#writing is not a hobby for the faint of heart

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤobsession bound

pairings. m!yandere x gn! reader

warnings. yandere, mature explicit 18+ content, MDNI, suggestive content, toxic obsession, stealing clothes, stalking, the whole yandere package.

a/n. i don't condone this irl guys!! please do not fantasize about this

wc. 2.9k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤi love you like an alcoholic - the taxpayers

he knows everything about you. not just your favourite foods, hobbies, or the songs you play on repeat, but the details you wouldn’t even think to share. the way your nose scrunches when you’re deep in thought, the pattern of your breathing when you sleep, the subtle twitch in your hand when you’re anxious. he’s studied you as though you were a divine text, each quirk and habit catalogued and committed to memory.

your presence is his religion, and you, his deity. he doesn’t just love you—he worships you. to him, you’re the very essence of perfection, the axis on which his world spins. every smile you offer, every word you speak, is a blessing he clings to with an almost fanatical devotion. if he could, he’d bottle the sound of your laughter and keep it close, playing it on loop in the quiet hours when he can’t be near you.

his obsession began innocently enough—a fleeting glance in passing, a shared space for mere seconds. but those seconds were enough to ignite something dangerous within him. from that moment on, you consumed him.

your image invaded his thoughts, leaving no room for anything or anyone else. it wasn’t enough to see you from afar. he needed to know you, to possess you, to make sure you could never leave.

he follows you everywhere, his footsteps as silent as a predator stalking its prey. he’s always there, just out of sight, ensuring you’re safe—or so he tells himself.

when you stumble, he fights the urge to rush forward and catch you. when someone dares to get too close, his fists clench, his jaw tightens, and dark thoughts swirl in his mind. no one has the right to invade your space like that. no one but him.

every trace of your existence is precious to him. he’s collected everything—strands of your hair caught in your brush, the lip balm you left on your desk, even the receipt you crumpled and threw away. he keeps them in a secret box, hidden away like a dragon hoarding treasure.

he’ll run his fingers over them, murmuring your name like a mantra, his mind spinning fantasies of the life you’ll share once you finally see the truth.

he keeps a journal where he writes about you obsessively. page after page filled with your name, detailed accounts of your daily activities, and his dreams of your future together. he’s planned it all—your wedding, the house you’ll live in, the names of your children. he knows it’s premature, but in his mind, you’re already his. the only thing left is for you to realise it.

his jealousy is a violent, uncontrollable thing. anyone who gets too close to you is a threat that must be eliminated. he doesn’t care who they are—friends, coworkers, even family. they don’t deserve to share your attention.

they don’t love you like he does. he’s not above sabotage, spreading rumours, or even more drastic measures to ensure they stay away. it’s for your own good. can’t you see how much safer you are without them?

his methods of surveillance are disturbingly meticulous. cameras hidden in your home, trackers on your phone and keys, even your favourite coffee shop isn’t spared. he needs to know where you are, what you’re doing, and who you’re with at all times. if he sees something he doesn’t like, he’ll act without hesitation. a threatening text to someone he perceives as competition, a “chance” encounter to remind you he’s always there—it’s all part of his carefully crafted plan.

the nights he spends in your home without your knowledge are the most sacred to him. he’ll sit in your chair, run his fingers over your belongings, and breathe in the faint scent of you lingering in the air.

when he’s feeling especially bold, he’ll lie in your bed, his heart pounding as he imagines you beside him. the boundary between fantasy and reality blurs, and for those moments, he allows himself to believe you’re already his.

despite his madness, there’s a tenderness in his obsession that makes it all the more unnerving. he’ll leave gifts on your doorstep, thoughtful things he knows you’ll love, but always unsigned. he’ll take care of things you don’t even realise—paying overdue bills, fixing a broken lock, replacing the lightbulb you forgot about. in his mind, these are acts of love, proof of his devotion. he’s your saviour, your guardian. why can’t you see that?

his darker thoughts are carefully hidden beneath a façade of adoration. but they’re there, lurking just below the surface. he’s imagined what it would be like to keep you locked away, safe from the world that doesn’t deserve you.

a place where it’s just the two of you, where no one can hurt you or take you away. he’s convinced himself it would be for the best. you’d be scared at first, but eventually, you’d understand. you’d love him like he loves you.

he’s a master of manipulation, always a step ahead. when you start to suspect something, he’ll play the perfect confidant, the shoulder to lean on. he’ll comfort you, reassure you, and subtly guide you into his arms. every move he makes is calculated to draw you closer, to ensure you never look anywhere else but at him.

his love is suffocating, overwhelming, all-consuming. it’s not just a feeling—it’s a need, a compulsion, a fire that burns so fiercely it threatens to destroy everything in its path. he doesn’t see the danger in it. to him, it’s pure, untainted, the way love is meant to be. and if you ever tried to leave, he’d see it as a betrayal so profound it would shatter him. he’d do anything to keep you. anything.

he’s utterly captivated by every little thing about you—your smile, your voice, the way your clothes hug your figure just right. his eyes linger longer than they should, memorizing every curve, every subtle movement. he tells himself it’s just admiration, but the way his thoughts wander late at night says otherwise. the image of you is burned into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape it.

his fantasies are vivid, detailed, and deeply personal. he doesn’t just imagine holding you close or brushing his lips against yours; his mind ventures further, into moments that would make your cheeks burn if you knew. he’s thought about how your skin might feel against his fingertips, the warmth of your body pressed to his. he knows it’s wrong, but the idea of being the one to make you blush, to see the shy tilt of your gaze, is intoxicating.

he’s fascinated by the small, intimate details of your life—the scent of your shampoo, the way you unconsciously adjust your clothes when you’re nervous, the way your lips part when you’re lost in thought. it’s not enough to simply watch; he wants to know what it feels like, what it tastes like. the thought alone sends a shiver down his spine, a mix of guilt and desire twisting in his chest.

your photos are his most cherished possessions, though he’d never admit it aloud. he’s saved everyone he’s found, both those you’ve posted and those he’s taken without you noticing. they’re his solace on nights when his need for you becomes too overwhelming. his fingers will trace over the screen, wishing he could reach through and pull you to him, to claim you as his own in ways only he dreams of.

his touches are deliberate and lingering, though he always makes them seem innocent. a hand brushing against yours when you pass him something, a too-long hug where his hands press just a little lower than they should. he tells himself it’s harmless, that he’s just expressing his affection, but the heat that pools in his chest whenever he’s near you betrays his true intentions.

he’s memorized the way your clothes fit, the way they shift when you move, and he often imagines what lies beneath. it’s an intrusive, maddening thought that he tries to push away but can’t. he tells himself it’s only natural to wonder about someone you love this much, but the intensity of his fixation borders on obsessive.

his jealousy takes on a darker edge when he sees someone else earning your smiles or making you laugh. he imagines pulling you into his arms, pressing his lips to your ear, and whispering that you’re his, only his. the idea of someone else touching you the way he wants to sends a wave of anger through him, but it also stokes the fire of his need to claim you in every way possible.

he’ll leave little hints of his affection, gifts that seem innocent at first glance—a necklace that sits just right against your collarbone, a dress that hugs your body in a way that makes his heart race. he wants to see you wear them, to know that he had a hand in how you look, to feel like you’re his in some small way, even if you don’t realise it yet.

the nights he spends in your home without your knowledge are where his darker fantasies come to life. he’ll stand in your bedroom, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, his mind wandering to places he knows it shouldn’t. he wants to reach out, to touch, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm, but he stops himself. not yet. it’s not time yet.

he’s thought about what it would be like to have you entirely to himself, away from prying eyes and other distractions. a place where you wouldn’t need anyone else but him, where he could show you just how deeply he feels for you. his fantasies are tinged with possessiveness, imagining you looking at him with flushed cheeks and soft whispers of his name, the way only he would ever deserve.

he knows your body as well as he knows your habits, even if he’s never touched you the way he dreams of. the way you stretch when you’re tired, the curve of your lips when you smile, the smooth expanse of your neck—he notices it all, cataloguing every detail to revisit later in the privacy of his own mind. you’re a living masterpiece, and he’s the only one who truly appreciates every stroke of your beauty.

his obsession isn’t just emotional; it’s physical. he craves the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin, the way you might gasp if he were to press his lips to yours. it’s a hunger that grows stronger with every passing day, consuming him until he’s left trembling with the sheer intensity of his desire. he tells himself he’s patient, that he can wait for you to come to him, but his restraint is wearing thin.

he imagines the way your voice would sound, breathless and needy, calling his name. the thought alone makes his heart pound, his breaths shallow. it’s a dangerous game he plays, teetering on the edge of madness, but he can’t help himself. you’ve become his addiction, his obsession, and he knows there’s no turning back.

he loves jerking off to photos of you taken by him. he flips through the steamy photos on his phone, a wicked glint in his eye begins undoing his pants, freeing his rock-hard erection. a low groan escaping his lips as he wraps a hand around the thick shaft and starts stroking it slowly.

steals your clothes. he's practically grinning maniacally as he rummages through your dresser, his fingers trailing over the fabric of each garment with a possessive touch. he snatches up your most intimate items - panties, bras, and even that cute little skirt from last night - holding them to his face and inhaling deeply before tucking the stolen clothes into his bag like precious treasures.

—

the sound of footsteps trailing behind you wasn’t unusual. you had grown accustomed to the presence of people bustling through the streets or even just the echo of your own shoes against the pavement.

tonight, though, something felt...off. the streetlights flickered overhead, casting long, thin shadows that seemed to stretch and waver unnaturally. you clutched your bag tighter as a cold breeze cut through the air, the faint rustle of leaves amplifying the eerie silence.

unbeknownst to you, a figure lingered a safe distance behind, his breathing steady, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that bordered on fanaticism. he had followed you every night for weeks now, taking meticulous care to remain unseen.

you never noticed the subtle changes in your routine—the slight chill in your room despite closed windows, the faint smell of cologne that wasn’t yours, or the way your things never quite seemed to be where you left them. he made sure of that.

when you finally reached the safety of your apartment, fumbling with your keys, a wave of relief washed over you. the feeling of being watched dissipated the moment the door clicked shut behind you. you didn’t know he was already inside.

hidden in the shadows of your closet, he crouched silently, listening to your every move. your obliviousness only deepened his obsession.

he had memorized your schedule down to the minute. he knew the way you stirred your coffee in the mornings, the playlists you hummed along to while cleaning, and the books you kept on your bedside table. each detail was etched into his mind as sacred knowledge, proof that you were meant to belong to him and only him.

his fingers itched to touch the belongings he had stolen—your hairbrush, the shirt you thought you lost, even the empty chapstick tube you tossed away without a second thought. they were treasures to him, pieces of you he could keep close when he couldn’t have you entirely. not yet.

you were so kind, so trusting. it amazed him how naive you could be. When he brushed past you in a crowd, intentionally grazing your shoulder, you had offered an apologetic smile as though it were your fault. when he sent anonymous gifts to your doorstep, you accepted them with gratitude, never questioning their origin.

you had no idea who he was, but he knew you. he knew everything. He watched as you unknowingly consumed his devotion and smiled sweetly, blissfully ignorant of the storm brewing just beneath the surface of his calculated calm.

the days passed in a blur. you noticed small things—a lingering glance from a stranger at the café, a text from an unknown number asking if you’d gotten home safely.

you chalked it up to coincidence, even as unease began to settle in your chest. little did you know, he had orchestrated it all. the stranger wasn’t a stranger at all. The text wasn’t random. everything was deliberate. everything was for you.

one night, you woke to the sound of something clattering in the kitchen. heart racing, you crept out of bed, clutching your phone tightly. the light from the hallway illuminated the edge of a shadow—a tall figure, unnervingly still. your breath hitched.

before you could scream, a hand clamped over your mouth, and you were pulled into an unrelenting grip. his voice, low and desperate, whispered your name like a prayer.

"shh, it’s me," he said, as though that explanation should bring you comfort. "i couldn’t stay away anymore."

you thrashed against him, but his hold was iron. His tone turned sharp, frantic. "stop. please don’t fight me. i've done everything for you. don’t you see that?"

your heart pounded in your chest as his words spilled out in a torrent of obsession. he spoke of how he had protected you, how he had eliminated those who dared to insult you, how he had waited so patiently for this moment.

it didn’t make sense—none of it did—but the sincerity in his voice was chilling. He believed every word.

when he finally loosened his grip, you stumbled away, trying to catch your breath. his golden eyes shimmered with something between adoration and madness. he took a step closer, and you backed away instinctively. "don’t look at me like that," he pleaded. "i’m not a monster. i love you. i've always loved you."

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. fear constricted your throat, making it impossible to form words. he noticed your hesitation, and his expression darkened.

"you don’t understand now," he said softly, almost to himself. "but you will. i'll make you see. you don’t have to be afraid of me—i’d never hurt you. i'd only hurt anyone who tries to take you from me."

your legs trembled as you pressed yourself against the wall, desperate to find an escape. he tilted his head, watching you with an unnerving calm. "you’re so beautiful when you’re scared," he mused. "but i don’t want you to be scared of me. i want you to love me back."

the realization of how deeply unhinged he was hit you like a wave. this wasn’t just a stranger breaking into your home. this was someone who had been in your life—lurking in the periphery, shaping your reality without your consent.

you had no idea how much he had already taken from you, how much he was willing to take to keep you his.

and he wouldn’t stop. no matter how much you begged or how far you tried to run, he would always find you. because in his eyes, you were already his.

you are his world, his everything. and in his mind, that’s not obsession—it’s love.

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[fratttymatty]

Jock'd

(All characters are 18+)

Cameron Hayes was a high school senior with two things that defined him: his love for biology and his passion for nerdy hobbies. He’d always been the type of kid who spent his afternoons reading biology textbooks, obsessing over cellular processes, and analyzing ecosystems. At 18, he was already planning to study biology at a prestigious university, and his life revolved around his love for science. But that was before one fateful night.

It all started when Cameron sat down to finish his biology homework, which was supposed to be a simple review of basic human physiology. As usual, he’d spent hours studying the material the day before, and now it was just a matter of getting the homework done before bed. His room, decorated with posters of scientific breakthroughs and his collection of rare fossils, felt like his sanctuary.

On his desk lay his open notebook, the textbook, and his phone, all with the soft hum of a lamp glowing beside him. He breezed through the first few questions—simple stuff. His mind, sharp as ever, was in its element. But then came the last question. It looked innocent enough:

"What's one form of exercise?"

Cameron didn't hesitate. He wrote down the first thing that came to mind: "Sports."

It was supposed to be a harmless answer. After all, sports were a form of exercise, right?

But the moment he finished writing, something strange happened. His head buzzed, his vision blurred, and an icy chill ran down his spine. He blinked hard, thinking maybe he was just overtired, but something was different. He felt... strange. His body seemed to tingle, like every cell was reconfiguring. He swore he heard faint laughter echoing in the air, distant, but unmistakably mocking.

Before he could even process it, his room began to warp. The walls seemed to contract, the posters of atoms and molecules turning into athletic ones, with images of football players, basketball courts, and weightlifters replacing his beloved scientific displays. A strange heat spread through his body, like he was suddenly in the middle of a workout.

His body itself was changing. His arms grew thicker, more muscular, his once slender frame becoming broader and stronger. His clothes seemed to shrink as his muscles swelled, his jeans tightening around his quads and his shirt clinging to his newly developed pecs. His hair, once a soft brown that barely fell past his ears, now grew short and spiky, and his face changed too—more defined, sharper, with a hint of arrogance.

He stumbled in front of his mirror, his heart racing in confusion. The boy looking back at him wasn’t Cameron Hayes. The reflection was of someone else—tall, strong, and undeniably attractive. His face had lost its nerdy softness, replaced by a chiseled jawline and a confident smirk that Cameron had never worn before. And most bewildering of all: the name that he now saw written on the mirror was no longer "Cameron."

It was "Kyle."

A surge of memories flooded his mind—new ones that didn’t belong to him. He remembered his high school’s football team, the parties, the beer, the girls that surrounded him, and the constant urge to be the center of attention. His brain, once filled with complex scientific concepts, now held only simple things like winning games, lifting weights, and picking up chicks. He felt... dumb.

Cameron—no, Kyle—gazed in horror at his transformation. The old him, the geeky, intelligent Cameron, felt like a distant memory, lost in the haze of his new identity. His brain just didn’t care about science or biology anymore. What mattered now was sports, looking good, and impressing people.

As he stood there, confused yet strangely satisfied by his new reflection, his phone buzzed. It was a message from one of the jocks, no doubt someone who’d gotten a laugh out of this transformation. He read it:

"Bro, you look SO ready for the football game tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll show you how to throw a perfect spiral."

The words didn’t even faze him. Kyle just grinned, his mind only focused on the idea of tomorrow’s game. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared about homework. Hell, he didn’t even want to know anything about biology anymore. All he wanted was to hang out with his jock friends, hit the gym, and be the life of the party.

As he grabbed a basketball from his new collection of sporty gear, Kyle felt a surge of energy course through him. His muscles flexed, his chest puffed out proudly, and his confidence was sky-high.

He didn’t need to worry about anything anymore—no homework, no classes, no biology notes. His new life was all about being the king of the school, playing sports, and dating hot girls. And he loved it.

When Kyle walked into school the next day, every head turned. His former friends—quiet, bookish kids—now seemed like distant strangers. They watched in awe and confusion as Kyle swaggered down the hallway, laughing with his fellow jocks and getting high-fives from everyone he passed. He didn’t even remember his old friends' names, nor did he care. They weren’t part of his new world.

The old Cameron was gone, replaced by Kyle the jock, and that was just fine with him. There was no turning back now.

By the time Kyle walked through the halls of his high school the next day, he felt completely at home in his new skin. The sensation of power, of confidence, was intoxicating. Every step he took, he felt more sure of himself, more right in this new role. The people he passed seemed to admire him, their eyes following him as he swaggered down the hallway.

As he approached his first class, he bumped into Madison, the most popular girl in school. With her long blonde hair, perfect smile, and reputation for dating only the top athletes, Madison was everything Cameron had once admired from a distance. Now, she was smiling at him, and her eyes had a sparkle that made Kyle feel like he was on top of the world.

"Hey, Kyle," Madison said, her voice low and flirtatious. "I saw you at the gym yesterday. You’re looking even bigger than last week."

Kyle grinned, puffing out his chest a little. "Yeah, just trying to stay ahead of the game, you know? Got to keep the muscles strong if I want to keep winning."

Madison giggled, her hand brushing his arm as if she was already claiming him. "I like a guy who works hard," she said, clearly impressed by his new look—and more so by his jock swagger.

Kyle’s new brain buzzed with excitement, and he leaned in a little, his voice oozing confidence as he responded, "Well, I don’t just work hard, babe, I dominate."

It felt so natural. Too natural.

Madison laughed again, this time a little more flirtatiously, and Kyle felt the old Cameron—deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind—shudder. But he didn’t care. He was Kyle now.

The bell rang, and as they made their way to class, Madison slid her arm through his, leaning in close to him as they walked. Kyle smiled smugly, enjoying the attention, enjoying the way people looked at them with envy.

Later that afternoon, Kyle met up with his jock buddies in the cafeteria, his tray piled high with a ridiculous amount of food. They were already at their usual table, laughing and tossing around their footballs. Kyle was one of the guys now, and it felt like he was finally where he belonged.

"Yo, Kyle!" Tom, the quarterback, shouted when Kyle walked up, slapping him on the back. "Madison was totally checking you out, man. You’ve got her hooked. She was practically drooling over you."

Kyle chuckled, running a hand through his freshly spiked hair. "Yeah, she’s been eyeing me for a while. What can I say? I’m irresistible."

His friends all laughed in agreement, nodding enthusiastically.

"Dude, you’ve got everything," another guy, Mike, added. "The muscles, the looks, the girls. Seriously, it’s like you were born to be a jock."

Kyle threw his head back, laughing, and for a moment, he actually felt like he was on top of the world. "Hell yeah, man. That’s because I don’t waste time on stupid stuff. I’ve got priorities, you know?"

The guys nodded in agreement, each of them trying to one-up each other with stories of parties, girls, and who’d bench-pressed the most at the gym.

Kyle’s new personality had already become a perfect fit for this crowd. He found himself throwing out one-liners about how much he hated studying, mocking anyone who wasn’t in sports, and bragging about how he could easily pick up a girl just by showing off his abs.

The old Cameron—the one who loved discussing the complexities of plant biology and how to identify different species of insects—seemed like a memory from a distant life. Now, he was the guy cracking jokes about how much homework he’d skipped or how much he could drink without puking.

And as the conversation shifted to tonight’s football game, Kyle grinned even wider. This was it. The peak of high school glory.

"After we crush these guys on the field, we’re gonna hit up Joey’s party," Kyle said with a smirk. "You know, get some drinks, talk to some babes. Maybe even let them take a selfie with me."

The guys laughed and cheered, high-fiving each other. They didn’t even seem to care that the game wasn’t for a few hours. They were all already living for the after-party, and that was enough.

And then, as if on cue, Madison showed up, leaning in from behind and slipping her arm around his waist. "Hey, Kyle," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready for tonight? You can show me how many push-ups you can do with me on top of you."

The table erupted in hoots and laughs, and Kyle felt an unfamiliar sense of pride flood him. Madison was his. She was smiling at him, wanting him, and all of his jock friends were jealous.

"Yeah," Kyle replied coolly, "I think tonight’s gonna be a good night."

And just like that, he realized: he didn’t care anymore. The old Cameron, the one who loved biology and was obsessed with books, was a distant, pointless memory. What mattered now was sports, muscles, parties, and making everyone around him know that he was the king of this school.

As Madison kissed him on the cheek, her fingers tracing his abs, Kyle couldn’t help but smirk. This was the life. And there was no going back. Not that he wanted to.

[livelaughloveluffy]

when he's falling for you - portgas d. ace

a/n: @captainportgasdace sorry babe, its feels wrong for you to not be the first person to see any new ace content i post 💀 (but please do let me know if you don't want to be tagged, i would totally understand if thats the case 😭😭😭😭)

a/n: whenever i write for ace, my heart just fucking swoons, i will always have a soft spot for him 😭😭😭 i didnt plan this intentionally but i guess i wrote ace with a "love at first sight" type trope but thats what this turned into💀 also accidental "cleaning his wounds" trope 😭 (god, he just works so well with so many tropes, i cant help it)

nothing but fluff here 💗

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-ace still remembers the very first time you touched him, lightly placing your hand on his bicep to quietly move past him, and the group of guys he was having a conversation with, in a narrow hallway on the moby dick.

-he notices his feelings the first time he saw you laugh and messing around with marco, "no fucking way, he did not do that" you squealed as marco recalled the time the two of them were doing some typical teenage boy things . the way your eyes had closed ever so slightly, the faint blush of your cheeks, it was that moment he started to look at you in a different way.

-when you patched up some of his wounds, the care and worry in your eyes, the gentle touch of your fingers and cotton, profusely apologizing whenever he expressed small amounts of discomfort. "ace, please be careful next time. i hate seeing you like this. i know it stings, but i don't want this getting infected." from that day forward, he began to fight with much more caution. he never wanted to see that worry on your face again, not if he could do anything about it.

-he never so much as hesitated to tell you exactly that. ace may flirt and tease, but when it comes to his emotions, he doesn't see the point in downplaying them because the second he realizes his attraction, he wants the opportunity to enact on it. "why delay happiness" kind of mindset.

-however, what sealed the deal for ace, was after the two of you had spent some time together. you were funny, intelligent, kind-hearted, understanding, literally everything he's ever wanted in a partner and more. the chemistry between the two of you was simply unmatched. he knew instantly that there was no world where you and he existed under the same sun, but not in a relationship. that you were his person.

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a/n: (also totally off topic but i slightly underestimated how much work it was doing all this pretty formatting for fics and materlists and as much as im enjoying it, im also tired 💀 feel like im working a full time job over here 😭😭😭 never have i been this organized about doing a hobby in my life and a girl is struggling but i think i finally got my system down so hopefully i get my shit together so please forgive me if i slow down with posting 😭😭😭)

[st7rnioioss]

˙ . ꒷ 🦌 girly!reader showing skater!chris how to scrapbook .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

₊˚⊹⋆ … you sat pretty in chris’s lap, your skirt fanning over his thighs beneath yours. his hands were securely grabbing your waist as he pressed his chest against your back, his chin leaning on your shoulder to watch your movements intently.

“see? this is from your birthday.” you smiled proudly, shoving off the creative but beautifully decorated page. pictures of chris, you and chris together, his brothers, parents, and your mutual friends adorned the paper, a small recap of the day in the corner of the page.

journaling and scrapbooking was a fond hobby of yours. you loved how you can write down and save memories, whether it was from vacations, trips, birthday parties, or just spending a day with friends or your boyfriend. you just had to teach chris, or at least show him your stuff. he had peeked over your shoulder a couple times, but never fully sat down, like now, to watch.

chris leaned forward as his grip on you tightened, careful not to hurt you in any way, his gaze falling over the page. he quickly remembered the day all too well, a faint smile tugging on his lips.

“wow… you’re like.. a pro at this,” he chuckled, his fingers gently running over the candid photo of the two of you, his arms around your waist from behind, lips attached to the top of your head.

he loved that photo. it showed off how different you two were, but how perfectly you fit together. your pink dress next to his almost all-black outfit and huge jeans was not an unusual sight. your wide smile always made his heart flutter and a smile tug on his lips. you were everything to him.

“thank you,” you giggled, turning your head to face him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, wiping off the lipgloss stain as you pulled back again with a small ‘sorry’.

“okay, so. how do we do this?” chris asked, peeking over your shoulder again to look at the pictures you had just taken today, watching you flip to an empty page.

“you’ll start off by glueing the picture wherever you like, okay? and then i’ll add a little recap of our day. and you can doodle… or add some stickers.” you explained with a faint smile, handing him a glue stick to put the candid photos wherever he desired.

chris usually had a fair amount of remaining stickers laying around, since he couldn’t fit them on his skateboard. or computer.

chris quickly got to work, taking the cap off the glue stick, picking up one of the pictures to carefully bring the glue onto the back of it, leaving a gentle kiss on your shoulder blade.

“is here okay?” he asked, the picture hovering over the paper. he was careful not to place it, in case it was a stupid placement considering you had to add some writing and he himself had to add stickers.

“no, that’s perfect. wherever you want, baby.” you smiled at him, leaning over the table, your elbows resting on the hard surface to hold up your chin in your palms as you watched him stick it onto the empty page.

he turned to look at you, smiling widely as his eyes flickered back down to the paper, before looking back at you.

“see, that’s perfect, chris! and now add the rest, maybe one of the other page, or something, just not in the middle, then i can’t close it.” you smiled back up at him, your fingers momentarily caressing the side of his face in a sweet gesture, your fingers momentarily brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

he suddenly leaned closer to you, pressing a fat kiss to your cheek. and then a few more. you squealed, a loud giggle slipping past your lips as he laughed with you.

“i love you. and i love this, it’s really fun. i get why you like doing this so much.” he chuckled, planting a final kiss to your pink cheeks before going back to glueing the photos onto the scrapbook. you watched him - yeah, him, not his work. your eyes fluttered over his features, his concentrated expression, fixated on the picture, his tousled hair.

after a moment or two chris showed you the page, and you smiled proudly at him, telling him he did an excellent job. he pulled out some stickers, and you allowed him to add a few since this was your page, and you wanted your personalities to shine through.

“chris! what is this,” you laughed, pointing at the sticker chris had added. you had been so focused on writing a small amount of text, that you didn’t see the stuff he had added.

there was a sticker of bambi and thumper, and he had drawn two arrows pointing at each character, writing your name above bambi and his name above thumper.

it was such a typical move of chris, always sending you random pictures of two characters, animals, items, you name it, and saying ‘this is us’.

“what do you mean! that’s literally us,” he laughed back, putting the cap back on the pen as he threw his hands up in the air in defeat.

your heart fluttered at his words, a huge urge to kiss him dumb was growing in your tummy, but you pushed it off.

“you are such a silly guy.” you giggled, palming your face as you leaned back into his chest, laughing as you felt his arms wrap around you, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, feeling the soft skin of his lips meet your flushed cheek, his chest rumbling with laughter as well.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘

chris had been fairly entertained about making the page as perfect as possible. he went as long as finishing your little text with a recap, taking over your work completely. you weren’t complaining, leaning back into his chest as you watched him let his creative side out, as if that wasn’t out all the time, even snapping a few pictures of him. now you had something to do tomorrow as well.

“look what i made, isn’t it cute?” he looked up at you from his bent over position on the table, his elbows resting on the wood.

chris had put the cliché ‘y/n + chris’ in a heart, even adding an arrow through the pink heart.

“it’s like, y’know, in the forest and stuff, where people carve it into trees. i thought it was sweet.. and, yeah. since we don’t exactly have a tree growing out of your scrapbook.” he smiled sweetly at you, and you couldn’t contain the burst of emotions that went through you. he was such a goof, but in the silliest most perfect way ever.

you immediately threw your hands around his neck, repositioning yourself so you were straddling his lap, one leg on each side of his thighs clad in the jeans a few sizes too big.

chris was startled for a moment, but he was used to you being touchy with him, so he quickly melted into your touch, his hands resting on your hips.

“god, i love you, so, so much. silly guy.” you giggled, speaking quietly as you hugged him tight. you leaned back to look at him, running a hand through his tousled hair as you planted a kiss onto his soft lips, and then another, and another.

“i prefer ‘i love you, babe’ but silly guy works.”

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘

you ended up flipping the page to add a little more text, chris going off with stickers and doodles. he seemed to like this a lot. he was the cutest when it came to this, writing ‘y/n + chris forever’ all over the pages, and if that wasn’t good enough for him, he went all out with ‘i love my girlfriend’.

you were still perched in his lap, the both of you leaning over the table, but still leaving space for each other to fill out the page without bumping your elbows into each other. you were both focused, some small talk here and there, laughing at stupid stuff, giggling at some words chris had misspelled, but lovingly fixing it for him, even sneaking some kisses in between words and stickers.

you had perfectly written down a more detailed version of the start of your morning, hence the new empty page, continuing on with the rest of your day. how you both woke up around the same time, spending another half hour in bed cuddled up close to each other. after finally getting up, you had had breakfast, before getting ready to stroll around the park all day.

you insisted on getting coffee, dragging chris to the nearest coffee shop, finding an empty bench near the small pond in the park, just mindlessly chatting until chris had suggested to take a few pictures. ‘just because’ he had said at the moment, but later explained that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. like he ever could.

chris had even made his own little section on the empty page you had flipped, writing his own perspective of the day you had spent together. he allowed you to read it, and in your world it was a hundred times better than what you had written - which, of course, he denied.

“should i add this?” he randomly blurted after silence for a moment, pulling out his wallet. you knew exactly what was coming as soon as you saw the black leather, and you turned completely red in the face as he pulled out a specific picture.

and there it was, laying on the table right in front of you both.

“chris! no, no, no! stop! we’re not adding that,” you blubbered, completely flustered as you hid the picture with your hands. you knew that picture all too well, and the moments before he had taken it was replaying in your head. such a tease.

it was a picture chris had begged to take of you, laying on your back in your bed, completely naked, looking up at chris behind the lens.

he laughed, stuffing it back into the depths of his wallet for no one but him to see, ever.

“what? it’s a beautiful picture. you’re beautiful,” he continued chuckling, wrapping his arms around you while you sat there, hiding your flushed face in your palms.

you had begged chris to not put that picture in his wallet, and just keep it in your nightstand drawer or something. but, of course, chris had denied and put it in his wallet instead.

you could tell he didn’t believe you, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him as you scoffed, but you pulled him closer to you.

“i hate you so much,” you mumbled, withdrawing your hands from your face to look at him, still a wide smile on the both of your lips.

“oh yeah? do you?” he teased back, raising his brows at you as he leaned in closer, obviously not believing a word. you both knew you were lying, and that only made the whole thing more exciting.

“shut up..” you mumbled, your words trailing off as you leaned in, closing the painfully small gap between your bodies, your lips attaching to his as you interlace your fingers in his hair, forgetting completely about the doodles you were gonna add to the page. oops?

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘

more skater!chris here

୭˚. ᵎᵎ taglist: @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @elizasturn @witchofthehour

© st7rnioioss. all rights served. please do not repost, copy or steal any work of mine without giving credits and asking for permission first.

[munefille]

Omg, I love your angel oc! Could you perhaps write a drabble about him and an s/o who bakes and makes sweets, that also has an equally sweet personality? Thanks a bunch!

thank!!

He wouldn't really understand your hobby. He gets the basic concept of cooking, but the more complex process of gathering different ingredients, prepping them, and then coagulating them until they've forfeited most of their original properties is lost on him. He would rather just eat your neighbor, but if you really insisted he'd try something you make.

𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

yandere!angel(?)oc x gn.reader

cw: animal death

Heat was drifting throughout your home. A modest fire crackled pleasantly, the ceaseless sound carrying with it the scent of warm sugar and vanilla. One look at the pastries told you they were goldening nicely in the flames, crisp dough rising until it was bloated from the hot air inside of it. Only a few minutes; then they would be ready.

Clicking on glass stole your attention from the dishes in your hands. The window, left uncovered to the vast woodland bordering it, was the source of the interruption. Without turning your head to look, a smile drew across your face. You knew who your visitor was.

Shuffling out of your humble kitchen and towards the window, you spied flashes of white feathers and an inhumanly tall form bending down to peer inside. Your heart beat increased, not out of fear, but excitement to present your gift for the creature- the angel.

The window creaks open as you unlock it, letting the cool evening breeze whistle through your hair and drag the sugary scent out with it.

"Hello!" you chirped, a giddy tone resonating in your greeting. The being looked down at you with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You turned towards the kitchen again, "One moment!" you called, hurrying to fetch the baked sweets before the fire chars them. They came out steaming, sweet light whiffs that had been permeating your home hit you at full force once they came out.

It was a simple treat, sugary cookies that you had perfected. No one had ever said they disliked them.

There you were at the window again, hot tray in hand. The angel waited patiently beyond your walls for your return. Long ivory hair draped over his eyes and cascaded down his shoulders like a waterfall, so pale it seemed to reflect light even in the presence of the falling sun. He seemed to only ever visit you at night, when the light fades into nothing but the soft glow of the moon.

You presented the cookies to him, placing the tray on your window sill.

"An offering?" He quietly asked, smooth voice tinged with the hint of an accent you couldn't quite place. Though you nodded at his inquiry, he made no effort to take one.

You picked one up off the tray, taking a nibble of it in what you hoped to be a reassuring way. "They're sweet, see? I made them myself."

You practically shoved one towards him, wide doe eyes encompassing the look of a kicked puppy. "I wanted to find a small way to thank you," you mumbled genuinely. It was true- ever since you met him, life had started looking up for you. It was little things, you were rarely ever harassed anymore and people you disliked never came upon you again. You had no doubt it was the work of your guardian angel.

He stared at you through the wisps of white hair covering his eyes for a few moments longer. Then, slowly, he reached to pick one up, two long fingers pinching the treat between them.

You caught a glance of spired, bladelike teeth before he swallowed. You never questioned why an angel would have such a trait.

"How was it?" you inquired, beaming for a reaction.

His face, as far as you could tell, was blank. However, the magnificent pair of bone white wings behind him shuddered ever so slightly.

"Different."

You would take that.

The next morning, you awoke to the thick, metallic scent of rot. You searched for the origin of the putrid fumes, worried that you had left something out, when you had found it. A present was left for you on your doorstep; the corpse of a freshly deceased fawn, its head snapped to look in your direction. The wide eyed stare frozen onto its face held an unspoken warning.

An offering, for an offering.

[pearlymel]

Heart to heart

⑅˚₊ feat: Diluc, Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Ayato.

Summery: Romantic things you do with them, or they do to you.

notes: all fluff!! Gender neutral reader, mentions of taking a bath with neuvi but nothing sexual. This one was a short one but i enjoyed writing it nonetheless <33 not proofread i tried doing it while writing.

𓏲 ˖. Diluc.

— Picking flowers together. as cliché as that may sound, picking flowers has quickly become one of your favorite activities to do with your husband. Especially when you found a cute way to keep it on without tiring both of you too much, plus you could definitely store it in your journal books.

“Sweetie, hold on,” you take his wrist to adjust the tape around his skin that he seemed to struggle putting on, his confused expressions only fueling you more to do this with him.

“Darling, I’m failing to understand what’s the purpose of this…?” His frown turned upside down at your keen face. Seeing you all excited to do something with him again makes his heart race uncontrollably fast while he tries ignoring the pink rising through his cheeks by faking a cough with his fist covering his mouth.

“Flower bracelets.” You tell him, and before he could register in your words, you quickly laced your fingers with his and walked him out of the dawn winery for a short trip around the garden.

You soon demonstrated your idea of a bracelet flower to him, carefully picking the colorful petaled flower and sticking it on the tape around your wrist. He follows after, even serious about it when he walks around with your hand latched on his free hand, walking you around the bushes while making you sure you don’t trip or get hurt from the thorns of the bushes as he picks matching colors for both of you to wear.

— leaving love notes. But he strictly leaves the small notes around places only for you to see, he’d rather dig into his own grave than have Adelinde read those sweet words he saves only for you.

When you want journal on the desk, a note rests there. When you want to appreciate your appearance infront of the mirror? A note is right there. Do you want to change your clothes after a long day? Surprise, another “i hope you drank water.” Or “i miss you.” Note would hang there.

It has come to the point where you had to send him secret notes in return. So when Diluc opens the lunchbox you prepared for him to eat at angel’s share tavern during rush hours, he’s surprised to see a little hidden note.

With furrowed eyebrows, he picked up the note, eyes scanning through the neatly written “i miss you and i hope you enjoy your meal ♡︎” with a little heart at the end. He thinks he could almost faint.

“Tell me, what does it feel like to be married and have your heart race over the littlest sweet thi—“

“How about you fix your drinking habits, then maybe you won’t throw up infront of your date again. One closer step to marriage.” Diluc interrupts Kaeya’s usual teasings, who now has his jaw dropped. 

𓏲 ˖. Alhaitham.

— enjoying your hobbies together. Alhaitham loves nothing more than a good quiet time with his partner and the smell of new books in the air with every turn of a page. Now if you’re not into reading, then he would gladly read to you while you, sitting comfortably on the carpet with his back against the couch while you are above him sitting on the couch. Playing with his hair or even doing your own thing of you’d like. But if you don’t enjoy him reading to you either, then you talking or also indulging yourself in old hobbies would work for him. Anything as long as you were in the same room as him.

“… and so she came up to me and was like, what’s your hair routine?” You continue mindlessly talking about your earlier encounter with a random person while your hands were busy learning how to crochet.

“And did you tell her your secret?” He asked while flipping onto the next page of his book, “yeah, I wouldn’t gatekeep. Unless i used something that’s really hard to find in the market.” He hummed thoughtfully at your words, a small smile creeping upon his face. 

“And tada, I’m done.” You lower your hand to his head level to show him your newest crochet creation that you were pretty proud of. Although Alhaitham doesn’t know what it is… even when he tried avoiding the urge to ask, he needed to know what the hell you just created.

“And this is…?”

You gasp when he couldn’t immediately and magically figure out what it was, “it’s you!”

“Me?” He squinted at the green creature, fingers skimming over the soft material. Ah, he could finally see it. The little grey strands and wireless headphones that you managed to add. Oh well, he was going to add it to the collection on his shelf where you gifted him the other things you created.

“Thank you… sweetheart.” He let out a chuckle, turning his head to press a kiss at the side of your thigh and you swing your legs back and forth happily.

— cooking together. I believe Alhaitham knows how to cook, even if he doesn’t take a liking to it. It’s important to know and learn how to do things yourself and be independent, though he wouldn’t mind if you didn’t know how to cook. He would gladly cook for you, but he would teach you as well in the process.

“There’s like… sixty ingredients infront of me.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Okay there’s twelve ingredients.” You let out an exasperated sigh as you point out the arranged ingredients on the counter. “What are we even making?”

“Butter chicken.” Your stomach starts growling at his answer, and suddenly, you were determined to finish this dish with him.

“Firstly cut the onions, and ginger. Be careful with the knife.” He would start explaining it one by one while handing you the knife and cutting board. You don’t need to be told twice before you started cutting them up, the part where onions made your eyes tears totally slipped your head. Maybe it was a pain to cook.

“For… the butter chicken.” You say like you were going to disintegrate, Alhaitham shook his head while grabbing a tissue to wipe away those tears.

𓏲 ˖. Neuvillette.

— taking a bath together. As intimate as this sounds, He would rather do nothing but have a warm bubbly bath after a long day reading papers back at his office, with you of course. He finds the comfort of your presence with him to be soothing, and an escape to the overwhelming emotions he felt on a daily basis.

The sounds of moving waters and scrubbing of shampoo mixed with your skilled fingers massaging his scalp was the only thing disturbing the tranquility of the bath.

A low rumble leaves his throat, a soft sigh falling from his lips, “I cannot thank you enough, dearest.” The tension in his shoulders loosened as your nimble fingers massage his scalp, his head tilted back to melt back into your touch. And when you’re not washing him up, he would be right behind you, your back pressed up against his chest and his arms securely around your waist while he presses soft kisses along your shoulders.

“Are you happy, my love?” 

You snorted, “You’re asking obvious questions, honey.” 

“Mm, i can tell by your ear to ear smile. I was only making sure I’m not doing anything wrong.” You should definitely give extra reassurance for this inexperienced dragon.

— holding hands. Whenever neuvillette approached you, you should know that he would and will take your hand into his. Whether it be when you’re asleep, your hand would be held close to his chest. But of course he wouldn’t bother you while you do your chores.. unless you wanted to.. then he would gladly take your hand in his.

You were ready for him to take your hand when you both agreed on going out for a walk as the sun was setting. You watched how he pulled his gloves from his hands, the smooth, supple skin unveiling.

“Somehow, i feel honored to be the one holding your hand without the gloves.” You say in awe as you take his hand which earns a chuckle from him.

“As i am honored for you to accept holding my hand each time.” He spoke in that low and soft tone as you both started your stroll together.

Since it was rare for Neuvillette to be showing himself out in public, you tried taking him somewhere where he wouldn't attract much attention. Just the perfect place for both of you to talk about your day.

He would listen intently, letting the sound of your voice soothe him while he held your hand tightly, his grasp almost bordering on being too hard, but in reality, it was simply because he was afraid of losing you.

𓏲 ˖. Ayato.

— dancing together. It was only one time you mentioned it to him that you were in the mood to dance with him while everyone was asleep, including Thoma retiring for the night. And tonight, you definitely got your wish.

“Where did you learn how to dance?” Ayato smirked at your question as he led you effortlessly across the dancefloor, his hands firm yet gentle on your waist as he guided you in a graceful circle. 

“As the future head of the Kamisato Clan, it was expected that i learn the arts, including dance.” He twirled you around gracefully before pulling you back into his arms, his eyes locked on yours. “But i admit that tonight, I’m enjoying it more than ever before.”

"it's because I'm so good at this, right?" You add sarcastically while wiggling your eyebrows up and down. Ayato chuckled again, his smile widening a bit at your playful comment.

"Naturally, my dear," he said, his voice as well laced with a hint of sarcasm. "You're absolutely flawless, after all."

He pulled you a little closer, his hand snaking around your waist possessively.

"But yes, it doesn't hurt that I have such a graceful partner on my arm." He would then lean closer to rest his chin on your shoulder while you hummed, "You're lucky today, it's not everyday you get to see my talents." You whispered playfully, resulting to both of you laughing quietly in the hallways.

— playing board games together. Yes it's romantic if it gets you to laugh and fall in love more with them as you spend more time together, yes he would challenge you in a game of chess, and yes he would have to teach you how to play if you don't know the rules of it.

You sat across the table from Ayato, your eyes fixed on the chess pieces before you. The game was intense, both of you clearly well-matched. But with each move you made, Ayato was full of praise.

"Clever," he said, nodding in approval as you captured his bishop. "You're getting better at this, darling. Where did you learn to play like this?"

"Only learned from the best." You answer confidently before straightening your posture. But that doesn't mean his sweet talking should make you lose your focus on this game.

"Ah, you flatter me," he raised an eyebrow, his eyes briefly glancing towards you as he moved his knight. "And to think someone as talented as you would learn from me of all people." He spoke softly but in amusement, the words gliding smoothly off his tongue.

Just as you were about to celebrate victory too early, your squint at the board when he announced "checkmate" so innocently.

"I believe that's game," He looked up at you, his eyes gleaming. "Looks like I'll remain your teacher for a little while longer, wouldn't you like that?"

You sigh, a "yay." Escaping your lips unenthusiastically.

[sharkorok]

all eyes on you (enhypen)

or the moments that make everyone think you’re dating

cw/genre: idol!reader, reader doesnt have specified gender but implied to be a female, fluff, so cute bye, secret relationships, humor, u have delulu fans

requested: naurrr

a/n: ehe thx for 100 followers :) I hope my writing makes u happy because knowing people read my works makes me super duper happy! luv uuuu

•-•-•-•-•-•

heeseung

-at an awards show your outfits were matching, like very obviously matching

-matching bracelets, you had one on your left wrist and he had one on the right, the colors matched each other, same style and aesthetic…

-he gets v nervous but also you were in some dating rumors with another idol so…he wouldn’t be mad if he was next tbh….BUT THEN UR GROUP WAS ASSIGNED NEXT TO HIM??

-dawg was sweating the whole time trying not to admire you and how cute you two looked

-but no every one of those “enhypen mma reaction” or “heeseung reaction focus” showed him very clearly staring at you 😭, twt had a field day with you two

-he can’t help it, you looked so good and how can he keep his eyes off his lovely s/o when they’re all dressed up + matching?? seriously his management was insane for putting him so close to you

-and when all groups were leaving he was seen literally sprinting to be closer to you

-ya dispatch didn’t even need to confirm anything after that awards show

the others r below!

jay

-during a live he got his guitar out and started playing all your favorite songs

-and this was literally a day after you named your favorite songs

-then to make it worse he was like “yeah these are y/n’s favorite songs don’t they have good music taste?” and then he kept talking about you and staff was sweating while watching istg

-the way he talked about you tho,,he either had a massive crush on you or you two were dating

-the ship edits the next day were insane honestly some of your fans need to get into the editing business because you genuinely believed a photo of him holding your waist was taken at inkigayo

-he doesn’t even try to hide how much he likes you istg, he goes out of his way to talk to you at awards shows and always films challenges with you, he gives the shippers so much content

-then another time jay cooked your favorite food in a vlog and specifically said it was your favorite food, name dropping and everything

-literally no one is surprised that you two are confirmed dating after a while.

jake

-accidentally went on live while talking about you

-he fully believed he closed out of the app when he was talking to jay and saying stuff like, “I’m really excited to see her at the performance, I hope we have time to hang out…” and then he hears notifications and sees that he was streaming and he nearly faints

-plays it off like he fully intended for everyone to hear that and continues like he planned on going live

-he’s also trying to hide the way his eyes flickered up to your rapid texts being like, “JAKE WHY ARE WE TRENDING ON TWITTER??”

-jay is behind the camera just trying not to laugh becuz how do you even recover from this one, literally all the comments are talking about you and him

-“y/n…? yeah ahahah I know her uh huh mhm anyways moving on” and his horrible deflecting skills are making it even more obvious

-and when you go on live?? oh u bet the comments are “did you see jake’s recent live?? are u cheating on us y/n?”

-u desperately distract by spoiling your comeback but there’s already 14k Tik toks analyzing every interaction you had with Jake and why you two are cosmically intertwined

sunghoon

-describes you to a T when asked about his ideal type

-he meant to just mention the broad details but he gets excited talking about u ok :(

-“yeah a good heart and around (your exact height), with (the hex code of your eye color) eyes, born on (your birthday), hobbies include (every single one of your hobbies) and also…(literally all the information under your kprofiles page)”

-ur fans catch on and are like “isn’t this literally y/n” and he’s like “omg nooo coincidence”

-it is NOT a coincidence bro he was fully thinking of you and only you during that interview

-anyways you don’t help the situation by describing him too when asked about your ideal type, but ur at least a tad less obvious 😭

-“yea I love guys who ice skate and stuff”

-u two definitely get scolded by management

sunoo

-sometimes he forgets to care about keeping things secret (like that lipton tea thing he did)

-so he’s showing fans his camera roll and he shows selfies you never posted before…in his camera roll…never before seen by anyone but him and you to the camera and is like

-“y/n’s visual is so perfect, right?”

-and yeah duh ur stunning and gorgeous but fans are distracted by your beauty for a second before being like “hm…how did he get those selfies and why r they in his camera roll”

-ur fans r thankful for the content tho so he kinda did everyone a favor

-but it’s a LITTLE suspicious…but neither of you address anything so it just festers a little

-until you two do a tik tok challenge together and he captions it with a heart emoji like oh my god 😭

-you’re not innocent either when you said “sunoo’s visual is so amazing” like both of you get some media training I beg

-everyone loves how obviously whipped you two are for each other tho :,)

jungwon

-accidentally exposes your polaroid in his phone case

-thankfully he has photos of his members and maeum but why were you there??

-he completely ignores it tbh he shows the photos to the camera and is like “these r the polaroids in my phone case. anyways.” n he’s playing it cool but internally he’s PANICKING

-“hopefully they didn’t see the heart I drew on the Polaroid,” he thinks foolishly

-we did.

-so you try to do some damage control on your own live when asked about why he has ur photo in his phone and ur like “oh we’re really close friends!!”

-n honestly that’s a good and healthy response because everyone has the right to their platonic relationships

-but jungwon’s heart he drew on your Polaroid was just a little bit tooooo suspicious…anyways this leads to fans over-analyzing every single interaction to the point you two weren’t allowed to be seen in a ten foot proximity at events for a while

-but at least it reminded jungwon to be more careful lolol

niki

-accidentally rizzes you up on live television

-you’re an mc for smth and you’re interviewing enhypen and you’re like, “oooh, some burning questions, what is your ideal type?”

-and Niki, with no hesitation fully goes, “you lol” and you see ur career flash before your eyes

-ur co mc is nervously laughing and niki realizes like oh wait we’re being broadcasted so he’s like “oh just kidding haha!!!” even though you two are making awkward eye contact while you’re mentally scolding him

-he’s so used to teasing and flirting with you in private so it’s a little hard to shake off in public

-anyways fans notice he’s looking at you a little too lovingly and being a little too genuine when he responded so it’s not long before you see ship edits on Twitter and tik tok

-doesn’t help when you answer the ideal type question with “someone who is playful and funny” thinking it was broad enough but ‘twas not <3

-he doesn’t really care too much but thought it was funny, even if he had to take a media training class again afterwards >:T

[calmcoldevening]

Can you pls do slashers x reader who is very girly❤❤

It's ok if you don't want to do it!❤

Hey, of course I'll write it. Well, I didn't know which slashers you want, so I chose these four. If you want another slashers, just let me know, kitten ♡

I'm sorry it turned out so little, I'm just not good at 'girly' things

Slashers x girly!reader

Characters: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

Michael Myers

• He doesn't care. Michael absolutely does not care what you look like or what you wear, his affection is much deeper than external indicators.

• Although he doesn't particularly like it when you wear dresses or skirts that are too revealing. Michael sees people staring at you in the streets with hungry eyes. Because of this, he becomes very possessive. He will keep an eye on you on the streets with special care so that nothing happens to you.

• He likes your hips in dresses. After a long day, he just likes to put his hands under the fabric of your dress and squeeze your hips, his head resting on your stomach. You are his place of comfort.

• You are the only person whose feelings are even a little important to him. He'll be able to listen to you, but don't expect an extremely vivid reaction. If you're crying and you need comfort, the most he'll do is pull you onto his lap and hold you close, grumbling through his mask into your hair.

• He absolutely loves your shampoos and floral perfume. Amidst all the vulgarity of the modern world, you were his personal delicate flower.

• In general, such dynamics would be very much to Michael's liking. He is such a strong and big man and you are his little thing. He would be quite attentive, protective and dominant. If possible (if I remembered) Michael would bring you some trinkets, maybe even flowers.

Jason Voorhees

• Jason would be absolutely happy to be your partner. He would be as gentle, caring and attentive as possible. Jason is basically quite lonely, he lacks love and attention, and you are all so gentle and beautiful, like a young spring flower, he will love you with all his heart and protect you.

• Gives you flowers, teddy bears, all sorts of nonsense for no particular reason. He especially likes to collect flowers for you in the forest in a neat bouquet and tie it with a generic ribbon. Yes, it may not be a bouquet from the store, but it is made with all the love.

• He can listen for hours as you tell him about your makeup or some cute girly stuff. He will be very attentive. And although Jason doesn't understand everything about it, he will try to remember what you like. He really cares about your interests and tastes.

• If you make new nails, he will have a very violent reaction. Jason knows how important attention is to you, so when you come home with a new manicure, he will almost faint from such beauty. A man will gently take your smooth hands and gently kiss your beautiful fingers in turn. You are his treasure.

• Jason absolutely accepts and supports you, regardless of how you like to behave or dress. It will support all your new hobbies and help you if necessary.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba will squeal with joy when he finds out about your interests. In principle, he just liked to see you, so fragile and sweet against his background, in dresses, and now he finds out that you are interested in many different things... He loves you with all his heart.

• Bubba was fond of makeup and all that even before he met you, so now he will shyly ask you to teach him how to make up as beautifully as you do. His ears are red, and his gaze is fixed on the floor, he is a little ashamed to ask for such a thing. After all, he's such a big, tough man, but he trusts you.

• Very protective, especially from his brothers. He won't let anyone touch you.

• If you love cooking, he will be even more crazy about you. He's a pretty big boy, so he likes to eat delicious food. Hugs you tightly every time you cook your next incredibly wonderful dish. You have to eat, he has to do the dishes, he doesn't want you to ruin your delicate hands.

• Loves carrying you in her arms. He basically likes your size difference, it makes him feel like your protector. Madly in love with you and your personality, he won't let anyone hurt you.

Thomas Hewitt

• Thomas has wanted to have a sweet little wife and start a family with her all his life, but he didn't think anyone would really love him. And then you showed up. So sweet, beautiful, small and innocent. He's crazy about you.

• On the one hand, he is a strong, courageous and caring man who will try to do whatever you want for you, he always tries to make you happy. But on the other hand, in your gentle embrace, he turns into a stupid little boy who only wants attention from his beautiful wife.

• Thomas is very protective of you. He would not allow any of the victims to lay a finger on his fragile sweet lover. If they dare to look at you lasciviously, Thomas will rip out their eyes without a twinge of conscience. You made him change for the better with your bright and pure soul, but he still remains a violent maniac, so he won't let anyone offend you.

• Now he treats female victims a little more carefully. He tries not to spoil their jewelry or things, in case you want to take some of it for yourself. In addition, he takes special care to take the victims' suitcases out of their cars and checks for any trinkets that you might like.

• Can't stand the looks of Hoyt and Monty on you. When you walk around the house in a skirt or dress, Thomas tries to be close to you and hug you around the waist, covering your hips with his big hand. You are only his treasure.

[celenawrites]

late night drive (m.)

Summary -

After a stressful work day, you spend the night with two handsome men.

Pairing -

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish x F! Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Warnings -

Explicit smut (18+ only), slight praise, usage of nicknames (good girl, sweet girl, lass, etc), Oral sex (F, M receiving), Reader has self-esteem issues and it shows heavily, slight angst.

w.c. - 6.5k

masterlist || ao3 vers.

MINORS DNI, or I'll bite your ankles. This stuff is for adults only. 18+ folks only.

You have met them both at a seedy bar set a little off to the left from the heart of the city. 

Johnny and Simon. You remember them sitting at the bar, glasses half-filled with Kentucky bourbon, faint murmurs of their conversation flowing like a gentle stream between them and their hands tenderly drawing mindless shapes on their scarred skins. (as if they were writing their soft declarations of love with their fingers on each other, invisible to the eye and yet etched into their souls.)

You are uncertain how you caught their eye. You are not sure if there is something in you that they had caught in a passing glance, and decided to open their hearts (and their beds) to you for this one night as a result. 

You had been there after bombing another promising job interview, pissed at your failed potential (you were an A plus student - honors call and all, until you weren’t anymore) and the dead-end job of yours that had you feeling miserable for the past three or so years. It didn’t help that any time you fiddled with your phone, you’d be bombarded with pictures of your schoolmates and college friends marrying, or going on vacations and having a family of their own - growing older with someone, anyone; their lives full and moving and vibrant with colors that usually hurt your eyes. 

Meanwhile, you are just living. 

A day at a time. A week at a time. 

Day to day to day has always been the same. You wake up, work, cook and clean for one and you indulge in past hobbies in order to capture the joy that has somehow slipped past your fingers the older you grew. You have no furry companions you can use as an excuse to go out on a walk, no lovers to send raunchy texts to, and no friends who would abandon their children and husbands to give you company while you wallow in your eternal misery as you drink your pain away with a beer bottle with condensation settling down on its neck, leaving your palms wet and slippery. 

You don’t even try to think about your family. 

So there you are, an untouched glass of pink gin kept in front of you and your hands nervously raking through your oiled hair and your rumpled work outfit (a sky blue blouse paired with black pencil skirt) ostracized you further from the patrons of the bar. And then you’re approached by Johnny who eyes your colorful drink with mild interest. 

Johnny with his wild mohawk and kind brown eyes and kissable lips - who wondered out loud what a pretty little lady like you was doing in a place like this (you almost snorted derisively at the casual compliment, but the fatigue had you more amenable to flattery) and then he asked you about your disheveled state, and you tell him that everyone with a job feels like this on a usually busy weekday. He nods like he understands you, and then he invites you to join him and his boyfriend for some drinks. 

Who are you to refuse free drinks and such handsome company?

The conversation is freeing in a way that it allows your mind to forget that the world exists outside of this temporary, delicate bubble that consists of you, Johnny and Simon. Johnny fills the space with his warm voice, enveloping you in comfort and safety as he talks about anything and everything - he tells you that both of them are in the Army (But none of them would budge to answer any questions of yours. “If I answered that, I’d have to kill you”, he joked, but his hardened gaze told you that there is some truth to it.You decided to not let your curiosity guide you anymore.), the football game on the television hung up on the wall, the movie that came out last week, the bourbon they have been nursing for the past half hour or so (“Simon only likes it when it’s Kentucky”, he says and you understand the need for some delicacies of this life staying the same, no matter what.), and then he asks you if you’d like to eat something. 

You and Johnny share a plate of cheese fries. 

The fries are oversalted(the perfect drunk food, but unfortunately you haven’t even worked up a buzz with your neglected drink), and the cheese is too gooey for you to not eat without getting your hands messy. You cringe at the stickiness, and Johnny laughs at your predicament and you wonder if it is possible for radiant, burning stars to be born as mortals. 

His boyfriend, Simon, does not join you in eating the food. 

His face is covered by a black surgical mask, and he is mostly quiet - letting his more jubilant counterpart lead the conversation. But conversation lulls between satiating your hunger and Johnny encouraging you to drink from his glass. (“Try it, bonnie. Real booze hits different”, he offers hospitably, and then he chuckles as you sputter and choke at the liquid burning your throat. At least he’s kind enough to pat your back, and then he orders a tall glass of water for your poor throat.)

Simon shakes as he dryly chuckles at the antics of his partner, and you feel heat travel down your stomach at how rough and rich his voice sounds. You find it oddly comforting against the commotion of the busy bar tonight. 

After you made a fool out of yourself, the masked man (with his dirty blonde hair and white scars that ran all over his face, only for half of it to be hidden by his black surgical face mask) is much more receptive to having a conversation with you. He seldom talks, but he doesn’t shy away from cracking a dark joke or two that almost make you choke on your own spit. His eyes are dark and intense, and sometimes when your own gaze meets his own, you find it almost impossible to look away from him - afraid that the moment you do, you’d find yourself alone and miserable at the bar again. 

There seems to be a pleasant silence settling between you three, and with a warm face and heavy limbs, you lean into the warm hand that cradles the small of your back and let it gently spell something illegible yet almost affectionate into your skin, the fabric of the blouse acting as a poor guard between your sensitive body and the touch you were not aware you craved until now. 

You look on with heavy eyes as the couple has a secret conversation between them with their eyes alone. Warm, lovely eyes that were scattered across the different spectrum of shades of brown. Eyes that pierced you and stripped you naked until you were nothing more than your deepest yearnings and fears. Eyes that carried a never-ending love for each other, and each other alone. 

They talk in furtive glances, and all you can do is give up on deciphering their language and let yourself enjoy the circles being drawn onto your back by Johnny’s teasing fingers. (You possibly cannot expect to unfurl all of that history and love between them just because you get to be a part of it for a few hours, can you now?)

After they have made a decision and with a nod of mutual acceptance, Johnny turns back to you and you straighten up due to the sudden attention. He looks at you with something akin to desire, and you can only feel your mouth turn dry as he asks you:

“Wanna get out of here?”

They hail a taxi for the three of you. 

Johnny is curious and impatient with his hands as he fondles you and leaves fluttering kisses up your neck. You should be mortified; getting frisky with a man you have known for only a few hours, in a taxi no less. But the attention makes it easier to swallow the humiliation that tries to consume your thoughts. Your back is pressed up against Simon’s side, who is all the more satisfied with watching his boyfriend paw at you like a cat fascinated with his new toy. You tilt your head back, and curse out when Johnny’s lips touch a spot that makes your knees buckle. And then you feel a hand engulf your throat, squeezing you gently and you think you might as well just forget to breathe all together. 

“Such a pretty girl”, Simon whispers against the shell of your ear, and you are glad that the only source of light on your way to their place are the shitty streetlights, because you cannot school your expression into one of indifference. (You like the praise a little too much.You like it out of Simon’s mouth even more.)

After what seems like an eternity of being teased and taunted by sweet words and lazy actions, the taxi finally comes to a stop and you send out a prayer to any deity out there who might be awake at this odd hour and willing to lend you an ear, because you’re sure that this night will leave you ruined. 

You get out of the vehicle on wobbly knees and Johnny is all the more willing to support you while he guides you to the apartment complex where he and Simon currently reside. Simon throws the crumpled bills on the lap of the driver, along with a generous tip for putting up with his frisky lover and the sweet girl they have taken home and for not kicking them out in the middle of nowhere late at night. Simon joins you both in the elevator, and Johnny is all the more eager to pin you against him and finally kisses you on the lips. 

You moan into the kiss, your hands finally tugging on his mohawk and bringing you closer and closer to his body. (Not close enough, your body screams. Never close enough, it screams again.) His hands are all the more eager to explore every soft curve of you; restless fingers groping your breasts and making you arch into him even more. 

“Fuck, bonnie.Yer so soft”, he remarks after breaking the kiss, and you can only pant at how breathless one kiss from this man had left you. You can only wonder what more he’s capable of making you feel. 

You are turned around to face Simon, who looks at your crumpled blouse and your messy hair and the neediness that drips from your eyes and your swollen lips. He holds your chin and tilts it to look at him, before commanding you, “Open up, sweetheart”. 

You comply without any complaints, wanting nothing more than to obey the masked man. 

You open your mouth, letting your pink tongue tease your parched lips as you wet them and he pries your mouth open wider with a firm hand on your jaw. His dark eyes look down on you, and you feel as if you’re going to be sacrificed and all you can hope is that he likes the offering you have in store for him. (You you you, you offer him all of you.)

“Suck on it”, he orders and you swallow the thumb he offers you - letting you soothe your oral fixation while you impatiently resist the urge to tap your foot against the floor as you wait for the elevator to finish its ascent. 

You twirl your tongue around it, wetting the finger in your mouth before you let it out with a resounding ‘pop’, a thin string of saliva connecting your soft lips and the thumb. Your eyes look up at him in reverence, pleading with him to reward you for your good behavior. 

“Fuckin’ hell”, he rasps out, and he almost leans forward, almost closes the distance between you both when the elevator lets out a ring and stops on the designated floor. 

Through drunk giggles and impaired body coordination, you follow the men as they lead you to their apartment. The moment the door closes behind them (locked carefully by Simon, while Johnny guides you inside), they’re back onto you - clinging to your body like you’re the anchor that grounds them in the storm of life. 

And it feels nice to be needed like that, if only for a moment. 

You’re on your knees on the floor as you wait for Simon to do something.

You are naked - your clothes peeled off from your body after Simon unzipped it for you and Johnny had been all the more eager to palm your breasts in his hands - warm and calloused and greedy for more. 

Your blouse is discarded somewhere on the floor long forgotten.

(“Lovely tits”, Johnny had groaned as he had undressed you, and you thanked yourself for wearing a somewhat decent bra today. )

You sit waiting - a paragon of virtue and patience as you look up at the men who would be ultimately ruining you tonight. They talk in eyes again, and you feel a pang of irritation at your inability to decipher all that is said between them with just a single look. 

Your arms are folded across your chest - a decision you had swiftly taken after feeling a wave of self-consciousness hit you in full force. You can feel your ankles getting numb at the posture - the pins and prickles forcing you to momentarily shift your weight from the ball of your feet to your knees, taking the lack of notice from either men as an incentive to ensure you don’t end up with numb legs while you wait for them to finish whatever secretive talk they are having without words. 

Simon turns towards you and notices you struggling on your knees, and then he reaches for one of the pillows scattered near the headboard of their Californian-sized bed. He asks you gently, “Get up from the floor, lovie”, and you do, wincing as you feel the blood circulation return to your sore feet. He puts the pillow on the ground near your feet, bending down to fluff it up a bit for your disposal. You thank him for the considerate action, before assuming your position below him again - the pillow cushioning your knees and providing you much needed relief from the hard marble floor. 

“Look at me, lovie”, he commands and you follow him eagerly, tilting your head up to meet his dark eyes. He looks godly, hovering above you like an ethereal deity - his scarred hands and intimidating gait only gives your body the incentive to feel the thrum of desire in your bloodstream as it flows south, making you ready for him. 

For both of them. 

“A little help here, Johnny?” he beckons and the other man stands in front of Simon, shielding your view of him with his back as he helps the masked man take off his shirt, and if the muffled groans are anything to go by - they’re both kissing and you cannot even see Simon’s face. After a moment, he unzips his pants and lets the garment fall down to his ankles - leaving him in nothing but a dark pair of boxer briefs. 

Johnny falls down to his knees in front of him and Simon has his mask back on. Kneeling below him, he uses his mouth on his clothed cock, peppering him with soft kisses filled with drool and lust. Simon groans above him, letting his fingers card through the man’s mohawk as he encourages him with throaty noises to continue his actions. Eager to feel all of him, Johnny slides his thumbs into the band of his briefs as he slowly slides down the garment from his hips, letting it pool around his ankles as well. From where you’re seated, you can see how thick Simon is, and you cannot help the way your mouth waters at the idea of being used by him. 

You snap out of your thoughts when Simon pulls Johnny onto his feet by his mohawk, forcing him to bare his neck to the taller man and you swear you can hear him whimper when Simon catches his throat with his other hand before giving it a light squeeze. 

The sight before you is nothing short of heavenly. 

“Eager, are we?” he taunts him, taking his breath away with just a squeeze of his fingers and he lets out a throaty hum as he eyes up his partner, noticing the semi he’s been sporting in his jeans ever since he got a taste of you. 

“But it’s her turn”, he motions to you and you straighten your back as both men look back at you. 

“C’mere love”, he calls out to you, and you get down to your hands and knees, willing to crawl to him if that is what it will take for him to let you touch him, feel him under your fingertips. 

He shakes his head, stopping you in your tracks.

“No, bring that pillow with you too”, he orders you, “Don’t want your knees to get sore now, do we?”

You feel his hands pull at your hair gently as he brings out his still hard cock out of the confines of your soft mouth. Your lips are sheen with spit and pre-cum and the running makeup paints a debauched picture of you before these men. 

So perfect. So ruined. And all theirs for the night. 

You look up at him with teary eyes and longing and Simon is almost tempted to allow you to keep going, to let himself finish in your warm, soft mouth. But he has quite a night planned for the both of you(You and Johnny, Johnny and you - consuming his thoughts and mind and even his heart.), and he’d rather not finish in a handful of pumps before you. 

“Don’t pout at me, pretty girl”, he chides you playfully, his chest heaving as he takes in deep breaths to soothe the fire in his lungs that you have invoked within him.

You whine noncommittally, eyes focused on him and only him - and it almost shakes him to his core how much he likes having your attention all for himself. (Greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy-)

“Gotta get you ready for the both of us, yeah?” you nod eagerly at his statement, and then you feel a pair of arms around your waist lift you up in the air and you shriek as you’re thrown on the soft mattress, bouncing lightly at the impact as your head falls back on the bed. 

“Johnny!” you scream out in surprise, almost tempted to scold him for scaring you but his calloused fingers trace your curves and they tickle your skin that makes it hard for you to control yourself. You let out a soft giggle as the man hovers above you, letting his hands map out every little scar, every little mole, every little mark on your soft skin. 

He grins at you, before bending down and taking your lips in a soft kiss - growling a little as he tastes Simon on your lips. Pulling away, he looks down on you again as he cages you between his arms. 

“Hi there, bonnie," he whispers breathlessly. 

“Hi there, handsome”, you whisper earnestly, before turning your head to the side and kissing the inside of his wrist. 

“Johnny will help you get ready. Won’t you, Johnny?” Simon asks, and Johnny groans as he lowers himself down over your body till his eyes line up with the hem of your soft black panties. You exhale soundly in anticipation, propping yourself onto your elbows so your head is up and your eyes gaze into Johnny’s warm brown pupils. You let out an audible exhale when you feel his hands grab the meat of your inner thigh, before he leaves a tender kiss on it, letting out his tongue to taste your skin. Your head falls back on the pillow below you, and your hands find purchase in the luscious locks of his mohawk as Johnny lets his tongue rile you up by licking and kissing every inch of your exposed skin, avoiding where you needed him the most on purpose. 

“So sweet”, his teeth lightly bite the meat of your inner thigh, and you wince at the pain before whimpering. 

“So pretty”, his fingers play with the flimsy fabric covering your cunt, slowly tugging them to the side and revealing how needy you are for him. For both of them. 

“Johnny, please”, you beg him so sweetly with your fingers tugging on his hair, that he finally gives in to your demands with no further ado. 

It isn’t long until Johnny is fucking you with all he has. 

You have your face buried sideways into the pillow and a leg propped up on his strong shoulder, the position offering him a chance to fuck you deeper that your fingers or any half-hearted partner ever has. 

The pillow is wet from the sweat and spit and tears it has soaked up from you, and you bite the fluff of it, trying your best to mute your incomprehensive noises down - lest the nice couple fucking you right now get a noise complaint from their neighbours tomorrow - but to no avail. 

It’s like Johnny is on a personal quest to make you scream for everyone to hear. 

It also helps that Simon has taken it upon himself to fuck his boyfriend dumb, and what a sight it must be - Johnny fucking into you desperately and letting Simon control the rhythm of his hips as he fucks into him. You’d beckon that he probably has his tongue out - no man can survive fucking someone and getting fucked at the same time without letting it dumb him down like a mutt in heat. 

Too bad the room is pitch black for you to witness the filthy sight. 

At least the dark room allows Simon to take off his mask, even though it stings to know that you may never know the man behind the mask - may never remember the man who is giving you the best night of your life before you return back to your mundane life of spreadsheets, burnt coffee in styrofoam cups and manila folders the next morning. 

You feel your legs shake - the lethal amalgamation of pleasure and exhaustion coating your bones as you feel Johnny hit the spongy spot deep in you that makes you keel and beg into the mattress for the much overdue orgasm that has been building up inside you for the better part of the hour. 

He bends down, letting his tongue lick your neck and his sharp incisors drag over the taut skin as he mumbles about how pretty you sound when you’re fucked dumb. None of that matters to you right now, not when you’re this close to relief - but Johnny doesn’t oblige; either too dumbed down just like you to understand what you need, or denying you what you need on purpose - which is probably the cruelest thing he could fucking do to you tonight. 

You feel another pair of fingers slide up your thighs before said fingers finally map out your swollen clit amongst the mess of sweat and limbs and Simon uses his calloused fingertips to gently rub you until you’re crying and arching your back before you slide down back into the bed, your limbs sagging with relief as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Fuck, bonnie”, you hear Johnny grunt out, feel him fuck you rougher and feel his hands grope your breasts roughly, but you’re far away now - floating away in a strange, hazy headspace as you hear his groans before his hips finally stutter to a close and then he slumps forward, letting the brunt of his weight fall down on you. 

Simon follows him soon after, slowly pulling out from his partner with a soft ‘Fuck’.

You whine at the impact, pushing at his shoulders weakly as you urge him to get his weight off from your sore body. You sighed out when he eventually obliged, letting himself fall into bed beside you, his fingers gently playing with your messy hair. You feel his stubble tickle your face as he lands a soft kiss against your jaw, “You were so good for us, lass”. 

You preen at the praise, letting his soft words and touch comfort you as you slowly feel yourself regain control of your body and your mind, already missing how you felt just a moment ago. 

You can hear the running faucet in the bathroom next door, and listen to the doors creak and soft footfalls before Simon returns to the scene with a wet washcloth. He taps your knee and you part your legs obediently for him - feeling the wet cloth drag over your innermost parts as he wipes you clean before offering you a few face wipes kept near his nightstand, which you take gratefully and you wipe away the smudged makeup, smearing the ruined mascara all over your cheeks. You hear Simon sigh before he gently pries the thin wipe from your hands, taking it upon himself to help you clean up nicely. In the dim moon light peeking through the windows, you notice he has his mask back on, and you feel disappointed at how you haven’t been able to look at him. You feel Johnny’s fingers gently massage your scalp, and the tension in your shoulders leaves you promptly, making you sag into the soft mattress as he coos at you, occasionally kissing your cheeks. It’s almost enough to put you at ease. 

It’s not long before the boys clean up after themselves before they join you back in bed. Sandwiched between the two men, you feel exhaustion and the afterglow lull you into a false sense of security - and you almost feel like you’re cared for. 

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep, despite your best efforts. Your thoughts have been nothing short of cruel, and you only feel shame creep under your skin the more you think about how this night had transpired. 

You have desperately gone home of two stranger men (who are together, no less), sat down on your knees like a desperate whore (and liked it), had gotten naked for them (and let them see all of your curves and rolls and blemishes), and let them fuck you dumb till you almost forgot your damn name. 

And now you lie between them, unable to put your mind at ease and sleep away the second thoughts.

Mortification seems to be the least of your worries at the moment. 

The worst part seems to be the fact that you wished for nothing more than to prolong the facade of love and gratitude they had for you when they cleaned you up, only for it to be redirected to each other as they checked in on each other with hushed whispers and soft kisses, their intermingled hands serving you a bitter reminder that you cannot overstay your welcome. 

It’s them first. And then you. 

You are just another body they had invited to warm their bed for the night. 

You are quick to wiggle out of the bed, feeling your ears burn in embarrassment as you try your best to locate your discarded clothes on the cold bedroom floor. You find your skirt near the legs of the bed, your cotton panties not far off from there. Your blouse and bra lie near the door, and you’re almost dressed when you hear a light click and see the light of the table lamp illuminate the room in a soft yellow. Johnny blinks, still sluggish from his interrupted sleep as he rubs away the sleep from his eyes, and you stay standing, frozen in your step. You almost feel guilty for waking him up. Were you not quiet enough?

You feel like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar by her mother. 

“Yer leavin’?” he asks with a helpless look on his face, and you almost walk back into his arms.

Almost go back to the space they have created for you - between them. 

The clock reads a quarter past three when they both offer to drive you home. 

It’s not long before Simon wakes up from the commotion. (You turn around and train your eyes on the wall, waiting until you’re certain that his face is covered - having taken the hint that he would not welcome the idea of revealing his identity to you yet.) Soon enough, they’re both asking you why you’re up and leaving and the sincerity in their voices almost convinces you that they want you here. 

But you use work as an excuse to go back home, and despite how obvious that lie is, Simon insists on driving you home nonetheless. (You almost turn him down, but Johnny pipes in, “There’s not gonna be a whole lotta cabs for ye to hail. Let us make sure our lady reaches home safe,”, and you feel your walls crumble slightly, feel your very foundation of self-hatred and pity shake at how he addresses you as theirs. As if you’re now a part of them, like they’ve been a part of each other for years.)

They ask you to stay anyway, promising to drop you off to your home first thing in the morning - bribing you with promises of cuddles in your sleep and breakfast in bed; promising you intimacy you’re wholly undeserving of, and you cut them off swiftly as you tell them that you’d rather be at home right now so that you can wake up later and go straight to office - no detours welcomed. 

Reluctantly, they comply.

So you let them both escort you out of the apartment building and you stand with Johnny while Simon revs up his car and lets the engine warm up before letting you both sit inside. Johnny naturally assumes his place beside Simon, sitting in the passenger seat and you sit in the backseat. You almost feel apprehensive about telling them your address, but your rattled brain cannot seem to care about it - too tired and strung up to give a shit about ‘stranger danger’. 

Simon types out your address on the phone and he soon follows the path - the soft hum of the engine making you succumb to the tiredness you feel and you lie down on your side, the leather seat of the car cushioning your now-throbbing head and you cannot help but close your eyes just for a moment. 

After a few minutes, you hear Johnny talk about buying groceries and he asks out loud if his boyfriend would like to add anything to the list. Simon softly replies back with a few additions - whey protein, some bananas, pancake mix, shower gel and a room freshener spray. Johnny mulls over it before recalling some more things they need to buy soon. (“Dusting cloths. Manure. Oh, gotta get some stuff from the hardware store too!” “Don’t forget to get some cereal and protein bars.” “Roger that, Lt.”)

The conversation lulls. And then it begins anew. 

Simon asks Johnny if he’d like to have biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and he lets out an almost disappointing groan at his atrocious food choices. (Or so he tells him.) Instead, Johnny suggests they have some hash browns. (“Gotta get that carb in for the long day ahead!” and Simon just chuckles dryly at his reasoning.)

Then, they talk some more - about work and people. About how they’d need to go back to work, and how they’d miss staying home together. About how they should get some cigars for ‘Price’, whoever that may be. About how ‘Gaz’ is vacationing in Italy with his family. About how they should have a vacation the next time they get a break that lasts them more than a week. 

They hold hands - at least Johnny does, and he brings his partner’s hand to his face, softly kissing his knuckles, and that is when your curiosity wins over as you open your eyes to witness the sickly sweet scene of two men, two souls being in love. Johnny looks at him like Simon’s his entire universe - and 

You shut your eyes quickly, feeling like an outsider between them both. 

That’s maybe because you are one, your brain supplies you with this thought rather unkindly and you dig your nails into your palms to distract yourself from it. 

The scene oddly enough reminds you of your parents when they were still in love and when you were young and sleeping in the backseat after an exciting evening at the city fair. It is far too domestic and tender for an outsider like you to intrude upon, and so you keep your eyes shut - unwilling to witness them and get your heart broken again. 

As their conversation fades to silence again, you bravely open your eyes - squinting in the dark as the only source of light are the street lights outside. You witness Simon with his hand on Johnny’s thigh, his thumb drawing soft circles against the soft cotton of his black joggers. You witness Johnny humming to himself with a satisfied smile on his face as he occasionally looks at Simon with love in his eyes. Pure, unconditional love brimming in his brown, almond eyes. And when you look at Simon, his eyes reflect the same - unfiltered affection and absolute devotion; all these emotions reserved for the love of his life. His only love of his life. 

It makes you sick. 

Sick with yearning. Sick with the green monster of envy. 

You’re so sick with it all. 

This time when you close your eyes, you feel a tear drip down your nose as you let the soft whirr of the engine and Johnny’s humming act as the lullaby you needed to hear before you sleep.

You feel someone shake you softly by your shoulder when you come into consciousness. 

“Wake up, dove”, you hear Simon call you, “We’re here already”. 

You stare up at him as he hovers over you from outside the car. His masked face gives little away about how he’s feeling at the moment, but you feel embarrassed all the same - for intruding upon them and for sleeping in their car as they drove you home half-asleep and still in their pajamas. 

You get up and use the back of your hand to wipe away any drool, snot or tears you might’ve let out while you were out like a light in the backseat of their car. The opened car door lets in the chilly night wind, and you shiver at the drop in temperature. 

“Here, have this”, he offers you a windcheater jacket - and you gratefully take it and zip it up till the collar of the clothing lightly brushes your chin.  He extends his hand to you, and you take it  - letting his calloused palm warm up your cold fingers as he escorts you out of the vehicle. Once you’re out on the concrete pavement, you notice Johnny leaning against one of the many lamp posts scattered across your street. He’s rubbing his hands for some warmth, and the yellow streetlights act like a halo around his tousled mohawk. He’s angelic. 

The steady echo of your footfalls catches his attention, and he turns to look at you with such warmth in his eyes that you falter in your steps for a moment. His kind, blue eyes look at you like you’re the moon - like you’re something familiar and he’s known you forever. 

You do not know what to make of it. 

“Had a nice sleep, lass?” he asks you casually, and you feel the tip of your ears warm up in embarrassment. 

You nod demurely, before responding, “Yeah, I did. I’m so sorry I troubled you with escorting me back home”. 

“Don’t apologize”, Simon speaks up as he rests a gentle hand on your left shoulder, before he joins Johnny in standing in front of you. He looks at you with an unreadable look, and you worry that he can see what you don’t wish anyone to notice. That he can tell. 

“We had to make sure our bonnie reached her home safe”, Johnny quips, and you feel your resolve crumble just a little bit - his honeyed words coaxing you to hug him and it catches him off guard, just a little. To feel your arms wrap around his body, to feel your heart beat so fast before falling into synch with his

“Thank you”, and you mean it - for taking care of you, for making you forget your shitty office and your shitty job for the night, for driving you back home, for showing you what love is (even though it burnt you from inside to see what they have and know that you’d never have that). 

You’re thankful to them for a lot of things. 

You’re curled up on your side on the bed as you try to catch some sleep before the sun greets you from between the curtains over your window, but all attempts to go back to sleep fail you. 

You almost wish you hadn’t been woken up. You almost wish you were still in their car, letting them drive and talk to each other. You almost wish you hadn’t left their bed - letting their rough hands gently caress her into a peaceful slumber, feeling their love for each other fill her up. 

You should’ve at least gotten their number. 

It was worth a shot, and if they didn’t want anything to do with you after tonight, you’d have been able to console yourself with the possibility that you won’t have to see them in the future and get taunted by the very notion that you have been all too desperate and all too needy for someone to love you. 

But you didn’t, and you caress your own arm with light fingers as you convince yourself that it was all for the best that you hadn’t done anything about it. 

This was all for one night. They just needed someone to warm their beds for a night, and you did just that. Wishing for it to be something more is just plain stupid on your part. They’ve loved each other for a lifetime, and you’ve known them for only a night. You cannot fathom carving a place for yourself between Johnny and Simon. Simon and Johnny. 

Not without becoming an unwanted third wheel - tolerated by the couple since they’re too courteous to tell you off. Not without becoming a placeholder - a human paperweight until a better man or a better woman comes along to be where they rightfully belong. With them. 

So you hug yourself tight with your nails digging into your arm, and gently rock back and forth in the same place on your bed, as you soothe yourself with empty words and tell yourself that what you did was a brave thing - and this was all for the best, even if it makes your chest feel like a hollowed out tree, empty from within. 

Note -

Got inspired by the poem - 'After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home' by Sue Hyon Bae cuz it resonated with how I have always been a bystander or a temporary placeholder between friends and couples alike - always fearing that I will never be able to experience love. Started writing this fic fuelled up on my personal thoughts and projections. Then, October came and seasonal depression knocked my ass out. Got back into writing it. Couldn't handle it well, so I rushed the ending. Bon apple tit, y'all. Or whatever the fuck they say in France.

[illdiealonelyguy]

Apartment Story (Spencer Reid x BAU!reader)

We'll stay inside till somebody finds us, do what ever the tv tells us, stay inside our rosy minded fuzz.

My first time writing something like this, and i'm sure its not very good and there's room for sooooo much improvement, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Summary: You've reached the groggy, grey winter months where nothing much usually happens, but this year is a little different. This year, you have Spencer Reid by your side. To combat the post-christmas blues and make some use of the last remaining weeks before you both head back to your desks at the BAU, Spencer attempts to find solutions for you both to remain as calm and content as you possibly can.

Tags: Spencer Reid x BAU!reader, fluff.

Word Count: roughly 789

You were roused by the sound of shuffling sheets beside you,and a temporary loss of warmth, before an arm reached itself under your side of the bedsheets to the small of your back. Eyes still heavy and closed, you nuzzled back towards the main source of heat - your own personal central heating system: Dr. Spencer Reid. Gently, you opened your eyes, head still resting against his chest, and peered up to be welcomed by his adoring smile.

"Good morning," Spencer whispered as he kissed the top of your head.

"Morning," you croaked, still squashed against his body, your breath against his neck making him giggle.

You open your eyes wider, this time gauging an impression of today's weather: grey and wet. just like everyday since the start of November, it seemed. This specific state of the weather was sure to weigh heavy on your heart until the end of March, when things would start to brighten up and look more alive.

"Hey, what's gotten you looking so somber?" Spencer inquired while turning your head towards him with his hand on your cheek.

"The weather! i just feel so trapped in such a monotone season. Eveything looks like it's been stripped of life," you lament into his caring eyes, a hint of worry working it's way into them. "You make me feel better, though. I remember once telling you that i think i chase the sun. It makes me feel far more alive and productive and full of ideas. Anyway, i came to the conclusion that you are my sun. Just being around you is enough to, for a while, help me forget about how much the winter months tend to weigh on me. So, thank you for that." You smile up at him while a faint flush settles over his cheeks, clearly bashful at such a - as he would put it - poetic metaphor.

"You're thanking me for being myself?" he chuckles.

"I suppose i am," you affirmed, leaning in to kiss him. He replied with a hum as he kissed you back, contentedly.

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

You both spent your morning cuddling, reading and drinking tea (well, coffee for Spencer) and after the afternoon hit it's peak, the daylight seemed to be sucked away too fast for your liking.

Returning from the kitchen with two cups of tea occupying both of his hands (Spencer's new year resolution to only drink coffee in the mornings for a better night's sleep seemed to be going well, you thought) Spencer padded towards you in his fuzzy-sock clad feet, sitting beside you on the sofa and turning to you, thoughtfully.

"I think we should buy you a SAD lamp. Oh, and also stock up on puzzles, sudoku books, crosswords and other activities which will stimulate both of our brains. Well, I of course tend to these activities more than you- there's nothing wrong with that by the way! You enjoy more creative hobbies and i logical ones, but we could build puzzles together as i'm very, very bad at creative activities. Oh! I could also run to the pharmacy and get some vitamin c tablets. They'll be good for us to take in the winter," Spencer offers in a breathless frenzy.

You chuckle at his despiration "Are you still thinking about what i said earlier? Spencer, it's common to feel slightly more down in the winter months, i don't want you worrying about me too much!" you reply with a comforting smile, reaching out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it a few times as if to physically transmit your words into him.

"I know, i know. I just care about you so much and i'de hate for you to feel the weight of the shorter days wearing you down. I feel less motivated this time of year, too. But - not to steal your beautiful metaphor here - i think you might me my sun, too. Sunlight increases the production of sterotonin which helps improve mood and promote feelings of happiness, and spending time in the sunlight can reduce levels of cortisol in the body. You have the same affect on me."

"The science in your metaphor made that sound far more romantic," you giggle as you consider his words, Spencer gazing at you lovingly. "I think we will survive, love. We've got eachother, and our books, and yes if you like you can buy a bunch of brain stimulating puzzles," Spencer gazes downward shyly at your words.

"I think we've got an arsenal of things within ourselves to battle the winter blues away. Especially eachother." You end with, softly.

Leaning towards you, Spencer takes you in his arms. "I think you might be right." He mutters into the soft material of your shirt, holding you tightly.

[lavenderchqn]

Hello!! If reqs are still open may I ask for an enamel cup of rooibos tea :'). If you're taking fic suggestions too, I've been thinking about office workers au.. or where you're both forced to go to an office party and wind up drunk!!

✧・┆airén — alhaitham

— after finishing your first big project at your current workplace, you as well as your secret partner are forced to attend a party full of alcohol... and well, chaos ensues

content warnings mentions of alcohol, being drunk, people forcing others to drink for their own amusement

thank you for the request! I really enjoyed adding a secretive relationship~

Keeping a secret can be gruelling, not to mention keeping a relationship undercover when it is clearly against the rules of the workplace. 

You sigh, dotting the last sentence of the report you had been writing to finish the biggest project you’d ever taken since starting to work at this job. You can barely keep your eyes open, having spent over four hours just on the damned thing. 

Your fingers ache from typing, and your brain feels like mush, but at least it’s done. You lean back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head as you glance at the clock on your desk — 1:47 p.m. Everyone else had long gone to have lunch, leaving the office in eerie silence, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.

You’re muttering to yourself, trying to figure out what’s the next thing you ought to do. Well, sending the report would be the wisest thing to do, followed by having some food. And yet, despite having opened the platform, for some reason you seem to hesitate to forward the files. 

This project had been something of a breakthrough of yours. You’ve grown quite attached to the idea of it, as well as to all the people involved with it. Letting it go like that… makes you feel like you’ve lost a part of yourself. 

“Done.” Out of nowhere, Alhaitham comes over to send the report to your place, causing you quite the scare. The bloody man, who not only was the one you’ve been in a relationship with for the past few months but also the complete opposite in terms of work ethics. 

Ever since you could remember, you had always put so much effort into everything you did — school, work, hobbies… Staying to work overtime was basically second nature to you by this point. How on earth did you end up with a guy who’s out of the office the second clock strikes 5 o’clock. 

A notification ping is what gets your focus back in order, your partner still hunched over your chair. Everyone in the office has now been notified of your accomplishment. 

“Good job on that, [Y/N],” Alhaitham says, putting your laptop in sleep mode. “Time for lunch.” He says, straightening his back and offering his hand to help you stand. 

You blink up at him, still a little stunned by his sudden appearance and the swiftness with which he took over. He has a knack for stepping in at the most unexpected times, and his calm, composed demeanour always leaves you slightly off balance. 

“Could you not sneak up on me like that?” You say, placing a hand on your chest to steady your racing heart. Oh how glad you are, that the office takes the small gestures the two of you share as just being friends. You have been keeping it very lowkey, but with a person of Alhaitham’s personality, any sudden behaviour change would be noticeable. 

He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but with a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “You were so deep in thought I figured knocking would be redundant.” 

“You figured wrong,” you mutter, but a small smile betrays your annoyance. Despite yourself, you’re grateful for his presence. Even if his approach is less conventional than yours, he has a way of lightening your workload — and your mood. 

When you hesitate to take his hand, still thinking about the report and the massive effort behind it, he leans down slightly, his voice growing softer. “You’ve done enough for today. Give yourself a break. You deserve it.”

His words strike like a chord. You exhale a deep breath, finally taking his hand. As he helps you to your feet, you can’t help but notice how effortlessly he anchors you, both physically and emotionally. 

“I can’t believe you sent it without giving me a chance to go over it one last time,” you grumble as the two of you walk towards the elevator. 

Alhaitham gives you a nonchalant shrug. “If you went over it, we’d miss lunch. Besides, I know how thorough you are. There’s no way that report has a single flaw.” 

You glance at him, half-suspecting him of sarcasm, but his tone is genuine. A faint warmth spreads through your chest at the single inkling of a compliment from him, and you finally allow yourself to relax for the first time in hours. 

As the elevator doors slide open, you glance around to make sure no one’s nearby before stepping inside together. Although there’s not much risk in being caught at a place like this, having the security of nobody joining you is lovely. 

“We ought to be back at 3 p.m.,” Alhaitham says, picking the ground floor and casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “Silence your phone.” 

“Where are we going?” You ask as the elevator begins its descent. 

“There’s a café down the street I’ve been meaning to try. Quiet, good food, not too crowded. Since we’re thirty minutes late to lunch there’s going to be even fewer people.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “Since when do you scout out lunch spots?” 

His lips quick into a faint smirk. “Since I started dating someone who forgets to eat whenever working on a big project.” 

Your cheeks warm at his remark, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Well, I hope it’s as good as you say.” 

After a short while, you’ve reached your destination — the ground floor. The elevator dings and the doors open. 

The two of you barely leave the elevator when all you can hear is the hurried steps of somebody getting close to you. 

“[Y/N],” Your manager comes up to you, a cheerful smile across his face. “Congratulations on finishing the project!”

Your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Out of instinct, you step slightly away from Alhaitham, creating a safe distance between the two of you. It’s a subtle movement, but you know your partner doesn’t miss it. It’s almost as if his perception of your behaviour doubles in power whenever at work. 

“Thank you,” You reply, managing a polite despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. “It was a team effort.” 

“Nonsense!” Your manager exclaims, clapping you lightly on the shoulder. “You’d led this project beautifully. I’ve already forwarded your report to the higher-ups. They are going to be very impressed with your work.” 

“That’s great to hear.” You say though you feel like you’re barely holding onto your professional facade. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Alhaitham’s lips twitch, as though he’s holding back a smirk at your discomfort. 

Your manager continues, oblivious to the underlying tension. “From what I’ve heard, a party is going to be held to celebrate the accomplishment. Be sure to attend it, you had played the first fiddle, after all.” 

At the single mention of a work event, your chest tightens. You’re probably the second to last person who would show up to one of those — only being after Alhaitham. 

“It’s going to be mandatory.” The manager says, already predicting your decline of the offer. “The official note will probably be sent out by the end of the day. The same goes for you, Alhaitham.” The male looks at your partner with a sharp eye. Alhaitham, on the other hand, only rolls his eyes already tired at what’s about to come. 

With that, you’re left to your devices. Food first, complaining about a mandatory “team-bonding” party second… After all, you both know it’s only a means for the higher-ups to gather costs for tax returns and get drunk, nothing more, nothing less. 

You haven’t even entered the venue yet and you already feel lightheaded at the overwhelming stench of alcohol in the air. It’s far too for your liking, and you barely got here.

“The lady of the hour!~” Nilou, the only sane human resources lady as well as the person you would’ve considered your second work bestie at the company, greets you the second you enter the room with a cheerful smile on her face. “Congratulations on your project, dearie.” 

She envelops you in a warm hug, her genuine excitement so infectious that it momentarily dissipates your dread about the evening. Despite the suffocating air of the venue, her cheerful presence feels like a breath of fresh air. 

“Thanks, Nilou,” You say, managing a small smile. “I didn’t really have a choice but to show up, though.” 

She chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “I figured as much. But hey, at least there’s free food and a chance to celebrate your hard work. You deserve it.” 

You glance over her shoulder, scanning the room for familiar faces. Sure enough, there’s your manager already drunk off his mind and in a discussion with some other department head, as well as a few clusters of employees milling about, drinks in hand. Thankfully, there’s no sign of Alhaitham just yet. He’ll likely be just on time because he doesn’t get paid to show up earlier. 

Unfortunately, you manage to lock eyes with somebody near the bar and they’re already headed your way to offer you a welcome drink. 

“Bottoms up, [Y/N].” The person says, showing a glass into your palm and getting everyone present to look at you. Speak about being put on the spot… and a health code violation. You just hope Nilou has taken note of the person who offered you the drink. 

There’s a slight hesitation in your hand. From what you can gauge, what you’ve been given is an entire glass of rectified spirit — arguably the strongest alcoholic beverage out there. You just hope they won’t be idiotic enough to force-feed you these after this one.

With some drunkards posing as your coworkers egging you on, you drown the glass in one go, feeling nauseous as it goes down your throat. You will absolutely be regretting that the second you get home. You almost take a stumble, but Nilou is right there to help you steady your body and lead you to have a seat. 

“Please—“ You hiccup, getting tipsy off the singular glass already. “Give that person a stern talk…”   

Nilou’s face twists into a mix of concern and irritation. She helps you settle onto a nearby chair, patting your back gently. “I’ve got you covered.” She says, her voice firm. “Don’t worry about them. That was unacceptable and completely uncalled for.” 

Your head feels like it’s spinning, the potent alcohol hitting your system much faster than you anticipated. You try to focus on breathing, hoping to steady yourself before things get worse. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Nilou storming off toward the offender, steps strict and purposeful and her expression unreadable. 

A few moments later, a familiar voice breaks through the haze. “It’s only six p.m. and you’re already drunk?” 

You glance to see Alhaitham standing over you, his hands crossed and an almost imperceptible crease of concern on his otherwise stoic face. For once in his life, he decided to push his hair back and dress in a grey suit. Oh fuck, he’s hot. 

“You’re late.” You mumble, your words slurring slightly as you rest your head on your hand. “Wasn’t there to save me…” 

He quirks an eyebrow, crouching down to your level. “What happened?” He says, his tone unexpectedly soft. You just hope your tipsy state is not misreading his actions. 

“Someone thought it’d be hilarious to offer her a glass of a strong spirit,” Nilou interjects as she returns, her irritation still simmering. She gestures towards the culprit, who now looks sheepish under the sharp glare of Nilou’s superiors. “Is there any possibility you’d be able to look after [Y/N] tonight, Alhaitham?” Nilou asks, taking a pause before adding. “I’m going to be on the lookout for that comedian in specific.” 

Alhaitham sighs, nodding. “Leave it to me, I suppose.” He says curtly.

“Thank you so much!” Nilou smiles at his sacrifice, promising in her mind to stand behind the male tremendously in case HR is ever on his case. 

Not leaving immediately after finding out you were drunk was the biggest mistake Alhaitham had made today. Somewhere along the way he also got tipsy… despite being the designated driver of tonight’s escapade, resulting in him having to witness your drunken antics with a mild headache. The way he had to stoop that low as to message Kaveh to get over to pick the two of you up, was unbelievable. 

“You knoww…” You start, leaning against him. “You’re so mean to everyone but me…” Archons above, you are going at this again? It was around the third time you decided to take pride in being the sole worker who Alhaitham didn’t actively despise. 

Alhaitham groans inwardly, his tipsy state making your slurred words seem both endearing and annoying. He supports you as you cling to his arm, your weight pressing against him, making it impossible to avoid your proximity. 

“You’re exaggerating,” he mutters, his voice low and almost monotone despite the slight flush on his cheeks. “I’m mean to you too, silly.” 

“You aren’t!” You insist, poking his chest weakly. “You’re all stoic and scary… but with me, you’re… kinda sweet. Not to mention… you look fucking hot in grey.” 

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk, but he quickly composes himself. “Maybe you’re half annoying, ever thought about that?” 

You gasp, your drunken eyes widening as if he’d just confessed the world’s greatest secret. “Oh my god, you do like me more than anyone else!” 

The volume of your declaration turns a few heads, and Alhaitham instinctively glances around, his hand gently gripping your waist to steady you and keep you from attracting further attention. “Lower your voice,” He says, his tone firm despite being full of worry. 

By some sheer miracle, he makes eye contact with Nilou, who smiles awkwardly. She is fully aware you’re less than in your fullest brain space. Although, from Alhaitham’s point of view, she is not aware of your relationship… he trusts her in not reporting whatever you’re doing to the higher-ups.

Tilting her head in confusion, the redhead joins the two of you, worried for your state.

“Maybe it’s best you take her home now?” She asks, crouching slightly to check your face. “I’m worried she’ll get even more unhinged.” 

Alhaitham nods, his hand steady on your waist. “That’s the wisest decision. I appreciate the help, Nilou.” He shifts his weight, ready to guide you out of the venue. 

“Good luck,�� Nilou says with a knowing smile. “If you need any help, just call me.” 

Once outside, the crisp night air hits you like a splash of cold water, slightly sobering you up but not enough to stop your drunken musings. Alhaitham leads you to the car he definitely shouldn’t be driving tonight, opening the passenger door for you. 

“Get in,” He orders gently.

You hesitate, squinting up at him. “But you drank too. Who’s driving? You can’t drive. That’s dangerous.” 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Give it a minute. Just get in the car, alright?” 

Satisfied with his answer, you slump into the seat, leaning your head back and mumbling something unintelligible about being betrayed by other coworkers. You barely even notice when your words begin to slur together, not due to alcohol in your body, but from sheer exhaustion. 

“—cking hell,” A curse is what ultimately wakes you up from the lovely nap you were having. “This is the last time that group of pillocks gets me out to go anywhere.” 

“Pillock?” A higher voice questions. “Can’t believe some alcohol turns you into an old man!… Well, you do have the hair for it.” 

“Kaveh.” 

“So-Sorry!” 

Ah. So the driver must’ve been Kaveh — Alhaitham’s unrecognised best friend as well as an architect you’ve grown to become friends yourself. You decide against saying anything, your brain is far too foggy to even make coherent sentences. You’re pretty certain you’re already having the first symptoms of a hangover. 

And tomorrow? Well, you will be joined by your partner in groaning about a massive headache, luckily aided by Kaveh’s good heart… and multiple glasses of water. 

date of posting — december 27th 2024

[offbrandkyoya]

[8]

m.list next

Kageyama lets out a sigh. He wants things to work out so badly. He’s not sure what he did, but he knows it’s all his fault.

His crush walks back into the room and sits back down. “Sorry for taking so long.” Kageyama puts his phone down next to him. "No, it’s fine. You didn’t make me wait a lot.” They smile. “That’s good.”

Kageyama's cheeks flush as he struggles to ask, “Do you have any hobbies?” They look at him, surprised. “Do I have hobbies?” “Y-Yeah.” They think for a moment. "Mm, not really, no.” “Oh.” Kageyama scratches his cheek. “What do you like?” “Like what?” Kageyama's face grows even redder. “I don’t know. What do you like to do overall?”

They laugh, “Well, I like talking to you.” His heart bursts. “I’m not into volleyball that much, but it’s interesting watching you play.” Kageyama could faint right now. He takes a breath and looks away from them. “I like talking to you too.” His cheeks are burning. Kageyama slowly turns his head towards them.

He’s surprised to see his crush’s flustered face. They place their hands on their cheeks, rubbing them slightly, almost like that’ll get rid of the pink color. “Thank you.” They say it in a hushed tone. Kageyama looks the other way. The two sit there with flushed faces, but the silence is comforting.

They just got closer.

“Um,” His crush speaks up. “We should continue. I don’t want to waste your time.” Kageyama clears his throat. “R-Right.” They smile and open one of the textbooks. Kageyama continues to stare at them. He loved how calm they were in every moment they had.

Their soft gaze and delicate aura that lingered around them. They’re so focused and always on task. Don’t get him started on how pretty their eyes are. They’re so nice and kind that Kageyama is convinced they’re an angel from heaven.

“Kageyama?” He snaps back to reality. Their head was tilted a little. “Is there something on my face?” Kageyama nervously shakes his head. “N-No. Sorry, I thought I saw something. “Oh okay.” They smile and look back at the textbook in hand.

Kageyama grabs his own book and opens it to a random page. A wobbly smile appears on his face. ‘That wasn’t so bad.’

i never realized how short this is my b…

woooo progress

chat my skills test is in like 3 days kinda nervy 😁

@karma-gisa @cosmiicdust @abcdefghijklmzopqrstuvwxyz @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @xmagik @tnazips @zhochikennugget @makkir0ll @asp7n @hrkdlsjz @lucky-chars

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: listen... i was always a law simp pre-wano..... but wano law 😭😭😭 you will always be famous. and the brain rot is just so intense for him that i had to write this fic

a/n: i'm still adjusting to my antidepressants and literally have 9 labs due this week so forgive me for not being insanely active; i'm mainly just trying to survive 💀

nothing but fluff here! 💗

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

when he comforts you:

-the captain goes above and beyond to silently help you out. chores you were supposed to do around the polar tang are miraculously already done, a cold glass of water and a small snack left on your nightstand when you wake up, your laundry folded and put away.

-and it doesn't stop at that. law wants to make sure you can relax and destress, so this sweet man will run you a bath, dimly lit with candles and a glass of wine, and he'll stay to gently wash your hair and give back massages. fully allowing you to just enjoy the warmth of the soapy water and his touch.

-he'll always make time in his schedule for cuddles, even if that means the two of you are crammed into his desk chair, he'll hold you tight to him, gently stroke your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

-while advice isn't law's strongest area of expertise (he's much too pessimistic and blunt for that 💀) he is a fantastic listener. once he knows you aren't looking for a solution to your problems but just someone to support you while you rant, he'll sit through hours and hours of ranting and rambling, attentive eyes on you, his hand on the smalls of your back rubbing soft circles into you, even when he's busy he'll always lend an ear to your problems and a shoulder to cry on.

-he's a lot more affectionate than usual when he notices you haven't been yourself. pda suddenly doesn't bother him anymore, and he won't leave a room before giving you some kisses, his arm will be around your waist as he address the crew, or he'll grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: law will provide literally the best cuddles you could ever ask for, his silk sheets against your body, the smell of his cologne filling the room, his warm body next to yours, your head on his chest, he'll let your fingers trace over the lines of his tattoos with absolutely no protesting. he's going to do the most for you, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd truly have no idea who was leaving little chocolates and love notes on your pillow, a new book on your bed, your favorite drink stocked up in the fridge, and the fresh flowers on your nightstand everyday. he'll never address it or come out to take credit for it, he'd just do it. the captain will shower you in kisses much more than usual, on your cheek, the top of your head, a small peck on your lips, he's much more affectionate as its the subtle way he expresses his love and worry for you.

when he needs comforting:

-law is not the kind of guy to talk about his problems. a lot of this is because he struggles with verbalizing his feelings, worries, and stresses, but also because he doesn't find any relief in it. you instantly know when the captain needs you by the way he asked for you to meet him in his office. the second the door closes, he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you so close to him, the faint scent of bourbon vanilla fills your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

-there's nothing the captain loves more than the feeling of your fingers tangled up in his soft dark raven locks, with your face resting against his chest you can hear the way his heart beat slightly slows fully enjoying the sensation of your touch.

-law finds lots of solace in hearing your voice, it's simply music to his ears. he'll listen to stories about your past or adventures you've been on, rambles about your hobbies, what you did today, anything and everything. he loves the distraction it provides him as well as the comforting ambient noise it provides while he works.

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

a/n: soft law my beloved 😭😭😭😭😭 i totally forgot the whole "when you're sick" section of this fic when i first posted it, so i panic wrote that shit so damn fast 💀 it's been a minute since i wrote one of these 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

a/n: if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Can you write some hcs modern!chubby Aegon headcanons pls?

From you know who

I combined these two asks because I can :) BUT PLEASE I THINK I MIGHT KNOW WHO YOU ARE NONNIE, but I am very much a dumb bitch. hope you enjoy this, because I sure as hell did writing it 💗 + @godrakin (thank you lele for the mental image) 🥲

Strangers to Lovers.

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Modern!Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,870.

WARNINGS: NSFW, size kink, breeding kink, praise kink, slight degradation kink, p in v sex, female receiving, Daddy kink, lactation kink, dom!Aegon, slight reference to fatphobia, short time jump (****). DNI !!!!

A/N - I am craving for this man, you guys must be SICK OF ME!!! but this was meant to be the short fucking hell...

Aegon is OBSESSED with you [as cliche as it sounds] since the moment he laid his lilac, doe eyes on you. It should have frightened you how infatuated he would eventually become: although you knew deep down that his affections were well-intentioned and sincere.

He is just incredibly smitten of you. If he was being brutally honest with himself, he never thought a guy like him would ever have the chance nor end up landing an utter and complete babe like you.

You see, Aegon leans a tad bit more towards the chunkier side, when it comes to his physique. Just above the average male height [taller than you], he maintains some muscle from participating in college football in his previous years, however he rarely continues now nor did he pursue pro. Much in his prime in college [during his initial years] his hobbies were much rather indulgent; often found in campus parties, drinking, feasting and fucking [repeat].

However, as his weight swelled over the coming semesters and seasons, he became slightly more reclusive. Still sociable when wandering campus and in classes, he maintained his notorious reputation amongst his peers.

However, he was first introduced to you in the library: caught in your own dreamy world and incomprehensible thoughts... You were stunning.

Something about how isolated, yet serene you appeared in your own company, reading through the dense pages, as you concentrated in jotting down words and sentences, was somewhat comforting for him.

He sat a few tables in front of you, the perfect view [so long as no one dared to interfere], having already forgotten the reason for his visit to the library in the first place.

He'd attempt to act busy and mindful, sneaking a few fleeting glimpses, often struggling to stop himself from capturing long, devious glances [spotting your cleavage from the tight, low-cut sweater you wore, each time you lean in a little closer to the pages, he caught a sneaky peek, making him smile].

Aegon made this a fixed habit, often finding you in the same 'hidden', corner. For the next few days, which ultimately became weeks, he'd find you in the quiet of the library, taking the precious time out of his day to simply observe you: absorbing your entire, delicate being.

The first time you'd actually spotted him in the distance, you'd managed to catch each other's attention, exchanging a faint, half-hearted smile [bashful you seemed], before resuming your focus back onto your books at hand.

Aegon felt himself growing flustered and hard, simultaneously.

You rarely socialised to anyone else, at times listening to music as you studied, although on this occasion, you were not alone...

A male [with a more leaner, toned physique, not that it mattered although Aegon did not dismiss it] had keenly approached you, and despite abruptly disturbing you, you remained polite [from the looks of it, unable to hear nor decipher what was being said] it seemed pleasantries were solely exchanged.

Aegon felt his blood begin to boil in a few mere seconds, the rage coursing through his body like never before. He was LIVID.

He refused to look away although would often remind himself to look down, fists and jaw firmly clenched. It was obvious the guy had his own intentions, although he'd come to the conclusion that you were either naive or simply gratifying. [He definitely believed the latter option].

Nothing escalated, although he was now determined to actually approach you the following day, he swore to himself that he would.

Aegon was quite experienced with the ladies, however, it had been a hot minute since he was in an exclusive relationship. Just occasionally did he fill the empty void that was his bed, with the company of some, desperate girl [however it had been over a month now since he had actually slept with someone, more so aligned to when he had met you].

He definitely would masturbate to you though in his own privacy, just vividly envisioning you, forcing a mental image of you completely bare and naked, aching and begging for him [a whimpering, wet mess].

When he finally heard the soft, tenderness of your sweet voice, he finally had a tone to match the mental image.

"Aegon, please-Big boy, I need you."

It wasn't the confidence in himself that made him finally seek you out directly, it was the rage from the previous day and the daunting thought, that another man would snatch you from him.

Aegon had come to realise, you made him a jealous man. Having contemplated in his delusions and fantasies of you, the possibility that you may have already a partner at hand that he knew nothing of their existence frustrated him. His dilemma of whether he'd continue to pursue you, or let you be, agonised him.

Although, he was more convinced he'd be incredibly regretful if he did not try...

"I-I'm Aegon, Aegon Targaryen-I have seen you around, seems like you live in the library-"

"I could say the same about you," You wittingly tease, a sly smirk streaked across your familiar face: seeing you so up-close and personal, your details prominent to his naked eyes, you were even more gorgeous.

Although, it seemed much to his amusement, you had noticed him too, despite his efforts of being incognito [he should've known better with his mass and size that he'd be impossible to miss].

"I'm Y/N by the way, pleasure to finally meet you."

Since that surreal moment, Aegon was determined to keep you in his hold. And much to his sheer luck, he'd initially befriend you, coming to find the truth that you were single, did his affections only begin to grow stronger.

However he feared that his attraction to you was simply that, a mere crush and nothing more. And yet, he wanted to know everything and anything about you, willingly devoting most of his spare time if he was not in class nor gaming or forced to attend some frat party, was he found in your presence.

The longer you remained exposed to Aegon though, his insecurities began to seep through the cracks of his false facade. The main self-doubts he had cemented in himself, were often surrounding his:

Weight: Aegon supported a subtle baby face, his jawline bedded beneath a decent layer of fat, with a double chin, his waist was quite round and fleshy, often swoll after eating a meal, his biceps were quite stocky and his thighs were thick. You absolutely adored his appearance, the though that he could easily overpower you, drove you wild.

Or that you would be the one to simply lose interest, finding a more attractively equivalent partner to your tastes and degree. How could he stop you from leaving? It was his worst fear, the risk of abandonment... Or perhaps, you'd grow disgusted by him overtime, becoming more familiar to his "slob" livelihood, how could you stand for it?

Much to Aegon's relief, you were just as keen and determined to stay: committed in your chances and efforts of creating a viable, loving relationship.

Although, he was intent on changing his risqué ways, for the betterment of you.

Aegon LOVED to spoil you: provided he was from a wealthy family [you'd come to realise], he enjoyed showering you with lavish, costly gift, even in the early stages of the relationship, from designer clothes/bags/shoes to opulent jewels. He wouldn't even require a designated occasion, when he felt like it [which was more often than not] he would surprise you.

In return you tried to shower Aegon with gifts, although ones with more sentimental value then one of cost. However, he begged for you not to, as he knew you were working to support yourself [which he often insisted you stop, reasoning that he would provide for you].

He was hesitant to introduce you to his friends, for he knew what most of them were heinously like. Although, he made certain they wouldn't dare to act carelessly nor snobbishly around you nor in your proximity. If anything, you rarely met with them, for Aegon now had differing interests and priorities to them.

The person Aegon often met and hung with were his brothers, cousins and nephews: Baela and Jace, you'd met and acquainted with in previous classes, whereas Aemond, you also shared a few classes with, however you each minding your own business.

One, particular thing you'd come to realise, Aegon was keen for physical touch as signs of affection. He often displayed his love towards you naturally, kissing you, hugging you, keeping you in as close as possible proximity, and in his firm embrace at all times, even if it was a simple hand over your waist/hip.

He loved to grab your ass, the more relaxed you were around him.

God forbid, if he saw you fashioning a well-fitted, summer dress during the warmer climates, his pudgy hand would graze over your thighs, as he'd occasionally squeeze your sensitive, tender flesh, earning a faint whimper from you. If given the chance, he'd fuck you then and there: "easy access" he'd reason.

He never pestered nor coerced you into the act of sex itself, not wanting to frighten you off, nor endorse you to regret the first intimate moment you'd share with him.

Although, the need to wait was new for him, and he found it challenging, as his crotch would often, helplessly itch for your cunt, desperate to bury himself deep inside your core.

The first time you'd be together intimately though, would be unexpected and more so in the 'heat of the moment' although, it was worth the wait.

Aegon initially was hesitant [although eager for you], "let's keep the lights low", "I'll keep my shirt on": you had to spare a few, important minutes reassuring him that he had nothing to be ashamed of. You [in fact], found him to be rather desirable.

His cock is THICK as hell, you grow worrisome over how he'll fit but he reassures you with such suave "I'll make it fit, baby...It'll only hurt for a little while."

Overtime, the more exposed and familiar you'd both became with each other's bodies, the confidence grew, especially with Aegon.

The way he'd use his larger, stockier mass to pin you down, as he fucked you senseless, was unlike anything else.

You'd often be the one reminding him to use protection [on top of your own contraceptive methods] for the last thing you needed in college, was a baby.

And often you'd have to remind him to be gentle, he easily lost his way mentally, the only thing on his mind was to selfishly sate his gluttonous self...

Aegon had a deep, dark lust to breed you. This was a first for him, thoughts of you carrying and swelling with his child, walking aimlessly around campus/town, as everyone laid eyes on the evidence of his undoing, provoked something carnal and raw inside of him. He'd surmised it was his own, methodical way of keeping you strapped to him, although he respected your autonomy, and knew that when the time was right, it would eventually be inevitable. You wouldn't be able to deny him any longer...

You both shared a major size kink difference: this was your first, for you had never truly been with someone of Aegon's size, and yet, something about how effortlessly and somewhat aggressively he could man-handle you. Lifting and guiding your body according to his motions and positions, as he eased himself inside of you. Often and unintentionally he'd leave marks and handprints all along your gentle skin that eventually would bruise, to which he'd later feel incredibly guilty for, only to be comforted by you that he meant no harm. If he was in control, he'd often use his body weight against you, pinning you down as he thrust his thick cock inside, painfully stretching your throbbing walls from within, as he forcefully parted your legs as wide enough to fit him through.

He loved eating you out: an insatiable hunger for your cunt and the wetness that oozed was delectable, his tongue always making you cum.

He loved to praise you in bed, how much of a good, little girl you were, taking him in extremely well.

"My precious baby, I know it hurts but look at me- You are doing so, so fucking good. You feel so good and tight for me, baby."

"Keep going princess, making me feel so good, letting me ruin you like this, fuck."

Although occasionally he'd tease and degrade you with some sharp name-calling: referring to you as his "whore" and "slut" which surprisingly, you vividly enjoyed.

chubby!Aegon is dom, even from below.

Aegon was an aftercare KING! Although he rarely did much for his previous companions, he actually took the time and effort to research what needed to be done.

He knew how painful sex could be with him, considering how he'd handled you and his overall larger size, he felt obliged to nurture you.

In the late hours of the night, he'd open up about his childhood, his parents and how neglectful and disappointed they often were with him. Vice versa, you would naturally open up too.

It saddened you deeply that he endured through such traumatic matters, that consequentially led to his poor, disorderly behaviour: the drinking, the smoking, the promiscuity. After outgrowing his habits, he explained that he sought comfort in food, and gaming, leading a sedentary lifestyle. The pace had caught up with his figure [alongside the stresses of college and scrutiny of his family].

"I'm proud of you, Aeg. I mean it, as should you be."

Aegon would be the first to ask and insist if you'd be happy to meet his family. Having never been in a relationship quite like this and for this lengthy amount of time, he had no doubt things were getting serious: he at least wanted to give you the courtesy of meeting his family, and them, you.

You were actually ecstatic that he felt you were right enough to meet his family, agreeing to his offer. Efficiently he arranged a time and day for a family dinner. Aegon was more nervous than yourself, although much to his relief, his family were quite fond of you, his mother, Alicent, especially.

She was more than aware of Aegon's internal self-conflict and could see the noticeable joy you brought into his life: that she could not deny her eldest.

In the coming year, Aegon offered you a decadent, lush promise ring, that you hastily accepted out of sheer excitement.

"If I intend to live this life, I only intend to live it with you. I don't ever wish to part with you, Y/N. That I can promise you."

****

Fastrack a few longing, years ahead, Aegon aiding in his family's law firm, and yourself now successfully graduated and living together cosily.

Aegon struggled in his final year, often losing hope in his degree and grades, yet you helped him to persevere [Alicent was thankful for that].

A few months after college, Aegon was too eager to marry you, he could no longer wait to deem you his wife, binding you to him for eternity in this lifetime: his family financed the entire wedding much to their pleasure, the night was one to remember: an intimate, yet opulent ceremony...

And as Aegon was deeply optimistic for, you had given birth to a healthy, thriving son in the year to follow.

Much to your admiration, Aegon was officially a certified DILF, still supporting his larger physique, as he'd cradle the newborn babe in his arms, the sight was touching. The babe looked incredibly feeble yet protected in his father's strong arms.

He is a family man through and through: despite being anxious of fatherhood since his own experience with his father, he was driven to being the best: present in his child's life.

He'd grown super protective of you during the pregnancy, attending your appointments and scans with you always. He refused to let you go alone.

Pregnancy sex, because he is horny all the time. However it was a challenge getting used to, working around both your swollen bodies, yet he was determined [reverse cowgirl is now his favourite position].

Aegon definitely develops a Daddy kink, after you accidentally moan the word, as he's on the verge of fucking you to a climax. An instinct kicks in, and the lustful appetite stirring in his eyes is unlike anything you'd seen before in your husband.

Always having a thing for your tits, as he latched himself on only to be met with the creamy coating and sweet aftertaste of your milk since the birth, it became an obsession for Aegon. Often late hours in the night, he'd crave for your milk: now you had to ration between the baby and the bigger baby.

Eventually, Aegon discusses his intent on expanding his little family with you [eager to start right away].

"Y/N please, one more little bub surely wouldn't hurt right now...We could easily handle it."

"One more will lead to two more, Aeg, you think I don't know you?"

[screamintoad]

TWST oc Blanche Primrose

“I believe we’ve met before. Perhaps…once upon a dream.”

Voice claim: Nobara-Jujutsu Kaisen

Character info

  Blanche is a typically headstrong girl. Her temper isn’t as bad as some of the other students but she’ll call out others wrong doings. If she’s not doing anything too important or tedious then she’ll often be found day dreaming. Now as a second year she is fully herself and many of the students see her as a sisterly figure as she always checks up on people and make sure they’re taking care of themselves.

  The summer before she started attending NRC, she was told by her grandmother that Blanche is expected to be enrolled at a stuffy all girls private school that her grandma attended. Later that night a raven delivered a letter to her windowsill that spoke of how she was recommended to be a student at NRC by a few upperclassmen. She knew that night that she was going to choose her own fate rather than a path that her grandmother curated for her. As she pretended to be a boy at NRC she chopped her hair into a pixie cut and when Vil first saw her he wanted to faint but understood what she was trying to do. Eventually her grandmother found out about the ruse but allowed her to keep attending NRC since it made her so happy. 

Fun facts: She used to live in the same town as Jack and Vil and they’ve been friends since they were kids. She spent her first few months at school pretending to be a boy since, as far as her grandma knew, she was at that stuffy private school. Her red sweater was originally her mother’s. She’s half wolf beastfolk. That same summer before coming to NRC she would frequently dream of meeting a young man with silver hair. 

Basic info

Age: 17

Height: 179cm, 5’8

B-day: September 7th (Virgo)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: Hazel (her grandmother), Amelia (her mother), unnamed father

Nicknames: Petit Rouge (Rook), Harp seal (Floyd)

2nd year

Class B

Club: Film studies

Best subject: Herbology

Hobbies: Baking, Tending to plants, Writing short stories which is why she joined the film studies club to fuel her inspiration

Pet peeve: Selfish people

Favorite food: Berry muffins

Least favorite food: Seafood

Talent: Quick thinking (does not equal smart thinking)/Singing

Unique Magic: Thorny Heart, she can grow thorny vines around her and even grow various plants from the vines. Such as ones that are just pretty or ones that have medicinal values. Sometimes when she’s startled she just SPROUTS the thorns and freaks everyone out for a second. 

Character dynamics

Vil: Childhood friend number 1. He’s like a mother hen towards her, constantly fretting over her grades and appearance. It drives her up a wall but she knows he means well. These habits are especially prominent when she first starts attending.

Jack: Childhood friend number 2. They first met when Jack was playing outside and he found her picking berries in the forest while she was wearing a hooded red cape. As schoolmates they’re both striving to help the other. That could be helping each other study or timing track runs.

Rook: Creepy dorm mate. Honestly, she doesn’t like him, like at all. She knows he possibly means well but he still unnerves her. They have lots of debates in French. 

Ruggie: She didn’t trust him at first, his scheming made her nervous every time she heard him giggling. Now as second years and in the same class, she scolds him when he steals stuff but she always makes extra food so he can have some as well. 

Silver: Love interest. Despite the dreams during summer, they didn’t recognize each other until way later, like Book 5 later. After that it was nothing but sweet sweet slow burn but one thing’s for sure. Everyone loves silver and gold.

Malleus: They both get a weird sense of deja vu when they’re first getting acquainted. They met one night when they stumbled upon each others walking routes. Neither could place it but they felt as if they had met before. Maybe in a dream, maybe a different time entirely. They get along and teach each other a lot, eventually Malleus joined in on Lilia’s teasing when it came to her and Silver together.

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

Uuuuh…

…Hi :D

…I’m sorry? 🥲

——

——

One day, a man realized he felt haunted for some time..

For weeks, the man had been aware of a presence that lingered on the edges of his awareness, like a shadow just beyond his reach.

It was subtle at first, a faint prickling on the back of his neck when he walked through the town, the sensation of being watched when he was alone in his study.

He brushed it off, passing it off as paranoia, the result of long hours and late nights.

But the feeling simply grew.

Growing stronger with each passing day. It was as though a pair of eyes were always on him, observing his every move.

He would catch a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a glimpse of a small figure darting into the shadows, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there. Just the empty street, bathed in the dim glow of lanterns.

He told himself it was nothing, just his imagination running wild. But the sensation was relentless.

It was preventing him from getting anything done.

He had an..appointment with the Trader yet he simply couldn’t make the visit with these unseen eyes following him.

In the following days, He began to see the figure more frequently—a young boy, always at a distance, always watching.

The boy never approached, never spoke. He was just there, a silent observer on the edge of the man's life.

The man, of course, tried to ignore it, tried to carry on with his routine as if nothing was wrong.

He continued his day work, and indulged in his hobbies, but the boy was always there, a constant, silent observer.

Sometimes, the man would feel the boy's eyes on him when he was at his most vulnerable, in the dead of night, when he was alone with his thoughts.

He would feel the gaze boring into him, cold and unyielding, as if the boy could see through everything he presented to the world.

As the days turned into weeks, the man's unease deepened. He started avoiding places where he had seen the boy, changing his routine to shake the feeling of being watched.

But it didn’t help. The boy seemed to anticipate his every move, always appearing wherever the man went.

It was almost as if he was toying with him. Yet he didn’t do anything besides observe.

The man’s nerves began to fray. He found himself glancing over his shoulder constantly, his heart racing at the slightest sound.

His sleep became restless, plagued by nightmares where the boy was always there, watching, waiting.

The feeling of being watched never left.

One night, after a particularly long day, the man stumbled out of a tavern, the alcohol dulling his senses.

He wandered out of town, seeking the quiet of the forest to clear his mind.

But even there, among the towering trees and the thick fog, he couldn’t escape the boy’s presence. He saw a flash of green in the distance, heard the faint rustle of leaves

The man shook his head.

But the fog seemed to thicken, wrapping around him like a shroud.

The moon offered no light, plunging the forest into a darkness that made even the shadows just a foot away from him feel solid and endless.

He stumbled forward, trying to push past the fog, trying to escape the oppressive silence.

His thoughts a jumbled mess of confusion and fear. The alcohol in his system dulled his senses, making it difficult to think clearly, but the feeling of being watched had never been more intense. The forest seemed to close in around him, the trees looming like dark sentinels, their branches twisting into unnatural shapes that clawed at the sky.

He tried to focus, tried to convince himself that it was just the drink, that there wasn’t anything really there, but the sensation of those unseen eyes was impossible to ignore. He could feel them, cold and piercing, tracking his every movement.

The man’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent a fresh wave of terror through him.

As he stumbled deeper into the woods, the fog grew thicker, swirling around his feet and obscuring the ground beneath him.

The trees seemed to shift in the darkness, moving closer, as if conspiring to trap him. His footsteps echoed eerily in the silence, the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears.

He tried to steady himself, muttering under his breath. “It’s just… just the fog… just the drink… nothing more… nothing…”

But even as he spoke, he could feel those eyes. They were closer now, more intense.

He could almost hear the boy’s silent footsteps behind him, could almost feel the cold breath on the back of his neck. He spun around, but there was nothing—just the oppressive fog and the dark outlines of trees.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a flash of green, a pair of eyes staring at him from the shadows. The man froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins.

The eyes were fixed on him, unblinking and full of something he couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t malice, but it wasn’t benign either. It was as if the boy was studying him, dissecting him with those cold, eerie eyes.

Panic seized him. He stumbled backward, tripping over a root and nearly falling. His breath came in short, frantic gasps as he struggled to tear his gaze away from those eyes, but they held him captive, paralyzing him with fear.

The man’s mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but the alcohol and the terror clouded his thoughts.

With a burst of adrenaline, he turned and ran, pushing blindly through the fog, desperate to escape those eyes. His feet pounded against the earth, his breath ragged and harsh in his throat.

The forest seemed to close in around him, the trees becoming a blur as he sprinted through the undergrowth. But no matter how fast he ran, the feeling of being watched never left him.

He could still feel the boy’s eyes on him, could still hear the faint sound of footsteps behind him. He didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare slow down. But the forest was unforgiving, and the fog made it impossible to see where he was going.

His foot caught on something—a root, a rock, he couldn’t tell—and he went down hard, the ground rushing up to meet him.

He hit the earth with a thud, the air knocked out of his lungs. Pain shot through his body, and for a moment, he lay there, stunned and disoriented. His mind screamed at him to get up, to keep running, but his body refused to move, paralyzed by fear and exhaustion.

Why were they after him?

What did they want?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to keep moving, had to—

A soft hum pierced the silence, echoing through the fog. The man froze, every muscle tensing as his eyes darted around, searching for the source.

Noise came again, closer this time, followed by a voice, light.

“He’s getting tired, isn’t he?” the voice commented.

“Of course he is,” another voice chimed in, this one colder, more detached. “They always do.”

The man’s breath hitched in his throat as he tried to locate the speakers.

But the trees were too thick, the darkness too deep.

He couldn’t see them, but he could…could feel their eyes burn his skin.

Closing in, circling him like vultures.

He scrambled to get up, but pain in his calf erupted when he tried to pull his leg forward, the pain pinning him in place.

“Going somewhere?” the voice spoke out.

The man’s heart nearly stopped as he looked over his shoulder and saw them—four boys.

Other than their clothes from what he could spot in the dark, they were identical in every way, the same tousled hair, the same wide eyes, the same faces.

But their eyes… their eyes were wrong, wrong for any child to wear. The way their faces held such different expressions.

They stared at him, casually, sadly, uncaringly, angrily.

“Wha—what…?” the man stammered, his voice shaking as he looked down and saw thick branch sticking out of his leg, keeping him in place.

Children…

…Children had been chasing him this whole time.

This…

This was utterly ridiculous.

Yet one of the children, the green one, crouched down, resting his chin on his hands as he studied the man with curiosity. “You look surprised,” he said, tilting his head. “What, did you expect someone…older?”

The man’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

His mind was reeling, unable to process the horror before him. How could this be?

How could four children—siblings from the looks of it-be the ones who had been hunting him?

Was this some kind of joke?

“Trying to figure out what’s happening? It won’t matter in a moment.” the cold voice asked, its owner, the purple one, stepping closer.

His uncaring eyes held an eerie calmness that made the man’s skin crawl.

“But to give you some insight, We’ve been following you all night,” He added, looking down at the man with a wide closed smile. “…as well as the past month…lots of hard work…” He brought a hand up and tapped chin while looking up.

“But I guess it’ll be worth it.” Looking back down at the man. “I suppose this is all unexpected for you, isn't it? Being the one chased? Not the chaser?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward for a second before returning to its neutral position, “You always were fond of that part of your hunting hobby, weren’t you-the chase I mean.”

The man shook his head violently, confused, his breath coming in panicked gasps. “Please… I don’t… I didn’t do anything to you…”

The air around them became heavy. The man’s breath quickened as he felt the weight of the boy’s gaze, each step the boy took toward him making his heart pound harder.

“You think we don’t know about you?” Blue snarled, his voice low and seething with anger. “You think we haven’t heard what you’ve done? The lives you’ve taken?”

The man’s eyes darted between the four boys, each one staring at him with a level of focus and cold calculation that seemed impossible for children. The realization that they knew something about him—something dark and hidden—sent a shiver down his spine.

“I— I swear,” he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. “I didn’t mean to… It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“Well, you’re right about that.” Vio’s expression darkened as he stepped forward, his dagger gleaming ominously in the dim light. “Enough of this. We’re not here to listen to your excuses.”

The man tried to pull away, desperation clawing at his insides, but the pain in his leg kept him pinned to the ground. He could feel the cold earth beneath him, the dampness seeping into his clothes, mixing with the sweat of his fear.

“Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me go.”

Green knelt beside him, his face inches away from the man’s. “Anything?” he repeated, his voice soft and sweet, like a child asking for a treat. “Anything at all?”

The man nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face as he grasped at the faint hope that they might spare him. “Yes! Anything! I’ll give you whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.”

The boys exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. Finally, Red sighed and looked down at the man with a mixture of pity and disdain.

“You misunderstand,” he said quietly. “This isn’t about what you can give us. It’s about what you’ve tried to ruin for us.”

The man’s eyes widened in confusion and terror. “Ruin? I… I don’t understand…”

Blue’s anger flared again, his small hands clenched into fists. “Of course scum like you wouldn’t understand,,” he hissed. “I wish we could take our time with you.”

“There will always be others Blue.” Vio said calmly.

Blue scoffed.

Without another word, Vio moved smoothly, his dagger flashing in the pale light as it cut through the air. The man’s choking filled the silent forest, a raw, desperate sound that faded into the night as quickly as it had begun.

——

——

Four had never thought of himself as someone who was good at pretending.

What was the point? He wasn’t one for hiding and faking his thoughts.

But the moment he woke up to the sounds of his Grandfather calling him…

Far away from the others..

From Her…well…

He quickly learned the value of simply….playing his part.

If asked, he would reminisce about exactly what had happened on his journey.

The festival, the sealed chest being opened by Vaati, Zelda being turned to stone…

Ezlo…

Yet…what he would not have mentioned was that it was as if he had been guided along by his memories like a doll.

Seeing from someone else’s eyes.

Every single step already having been done once before, his expression perfectly suiting each moment.

The perfect actor.

He would have hated it if he had felt much of anything during that time.

He could not split (why couldn’t he split? He was One but not Whole, Singular when he should have been perfectly fragmented…whycouldn’thesplit-)

Yet, it was as if his colors still whispered in his mind, each one speaking their own thoughts on the matters happening.

But he hated them…(they weren’t right. They didn’t fit. They should have surged forth, demanding for him to split, demanding that he faced what he pushed aw-nothing was right…nothing was utterly right…)

‘This is an illusion.’

‘This shouldn’t be real.’

‘Where are the others?’

‘Where is She?’

(Shut up….shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup-)

Even Ezlo, perched atop his head in the form of a hat, never noticed anything wrong.

Or perhaps he had…perhaps he had seen it all yet merely ignored it.

Link didn’t care to know.

To Ezlo, Four was simply a dedicated boy, focused on his tasks, eager to right the wrongs that had brought Ezlo to where he was.

But Vaati…

Such a keen eye….

Even in his corrupted form, saw through the masks he presented to everyone.

The dark sorcerer couldn’t quite place what was different, but during a moment when Ezlo and him were purposely separated (such a change to what he once remembered…), he had admitted that something about Four unsettled him.

And also intrigued him.

Perhaps it was the way Four’s eyes seemed to glaze over when he wasn’t speaking, or how his actions were too precise, too controlled—as if they were rehearsed. Or simply like a puppet on a string.

To be moved along as intended.

Even when the journey came to an end and Four and Ezlo said their goodbyes, Four’s performance never faltered.

He smiled to those he cared for, nodded, and spoke the right words, playing his role to perfection.

It was the only thing that made sense. (Because it meant he didn’t need to focus on what he-…)

This was all…so confusion. (WhatcausedthisHewantedtogobackWhatcausedthisWhatcausedthisWhatcausedthis-)

And beneath the surface, the whispers of his colors grew louder, more insistent, questioning, doubting.

(But they weren’t there. Not yet. So he ignored those voices made from illusions. Voices who should have been there already but weren’t-)

He felt empty.

A doll who played his part.

Even when he wanted to silence the loud voices that tried to speak to him when he left the house.

Even when he was touched or tugged by others. (Their touch causing his skin to crawl, their voices making him desire to claw off his ears.)

Yet the world seemed to finally deem his performance in his role to be enough for a reward.

His precious sword…

It wasn’t until he regained his Four Sword that he felt anything at all. (Because it was always his. Not even the others could deny such a fact. It was his sword. HIS. It was what made him exactly as he should be. And it’s been so..so..long since he felt right…)

As he drew the blade, the world shifted, and the sob that escaped him as he felt the Magicks invade his being and pull him apart was one of relief.

He could feel it as it happened, as he split into his four selves…

Red, Blue, Green, and Vio.

The relief of feeling something, of being something that wasn’t singular, was enormous.

He would have even gladly accepted agony if it meant his being was put to rights.

Yet once he was no longer One but Four…

He couldn’t deny what he had rejected for so long…

Almost immediately, the fragments began to lash out at one another, voices raised in anger and accusation.

“It’s your fault she’s gone!” Red shouted, his eyes wild with desperation as tears flowed immediately.

“She wouldn’t have wanted to stay away if you hadn’t been so careless!” Blue snapped back, his fists clenched.

“Stop it, you two! We need to focus on the most important issues here” Vio’s voice was cold, but his hands trembled as he gripped his sword.

Each one was desperate to place the blame elsewhere, to find some semblance of control in the chaos that had consumed them.

They wanted something else, someone else, to be the reason things went wrong…

They didn’t want it to be them.

Red sobbed, his eyes wild with desperation, tears streaming down his face. His small hands trembled, clutching his sword as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

Blue’s expression twisted with fury as he turned on Red, his fists clenched tight, the knuckles white. “Don’t blame me for your own mistakes” he spat, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and hurt. “You were supposed to make her happy, and you failed! You should have been better!”

Red recoiled at the words, but his sorrow quickly turned to defiance. “Me? You were the one who pushed her away when it mattered! You should’ve been better, should’ve done something to ease her heart! But you didn’t!”

“You don’t know that! None of us do!” Green’s voice cut through the argument, sharp and defensive, though there was a wavering uncertainty in his tone.

He stood between them, trying to play the mediator, but his hands shook as he spoke, betraying his own doubts. “We don’t know what really happened! We don’t know if—”

“If she’s even still alive?” Vio finished, his voice cold and cutting. The words hung in the air, heavy and unbearable. Vio’s grip tightened around his sword, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of his own fears. “We need to focus on the most important issues here,” he said, his tone forcibly calm, but the tremor in his hands belied the control he tried so desperately to maintain.

“No!” Red cried, shaking his head violently, his tears falling faster. “S-She’s alive! She has to be! We can’t give up on her!”

“Red, you’re being naive!” Blue snapped, frustration and fear mingling in his voice. “You saw what happened, heard what…what (y/n) said to us… Do you really think she’ll just come back to us? That she’ll stay with us after what we did?”

Green hesitated, caught between the two sides, his heart torn. “But…what if we’re wrong? What if she’s waiting for us? What if we can still fix this?”

Vio’s eyes darkened as he turned away from them, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t just about what we want anymore. It’s about dealing with the consequences of what we’ve done…of what we failed to do.” His gaze flickered toward the others, cold and sharp. “We need to be realistic. We can’t keep chasing after dreams when reality is staring us in the face.”

Red’s face contorted with pain, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t care about reality… I just want her back… I want us to be truly whole again.”

“We’ll never be whole again!” Blue snapped, his voice breaking as he finally voiced the fear that had been festering inside him. “We’ve lost her! We don’t even know where the others are! We’re somehow reliving this again! We lost everything when she turned away from us, and it’s our fault she did it!”

Green’s eyes filled with tears as he shook his head, desperately trying to hold on to some shred of hope. “But we have to try! We can’t just give up! We can’t just…leave her behind…”

“Shut up!” Vio snapped, his cold facade finally crumbling. “All of you, just shut up! None of this changes what happened! None of this changes what we did—or didn’t do!”

Their voices overlapped, growing more heated, more desperate, each one throwing accusations, trying to deflect the guilt and pain that threatened to consume them.

“It was your fault!”

“No, it was yours!”

“You should have done something!”

“We all failed!!

The argument went in circles, the same accusations, the same denials, the same pain, over and over again, until their voices were hoarse and their spirits were spent. It was like they were stuck, trapped in an endless loop of blame and regret, unable to move forward, unable to let go.

—-

—-

Throughout their journey in , the colors wrestled with the traces of their arguments and guilt.

The weight of their memories and their failure to protect her loomed over them, a cruel hole in their hearts. Yet, despite the lingering tension, they had no choice but to work together.

Red was the first to break the silence that often settled between them, his voice hesitant but filled with a small glimmer of hope.

"Maybe...maybe we could make something for her? You know, if we...if we ever find her again." He didn't meet their eyes, instead fiddling with a small piece of wood he had picked up along the way.

Blue scoffed, but there was no real bite in his tone. "And what? Hand it to her with an apology?” He snorted, a scowl on his face, “Like that would fix everything."

Green bit his bottom lip, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "It might not fix anything, but it's…something. Maybe it's a way to show her that...that we still care, that we're trying to be better."

Vio, who had been silent up until that point, finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying an underlying tension. "It's a start. We have nothing to lose by trying."

Red brightened at their responses, the glimmer of hope in his eyes growing a little stronger. "We could each make something, something that comes from the heart. It doesn't have to be much, just...just a token of what we feel."

“We would need proper materials…”

“Does it have to be one gift? Maybe a matching set or something?”

“If it’s a gift to her…it should be perfect…”

They all hesitated, the thought of crafting something meaningful for her stirring a mix of emotions within them.

But one by one, they were in agreement. It was a small step, but it was still a step forward.

As they journeyed on, they found themselves slowly working together, the tension between them gradually easing but still holding on to them.

They would often catch Red murmuring to himself as he gathered materials, his mind clearly on the gifts he was planning.

Blue, though gruff and still quick to snap, was more careful with his words and actions, as if he was trying to make up for his earlier harshness.

Green, ever the mediator, worked tirelessly to keep them focused and united, though the strain was evident in his eyes.

Vio, ever the observer, kept a close eye on their progress as they journeyed through the treacherous lands, but his thoughts were often elsewhere.

The burden they all carried weighed heavily on their mind, especially when they were all still separated, and the pretense he maintained with Shadow was both a strategy and a strain.

One evening, Vio found himself with Shadow in the tower.

The dark counterpart emerged from behind him, his eyes gleaming with that new curiosity that stayed in his eyes since they first interacted, but tonight, there was something more to his demeanor.

“You are a lot more different then I expected,” Shadow remarked, his voice dripping with a mix of intrigue and something more unsettled. “All of you. You guys act one way, but inside… I can tell there’s something else going on. Something you're all hiding.”

Vio didn’t let his expression falter.

Of course Shadow would notice—he was as much a part of them as they were of each other. “We have our roles to play,” Vio replied, his tone measured and calm. “What you see is what we need to be.”

Shadow tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Vio. “So, it’s all an act? Pretending to be something you’re not? Trying to fool someone?” He bared his teeth in a mocking smile, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Or maybe…trying to fool yourselves?”

Vio’s calm facade didn’t waver, but the weight of Shadow’s words pressed on him. “Perhaps we are trying to fool ourselves,” he admitted quietly. “There are… things we haven’t fully come to terms with. Things that still haunt us.”

Shadow leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “Come to terms with what, exactly? What are you hiding, Vio? Don’t be coy with me. Tell your pal Shadow the truth.”

Vio stared back at Shadow, his expression cool, but his mind carefully choosing his next words. “We lost someone important to us. Someone we failed to protect,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of the sorrow he kept buried. “We’re still trying to figure out how to make it right.”

Shadow’s gaze bored into Vio, as if trying to pry the truth from him with sheer will. Then, slowly, a knowing smile curled his lips, but it wasn’t a friendly one. “You’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “You can fool the princess, your Sword Brothers, even yourself, but not me.”

Shadow chuckled at the heavy stare Vio aimed at him.

“I see through the cracks, Vio. I can feel the darkness in you. What wonderful darkness you have. You’re all pretending, acting like everything’s fine, but I can feel it, there’s something festering inside you, something rotten. Something…unheroic.”

He grinned, “I kinda like it.”

Vio’s eyes flickered, but he remained composed. “So observant,” he remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Shadow’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “You can hide a lot of things, Vio. But you can’t hide what haunts you—not from me. The guilt, the fear… the anger. It’s all there, bubbling just beneath the surface, no matter how hard you try to suppress it.”

Vio knew Shadow was right. But he also knew that Shadow didn’t fully understand it, couldn’t grasp the depth of what they were hiding—not completely. Not when he was disconnected from them like this. Cut off from them by the Dark Mirror and Ganon’s powers.

“I suppose we really can’t hide anything important from you ,” Vio replied calmly, watching the dark counterpart preen. “But we don’t need to hide all that from you. Just from everyone else while we keep moving.”

Shadow scoffed, but his eyes remained fixed on Vio, studying him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “All this cause you made the wrong choices and refuse to accept it? Hmph, and I thought Vaati was arrogant.”

“Well that’s just cruel.”

Shadow waved him off, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Vio. And one day, the mask you’re wearing will crack.”

He tapped his chin and leaned closer, “I bet She’d reject anything you present to her the moment she saw you.” His voice holding a hint of glee when Vio tensed.

Vio’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t respond. He knew Shadow didn’t realize what it was he said.

He knew Shadow was aware of something, he had been behaving a bit off since their very first interactions…but he couldn’t afford to let him see the whole truth. He wasn’t ready…Not yet.

Shadow lingered for a moment longer, his eyes dark and unreadable, before he turned and melted back into the shadows. But as he disappeared, his parting words hung in the air like a curse.

“I’ll always be watching you guys, Vio. And when the time comes, we’ll see just how well you can keep denying your mistakes.”

“I never denied anything.” he said firmly.

Shadow shrugged with a smirk.”Keep telling yourself that.”

Shadow’s presence faded, leaving him alone, Vio felt the weight of the encounter settle heavily on his shoulders.

Shadow knew more than he realized, but still, being so disconnected from them meant he didn’t understand the full extent of their pain, their guilt.

And Vio…Link… intended to keep it that way, keep it from everyone, at least for as long as he could.

At least until things made sense again.

—-

—-

The boys watched in silence as the man’s body slumped to the ground, his eyes wide with the final realization of his fate. The fog thickened around them, swallowing the scene in its cold embrace.

Red stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the lifeless form. “Hard to believe he was a killer,” he said softly. “Didn’t he give himself up last time?”

Blue nodded, his anger subsiding into a cold determination. “And we just sped up the timeline. Not like anyone will ever know he was here.”

Green smiled faintly, his earlier amusement replaced by a calm satisfaction. “Another job well done, I’d say.”

Vio cleaned his dagger on the man’s clothes before sheathing it. “Only way the job will be done is when we head back and get the Trader’s favor”

Red nodded, sheathing his sword with a satisfied look. “So the trader owes us now right, for protecting him?” he said, hopeful. “And that means we can get high-quality materials for cheap right? He has just what we’re looking for.”

Blue began inspecting the man’s pockets, searching for anything of use, grinning at his findings. “He won’t need these anymore,” he muttered, pulling out a pouch of Rupees and tossing it to Green, who caught it with a soft snort. “Lucrative business, killing visiting traders and selling their products as your own.”

“Not so lucrative anymore thanks to us. Nice work, everyone,” Green said, his voice cheerful once more, as if they had just finished a game. “(Y/n) will be so happy when she returns and sees what we made for her.”

“We won’t have anything to show if we don’t get the materials,” Vio said finally, his voice calm and steady. “We’ve done what we needed here, let’s go.”

The boys turned and disappeared into the fog, leaving no trace behind. The forest remained silent, as if it had never witnessed the horrors that had unfolded within it.

——

——

After Ganon's defeat, after Shadow returned to them. (He hoped to introduce him to (y/n) one day….)

The Colors felt it—the hollow void gnawing at their insides, deeper than the exhaustion that weighed down their limbs. They had won, but victory brought them no joy. It brought them no peace.

No other adventures to distract them.

All that was left was simply to exist until something changed.

In the days that followed, they tried to live, tried to go on as if things were bearable.

Four moved through his life in a daze, performing tasks out of habit rather than purpose.

The cheerful chaos that normally followed when he split now replaced by either a spiral argument or silence, their conversations reduced to the bare minimum needed to share thoughts.

The one thing that kept them grounded enough to continue on, the one thing that gave them a semblance of purpose: (y/n).

At first, it was a fleeting thought, a distant longing for something they couldn't quite grasp. But as the days turned into weeks, that longing grew, twisted. They found their thoughts eaten by the idea of crafting the perfect gifts for her. Latching onto the idea like a lifeline.

They threw themselves into their work, desperate to fill the void within them with something—anything—that would make them feel whole again.

Crafting became their escape. Every waking moment was spent planning, designing, and perfecting gifts for (y/n).

If they had cared to truly notice, they would have been aware of the worried looks aimed at them.

(Four would sometimes hear Zelda speak with worry to his grandpa…funny how he felt nothing at the thought of any of them. They were just like everyone else. White noise.)

Green focused on weaponry, his mind racing with ideas for swords, shields, and bows. He became obsessed with crafting the most exquisite weapons, imagining how (y/n) would wield them in battle.

(He envisioned her face lighting up with joy as she held a sword he had forged with his own hands, the blade gleaming with a power he had poured his very soul into.)

Blue turned his attention to armor, his hands never idle as he worked on intricate designs. He wanted her to be safe, protected from any harm that might befall her. Each piece he crafted would be nothing less than masterpieces, infused with enchantments that would keep her from harm.

(How beautiful she would be when she wore it? Would she finally understand how much they cared, how much they needed her to be safe?)

Vio focused on accessories—rings, amulets, and pendants that would enhance her abilities. He studied ancient texts and experimented with new techniques, his mind a whirlwind of ideas. His thoughts were always centered on her.

He wanted her to know that they were doing this for her, that they wanted her to be happy, to thrive…with them.

Red, the most emotionally driven of the group, poured his heart into crafting gifts that were not just functional, but beautiful. He wanted to create jewelry that sparkled like the stars, flowers that would never wilt, and small trinkets that he hoped would make her smile.

But as that desire grew, so did the desperation in their

They all needed her to see how much they cared, needed her to understand that she was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world.

—

——

———

“It’s been a while since we’ve spent time together like this, hasn’t it, Link?”

Zelda stood on the balcony of the castle, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the stone floor.

She watched Four out of the corner of her eye as he silently admired the view, his expression serene. But the calmness in his face was off somehow, like a doll carefully painted with a cheerful smile, too perfect to be real.

…It worried her.

Four turned to her with that same perfect smile, his eyes reflecting the warm hues of the sunset. “I’ve been busy with the forge,” he said with an even tone that matched the serene smile on his face. “I’m sorry I haven’t come over to say hi.”

“I’ve heard, you’ve been making quite the name for yourself. I’m very happy for you.” The princess said warmly, genuinely happy for him.

Four felt nothing. No joy, no excitement at the prospect of spending time with his old friend.

His mind was already drifting back to the forge, to the hammer and anvil, the clanging metal, the comforting heat of the flames.

The thought of continuing his work brought him more peace than anything else.

He didn’t have to focus on anything other than the hypnotic rhythm of hammer on metal.

And Zelda tried to smile back, yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was different about him.

She remembered how Link used to be, energetic, full of curiosity, always eager to solve any challenge thrown his way. To entice her away from her royal duties and play with him.

But now, there was something artificial in his behavior, a detachment she couldn’t quite understand.

She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to reach him in a way that words couldn’t. “Link, you know you can talk to me, right? We’ve been through so much together. You’re my friend.”

The word "friend" echoed in Four’s mind, but it felt like a distant memory, something he acknowledged because it was true, but with no real attachment to it.

Not anymore.

He knew he should care, he should feel some sense of loyalty, affection, or at least nostalgia. But all he could muster was a dull sense of acknowledgment. Zelda was important, of course, she was the princess, a blood descendant of Hylia.

By all accounts, he should harbor resentment or reverence, after what Hylia had done.

But instead, he felt nothing for her. No hate, no love, just a strange indifference that he was careful to mask.

Hurting her feelings wouldn’t give him what he really wanted anyone.

“Of course, Zelda,” he replied, his voice bright and reassuring. “We’re friends, and I’m always here for you too.”

Zelda’s fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder before she pulled away, nodding as if reassured.

Yet her heart was heavy with unease. Something in his eyes, the way they didn’t quite meet hers, the way they lacked the spark she remembered, told her that something was deeply wrong.

But she couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t voice it, and that uncertainty gnawed at her.

“Why don’t we head inside? It’s getting chilly,” she suggested, hoping to draw him into a conversation.

Four nodded agreeably and followed her inside the castle, his mind already wandering back to the forge.

He played his part well, engaging in polite conversation, smiling and laughing at the appropriate moments.

But inwardly, all he wanted was to return to his work, to the rhythm of the hammer, to the heat that drowned out everything else.

As they walked through the castle halls, Zelda glanced at him from time to time, every time she thought she saw something, it was gone in an instant, replaced by that perfect, empty smile.

“Link,” she said quietly as they reached the doors to the grand hall, “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

He smiled back at her, a smile that reached his eyes just enough to fool anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. “I’m glad to be here too,” he said, but inside, he was already counting the minutes until he could leave, until he could be alone again, where he didn’t have to pretend.

As the afternoon wore on, Zelda led him through the castle, guiding him through various rooms and gardens, trying to rekindle old memories and activities they once enjoyed together.

Before Shadow and Ganon, before Vaati and the Minish.

They worked on a puzzle in the library, played a few rounds of chess in the grand hall, and wandered through the palace gardens where Zelda pointed out the blooming flowers, each one carrying a story from their past.

Throughout it all, Four maintained his facade, engaging politely but with a sense of detachment. He responded to Zelda’s attempts to reconnect with the same artificial cheerfulness that had become his default.

Every now and then, he would catch a glimpse of the something in her eyes, masked by her bright smile, but he chose to ignore it.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the castle grounds, Zelda walked Four to the main entrance. She lingered a moment, her gaze following him as he prepared to leave.

“Thank you for spending the day with me, Link,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with an hidden layer of sadness. “I’ve missed these moments with my dear friend.”

Four nodded, forcing a smile. “It was a pleasure. Don’t let those grumpy councilmen keep you too busy.”

As he turned to leave, he noticed Zelda waving goodbye, her smile now holding a subtle melancholy that she tried to hide.

For a brief moment, Four felt a pang of heaviness.

Yet, he couldn't muster the emotional energy to bridge the gap between their feelings. He knew she had once been a dear friend, but now he was more concerned returning to his forge.

He walked away, the image of Zelda’s sad smile lingering in his mind.

Deep down, he knew if he bluntly told her he wanted nothing to do with her, she would accept it. She was understanding like that. Though she would accept albeit sadly.

Yet the thought was fleeting compared to his overwhelming desire to return to his solitary work.

The heat of the forge, the rhythm of the hammer, it was his refuge from a world that no longer made sense with nothing else left to ground him.

———

——

—

The more they crafted, the more their desperation determination deepened.

They began to imagine what it would be like if (y/n) fought alongside them, wielding the weapons they had created just for her.

The thought of her in battle, strong and powerful, became a fixation. They knew the other heroes wouldn't approve, (perhaps he should hone his own fighting skills for the inevitable clash. He’ll have to find time between crafting…)

They would likely be upset over Four crafting weapons for their darling, but the hero didn't care.

They wanted her to be happy, wanted her to see that they would do anything for her.

If she wanted to learn how to fight, they would teach her. They never should have denied her anything.

If she wanted to wield a sword, they would forge the finest blade. Never any of those shoddy blades that the Cook always used.

They were no longer just crafting gifts; they were crafting a vision of a future with her, a future where she needed them as much as they needed her.

In their dreams, they saw her smile as she accepted their offerings, saw her eyes light up with affection and gratitude.

And when they woke, the emptiness within them was more pronounced, the need for her even more intense.

They wanted to be whole again, back when things weren’t strange yet familiar.

New despite knowledge to the contrary.

To feel the warmth of life flowing through their veins. And in their minds, the only way to achieve that was through her.

She was their light, their hope that a warm future was possible for a Hero, the one person that could fill the void that has existed since all of this happened.

And so, they continued to craft, whatever didn’t reach their standards, was scrapped and remade.

Again and again, never settling for less.

Any that couldn’t be saved but still had a semblance of worth were given to his grandfather to sell at whatever price he saw fit.

More money meant more materials.

More materials meant more options to craft with.

And whatever he couldn’t obtain through hunting. He would take from sales.

Perhaps the whispers of the townspeople, should have made him feel something when he started bringing income.

‘He’s taking to his grandfather’s craft rather well!’

But they meant nothing.

‘A prodigy, that one.’

Their praise wasn’t the one he wanted.

‘Have you seen the quality of his blades?’

‘Blades? Look at his armor! Such craftsmanship! Friend of mine bought one and it handled a moblin club to the chest no problem!’

‘I heard the king was interested in his weaponry and armor and the boy declined!’

‘Quite young to be so dedicated to mastering his craft isn’t he?’

‘…Does he take custom commissions?’

He heard it, and cared for none of it.

Nothing flawed would ever be gifted to (y/n).

They can praise his failures. He only cared for the money needed for supplies and materials.

He would make the perfect gifts.

And if she didn’t like it…

Then he’ll remake them.

Again and again.

He’s gained the favor of many traders and merchants.

He had better materials than before.

He’ll surely make something splendid.

“Hmm…” Four looked at the finished blade, examining it from all angles.

To the eyes of an outsider, it was a fine blade indeed.

The quality of metal was clear. Polished well, the edges so fine one would assume a hair strand would split in two if dropped on it.

Several long minutes passing before his frown deepens.

‘Not good enough…’

And with not a single other glance, he tosses it into the large crate in the corner.

Later his grandfather will take the crate and pick what will be on display tomorrow.

It’ll be sold off by midday.

That’s what he overheard happened these days anyway.

At least he’ll have more space for his creations..

‘Again…’ was all he said to himself as he began to gather new materials to create another blade.

He had to keep crafting.

Again and again.

Had to forge the perfect gift.

Again and again.

It would make things better…

It would fix everything…

…

(Wouldn’t it?)