of contradicting intel about what the hell the Phantom Zone actually is, and also some blurry candid photos of a ten year-old in ripped jeans and an S-shield hoodie that he’s never seen before in his life. 

. . . so that’s weird, yeah, Bernard observes, blinking down at his phone. 

“Huh,” he says, brow furrowing. “Hey, should I know this kid?” 

“Did you literally just google ‘Superboy’?” Superboy asks, which is notably not an answer to Bernard’s question. 

“Obviously, yeah, the entire internet is in my pocket, why would I not do that,” Bernard replies reasonably, still scrolling through random photos of this completely unrecognizable kid. Said kid continues to look like a total fucking stranger and Bernard continues to have zero clue who he is or why he’s wearing the “S”. Another clone, maybe? Like, an even mini-er mini-Super? Bernard can’t see his face all that clearly in any of the pics, still, but he’s at least got Superman’s coloring, it looks like. 

“Because Tim would give you shit about it, probably, I don’t know,” Superboy lies, because he very obviously does know. Probably better than Bernard does himself, come to think of it, which is kind of a weird thought but also, like, an obviously objectively true one. Superboy’s spent a lot more time with Tim than he has, even having been, like . . . unrealitied and all. 

God, that is still so disturbing a concept, too. 

[kiddiesmores]

Wait hear me out... maybe chef schlatt is showing reader some kitchen stuff one night (I dunno they're making food after closing or something) and she burns herself pretty badly (not like hospital bad but like she's being flirty and accidentally leans on the hot grill, something stupid like that) and schlatt has to like bandage her up. I'm thinking like knuckle kisses after it's all better?

or alternatively...

Readers batting her eyes at schlatt and being her cuteself and he gets distracted and burns himself (swearing ensues) and she takes care of his burn.

I dunno do what you want 😘

this is so real, sorry for taking FOREVER to write about it.

🥥 Bugging Schlatt after closing is so fun because not only are you getting a free meal out of it but you can also flirt without the possibility of anyone walking by!

🥥 It all went down at sauté station, He was listening to you tell a little story about some asshole who stiffed you.

🥥 But you thought he wasn’t listening so you started pouting a bit.

“You hate me, you’re not listening!”

“I am! I’m trying not to burn your food right now!”

🥥 You press your cheek against his arm and he mutters, “Careful.”

🥥 To which you roll your eyes and held onto his side like “I am careful.”

🥥 Leaning up a little to peck at his cheek with free reign since nobody else is in the store.

🥥 And it makes him laugh a little as he moves the pan over to the burner that isn’t on, mumbling about you being a little minx before turning to face you fully and give you a real kiss on the lips.

🥥 And yall were into it!

🥥 So into it that maybe you stepped back against the stove.

🥥 And maybe!! While you were trying to keep up with his now hungry kisses, the hand that wasn’t wrapped behind the base of his neck needed a surface to hold onto.

🥥 And that surface happened to accidentally be the stove.

🥥 “YEOWCH!” you flinch, backing up from Schlatt as you blew on your scorched hand, sucking harshly against your teeth.

🥥 “Shit, are you okay? How bad is it? Cmere let me rinse it off.” He’s immediately putting cold water on your hands at the sink station behind him.

🥥 Tells you to stay put and keep rinsing while he gets burn ointment from the office first aid.

🥥 When he returns he sees you sniffle a bit, and a little pool of tears in your eyes that threatens to fall any second.

🥥 “Hey-hey, it’s okay,” he hushes while turning the sink off, “Come on this will make it actually feel better.”

🥥 Guides you to the expo line, sits you on the counter.

🥥 Tediously applying the burn cream to your hand and wrapping it while you shed a few silent tears.

🥥 He was very gentle, even kissing the now wrapped burn, talking about some, “It’ll heal faster.” which made you giggle a bit.

🥥 You mumble a small ‘thank you’

🥥 Looking down at the wrapped hand with a sigh, “Can’t believe this..”

🥥 “Happens to the best of us, got burned pretty badly couple years ago,” he rolls up his sleeve to show a gnarly scar a few inches shy of his wrist, making you wince.

🥥 He gives you the go ahead to reach out and feel it, snickering when you poked at it like “oooo.”

🥥 “Now we can be burned buddies.” you state, losing the plot and rubbing up his arm and gripping his bicep, making him scoff out a “Yeah”.

🥥 “Feelin better?” he asks softly, making you nod. “Mhm, stings a little but it’s not hurting too bad anymore.” you mumble.

🥥 He nods with a low grunt, inspecting his wrapping skills before gently holding onto the injured hand.

🥥 His eyes light up, “Y'know you can’t carry trays with a wound like this..” he starts.

🥥 Your head tilts, “But tomorrow my regulars come in and they always tip me $50!” you mope.

🥥 He rolls his eyes, “Listen to what I’m saying. I’m off tomorrow.”

🥥 You shrug, making him groan and throw back his head in annoyance that you’re not getting the hint.

🥥 “If I cut you from your shift I can stay with you and..yknow..take care of you” he nods.

“Ohhhhh, why didn’t you just say that!”

“Thought it was implied.”

🥥 He moves to peck at your jaw, making you giggle as his facial hair tickles you.

🥥 Pats your thigh to signal for you to hop down, “Go grab your bag, imma put your food away and we can go.”

🥥 Watching you from behind as you move to grab your tote bag from the little cubby and letting out a low whistle when you bend down.

“Go put my food away!” “Yes ma’am.”

🥥 Waits for you at the door after putting your food in a to-go bowl, holding an arm out for you to grab.

🥥 “How am I supposed to explain how I got this when people ask?” you whine, staring at your hand while he locks the doors.

🥥 Schlatt shrugs, “Say you were trying to be a flirt and ended up searing your skin instead.” “Okay.”

🥥 He laughs, turning and pulling you tight against his side and kissing the top of your head, laughing harder when you grumble for him to get away.

“Hey, don’t be upset, I told you imma take care of you didn’t I?”

🥥 You look up at him for a moment, his stare meeting yours, a wicked smile on his face that gave you butterflies.

🥥 “Oh doctor Schlatt, save me!” you tease, fawning over him as you weakly collapse into his arms with a hand over your head, making his face scrunch while he mumbles about you being dramatic. He lifts you up to carry you the rest of the way to the truck, smiling with a shake of his head when he hears you giggling.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You mumble, batting your lashes up at him.

He smiles, “Anytime princess.”

[xoxochb]

percy jackson with a hades daughter please😩

(love your writing btw🩷🩷)

— you must like me for me

warnings: none pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades a/n: my cabin my cabin my cabin!!!

୨୧ sunshine x grumpy trope my beloved

୨୧ first thing I want to talk about is the short ass tempers of hades kids. I can speak from experience I’ve got the shortest temper ever

୨୧ hades kids can kill upon their will and you would use this to your full advantage if the idiotic percy jackson didn’t prevent you from doing so

୨୧ like I mean some kid could’ve pissed you off over something stupid I’m not even sure— let’s say they took your reading spot even if it’s not really yours but it is because you silently claimed it

୨୧ and you’re angry as FUCK. like I’m talking rising the dead- darkened eyes- fists balled up kind of angry

୨୧ and what kind of boyfriend is percy if he allows you to kill a kid over something stupid? you think, personally, he would be the best. percy on the other hand thinks it’s not morally acceptable

୨୧ he’s also trying to save your rep because in camp hades kids are typically frowned upon because your father being the god of the dead and all they think you’re all weird and emo

୨୧ and percy hates seeing you bullied by the other campers over this so he calms you down before anything happens, successfully keeping the live of the camper who stole your spot

୨୧ anyways let’s talk about when you first met

୨୧ percy was ecstatic about meeting another child of the big three— but you’re absolute resting bitch face scared the shit out of him

୨୧ but when he finally talked to you he realized your personalities wasn’t half as bad as your appearance (not that he thought your appearance was bad— you were gorgeous but horrifying)

୨୧ anyways I wanna do dating hcs now

୨୧ sarcastic 🤝🏼 even more sarcastic

୨୧ IMAGINE LMAO

୨୧ with both you and percy and you’re insane sarcasm you’d be unstoppable, truly. like just talking shit about people all the time I can’t 😭

“oh my gods she’s just the nicest person I’ve ever met!”

“right? so happy and bubbly!”

୨୧ en e ways…

୨୧ I’m not sure if this is just my opinion and it’s probably not cannon but hades kids (along with the apollo kids) have the best relationship with their godly parent so your visits to the underworld are frequent

୨୧ you ended up bringing percy once without realizing the issue your dad had with him

୨୧ long story short he’s not allowed to visit with you anymore

୨୧ and when you take your trips down under percy begs you not to go claiming your dad is such ‘an awful god!’ and he ‘would miss you and cry himself to sleep’ if you left

୨୧ dramatic much?

୨୧ anyways I don’t wanna yap too much but I have more more thing I want to say really quickly is double dates with nico and will because how cute would that be 😣😣

୨୧ I feel like overtime you would make them like every wednesday or something like a weekly thing idk just for funsies

୨୧ but I’ll wrap this up now 10/10 relationship would definitely recommend <33

[bitchesuntitled]

Broken Hearts Mended

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Minors, get out! Language(at this rate, just expect it. That's just me), Pregnancy, Dieter trying to fix his past, sad!Dieter, dad!Dieter, smut, pinv, oral(m!recieving), wedding crasher!Dieter, TIME TRAVEL, OFC

a/n: This is for the Roll-A-Trope Challenge by @burntheedges I got Time Travel! Never dabbled with that before but it was fun and sheesh, Kate- this is the longest story I've ever written! This could be considered a part two of Some Broken Hearts Never Mend but can be read as a standalone! The OFC is based off my bestie IRL @hessofather - thank you for being you, for helping me with the witchy stuff, and love ya bitch! Thank you @beefrobeefcal and @jay-zzle(for the moodboard &) for your eyes on this one! Love you both!

Masterlist||AO3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He’d been staring at the clock for an eternity or what felt like an eternity. Today was the day, the day Dieter’s been dreading since he found out. 

Today is your wedding day.

In typical Hollywood fashion, a friend of a friend let it slip when the wedding was. Saturday afternoon, 3 pm to be exact. Mark was supposed to be on standby to ensure Dieter stayed at home today and didn’t do something stupid, but what Mark didn’t expect was to be locked in the pantry with Dieter sitting outside.

“Dieter, come on man,” Mark pleaded, “Think about this before you do something dumb.”

“Would it really be that bad if I went?!”

“Yes,” Mark sighed, “Dieter, you need to let her go. If you go to that hotel all that will happen is you make a fool of yourself and embarrass her!”

“Embarrass her?!” Dieter scoffs, looking at the closed door with offense. “I got sober for fucks sake! For her and she didn’t even let me see my kid! Instead that bastard is playing daddy to my Lexi! My peanut!”

“Dieter!” Mark shouts, slamming his fists against the door, “Let me out and let’s talk face-to-face about this.”

“Sheesh Mark, calm down,” Dieter says, glancing at the clock, “If I go, maybe she’ll see me and remember how much she loved me. I gotta try right?”

“Dieter, please,” Mark sighs, “Don’t do this. It’s not a good idea.”

“I have to try, Mark.”

“Damn it, Dieter!”

More punches are being thrown at the pantry door as Dieter slowly backs away from it.

“If I don’t try now, I’m just going to spend the rest of my life wondering what if!” Dieter shouts, “Mark, you gotta understand that man.”

—

Dieter was able to bribe a waiter into letting him in through the kitchen, he had tried the front but the hotel staff quickly guided him right back through the front door. The place was gorgeous, decked in all navy blue, gold, and white, and the flower petals spread down the aisle he stood in front of. Joel is standing next to the officiant, fiddling with the gold cufflinks on his wrists. The bridal song began and everyone looked back at Dieter.

He stood there frozen, unsure of what to do until he heard the door behind him open, he turned slowly. There you were, standing before him in a gorgeous flowy white gown.

“Dieter?” You asked, confusion painted across your face before it turned into a silent rage.

“I- I need-“ he began, trying to think of what to say.

“Jesus Christ,” your father muttered under his breath before shouting for security.

“Wait-“ Dieter gasped, as two men in suits grabbed his arms pulling him towards the hall, “Please! Let me just ha-“

“Wait!,” you shout panicked, before clearing your throat, “Sorry everyone,” you announce, “Let me just take care of this real quick then we’ll be ready to get this wedding started.”

Dieter was dumbfounded. You were actually going to listen to him. You wanted to hear what he had to say. He knew it! He still had a chance. You let go of your dad’s arm and looped it around Dieter’s, leading him out into the hallway with a polite reassuring smile to your guests.

In another life, this would be the way it went. You in your gorgeous wedding dress, walking down an aisle on his arm, smiling politely to your guests before he whisked you away to ravish you the entire night. Once the doors closed, you stepped away from him clearing your throat.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing here?” You hiss, the rage in you tipping over its boiling point.

“I wanted to-“ he starts softly before you interrupt him again.

“Wanted what Dieter?!” You seethe, “Did you not feel it was enough when you showed up at my home? My work? Lexi’s fucking school?”

“I didn’t think-“ he winces, knowing immediately those are the wrong words with the laugh you let out.

“No Dieter, you didn’t fucking think,” you scoff, “You’ve spent the past six years not fucking thinking and it’s shown plenty!”

“Baby-“ Dieter tries again.

“Don’t you dare call me that!” You stop him, “Dieter, you need to leave. I’m marrying Joel and Lexi finally has a dad who wants her and loves her.”

“But I do love her,” Dieter says, tears blurring his vision, “That’s why I stayed away from you both. I love you both so much, I didn’t want you wrapped up in my shit and I’m trying to change!”

You shake your head with a sigh.

“You just have to give me another chance,” he whimpers, the tears steadily falling down his face.

“No,” you say quietly, “You’ve had enough chances.”

—

You were officially done with his shit and let him know he’d be hearing from your lawyers on Monday. His heart broken, his mind felt numb, and Dieter’s legs began to move. He felt like pins and needles were pricking all over his skin, trying to ignore the feeling, he began to speed up. He’d be fine as long as he kept moving. His chest felt like there was a weight on it, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to find somewhere with air conditioning, maybe it’s the heat finally getting to him. Standing outside a store called Vixen’s. Huh, he thought, a sex shop would be the perfect way to distract his mind. A dinging sound chimes as he enters the store.

“Good afternoon!” A cheery feminine voice calls out from the back, “I’ll be right with you.”

Dieter stood next to a counter, focusing on his breathing. The place smelled like sage, rose, and lavender. This was definitely not a sex shop. His hands held onto the counter in front of him as he closed his eyes and took in the sweet aroma of the shop. Whatever it was, it was working to help calm him down.

“Sir?” A feminine voice called out to him, “Ya alright?”

Dieter looked towards the voice to see a short woman with auburn hair standing next to a door that stated Employees Only. He gave a short nod, signaling he was okay. He just had to focus on his breathing.

“Fuck!” She gasped, flailing her hands in the air, “It’s you! C’mere!”

“Huh?” Dieter asked in confusion, trying to catch his breath.

“C’mere!” She said more sternly, motioning for him to follow her, “Been expectin’ you to show up any day now and you’re finally here!”

Dieter began to follow the stranger apprehensively down a hall, passing multiple doors, as she began to talk more.

“The names’ Willow Vixen. Now that you’re here, maybe I can finally stop using the rose.” She states, wrinkling her nose, “Not my favorite but that’s what the ball suggested for your arrival. Considering it doesn’t give me much of a time frame I figured fuck it and just started making sure it was around at all times.”

“Ball?” Dieter asks, his legs taking over, continuing to follow Willow until they meet a door that has her name on it, “I’m sorry but do I know you?”

“Not yet, Dieter,” Willow hums, grabbing a key ring from her belt loops, and unlocking the door, “When we get inside I’ll explain.”

Once she opened the door, he was hit with a powerful smell of sage and rosemary. She ushered him in, closing the door behind her.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to a table in the middle of the room.

He wasn’t sure what he was even doing here. Following a stranger into some back room of a store sounded like the beginnings of some ritual sacrifice and by the way her office was set up, it looked like it, too.

The room was dim before Willow fluttered about lighting candles while humming, beginning to shed more light on her space. He could see a table covered in an emerald green cloth with four chairs surrounding it, and a crystal ball sat upon a perch in the middle of it with dozens of candles surrounding it.

“So… uh,” Dieter hesitates, hands scrubbing through his hair. The fuck is he doing here? He should leave. Willow continues to hum while she lights more candles by a thick open book sitting on a desk, flipping through the pages before she stops.

“Ah-ha!” She announces with a joyous clap, “Would ya look at that! Found it on the first try.”

She looks up to see Dieter still standing by the door with a nervous energy about him.

“Gah damn it, Dieter,” she grumbles, approaching him, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m here to help ya. Now go on, sit,” Ushering him to the table, lightly patting him on the shoulders, “Let me just get a few more things ready before I truly start this process, alright?”

“Help me?” He asks, watching Willow move in the space around them. She grabbed a bottle and began spritzing it around the chair he sat in.

“Duh, I told ya,” Willow said with a raised eyebrow smirking, “Oh wait, maybe I didn’t? Did I?”

Dieter looked at her in bewilderment, continuing to watch as she placed the spray bottle of liquid beside him and grabbed incense instead, placing them in their holders and lit them.

“T- tell me what?” He asked nervously, placing his hands in his lap and beginning to fidget with his fingers.

“My apologies, sir.” Willow bows, “I am a witch! Well, kind of a-a witch. I’m a witch practicin’. My great great great great grandma was one and it kinda skipped a generation or two cause my folks decided we should follow Jesus instead. Ya in any sort of religion? I’ve been involved with… too many.”

Dieter shakes his head. Fuck, this is how it ends, he was right. She’s gonna sacrifice him.

“I’m spraying lavender right now to try and get your ass to calm down,” she states matter of factly picking the bottle up again, Dieter flinches when she sprays some directly onto his hair, “Your energy is thick with nerves. Now what was I sayin’?” She asked, stopping in place and staring at the table cloth.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, I have a disorder where my memory ain’t the best. Think Dory from Findin’ Nemo,” Willow smiles brightly, “I’m a witch and this here crystal ball-” she taps a finger against the clear ball in the middle of the table, “-showed me to be expectin’ ya.”

“Sh-showed you?” Dieter asks, cocking his head to the side with wide eyes.

“Yeah!” Willow exclaims, “Showed me you comin’ here, us doing some magic and then you fuckin’ off to whatever it is you’re tryin’ to change!”

“Wait,” Dieter stops, eyes widening, “What am I changing?”

“Beats me,” Willow shrugs, fanning the incense around before plopping down in the chair across from him, “Alls I know is I’m supposed to help ya get there.”

Dieter looks at her and then the ball in between them. It starts sparkling inside as the clear crystal becomes dense with a weird purple fog, swirling around the inside of the crystal.

“Oh shit! It’s doin’ the thing again!” Willow shrieks in excitement, bouncing in her chair, “I told ya the thing showed me what I needed to do! Maybe it’s trying to show you what you need to do.”

Dieter stares at the ball before the swirling fog reveals you lying in your shared bed years ago. He remembers this morning clear as day, it’s the morning before he went to that stupid party and relapsed.

“It’s her,” he chokes back a sob, “What kind of sick fucking trick is this?!”

“It’s not a trick!” Willow protests, “I’m tellin’ the truth! Just watch the damn thing!”

Dieter continues watching the fog swirl within the ball, seeing himself join you in bed. Dieter perks up as he watches himself undress you and begin worshiping you like the goddess you are. Willow clears her throat turning her head.

“Ope,” she murmurs, cheeks becoming flaming red, peering at the ceiling out of privacy, “Don’t think I’m supposed to watch this bit.”

Dieter is entranced, watching the two of you, reliving that entire day. Except in this version he never leaves the house, he stays home with you instead. That’s what he should have done, stay home and hang out with you instead of go to that stupid fucking party.

The purple fog disappears and the crystal becomes clear again, leaving Dieter even more confused.

“Wait!” He shouts, gripping the ball with both hands, “Come back! Show me more!”

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Willow scolds, pushing his hands off the ball, “Don’t break my damn ball. It’s the only one I got.”

“But I want to see more,” Dieter lets out a pathetic whine, “How can I see more. Make it show me!” He demands.

“Not how it works, bub,” Willow huffs, “But, from the looks of it that’s where the ball wants me to send you.”

“S-s-send me?” Dieter stutters out with a scoff, “How are you gonna send me back to the happiest time of my life?”

“Time travel, duh,” Willow snorts, “The hell do you think you showed up here for?”

He looks at her with bewilderment. How the fuck is this girl supposed to help him go backwards in time?

“Now, now,” Willow says, clicking her tongue in annoyance, “I recognize that look. Ya don’t believe me,” she adds with a roll of her eyes, “I’ve got everything ready.”

She stands making her way to a small tea kettle, filling it with water from a jug before placing it on her desk beside the book. Willow moves through her office with a practiced ease, opening and closing cabinets, grabbing the things she’ll need for this ritual. Taking one last glance at the book on her desk before clearing her throat.

“Now, I’m gonna brew this tea for you to drink. It’s got some cloves, rosemary, garlic and cinnamon in it,” she explains, plunking and sprinkling the herbs in the kettle, “Oh shit!” She laughs, opening a desk drawer to pull out a small hot plate, “Ain’t gonna get very far without boilin’ it.”

Dieter watches as she softly hums, flitting about the room as the tea gets ready.

“Now, I got white sage and mullein burning already,” Willow explains pointing at each, “Helps with clarity.”

He nods, still confused and a little scared. He has no clue how this is supposed to actually work. Time travel isn’t real, this isn’t some movie like Back to the Future. Although, he thinks tilting his head, would be pretty cool to drive the DeLorean. His thoughts are interrupted by Willow chanting something over the tea right as the kettle lets out a shrill whistle. Willow pours the tea into a little cup bringing it over to the table, placing it in front of Dieter.

“Ain’t gonna lie to ya,” Willow grimaces, “Probably gonna be nasty as fuck with the herbs I had to use but it’s what the book said to use.”

“Probably not the worst thing I’ve ever ingested,” Dieter shrugs, “So how’s this work? Do I just drink it?”

Willow nods, “I said the spell, I have the scents going, all you have to do is keep an open mind,” she continues with a smile.

Dieter nods, staring at the cup. What’s the worst that could happen? His life is already fucked. At least he can say he tried if it doesn’t work, grabbing the cup and downing the drink. Willow was right- it’s rancid, he begins to cough placing the cup back on the table.

“Now what?” Dieter asks with a grimace, glancing at Willow.

“Now,” a grin spreads across her face, “We wait.”

- - -

The sun’s rays shone through the curtains causing Dieter to wince as he woke the next morning. How was he supposed to know if the ritual worked? Willow said they just had to wait. Wait for what though? Hearing a soft groan next to him he peeked one eye open at the sound, looking around he noticed this wasn’t his room. Well, more so not his room anymore. The soft yellow walls and white curtains had all been replaced after you left with dark grays.

Glancing next to him, he felt like his heart stopped. There you were, snoring softly next to him. Maybe he was dreaming and his mind decided to torture him, it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened but then you reached for him. Your hand laying on his chest above his heart. Dieter didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, shout with joy or all three at the same time. His palm reaches out, gently touching your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers to your sleeping form as he rubs the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “I was such a fucking idiot.”

You crinkle your nose and let out a huff as you sleep. A grin plastered across his face, he can’t believe it actually worked. If he ever sees Willow again he’s going to have to thank her. She may not know what for, with traveling back in time, but he’ll thank her anyway. 

“You’re staring,” you let out a sleepy grumble.

“Can’t help it,” Dieter whispers, grinning like an idiot. You open an eye to look at him, raising your brows.

“Why are we whispering?” You giggle, scooting closer to lay your head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heartbeat.

Dieter takes a deep breath into your hair, shrugging his shoulders, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight. Afraid if he loosens his grip you’ll be gone again. His hands begin to roam under your shirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the roundness of your belly. You’re still pregnant, grinning to himself as he sits up and moves you to lay on your back, rubbing his hands down to your hips. You’d always complained of them hurting with the added weight of Peanut, their little Lexi who would be coming into this world.

“Mmm,” you let out a soft moan, as his hands gingerly massage your hips, your fingers digging into his thigh, “Dieter.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, unable to believe this is actually happening again. Being with you, being back in your shared home, being here during the happiest time of his life. Dieter leans over your belly, pulling up your shirt to expose your bump, placing a soft kiss there.

“I love you,” he breathes out, his voice cracking before trying to get a grip on his emotions. 

“Babe?” You ask, concern lacing your voice as you reach for him, “What’s wrong?”

“Missed you,” he says, kissing your bump again, “Both of you.”

“Babe,” you laugh, “All we did was go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Dieter huffs, rolling his eyes, “Just went to sleep,” he hums, lifting your shirt more to uncover your breasts, his lips placing a trail of open mouthed kisses until he meets one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out a soft hiss as your fingers tangle in the soft waves of his hair. There’s one thing Dieter knows he can’t fuck up, sex. He’ll figure the rest out later.

You moan as he spends equal time on each of your breasts, sliding a hand down your front into your underwear. Dieter lets out a groan when he feels the wetness already collected there. He needs this, to you it was yesterday, to him it’s been six years since he’s felt you around his cock.

“I need you,” Dieter grunts, pushing you on your side, flopping down behind you and pushing his boxers down. His stiff member pushing into your ass.

“Jesus, Dee,” you giggle as he quickly pushes your underwear down enough to get to your core, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t,” he whispers into your neck, slipping his length between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Dieter grips his dick, slowly pushing into you, simultaneous moans spilling from both of you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, throwing your head back against his shoulder, “So fucking big.”

Dieter pants, feeling your walls constrict around him, stopping himself when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. He doesn’t want this to end before it’s even begun.

“Oh god,” he whimpers, grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together, “Missed this.”

“Dieter,” you pant, hips squirming against him, “I need you to move, baby.”

He nods against your head, slowly pulling out, his tongue laving against your pulse point as he sharply pushes back in.

“Fuck,” you cry out, gripping his hand tighter. He knows it’s your favorite so he keeps the same rhythm, pulling out slowly before plunging back in. He can’t stop the words flowing from his mouth as he thrusts into you. His pace grows quicker as he speaks.

“Please don’t leave me,”

“I need you,”

“I love you,”

“I won’t fuck up again,”

“I promise,”

“I love you.”

Every phrase punctuated with a sharp thrust into your wet heat, producing a moan from your lips.

“Dieter,” you moan, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna-“

Dieter can feel the fluttering of your walls, gripping you tighter he moves faster, unable to control himself any longer.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans, “Look at me, baby.”

Your head lolling against his shoulder as his hips snap into you, he grips your face turning you to face him. Slotting his lips over yours, smothering your cries as your orgasm rips through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter grunts, grinding his hips into you as your walls constrict around him, warm ropes of his come painting your insides. He kisses you softly while both of you try to catch your breath.

“You okay?” You ask, eyes gazing up at him.

Dieter nods, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“Bad dream,” he murmurs into your hair.

“I’m sorry babe,” you give him a sympathetic smile, giving him a quick kiss before moving off of him with a hiss, “Wanna go look at stuff for the nursery?”

“Hmm,” Dieter hums, wrapping his arms around you again before you can leave the bed, “Let’s stay in bed all day.”

“We just woke up,” you squeak out with a giggle, as he pulls you back against him, “Already need a nap?”

“After that workout?” He laughs, kissing your neck, “Uh… yeah!”

Dieter’s eyelids are heavy. He felt calm, more at peace than he has been for years, having you back in arms, the comforting weight of you next to him. The hint of your perfume surrounding him, causing him to quickly drift back to sleep.

- - -

“Dieter wake up!” Mark shouts, “Time to go.”

Dieter jumps, how long had he been asleep? The room is dark as Mark flings the gray curtains open allowing the sun to burst in.

“What the fuck?” Dieter groans, covering his face with the pillow next to him, blocking the sun from his eyes. His sleep-addled brain hasn’t registered what’s happened.

“Come on, man,” Mark says more sternly, grabbing the covers to pull off of Dieter, “Gotta get Peanut.”

“Peanut?” Dieter asks, flipping the pillow off his face, sitting up taking in his surroundings, “No, no, no. This isn’t right.”

He looks around at the gray bedding, the curtains, the walls. Where’s your house? He was just there, wasn’t he? Was it just a dream after all?

“Yes. Peanut,” Mark says, giving him a confused look, “Lexi, Your daughter.”

“I know who Peanut is, Mark.” Dieter snaps, “But she won’t let me see her.”

“Dieter,” Mark scolds, “Do not tell me you've been using again.”

“What? No!”

“You’ve had your daughter every other week for years now.” Mark explains, “Are you sure you're not using anything?”

“You mean, I have custody?” Dieter asks, beginning to choke up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

Whatever Willow did, it worked, well kind of. If Dieter had some sort of custody of Lexi that means he must have changed something going back in time.

“I gotta go see Willow.”

“Willow?” Mark asks, shaking his head, “Dieter, you don’t have time to go on some wild goose chase looking for whoever it is you’re talking about.”

Dieter rushes out of bed, grabbing random clothes he finds throughout his room to throw on, running down the stairs to find his crocs.

“Dieter!” Mark shouts after him.

“I gotta fix it, Mark,” Dieter yells back, finding his car keys, and opening the front door, “I gotta fix it!”

—

“Willow!” Dieter bellows, bursting into Vixen’s, “It worked! It kind of worked!”

He hears a crash a couple aisles over and a gah-damnit!, before Willow appears at the front of the shop.

“The hell you comin’ in here yellin’ about?” Willow asks, rubbing the top of her head, “You made me drop a jar of Dragon’s blood on my damn head. I do not need any more feminine power right now!”

“Sorry,” Dieter chuckles, “I think we need to do the ritual again. I have custody!” 

“Custody?” Willow asks, confused.

“Custody of my kid, Willow!” Dieter says, gripping her shoulders giving her a little shake, “All I did was fall asleep, had a crazy vivid sex dream about my girl and now I have custody! I’ve never even met my daughter!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Willow says, wiggling out of his grip, “Don’t touch me and I don’t wanna hear about your weird sex dreams but come on back.”

He follows her through the dark hall, to her office, the white sage and mullein is lit, the tea is brewed while Willow chants the magic words. He chugs it again. The warm liquid tingled in his throat as it went down.

“Not as bad the second time,” he sputters out through a cough, “Should you make extra so I can take it home?”

“Not how it works,” Willow chuckles, “Gonna have to come see me. Door will always be open.”

“I don’t understand how this is working at all,” Dieter admits, “All I did was go to sleep?”

“Maybe in your sleep is when you’re traveling,” Willow shrugs, “I won’t lie, I’m not sure how it works either. Remember, I’m new at this.”

—

Dieter leaves Vixen’s, feeling on top of the world as he makes his way to your house. He cannot believe he’s about to see his kid for the first time, well maybe not the first time but it is for this Dieter. He pulls up to the address he found saved into his phone under your name, taking a deep breath before getting out of his car.

He makes his way to the front door. It’s a different house than the last time he showed up, hoping you’d forgive him for running off and taking forever to get his shit together. Taking a deep breath he presses the doorbell, hearing the chime inside.

“Daddy!” He hears screeched from behind the door before it opens. A little girl looks up at him with wide brown eyes and soft curls.

“You came to get me!” She exclaims, grabbing his hand with both of her little ones and pulling him through the entrance.

“Y-yeah, I did,” Dieter murmurs, unable to stop staring at the back of her head. Her hair bounces with every step she takes as she continues babbling at him about something.

“Hey Dieter,” you smile at him from the couch with a book in your hand, “She’s been super excited for you to get her this week. Thank you again for keeping her an extra week.”

“Extra week?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot,” you groan, “Dee, you promised me you wouldn’t forget! This is super important! Joel’s taking me to meet his family.”

“Joel?” Dieter asks, clenching his jaw, fingers flexing of his free hand against his thigh. Of course, Joel is still present. 

You study his face, taking in the tension rolling off him in waves, putting your book down and getting off the couch.

“Peanut, baby,” you say in a sweet tone, “Why don’t you go upstairs and get your stuff ready so you can go have fun at Daddy’s?”

“Okay,” she chirps, climbing the steps to the second floor. Leaving the two of you alone.

“Dee?” You ask, approaching him, “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dieter lies with a nod of his head, “Just forgot you have plans next week.”

“Look,” you start, gripping his hand, “I know this whole thing is weird for you but I know one day you’re going to find someone to love,” Dieter’s thumb begins to rub against your fingers softly, noting the absence of a ring on your hand.

“You don’t get it,” Dieter scoffs, shaking his head, “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

“We tried Dieter,” you say, giving him a sympathetic smile, “We just aren’t meant to be.”

- - -

When he wakes next, Dieter is blinded by the brightness of the room, closing his eyes again, not ready to get up.

“Daddy,” a little voice says, poking his cheek with tiny fingers.

He groans feeling a weight on top of his chest. He can hear you humming softly downstairs in the kitchen, little fingers continue poking at his face trying to wake him.

“Peanut,” he chuckles, “Why are you poking my face?”

“Time to wake up!” She announces, standing up on chunky legs before plopping her butt back down. Dieter lets out a grunt before opening his eyes, spotting the soft yellow walls of the room. He can’t stop the smile forming on his face. He’s back to where he wants to be, this timeline seeming to be much better than the present.

“Come here,” Dieter playfully growls, tickling Lexi’s sides. Her high pitched squeals echoing throughout the house.

“Breakfast is ready!”

“Hear that Peanut?!” Dieter asks enthusiastically, “Momma made breakfast!”

“Breakfast!” Lexi shouts, throwing her arms up in the air, “I hungry!”

Dieter scoops her up as he gets out of bed, carrying the toddler with him down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you hum, smiling at both of them, “The contractor was supposed to be here earlier but he overslept so said he’d be by soon.”

“Oh?” Dieter asks, setting Lexi down into her booster seat as if he’s done this every day, “Who’d we hire again?”

“Dieter, I swear,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, “You’d be so lost without me.”

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as he grabs the plates of food you had set out, giving one to Lexi and sitting down next to her to eat his own.

“It’s Miller Bros,” you huff, “And no, they’re not like the Mario Brothers from Nintendo,” you add after seeing Dieter’s head perk up. You always were good about knowing what was on his mind.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Dieter asks, stabbing his fork into the eggs, “Besides the contractor coming, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. The rest of the meal went on, the scraping of silverware against plates and random chatter from Lexi the only things to be heard. It was eerie how quiet you were, Dieter stared at you as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. He can’t pinpoint what’s going on but he feels there is something different here. Lexi finishes her breakfast, scooting off her booster and running off to watch TV.

“Is everything okay?” Dieter asks, fidgeting with the fork in his hand, he can’t risk losing you but he needs to know the answer.

“No,” you admit quietly, “I just- I don’t know what to do anymore Dee.”

“What do you m-“ he tries, the doorbell chiming interrupting his sentence.

“That must be the contractor,” you sigh, “Wanna start the dishes while I get the door?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dieter nods, “Sure.”

He gathers the dishes, rinsing each item before putting them in the dishwasher, hearing you speak with the contractor.

“I’m so sorry ma’am,” the contractor says with a gruffness in his voice, “Would’a been here earlier but my idiot brother wrote the time down wrong.”

“No worries,” you reply in a cheery tone, “You deserve the extra sleep, you work so hard.”

Dieter hears a deep chuckle from the man and a thank you, you’re too kind darlin’. It makes his stomach twist, he knows who this is. Joel fucking Miller. Can he not escape this guy?

Dieter slams the dishwasher closed, pacing throughout the kitchen. In his present time, the man is there. Now in his supposed past the man shows up too?! He wishes he could call Willow but a quick google search shows that Vixen’s doesn’t exist just yet, groaning as he tosses his phone onto the counter. What is he supposed to do?

He sees through the doorway how you look at Joel, the sparkle in your eyes, the way you seem almost bashful as Joel continues to talk about the most mundane things. Dieter can’t help the idea that’s popped into his head as he makes his way to the couch, sitting with your shared daughter as she watches cartoons.

It wouldn’t be the craziest thing he suggested, he’s Dieter Bravo. He’s definitely said worse things in interviews. He continues watching the two of you, the slight smirk on Joel’s face, the shy smile gracing your own.

Maybe if you fucked Joel you’d get it out of your system.

Dieter sees the attraction to Joel, of course he does. He’s rough, burly, and has that southern charm about him. The way his shirt hugs his biceps, his jeans clinging to his thighs. Joel clears his throat and Dieter snaps his head up, finding Joel staring directly at him, having been caught ogling he can feel his face turning a shade darker. You smile at Dieter, covering your mouth while a giggle escapes your lips.

“I’m gonna get started on the bathroom,” Joel says, eyeing Dieter on the couch, “Don’t let me interrupt your morning, Hollywood,” he adds with a wink.

You make your way to the couch, curling into Dieter’s side.

“So,” you giggle, with that sparkle still in your eyes, “Joel, huh?”

“Joel,” Dieter smirks, wrapping his arm around you, nodding his head. He brings you closer to his side, kissing your temple, before he scoops Lexi into his other side, keeping both his girls close to him.

- - -

“Dieter,” Mark says, giving Dieter’s shoulder a shove, “Need to wake up, you’re home.”

“Home?” Dieter grumbles, scrubbing his hands down his face, he feels metal on one of his fingers. Eyes popping open, he spots a band on his left hand. Married. He’s married?

“Yeah, home,” Mark chuckles, “And don’t worry. I took care of everything so the three of you could spend some time together for the next couple days.”

Dieter grins, saying your name out loud quizzically, he needs to make sure it worked this time. Mark nods, he gets to spend time with his girls. His girls. Dieter hops out of the car, grabbing the duffle bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for the ride Mark,” he hollers as he makes his way to his front door, shaking with nerves as he stands there. Taking a deep breath he opens the door to find the house covered in darkness, flipping on the light he takes in the room before him. Toys, books, and small shoes scattered around. His smile grows wider as he hears a noise from upstairs.

You must be upstairs waiting for him. Dieter sets his duffle bag down next to the door before flinging his crocs off on his way up the stairs. The door of the master bedroom is opened by a jar and he can hear grunts coming from within.

Fuck, Dieter thinks, manly grunts can only mean one thing.

He tiptoes to the door opening it more, seeing you naked on your knees before Joel. His thick cock in your mouth as you bob your head faster along his length.

“S’it baby,” Joel groans, throwing his head back as you take more of him down your throat, “So fucking good at that.”

You’re moaning as he grips your head, holding you on his cock.

“Fuck,” Dieter whispers, feeling his dick twitch with interest, watching you gag on Joel’s length. Joel’s head snaps towards the doorway.

“Ya just gonna stand there Hollywood or ya gon’ join?” Joel smirks, eyeing Dieter up and down, “We’ve missed you.”

You moan, pulling off Joel's cock with a soft pop, twisting your body to see Dieter.

“Hi baby,” you purr at him, “Glad that you’re home.”

Dieter stands there frozen, watching you stroke Joel’s shaft with a sly grin.

This present time is nice, Dieter thinks with a smirk on his face, I can live with this.

[em-harlsnow]

there’s a huge difference between the way frank and terry were as parents and i’m not just talking about the ‘levels’ of abuse.

so we see that frank has his ‘good father’ moments with most of the kids. we don’t see it with ian or lip, but we see it with the other kids. we see how carl idolises him when he’s young and thinks frank is trying to save him by shaving his head when frank said he had cancer. we see how debbie adores him when frank ends up in mexico and how frank completely ruins that. we see how fiona sometimes shares these moments with her father where you can tell she loves him and cares about him, no matter what he’s done.

and then there are the very few moments when frank does actually seem like a good dad. like when he took the fall for some of carl’s drug things with the police. and when he was sober for a week and making everything fun and happy. there are probably a couple more that i can’t think of right now.

but all that makes it SO much worse when frank fucks up again. it’s as if every time he does something shitty it’s a huge shock to everyone. you can see the complete surprise and devastation on fiona’s face when she finds out it was frank who called CPS (maybe she didn’t think he’d stoop so low, but still) and when he called out sean at her wedding. you can see the anger when frank ruined debbie’s school project and the shock for everyone when frank headbuts ian.

we know frank has been an awful parent for a while, based on fiona’s stories in court and ian’s stories about being locked in the basement, but every time it’s a bit of a horrible surprise because he does good things every once in a while. it’s so sad, because lip says that he didn’t know frank would go back to his usual shittiness when he got sober again when lip was a kid.

terry was very different though. we don’t know as much about how he was when mickey and mandy and the others were kids, but we know a little. so, terry was much more physically abusive than frank was, and had fewer ‘good father’ moments. therefore, none of his kids were surprised at anything he did. mickey isn’t shocked when terry brings svetlana round, he thought terry would actually kill him.

so it’s hard in a different way, because then terry will every so often drop in a little compliment. like when mickey says that terry was ‘proud’ when he caught a knife. and when terry tells mickey he could’ve been a good son. it’s these stupid compliments which leave the kids constantly begging for that positive attention no matter how awful he is.

the bar is at a constant low for terry, so the highs seem more amazing. for frank, i think the bar is at a low as well, but slightly higher because he’s not constantly abusing the kids, he’s more neglectful, and frank has more peaks in his ‘goodness’ which make him so much worse when he has the awful moments.

frank leaves his kids with hope for a good future when he’s sober, which is always disappointed. terry leaves his kids with a constant feeling of needing to be better as they strive for his approval.

frank is inconsistent, which hurts a lot, and terry is consistent with a few sick compliments about what should be considered bad behaviour in his kids.

i don’t know if this made much sense, but i wanted to blab about the different styles of abuse and emphasises the fact that frank is made MORE awful by the ‘good’ things he does for his kids, not less awful.

[starzzmissthesun]

i think you should totally drop whatever hc/ideas you have lying around honestly...i would love to see more into ur brain...pls <33

:DD

Hi!!!! Sorry this is a little late, I got so distracted with an animatic im working on(😈) and then a stupid essay😭😭 being honest rn... Almost all of what I've been thinking about is my fic.. 😔

But!! I can still go a little into that without spoilers. I've finally figured out The Perfect ending for this story that I feel fits with the overarching themes I wanted to tell. I've been making sure that every little detail fits with the themes I wanted to show, I wanted it to overlap Regulus and barty's characters and their overarching themes with PD. I also didn't want to just replicate PD cause I feel like that doesnt have the depth or commentary I want to out into it. Idk ive always thought it's super fun to put everything as some sort of symbol or metaphor or foreshadowing. I'm like literally so close to being done drafting and then I can actually talk about it a little more😭

Anyways! I've also been thinking about barty post regs death 😔(when am I not) But more specifically how every memory he had would almost be tainted, everything now would have an air of questioning and unsureness. Even memories where Regulus isn't there, just wondering where was he? What was he thinking? Am I remembering this right? What could've I changed? What was the domino that caused all of this to happen? Eventually finding it hard to accept the way it really was, having the "I guess it was" and feeling it, but overintellectualizing it. His logic and reasoning is his downfall in this situation, that's what makes him go crazy. (Side note I NEED to make a little post about his intersection between intelligence and madness) Hes doing a complicated version of when there's a task that seems so simple that you think it's a trick, but it's not, it's just that. What happened with Regulus was just that.

Also, I've recently self reflected and realized that a lot of my barty characterization is similar to how I think of Leonard Cohen's art(who I LOVE LOVE LOVE) Idk if you've listened to him or read any of his work, but I HIGHLY suggest it, it's perfect for fall. Anyways, a lot of his songs and poems carry themes of having a twisted self image, not completely self deprication though it may seem, but something else. It's closer to understanding and knowing that you are. Different. And unconventional. It's an uncomfortablility he has with himself. Being soemthig twisted from what you should've been. A lot of his stuff is also to do with tragically losing someone, out of their own choice, and still feeling very loyal yet bitter. Also of loving something so much that it turns dark, or it goes too quick, it spirals. Also his love songs are very barty's perspective on bartylus to me. And like, obvious war mentions. I could give some specific recs similar to barty or them if you'd like.

Another thing is of Regulus and his relationship with his dad. Though I see it completely reasonable if his dad was just kind of, not there and neglectful, it could give very interesting implications to his character, I like it the other way around. Orion seeing what a more carefree attempt at raising a child does and keeping Regulus even closer than he did before. I think Orion always liked Regulus more, despite him being the second, because he was a model son. I don't think he wanted this life or even to have kids, so Regulus being so complacent and in line with what he was supposed to be as a pure blood made him the decided favourite(as much as he could have one). He was always keeping a close eye on Regulus and he could feel it, but he didn't do anything out of place anyways. Orion could tell when he was even thinking something he wasn't supposed to. I believe that, no matter how much she tried, walpurga was too caught in her own head about her duty as a mother to see S+R as anything other than Her Kids, as property that she was supposed to care for and tend to, she obviously loved them, but couldn't see through them. But Orion was there around every corner looking through regulus' eyes into his soul to search for any thing out of his perfect kid.

Anyways.... That's all I can think of rn😭 but if you have questions about ANY of them lmk!!! I love yapping about my little thoughts 😁😁

[ilovepapahet]

James Hetfield HeadCanons

Im doing hc’s on my favourite eras of James (they are going to come up a lot in story’s and fanfics) Im starting off with 1986 or MOP I hope you like them

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SFW

He’s so silly

He loves to tease you when ever he gets the chance he can be mean too but in a good way

he’ll teach you how to play guitar (but I feel like he’d do it whatever the era) you’d be sitting on his lap as he’ll place his fingers on the frets and you’d follow suit

he loves kissing you all over showing you how much he really loves you

he’ll take you to band practices too he loves showing you off because he thinks he’s the luckiest man alive to be dating you

If your laying down on your bed or couch on your stomach he’s lay his head on your ass and tell you about his day

sometimes he’ll tickle you to just to hear you laugh because he thinks you have the sweetest laugh ever (he’ll tell you that every time you laugh)

if you go out to a bar or just out in general he’s a fuckin guard dog and will never leave your side making sure no ones bugging you or flirting with you

he’ll take pictures of you when you least expect it and there the most foul photos ever and he’ll tell you your adorable (the photos are horrible)

he has his hands on you at all times cuddling the fuck out of you

he loves to cook with you (or at least try his best) but you also wouldn’t consider him cooking it’s just him following you around the kitchen

sometimes when your in your room working he’ll just walk in stand there for a few seconds making you very confused before he farts and walks out and you’d yell at him (he thinks it’s so funny)

NSFW

he can’t stay serious at all sure there are times when he’s being all loving and passionate but half of the time he’s making you laugh while being balls deep inside you

he’d say something stupid and it make you laugh

but when he is being loving he’s the sweetest praising you and literally worshiping you

I feel like he’s more soft in the 80s than in the 90s like he can definitely be rough but not as rough

he’ll play with your tits taking one into his mouth as he slowly thrust into you

he’ll leave hickeys on your tits and thighs where no one can see them and he’s so proud of himself because he’s marking you as his and he lets you know all the time

I feel like he loves and I mean LOVES to eat pussy out in this era (as well as two others I will mention later on) he’d ether eat you out like a mad man or lazily lick and kiss your pussy

He just loves to be in between your legs

Same with you giving him head he’d let out sounds only your ears have the grace of hearing (you don’t complain at all) he’d buck his hips up into your mouth when he’s close and praise you when you swallow all his cum

and to be honest he’s not that great at after care (he’s still learning don’t worry) he’d flop down on the bed wrap his arms around you and call it a night

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I hope you guys liked this one, there are still 8 more to come

[blu3-l0v3r]

୨ৎ Transfer student ୨ৎ pt.2

-----------Clumsy----------

During class, you had stayed quiet, too scared to actually socialize with anyone.

When the teacher had called on you to answer a question, you had stuttered without meaning too, turning red immeditaly, rushing to end your sentence.

"Fuck this" you mumbled to yourself when the teacher finally stopped asking you questions.

You heard a small chuckle from the person next to you, causing you to turn your head around.

With curious eyes, you see him.

A dark haired boy, with a kind smile, and a sweet but somewhat nervous aura.

He must have heard you stutter, and this just made you even more embarrased.

His eyes meet yours, and he immediately notices your nervousness.

"Sorry, i wasn't laughing at you" he says, kindly, still smiling.

Something inside me clicks, and my shyness seems to disappear in a second.

"It's alright, don't worry about it. I'm Y/N, I'm new here* I say, trying for a smile

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yuta Okkotsu"

He sticks out his hand, and I shake it.

The rest of class, I spend talking and chatting with him about silly things and videogames.

"Hey, one of my bestfriends loved videogames, you should talk to him!" Yuta says excitedly. His eyes light up when he talks about his friends, I find it endearing.

"Oh sure. Is he in our class?" I ask, starting to actually get curious about meeting this boy.

I didn't really speak to people much, so the idea of making TWO friends a day was quite exciting to me.

"Oh yeah, he's sitting at the back* Yuta points to the end of the class, and I follow his hand.

He's pointing specifically at a platinum blonde haired guy, who was indeed sitting in the last row, eyes glued to his screen and fingers moving fast on the keyboard.

Next to him was probably one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. She had forest green hair, small and Bayonetta-like glasses.

She had a slightly serious look in her eyes, and as she loked at the boy and then to his screen, she scoffed.

She's scary, I think to myself.

"Earth to Y/N" Yuta's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I shake my head as I remember what the convo was about earlier.

"I'll give you his number" he says kindly, as he texts me his friend's number ; me and Yuta had exchanged numbers earlier.

"Alright, thanks Okkotsu, see you around" *I say, smiling, as I get up from my seat and leave to the bathroom.

In the afternoon, I was just sitting on a bench, scrolling mindlessly on Instagram reels, laughing to some stupid meme, when I see a message pop up from an unsaved number.

I ignore the message, discarding it as probably a scam.

Later at night, as I was finally getting to bed for my nightly episode of Gilmore Girls, i re-open my messages app, finally remembering the text from earlier.

Seeing as he he doesn't answer quickly, I put on Gilmore Girls, and finally fall asleep.

GUYS WHAT DO WE THINK??

SHOULD I KEEP ON GOING WITH THE STORY

taglist: @tomikixd

[cindersnows]

i think as viewers we find it easy to sit back and judge each character until their motivations are explained to us in detail like with purple and king and chosen. even with victim its fairly easy to guess a portion of why she is doing this. and that's partially because avam is just made to be like that so all audiences can understand it and why the characters do what they do, and also partially because it's a little difficult to do more subtle storytelling when you can only express character feelings through their body language (and the body language has to be fairly exaggerated so that everyone can understand how the character is feeling).

so then as a result when we see green falling deep into the hole of social media it's easy to scoff and judge and say come on green, do better. we see it as him just getting too cocky again- look at green with his ego and his need to seem cool, he's sucking up to people again so he can get validation. and people understand that, they're even comparing his arc to purple, but they're forgetting to actually see things from his point of view.

like yeah. green was mean to yellow! and that was a kind of assholey thing to do, agreeing with people when they say yellow didn't do much. but like people do stupid shit all the time, especially to get approval. green hearting mean comments wasn't him on his villain arc, he probably barely thought about it. haven't you ever done anything without thinking or made a joke in bad taste. honestly it's a little ironic how quick people were to jump on him when he did something kind of mean, it reminded me of actual cancel culture! fascinating shit. we really are a part of the story.

anyways green started off as the weakest. he tries his best to be good at other things, first building, then music, but for some reason whenever he does well in something his friends get jealous or upset. (he pours himself into that thing and unintentionally ignore s or snaps at his friends--- its a repeating pattern at this point). it's mostly because their competitive spirit, something which is seen in a lighthearted manner but has gotten them killed or hurt on multiple occasions and i feel like they're going to have to address that at some point. whenever green sets boundaries, they're ignored, even if cg think they're just acting in the greater good.

hell, even purple, we've barely seen them interact after s3- who's to say purple wouldn't just scoff at him as well? she's already not very experienced with actual friendships (based on the way they just expected green to brush the betrayal off in parkour, they acted more like it was a small disagreement than a full on issue), so he may just assume this is how friends are.

basically the point of this is to say, no one ever celebrates his success. obviously he's competitive with his friends too, but having been at the bottom of the group from the start, he's visibly very insecure about this stuff, and having people attempt to kick him down during every success he gets (which he works very hard for) will lead to him needing validation from elsewhere. clearly, social media is supposed to give him this.

but like someone in the community pointed out, now he's appealing to hundreds of thousands of people instead of just 5 or 6. the praise is awesome, but seeing that people still have criticism of him just makes him throw himself into his work even more. it also probably functions as a form of escapism for him; he's so busy working, editing, writing, he barely even notices that his friends are avoiding him. it's possible he's purposely using youtube as a way to ignore his gut. anyways, blue's still willing to hang out and record with him, so what's the issue? (it's not as if blue is the least confrontational of the cg lol)

i have. been in this exact position. the moment you make anything, you're looking straight at the numbers. it becomes what you think of in the morning and during the creation process. you're skimming comments for keywords--- good, bad, more, less, etc. you listen even when you don't mean to. yeah maybe the guy was a little mean about one of my friends but ultimately it's just constructive criticism! it's not like she'll see this anyway. it's fine.

and yeah green needs to stop being so obsessive but i think he deserves to break down first. like what ash said--- he expresses his negative emotions the least out of everyone, he barely takes breaks, it's going to come crashing down. and i think when cg confront him about his behaviour he deserves to yell at them for the way he gets treated. it really hurts when all you are is the butt of the joke even when they mean it in a lighthearted way. if the arc just ends with green being knocked down a peg as usual, i will be very fucking upset because he's literally already at the bottom of the ladder, what more do you want?