#yes the title is based on so happy together

[arieswritez]

me & you; i do | perfect fiance!mark x lovesick gn!reader

cw; DARK CONTENT!! MDNI! rape, drugging, cucking, non-con bondage, gun play, death threats, degradation, cum play, manipulation, blackmail, sacrilegion (?), religious trauma, non-con filming, somnophilia, the graysons are normal��� (aka nolan never tried to murder mark el oh el), one (1) mention of undereating due to stress, breeding mention (more or so in a petplay context), so, petplay (if you squint), unspecified genitals for reader, this one's crazy nasty sorry xx

about; you & mark are perfect for each other. newly engaged, the two of you are starting your perfect, little lives. you've moved in together. you're looking into buying a home once the two of you marry. of building a home. unfortunately, his job interferes with your picture perfect fantasy. (3.6k words)

each day you wake next to mark is a good one.

you find yourself waking before he does just to have enough time to analyze his features: softened with sleep.

does he know he sleeps with his mouth open? is he embarrassed when he comes to, and finds crusted spit from where he'd been drooling on his side? does he find his hair - sticking out at every angle - annoying to style in the mornings?

you wish he knew. and you wish he wasn't embarrassed. or annoyed. because to you: mark is absolutely perfect.

mark is divine.

you've known it for a very long time. and it's been something that many have pointed out to you: you were built to worship. you knew it early in childhood: when you'd kneel in corners until your blood pooled, dark and tender. when you'd walk in the downpour and beg for mercy. when the wooden crosses above your bedroom door burned into your retinas: so much so, that to this day, you swear you still see their silhouette before you fall asleep.

mark is worth worshipping. and you make it so he feels that way. each morning, you sneak out of bed hours before he does. you brush your teeth and slash water on your face, you make sure to spritz on some soft perfume/cologne and slip back into bed. refreshed. watching.

he lays on his side: eyes closed in blissful sleep, but still, eyes on you. always, always, always. and your stomach feels fuzzy with the feeling that your worship is reciprocated. even subconsciously. you watch as mark's shoulders slowly go up and down with his breathing.

you don't know how long you watch.

long enough for him to stir.

you and him play this little game each and every day. a little tango, as to say. but you're the only one dancing. because, when mark stirs, he hums sleepily, then he slowly cracks his eyes open before letting out a loud yawn. you've memorizes his route. stir. hum. open. yawn.

stir: gives you enough time to wriggle into a flattering sleeping position (mirroring him. hands folded beneath your head, lips parted).

hum: you snap your eyes shut.

now, you assume, his open. your heart races with anticipation.

yawn. a stretch that moves him closer. a wet press of a kiss against your forehead. and you pretend to fuss at first when he peppers your face with kisses. playfully pressing the palm of your hand against his face. but you don't want him to stop. you want him to keep going. forever, and ever. ever and ever, and ever and ever. and sometimes, you wish you didn't have to play coy. because you know he'll have to crawl out of bed. because you'll have to face the day.

you'll have to wait. countdown every second, minute, hour until you see him again. but you play your part in your daily routine. and he murmurs, good morning, and rolls out of bed. and when the door to the adjoined bathroom shuts: your eyes snap open. wide awake. and stare at the indent he's left on your now empty, cold bed.

superhero life is hard.

you knew what you were getting yourself into. you knew. still, it doesn't calm the knotting in your stomach when mark comes home later than usual. when he's gone for days and no one will tell you where he's gone. not even cecil. well, specially not cecil.

but the two of you are engaged now. you deserve to know.

it's not fair.

it's not.

and you spend days in the grayson household, hoping his parents have heard something from him.

nothing.

you can hardly sleep.

you wish you could.

every waking moment is misery. a tightening in your chest. a paralysis in your stomach. a seizing anxiety so great it threatens to make you sick. you try to swallow it down, but the lump forms anyway, and your eyes grow tired of checking your phone for messages or missed phone calls from him.

nothing.

zero.

nada.

you can hardly eat.

you wish you could.

you love the graysons' cooking.

debbie's bibimbap got more delicious each time she made it and nolan's chili was to die for. but everything tasted bland without mark there.

you couldn't make light conversation and laugh alongside him as debbie talked about how mischievous he was as a child.

it's not the same.

you find yourself picking at the food. wishing mark was next to you, his hand on your leg, acting as if he wasn't tracing patterns over your clothing beneath the table. you touch yourself, instead, as debbie's usually exciting stories begin to sound more and more like background noise.

you try to concentrate.

no.

it's not the same.

a break-through in the form of a vision.

you hardly believe it's him.

your bed shifts with the weight of a body, crawling, softly, slowly, as not to rouse you. your eyes snap open, unaware of when you'd passed out from exhaustion. you're sure your eyes are swollen from all the crying. and you don't dare speak, less your voice is hoarse from un-use.

you wish you would've known. you wish someone would've warned you. then, you realize, you only have yourself to blame. you should've been awaiting his return: polished and pretty, presentable. not a shell of a person.

not this pathetic thing, who's eyes immediately fly open. who's lower lip quivers with emotion. who lunges towards an exhausted mark, who welcomes you with open arms and a soft, hey.

a muffled laugh.

your stomach twists.

you don't know why.

is it you?

it's you.

he's seen through the facade. finally, he's seen through the facade you've put on for him all these years. through college: the chance meeting that wasn't really chance. the re-occurring running into each other that you'd carefully put together. your likes, that so happened to be his likes. your friends, who so happened to be his friends.

it took one mistake.

one moment of weakness. of distress for your facade to crumble.

a laugh.

he's laughing at you. at how pathetic you are.

you're sure of it.

you find your tears dry as you hook your chin over his shoulder, listening to his voice in your ear, sounding so far away now that you know. your fingers curl into his worn shirt - he's changed out of suit. . when did he? why hadn't you noticed? idiot. idiot.idiot. - and you hope your grip isn't so hard to give away your panic.

your anger.

at him.

at yourself.

you have to make sure this slip up isn't the end to you.

you have to find a way to make sure mark never, ever thinks about leaving your side.

not again.

mark's had a good childhood.

you've seen the pictures. changing seasons, and growth spurts. gummy smiles turned into slightly filled out smiles, some teeth missing. before they turned into broody looks at the camera. before, once again, they transformed into bright grins. a full set of teeth this time, of course.

you? not so much. which explains a couple things, maybe. but still, this explains a certain behavior that's more fitting for you than it should be for him.

despite his superpowers, mark's paranoid. he's got motion sensitive lights and cameras out on the patio of your apartment. front and backyard. there's a ring door camera. cameras in the home. . even a few weapons locked away in a safe. you'd teased him about it once, finding it silly. saying, you do know you're the weapon, right?

but despite all your teasing, you found it cute: how mark was taking every precaution in the world to make sure nothing ever hurt you. his protectiveness was one of the many things you loved about him.

you also found it annoying.

you found it inconvenient.

so you knew you had to do something about those. you had to make sure nothing got in the middle of your plan.

as the world knows him: invincible, they would've never imagined him to be malleable. an intimidating figure, capable of destroying enemies 10x stronger and bigger, no, malleable wasn't something that the public would describe him as.

but they didn't know him as you did.

they didn't know a goddamn thing.

mark wasn't intimidating. not to you. he took everything you gave him without worry. without a care in the world or a question. he was too kind to hurt your feelings. which is why he doesn't say anything when his drink tastes funny.

you had a taste yourself, from the spoon. too salty. still, he doesn't even pull a face.

the two of you are watching television on the couch. . just some new horror movie everyone's been raving about. it's his day off and you begged and begged to stay in. so, he stayed in.

you barely paid attention to the movie, disinterestedly listening to the protagonist's screams while you stared at mark through your peripheral vision as he took tentative sips of his drink. perhaps you added too much and the taste was obvious. maybe he wouldn't drink enough because it was nasty and it wouldn't do anything to him. maybe his powers made him build a tolerance and it wouldn't do jack shit at all but make him sick.

you fidgeted. your eyes flickering towards the tv. back to him. tv, mark.

tv, mark. tv.

mark: his head fell forward slightly before he caught himself.

tv. the corner of your lips quirked up.

mark. sway. tv. mark. tv. mark. tv.

mark: red illuminated the otherwise darkened living room, undoubtedly caused by a spray of blood, if the ear aching shriek of a character on the screen was anything to go by. not that it mattered much, as mark's head had lolled back, resting against the backrest of the couch.

out for the count.

perfect.

an awful sound.

an injured animal? a sob. a mewl. a squeal.

a cry of his name, soft, whispered: a secret. it's you. his vision swims when he opens his eyes. a wave of nausea as the room spins, tilted on it's axis. a piercing pain at his temples. then, the darkened edges of his vision begin to clear. the small pinprick in which he'd been seeing through expands until he can finally take in the entire room.

the first thing to become clear - or at least blurry, instead of pitch black - is you. you're on the couch, terrified, shaking, tears streaming down your face as you try to speak between babbles. mark realizes he's not next to you, head swimming, as if remembering being moved elsewhere, and now his body is making up for the vertigo the movement should've caused at the moment.

then, more of his vision returns. slowly, an oozing crawl of throbbing colors, the room illuminated a strange greyish blue (the television?). behind the couch, behind you, is a massive, masked man with his hand on your shoulder. more of his vision comes back. and there's another.

mark immediately thrashes, wanting to be near you. but he's bound. he won't budge. and his vision returns enough for him to realize he's bound to a chair: hands tied behind him in a thick rope. and his brain is far too mushy to do a goddamned thing about it.

he can barely let out a let them go, without a stream of saliva dripping from his lip.

someone - something? - speaks. maybe it's one person speaking. maybe the strangers speak in unison. the voices are jumbled together, identical, despite the changes in tone. a clear voice, an echo, a wave of sound, faint and booming all at once. as if. . harmonizing.

yes, that's exactly it.

a maddening, harmony. an echo of voices.

whatever it is, the sound is otherworldly.

his thoughts feel as if they're sliding on oil. he has to fight his failing senses in order to understand.

"i hope you're comfortable. you'll be there for a while.-i hOpE yOU'RE coMForTabLE. you'Ll be tHerE foR A whILE.-i hope you're comfortable. you'll be there for a while~"

mark thrashes again, despite the vertigo that wracks through him, and a massive mitt clamps down on his shoulder, squeezing, keeping him in place. there must be another man.

his head lolls to the side, confirming his suspicions. but this time. . his eyes catch sight of something strange.

off in the distance, is a blinking, red orb.

on and off.

off and on.

he doesn't know what it is.

or why it's trained directly on him.

but the echoing cry that comes from you drags him back down to reality.

mark helplessly watches as your clothes are torn off. as you're pinned by a large hand: smothering your face into the couch the two of you were just snuggled up on. mark thinks the stranger has his fingers inside you. your face screws up in pain. the stranger only begins shoving putting so much force into fucking you with his fingers that your body jerks back and forth.

"i'll - kih-ll - you-" mark manages to drawl, eyes rolling, head lolling, fists weakly clenching behind himself. if he tries, really tries to concentrate, he could be on them in a second. he just needs a minute, he just needs-

a hand closes around his jaw in a vice grip, forcing his head upwards. forcing your attention back towards your limp body. his vision swims. the whiplash blinding him for a second. his face is held so roughly his lips are smushed together, forced into a pout. if he were lucid enough, he'd be able to tell the moan you let out at seeing him like that was of pleasure, instead of a cry from pain. still, you manage to play it off with a sob.

something glints before mark's eyes, the item winking against the pale, barely there lighting of the television, close to your head. it takes a couple of blinks to realize it's. .

"be good, pretty boy, or you'll have to clean their brains off your walls-be goOD, pReTty boy, or yOu'lL hAVE tO CLEAN tHEIR bRAINs OFF yOUR waLlSS-be good, pretty boy, and you won't have to clean their brains off your walls~"

a gun. their finger's on the trigger.

and there's nothing mark can do.

he'll never be fast enough. not like this, anyway. and he's forced to watch. his face is held in place so hard his jaw aches. and when he tries to shut his eyes, their actions become so violent, he opens them back up just to slur at them, trying to get them to stop hurting you.

he's forced to watch as you're pinned down by a hand at your nape. as your underwear is shoved down and tangles at your ankles. as you cry out and babble. as these strange men drape their bulk onto your back and hump into you like savages.

he's forced to listen to the harmonizing voices, making bets on which one of them can make you cum. and mark has to concentrate on trying to hear your screams over their voices. over their sounds. over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. because if you're screaming: you're alive.

he's forced to watch as one guides his cock into your mouth. as they spit roast you. and your gags and retches are so loud in his overstimulated mind he flinches at each one, they might as well have been gunshots. like fireworks to a veteran.

they pinch your nose shut and force you to swallow their spunk. only pulling out once they're done and shoving your face into the mess when you cough up the slime.

the intruders threaten to fuck him. even undoing his bindings and bending him over the coffee table. they bring you down with him, over the coffee table so the two of you are face to face.

mark doesn't even know when he stopped fighting. a fist is in his hair. they mock you. they tell you they'll fuck mark if you don't beg them to cum inside you nicely.

if you don't beg to be bred like a bitch in heat.

and you're so sweet.

you're so kind when you don't need to be.

and they keep mark on his knees, bent over the coffee table, as you beg to be used over and over and over again. begging the strangers to leave mark alone.

they still shove mark's pants down, but he doesn't feel an unwelcome press against his ass, instead, he feels a rough hand close around his soft cock.

and the worst part is, mark finds himself twitching at the sound of your begging. he feels a breath next to his ear, flinches away from it, but a hand stops him from getting too far. the voice whispers, finally one now that it's close enough to really listen, "i'd put on a good show if i were you. i dont want you boring me when i watch this back."

mark knew he wasn't crazy. his vision might swim. nausea might wrack his body. but he's technically a celebrity now.

he's able to tell the flashing - off, on, off, on, off, on - of a blinking red light in his peripheral vision anytime.

one of the men gets on his knees right behind you, and mark can tell the moment he forces himself inside of you by the way you whimper.

mark doesn't know when he's started crying. . when tears began to roll down his face but he can taste it: intermingling against your lips when they force your heads together in a brutal kiss. your teeth clang against his, bite into his bottom lip, and he pulls his lips back in a snarl, angry, anguished, disgusted, when the hand pumping his cock starts to get him hard.

the two of you cry in unison. sobbing. then. . moaning.

whining.

harmonizing voices, echoing.

mark cums at the same time your rapist does. spattering across the floor, spraying some on the coffee table, as the stranger finishes deep inside your hole.

they shove mark to the side.

and he takes the beating with empty eyes.

he hardly feels it.

you should be catatonic.

but you still cry out and beg them not to kill him over the white noise in mark's ears.

when they relent, the last thing mark hears is the harmonizing voice saying, "don't come looking for us. we'll leak the video."

superhero life is hard.

you know that.

mark's meant to take a punch and then smile with blood stained teeth.

he does just that.

they're gone.

and despite the drugs, he tries to help you. he's still really fucked up on them but he manages to guide you to the bathroom, one arm placed around his shoulder and one of his arms around your waist.

he manages to draw a warm bath for the both of you. he slips into the water and sits behind you, kisses your wet shoulder as you sniffle and cry and pretend to flinch away from him.

mark mindlessly, numbly, follows your every command. when you tell him to help you wash up. when you lead his hands to your used holes and ask him to get rid of all their cum. to make sure you're not soiled from within.

mark wordlessly scrapes the cum out of you. he wipes wet hands across bite marks and scratch marks. his fingers drunkenly rake and dance across blooming contusions.

mark takes you to bed and lays you down.

the two of you are silent.

he's the first to speak.

the slurring is slowly getting better.

the panic's not yet set in. you're not sure it will tonight. maybe not even tomorrow. maybe not even a week from now. but it will.

he says, "i'll get a doctor from cecil. he'll check you out in the morning."

because, really. . what would everyone think of him if the compromising video leaks. if a headline drops reading:

invincible?

superhero lets significant other get gangraped.

no.

you won't go to a hospital.

he won't go to a hospital.

you both can't.

he gets into bed alongside you.

and for the first time, mark turns away from you. he gives you his back. vulnerable. tired. a trusting pup: sleeping belly up.

you sidle up behind him and feel him flinch. suck in a breath. he's drawn so tight he's shaking. but you hook your chin over his shoulder and shush him.

the panic sets in.

mark cries, sobs, retches, heaves until he exhausts himself. until he panics himself to sleep.

and you're glad he let you get this close.

you're glad he's tuckered himself out because, now, you can slip your hands into his clean underwear and make him cum again. you can convince him he came in his sleep, thinking about the rape of his significant other.

you can roll over once you finish and make a money transfer to a bank account for a job well done.

the two of you are bound by tragedy now. mark will never be the same. no one will get him like you do. no one will be able to understand why he is the way he is . . or why he does what he does. . without learning about you first.

it'll take time, but he'll learn to appreciate this night as the night that bound your souls together. as the night that showed him how important you are to him. how dependent. how weak. you've successfully planted the seed of making him feel guilty about leaving you alone. about not protecting you enough.

anxiety will grip him whenever he's away on a mission.

and just like you, he won't be able to think about anything, anyone, else.

his brain will blank, conjuring up only images of you.

he'll fidget and count the seconds, minutes, hours until he sees you again.

and the thought makes you so, so happy.

[moonlight-records]

Because I Liked A Boy | LN4 (PSDE)

pairing: reader x LN4

summary: You were known as the one who tamed Mr. Playboy of the paddock and for a moment, you thought you had. Then everything goes sideways and suddenly you regret what you've done all because you liked a boy.

warning: angst. so much angst. break-up, player!lando, OOC Oscar?? it's based off the song, sorry not sorry

a/n: welcome to the playlist series, deluxe edition! i put my stim playlist on shuffle and picked the first 12 songs that was played (last two songs are bonus songs!). yes the titles are the songs, whoops

wc: 1.9K

song 1 out 12: because i liked a boy by Sabrina Carpenter

You and Lando had “broken up” right before Baku. Aka, Lando had dumped you right before Singapore which was horrible because he had given you tickets to the race. He let you keep the tickets, thank god, but you would’ve easily sold them if your flight was refundable but the asshole had done it quite literally 24 hours after they hit the non-refundable mark so you decided to go.

That was the first mistake you made. The news broke right after qualifiers when Lando was spotted with another girl at a club.Then the rumors spread that night about how Lando and this girl were a thing first. That you were nothing more but a psycho. Obsessed. A “proud mistress.” A homewrecker. A slut. You decided that it wasn’t worth the energy because you knew the truth and that things would blow over within a week or two.

That was mistake number two because by the second week (and the first week into summer break),  you were still getting hate and death threats directed at you or about you and it was too late to attempt to clear your name. You were thankful for the handful of fans who defended you and found it really odd Lando decided to just let himself be seen with another girl instead of announcing his split beforehand since clearly this girl came after you but there was nothing to do now to change the public’s view of you.

Clearly, it showed that Lando really did not care for you as much as you thought so you decided to do yourself the favor and just disappear. You deactivated all your socials and only told your close friends you were going on a social media detox. Your family were going on a mini vacation when in reality you found yourself waltzing into

Plopping down on the couch, you run your fingers through your hair before letting your head hang. Your fingernails dig into your scalp and suddenly your sweats are wet from the tears falling onto them before dragging your hands down and silently crying into a mix of  your hands and hair. You tried to figure out what had happened.

What has gone wrong?

You swore that you and Lando were happy. Sure, the long distance at times was rough and the time zones felt killer but you had held strong. You were convinced that you two could make it to the postseason and the few month or two that you two had together would help immensely. Still, you had been warned to keep him at a distance. That Lando was nothing more but a player and a heartthrob that moved on when he was bored but you swore that you were the one and for a bit, you were fooled into believing it along with everyone else.

It was almost a year. A fucking year basically you spent with Lando before he decided to dump you. A year of fucked up sleep schedules and sleepless nights. A year of traveling to go see these races. A year of meeting his friends and slowly being integrated into his world just for it to come crashing down. God, how stupid were you? You had poured so much energy into this boy just to be the one that got hurt in the end. What you would’ve give to punch him in his stupid fa—

“Here.”

You look up to be greeted with a carton of ice cream. You take the carton without a second thought, top flung off, and spoon diving in. You grunts slightly as you struggle but you manage to be victorious as you get a spoonful. The couch shifts next to you and tears immediately swell again when there’s a gentle comforting hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you mumble while shaking your head before shoving another mouthful of ice-cream into your mouth, “you tried to warn me. I didn’t listen. This is the consequence of my action.” You laugh bitterly, “God maybe I really am nothing more than a naive hopeless romantic who can’t pick a good guy to save my own life.”

“Don’t say that, y/n.” You can hear the frown as you look over, “you aren’t naive. You see the good in everyone and I admire that about you greatly. You saw the best in him,” gently brushing some hair out of your face. “But he’s never going to change unless he wants to. Sadly, he doesn’t and you got burned in the end because he’s too busy being a player.”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his side. “You’re too good for him.” Pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, “Now. Do you want a trashy movie or trashy TV?”

“Trashy TV. Maybe that new mom documentary about those Mormon moms from tiktok?”

You snicker slightly at the . “The what documentary?”

“Do you seriously not keep up with these things?”

“No.”

“We really have to change that.”

Summer break had come and gone. You had done a lot of crying and snacking but you had also done a lot of healing. You think you’ve done a lot of healing anyway but today would be the deciding factor.

Your stomach twisted and turned as you watched the destination time get lower and lower the closer you arrived to the Austin track. You glance out the window anxious before looking back at your phone. When you arrive, you thank the driver as you climb out, holding your purse just a bit tighter before making your way to one of the back entrances you knew existed. Nobody in the media knew about it so you got into the paddock undetected from the media as you started your journey to a certain garage.

You’re so close to your destination before you’re finally spotted. “Y/N?”

You freeze hearing the familiar British accent behind you. His voice sounded surprised. You should just keep walking, you’re so close to your destination but your body betrays you as you turn. You study those stormy green eyes that seem to grow a bit colder seeing you here. You ball your hands into fists, nails digging into your pal to keep from crying. He didn’t deserve that from you.

You silently stare at Lando, who was in his cream sweatshirt from his new academic merch drop and some joggers along with that stupidly beautiful mullet. God, you swore that Aphrodite herself had hand sculptured Lando which would explain why you could not find it in you to hate his looks. Instead, you clear your throat, “can I help you?”

Lando decides to save both of you the trouble and cuts right through the bullshit. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to support my friend.”

“Friend? Seriously?” Lando looks around then back at you, “last time I checked we weren’t even acquaintances. Hell, are we talking again?”

Anger simmered in your stomach but you kept it at bay, “Why would you think I was talking about you?”

Lando seemed a bit surprised by that, “Well, you aren’t really close with anyone else here,” he let out a small chuckle. “The boys might’ve liked you but I’ve known them longer.”

“Well, maybe some of them weren’t happy with how you let things end. I mean, with your new fling starting rumors about me being a homewrecker and such even though when all that went down we’d already broke up. Yet you didn’t have the balls to say that to the media, did you?”

Lando grits his teeth, “I never told her to—”

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut in. “You let the rumors spread. You let the fire grow. You never denied the rumors or told her it was wrong. You didn’t even tell the media we broke up before that night. Now I’m just the homewrecking slut when she came into the picture after me. Seemed like she was doing a lot of projecting and yet, here we are.”

You cross your arms over your chest staring the Brit down. Silence falls upon the two of you and you’re ready to leave before an arm is slung over your shoulder startling you and Lando. “There you are.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim and smile, “hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lando interjects.

“Excuse me?” Oscar asks, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Spare me, Oscar. Why the hell are you inviting Y/N knowing damn well we broke up just a little over a month ago.”

You can feel your heart twist as Lando speaks. His words were like a knife that would stop at nothing until you were nothing more than a shell of yourself wallowing in pain occasionally through the numbness.

“Well, Y/N and I are friends and I invited her as my guest this weekend so…” he lets his words trail off for a moment.

“When did you and Y/N become friends?”

“When you decided to treat her like trash and tossed her to the side for some random girl probably after you just for your fame and money.”

The silence that followed Oscar’s comment was suffocating. Your jaw was opened a little while you stared at the Aussie in pure awe while Lando’s jaw had dropped to the floor. He quickly regained some of his composure, still unsure how to respond to his teammate and friend (maybe?) remark but Oscar wasn’t done.

“I mean, come on. Y/N is great. Everyone loves her. Everyone looked forward to seeing her. She stayed up countless nights for you. Rearranged her schedules to visit. Hell, she didn’t know anything about F1 until you and worked her ass off to learn your profession. What’s the thank you gave her for almost a year of your life? Some random girl at the club? Seriously?” Oscar shakes his head, “Mate, I love you but I’m not gonna side with you. You fucked up. You picked a girl who’s known to be a celebrity hopper over someone who gave you everything and you want me to side with you and the celebrity hopper? Who has to slander other girls and put them down so nobody focuses on how fast she moves on?? No thanks.”

You stare up at Oscar in awe for coming to your defense. You feel tears starting to swell because this has probably been the worst month in your life and here was Oscar, reminding you first hand that there were people in your corner. That there were people who saw you for you. Who knew the kind hearted person you were. The one who gave it their all until they couldn’t give anymore. The one who saw the good in everyone and loved way too much and never got the same energy in return. You avert your eyes quickly when Oscar’s gaze meets your and you clear your throat. “You should head back to your garage before they look for you. I’ll meet you there.”

“You sure?” Oscar asks.

“Yeah!”

Oscar nods, “Okay,” he glances at Lando but doesn’t bother saying goodbye. They’d see each other soon enough.

You watch Oscar leave before turning to look at Lando, unsure what to say. It seems he was in the same boat as you both stood there awkwardly.

“Well.” You start finally.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Save it.” You hold a hand up, looking away from him, “please. I don’t. The damage has been done, Lando. It’s over. You’ve already told me who I am from your actions. Just…have a good weekend,” You turn and head to Oscar’s garage without a second glance back at the man who was once your everything.

[flwrstqr]

— HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS ! an advice writer, you, starts on a bold new project for an article aiming to explain how to drive a man away in just 10 days. your editor is supports, so you set out to find a suitable man for her experiment. meanwhile, executive heeseung is equally confident in his ability to make any woman fall in love with him within 10 days. when you and heeseung cross paths, things slightly go off plan.

THE CAST heeseung x writer! fem reader

GENRE s2l, fluff, comedy, romance

WORD COUNT 5k+

WARNINGS parties, kissing, small grammar errors, yn kind of playing with heeseung at first, swearing, angst, crying

DANi NOTEZ hii this is for my liz's new event!!! this i based the rom com, how to lose a guy in 10 days. i kind of changed up scenes but the main idea and plot is based on the iconic 2000s movie. i've been writing this for abt 2-3 days? i thought it was good enough for liz' event so here i am. anyways i hope u enjoy it ><

BEING A WRITER HAS BEEN YOUR NUMBER ONE GOAL EVER SINCE HIGH SCHOOL. Now, at age 23, you were finally standing at the gates of the biggest magazine company ever. The sight alone sent chills down your spine, filling you with exhilaration.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The bustling activity, the hum of the printer, and the aroma of bitter coffee greeted you. You made your way to the elevator and anxiously pressed the button for the 17th floor.

Upon arrival, you awkwardly walked into the office. Your heart was pounding, and your knees were slightly shaking. You approached the manager's office and opened the door, finding yourself sitting in front of your section's main manager.

"YN LN?" the woman asked.

"Yes, ma'am," you replied stiffly, nerves evident in your voice.

"Welcome to our magazine company," she greeted, shaking your sweaty hand.

"Thank you," you responded with your usual sweet smile.

"Well, why don't you get to work?" she laughed. Your eyes widened, and you quickly stammered an apology, rushing to find your new desk and start brainstorming ideas.

For nearly two hours, you gazed out the window, feeling empty. No ideas were coming to you. It always seemed that the best ideas came at the worst times, and now, when you needed them most, your mind was blank.

"YN, just think…" you whispered to yourself, running your fingers through your hair. You glanced around the office, hoping for inspiration. Your eyes settled on a young man and woman engaged in a flirtatious conversation. Watching them smile and laugh together made you wonder if they were a couple or just interested in each other. (happy couples really did give you an ick.)

Then, it happened. The perfect idea. An idea that could possibly get you promoted and shake the whole world.

Quickly scribbling on your paper, the title snapped into your mind: "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING, how do you even lose a guy in 10 days? Easy—just find a guy and drive him away by doing stereotypical “girl things.” Sounds like a piece of cake, right?

“YN, that is one of the BEST ideas I’ve ever heard!” your editor, Yeseo, exclaims.

“Really?” you ask, eagerly smiling.

“It’s perfect! It would catch everyone’s attention!” Yeseo explains, her eyes lighting up as she imagines the situation.

“So, how are you going to write this?” Yeseo raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll try it out myself and document my experiences. That way, it’s more authentic,” you shrug.

“That sounds great. Just journal your experiences each day,” Yeseo nods, agreeing with your plan. “I’m so excited to see the final product, YN. Email me once you’re finished, and we’ll get it published within weeks.”

You give her a quick smile before leaving her office, ready to start your new adventure.

PARTIES. USUALLY ONE OF THE THINGS YOU ABSOLUTELY HATED. The noise of couples kissing, people screaming, and music blasting through the speakers was just not your thing. The way sweaty bodies brush against each other as they chug alcohol. Parties are truly the thing you hate the most.

“So you’re telling me your new article for the magazine is about how to get a boy to dump you in 10 days?” Karina raised her eyebrow.

“In other words, yes,” you smiled. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Possibly it not working,” Giselle interjected.

“Well, it will. I’ve planned the whole thing,” you grinned with a hint of pride. “My editor was impressed. I’m sure it’ll work.”

“If you say so,” Karina laughed at your confidence.

“So basically, YN will get a boyfriend before me?” Ningning asked, shocked.

“Well, he’s not gonna be my boyfriend. He’s more like a test,” you replied uncertainty. As you continued to explain your plan, you felt a gaze fixed on you from across the room.

A FEW MINUTES BEFORE

“I bet you can’t get a girlfriend,” Jake joked.

“I can,” Heeseung rolled his eyes.

“Wanna bet on it, then?” Jake's eyes glinted with playfulness.

“Deal,” Heeseung confirmed.

“If you get that girl over there as your girlfriend, then I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” Jake smirked, pointing at you across the room.

“Her?” Heeseung raised his eyebrow as he checked you out. You were pretty to his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to approach you.

“Yup, her,” Jake grinned.

“Deal, I’ll have her in my arms within a day,” Heeseung winked before walking over to ask for your number.

NOW

“No way my plan will fail–” your voice stopped as Heeseung approached, tapping your shoulder lightly.

“Hi,” he greeted you with a welcoming smile.

“Uh, hi?” you replied, confused.

“You’re kind of cute. Can I get your number?” Heeseung asked, the words not quite rolling off his tongue as he had never done this before.

Your cheeks burned slightly as you stared. “Sure?” He was quite cute, with his sweet smile and perfectly styled hair. You gave him your number, and he mentioned he would text you later before walking off.

“YN, you know what that means?” Giselle raised her eyebrow.

“Huh?” you looked confused.

“You can use him as your test,” Winter recalled. Your eyes then widened. Perfect! He would be the perfect subject for your new article. Now, how were you going to make him yours?

YOU SIT ON YOUR BED, staring at your phone, debating whether to text Heeseung first. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, a mixture of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside you. Finally, you take a deep breath and type out a message.

YN: Hi, it’s YN. We met at the party earlier, you asked for my number. :)

You hit send and immediately feel a rush of anxiety. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he thinks you’re weird? You try to distract yourself by scrolling through social media, but the minutes feel like hours. Suddenly, your phone buzzes.

Heeseung: Hey, of course I remember. How's your night going? 

YN: It’s going good, just relaxing now. How about you?

Heeseung: Same here. Just got home. That party was a bit too much for me, tbh

You smile, feeling a little more at ease.

YN: Agreed, not rlly a party person lmao

Heeseung: Really? Me neither. I actually prefer a quiet night with some good music.

YN: Same, what kind of music do you like?

Heeseung: I listen to a lot like R&B and indie ig

YN: oh rlly? Same w me 

Heeseung: oh that’s cool

Heeseung: also wanna meet up one day?

YN: That would be amazing. I’m totally up for it.

Heeseung: Cool, it’s a date then. :)

You can’t help but smile at his message, feeling a flutter of excitement.

YN: Sounds like a plan.

Heeseung: It’s getting late. I should probably get some sleep. But I’m glad we got to talk tonight.

YN: Me too. Sleep well, Heeseung. Talk to you tomorrow?

Heeseung: Definitely. Goodnight, YN. :)

You set your phone down, a smile still on your face. This might just be the start of something interesting.

YOU TAKE A DEEP BREATH, smoothing out your outfit one last time before stepping into the restaurant. Heeseung is already there, waiting at a table near the window. He spots you and waves, a warm smile spreading across his face. You give a small smile back. 

“Hi,” you greet him as you sit down.

“Hey,” he replies, “You look great.”

“Thanks, you too.”

The waiter comes over to take your orders, and there’s a moment of awkward silence as you both look at the menus.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” Heeseung asks, attempting to break the ice.

“Actually, it’s my first time,” you admit.

“I see,” Heeseung awkwardly laughs. 

AFTER DINNER, you both step outside into the cool evening air, feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence.

“That was really nice,” Heeseung says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, feeling a sense of relief that the awkwardness from earlier has faded.

You walk side by side down the quiet street, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

“Do you live far from here?” Heeseung asks, breaking the silence.

“Not too far. Just a few blocks away,” you reply, glancing at him.

“Oh I see,” he says, smiling.

As you continued walking, the two of you began to chatter off. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you find yourself laughing at his jokes and sharing your own stories.

“Did you see the sunset earlier?” Heeseung asks, pointing to the sky, which is now painted with shades of orange and pink.

“Yeah, it was beautiful,” you say, smiling at the sight.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Heeseung says, looking at you with a soft smile.

“Me too,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

As you reach your street, you both come to a stop.

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” Heeseung says, looking a little reluctant to leave.

“Yeah,” you say, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

“Thanks for tonight, YN. I had a great time,” he says, stepping closer to you, “Maybe another time we can hang out again.” 

“Thank you too, Heeseung. That sounds great,” you reply, feeling a rush of happiness.

 YOU DECIDE IT'S TIME TO PUT YOUR PLAN INTO ACTION. You’ve thought through every detail, determined to see if your article concept works in real life. Step one: find an ugly dog and some hideous clothes. You’ve got the perfect ideas in mind.

You meet Heeseung outside his apartment, holding a small, scruffy dog with a face only its owner could love. You flash him a bright smile as he opens the door.

“Surprise!” you exclaim. “I got us a dog!”

Heeseung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the dog. “Uh, wow, YN. That’s…unexpected.”

“Isn’t he adorable?” you gush, ignoring the bewilderment on Heeseung’s face. “I named him Snuggles.”

“Snuggles, huh?” Heeseung says, trying to muster enthusiasm. “Yeah, he’s…something.”

You place Snuggles in Heeseung’s arms, watching as the dog licks his face with an enthusiastic, slobbery tongue. Heeseung grimaces slightly but manages a strained smile.

“Let’s take him for a walk,” you suggest brightly, grabbing a garishly colored leash from your bag.

Later that evening, you bring out the next part of your plan: an outfit so hideous that it should be impossible for Heeseung to bear. You hand him a neon green tracksuit with orange polka dots and a pair of mismatched shoes.

“I thought we could match!” you say, revealing your identical outfit. “Isn’t it fun?”

Heeseung looks at the clothes, then back at you, clearly unsure how to respond. “Wow, YN. This is…unique.”

“You don’t like it?” you ask, pouting slightly.

“No, no, it’s great,” he says quickly. “I’ll just, uh, go change.”

When he returns, you both look like you’ve stepped out of a bad 80s workout video. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity, but Heeseung seems to be struggling to keep a straight face.

“Let’s go grab dinner,” you say, linking your arm with his. “I made reservations at that fancy restaurant downtown.”

At the restaurant, the two of you turn heads as you walk in, dressed in your eye-searing outfits. The hostess tries to maintain her professionalism as she leads you to your table, but you can see the corners of her mouth twitching.

Throughout dinner, you do your best to be as irritating as possible. You chew with your mouth open, talk loudly, and insist on ordering the strangest items on the menu.

“Are you sure you want the pizza?” Heeseung asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“Absolutely,” you reply, grinning. “And I think you should try it too!”

Heeseung hesitates but eventually nods. “Sure, why not?” 

Here you were, sitting on your bed as you write your story. Typing away and zoning out, it had to be working right? He obviously would be over you by next week. All you needed was one more shove to drive him away soon as possible. Just 5 more days..

YOU PUSH YOUR CART THROUGH the aisles of the grocery store, scanning the shelves for the items on your list. As you reach for a box of cereal, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“YN?”

You turn to see Heeseung approaching, a smile lighting up his face. “Oh, hi Heeseung,” you say with a smile.

“Nice to see you here,” he says, falling into step beside you.

“Yeah, I just needed to grab a few things,” you reply, feeling a bit flustered by his presence.

Heeseung nods, and for a moment, there’s an awkward silence as you both continue browsing. Suddenly, you realize you can’t reach the item you need on the top shelf.

“Um, Heeseung, do you think you could help me with something?” you ask, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Of course, what do you need?” he replies, stepping closer.

“I just need to grab that box up there,” you say, pointing to the top shelf.

“Sure thing,” Heeseung says, reaching up to grab the box.

But as he stretches, you accidentally bump into him, causing him to lose his balance. In a split second, you reach out to steady him, but instead, you end up stumbling backward, crashing to the ground on top of him. Your face merely inches from each other. 

“I’m sorry about that!” you exclaim, your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he says, his cheeks also flushed as he helps you up.

“Um, we should probably get up,” you say, feeling flustered.

“Yeah, definitely,” Heeseung agrees, scrambling to his feet.

You both straighten your clothes and try to regain your composure, but the awkwardness lingers in the air.

“Well, um, thanks for trying to help,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Anytime,” Heeseung replies with a sheepish smile. You exchange a quick awkward glance before awkwardly walking back to do your own things.

YOU AND HEESEUNG STEP INTO THE DIMLY LIT MOVIE THEATER, the smell of popcorn filling the air. You’ve been looking forward to this night out, hoping it will help end your plan to drive him away. As you settle into your seats, the lights dim, and the movie begins.

The film is a romantic comedy, and as the story unfolds, you find yourself getting lost in the plot. But when the characters share a kiss on screen, you feel a sudden tension between you and Heeseung.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and you can see that he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You both look away awkwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

As the movie progresses, the tension between you only grows. You can feel Heeseung’s eyes on you, and you struggle to focus on the screen, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, as another kiss happens, Heeseung leans in closer to you. You freeze, unsure of what to do. Is he going to kiss you? But then, almost as if on cue, Heeseung leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. His breath mingles with yours, his warm exhales tickling your skin as he leans in, his lips drawing closer to yours. You can feel the gentle brush of his breath against your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. And then, in a heartbeat, he closes the gap between you, his lips pressing softly against yours. It’s a gentle kiss, but hesitant at first, but soon it deepens. You can’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.

You melt into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours.  When you finally pull away, your heart is racing, and your mind is buzzing with emotions. You meet Heeseung’s gaze, and you can see the same uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

“Wow,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the movie.

“Yeah,” you murmur, at a loss for words.

As the movie comes to an end, you both sit in silence, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. But despite the awkwardness, you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between you.

As you leave the theater, you can’t help but replay the kiss in your mind, feeling a sense of warmth and longing that you can’t ignore. And as you walk hand in hand with Heeseung, you realize with a start that maybe, just maybe, you’re falling in love.

AS YOU LIE IN BED THAT NIGHT, the events of the evening replay in your mind. The gentle touch of Heeseung's lips against yours, the warmth of his embrace—it all stuck in your head. 

You stare up at the ceiling, think to yourself.  Love? It's a word you're not ready to utter, a feeling too intense to comprehend. You try to push the thought aside. 

You roll onto your side, pulling the covers tighter around you. You couldn’t be in love? All that effort you put in to get rid of him. It was your 8th day, just two more days. You couldn’t do it anymore. As you drift off to sleep, the question echoes in your mind. Are you falling in love with Heeseung? 

THE REALIZATION HITS YOU like a ton of bricks, leaving you feeling breathless. Could it be true? Are you actually falling in love with Heeseung?

The thought consumes you as you go about your day. By the time evening arrives, you can't shake the feeling that you needed to end it.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you pick up your phone and dial your editor's number. When she answers, you get yourself together for the conversation ahead.

"Hey, it's me," you begin, "I need to talk to you about the article."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the curiosity in her voice as she responds. "Sure, what's up?"

"I… I can't write it," you admit, the words feeling like a confession. "I just don't feel right about it anymore."

There's a moment of silence before your editor speaks again, her tone firm."No, you're writing it," she says, leaving no room for argument.

"But—" you start to protest, but she cuts you off before you can continue.

"No buts," she insists. "We've already agreed on the topic, and you're the best person for the job. I expect to see the first draft on my desk by the end of the week."

You sigh, feeling defeated. It's clear that your editor isn't going to budge on this issue, and you know that arguing further would be a waste.

"Okay," you say reluctantly, resigning yourself to the task at hand. "I'll get it done."

AS YOU SIT ON YOUR COUCH, trying to make sense of everything that's happened, until you hear Heeseung pick up a call. 

“ Heeseung!" Jake's voice crackles through the phone, filled with excitement. "So, have you sealed the deal yet? Win YN over?"

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of your name and you instinctively lean in closer, eager to hear his response. But as you listen, the color drains from your face, and a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

"The bet that I could get YN in 10 days?," Heeseung's voice comes through the phone, his words cutting through the air, "I thought I could, but…" 

Your heart shatters. Your knees started to shake. How could you have been so blind? How could you have let yourself fall for someone who was playing a game with your feelings?

Before you can hear the rest of his sentence, you leave the room silently. "I thought I could, but…" The words replay in your head.As the reality sinks in, you realize that you may have just broken your own heart, listening in on a conversation that was never meant for your ears.  He played with you. He was using you. You feel like a fool, blindsided by the truth that's been staring you in the face all along. 

You walk yourself to the nearest taxi before coming back to your empty apartment. You lie on bed, your palms on your eyes, sobbing quietly. Why should you care? I mean he was just an experiment — right? 

THE MORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERS through the curtains as you sit on your bed, thoughts rushing through your mind. The wounds from last night were still raw, as you feel tired and sick. You kew what you have to do. You began to type your last paragraph of the article before submitting it to your editor. 

With the article sent, you feel a mix of anxiety and relief. You know the revised piece is honest and raw, reflecting your own experience. But there’s one more thing you need to do to truly move forward.

To: Editor Yeseo

Subject: Resignation Letter

Dear Yeseo,

I am writing to formally resign from my position as a writer, effective immediately. I appreciate the opportunities I have had here and the support from the team, but I must prioritize my well-being at this time.

Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely, YN

You hit send, feeling an overwhelming amount of pain. Being a writer had been your dream job, but now, it feels like a chapter you need to close. As you sit in your now-quiet apartment, you feel a pang of sadness. The memories of the past few weeks with Heeseung linger, but you push them aside. 

You start with your closet, pulling out clothes and sorting them into piles: keep, donate, and toss. You take down the photos and posters from the walls, each one a reminder of the life you’re leaving behind.

Next, you move to the kitchen, packing up dishes, utensils, and small appliances. You wrap everything carefully, methodically, as if each item represents a piece of your heart that you’re trying to protect. 

Your phone buzzes with messages from Heeseung, but you ignore them. Making them be left on delivered. You move to the living room, packing up books, DVDs, and mementos. You’re not just packing up your belongings; you’re packing up your old life, preparing to move on and start new.

IN HIS DIMLY LIT APARTMENT, Heeseung sits on the edge of his bed, the glow of his laptop screen casting shadows across his face. His heart pounds in his chest as he opens the email attachment—a document titled "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days—And Fall in Love in the Process" by [Your Name].

As the page loads, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to read. The cursor hovers over the first paragraph, and with a trembling hand, he begins to scroll down. 

Heeseung sits at his desk, his heart pounding in his chest as he reads the article that has just landed in his inbox. With each word, his emotions spiral into a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

"When I set out to write this article..."

He reads the opening sentence, his brow furrowing in confusion. What article is this? And why does it sound so familiar?

As he continues to read, the pieces start to fall into place. The description of the article, the unexpected turn of events—it's all too familiar, too painful to ignore.

"I met someone who was supposed to be just a test subject..."

Heeseung's breath catches in his throat as he realizes what he's reading. This is about him. About the bet, about the article he overheard, about everything.

He reads on, his heart pounding louder with each passing sentence:

When I set out to write this article, the plan was simple: follow a set of steps to make a guy dump me in ten days. It was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted challenge—a piece to entertain our readers. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

I met someone who was supposed to be just a test subject. But as the days went by, something unexpected happened. The more I tried to push him away, the closer we became. Every awkward moment, every forced argument, every silly plan to drive him away only brought us closer together.

I found myself laughing at his jokes, looking forward to our time together, and, against all odds, feeling a connection I hadn't anticipated. What started as a challenge turned into a journey of discovery—not just about him, but about myself.

I realized that love isn't something you can plan or control. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, breaking down the walls you've carefully built around your heart. And sometimes, the person you're trying to lose ends up being the one you can't imagine living without.

So, dear readers, this isn't the article I set out to write. It's not about foolproof ways to make a guy dump you. Instead, it's a story about how, in the process of trying to push someone away, I found myself falling in love. It's messy, it's unexpected, and it's beautiful.

Life has a funny way of turning our plans upside down. And sometimes, the best stories are the ones we never meant to write.

He closes the magazine, his mind spinning with thoughts of you. He knows he needs to find you, to talk to you, to tell you how he feels. He can't let this opportunity slip away, can't let the chance to be with you slip through his fingers.

With a sense of determination, Heeseung rises from his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he has to find you, to tell you how he feels, to see if maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way too.

HEESEUNG'S HEART RACES AS HE RUSHES THROUGH THE STREETS, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. He knows he needs to find you, to talk to you, to tell you everything.

As he rounds the corner, he sees your apartment building looming ahead. His steps quicken, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He's so close now, so close to finally telling you how he feels.

But as he reaches your building, his heart sinks at the sight before him. He sees movers loading boxes into a truck parked outside, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that you're moving away.

Heeseung's chest tightens with panic, his mind racing as he searches for a solution. He can't let you slip away, can't let this chance to be with you slip through his fingers. He rushes toward the building, his thoughts jumbled all up. 

As he bursts through the door, he sees you standing in the hallway, a suitcase at your feet, tears streaming down your face. His heart breaks at the sight of your sadness, and he knows he needs to act fast.

"Y/N!" he calls out, his voice echoing through the empty hallway. You turn to face him, your eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him standing there.

"Heeseung?" you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "What are you doing here?"

Heeseung takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "I need to talk to you," he says, his voice filled with urgency. "There's something I need to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago."

He steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I was part of the bet," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it was never about winning a thousand dollars or proving anything to Jake. It was about proving something to myself—to prove that I could be the kind of guy who deserves someone like you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his confession, your heart aching with a mix of sadness and hope. "Heeseung…" you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

But Heeseung doesn't wait for you to say anything more. With a surge of courage, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, pouring all of his love and longing into the kiss. 

As Heeseung's lips meet yours in that soft, tender kiss, his hands gently find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You feel the heat of his body against yours, the closeness intensifying the sensation of his lips moving against yours. His touch is gentle yet possessive, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as if memorizing every curve of your body.

You pull away, staring and laughing for a moment. 

"I love you," you whisper softly. 

"I love you more," he smiles back, quietly leaning his forehead against yours to quickly catch his lips on yours again. Maybe writing that article wasn't so bad after all.

[thornnii]

⎯ ☆ my girlfriend

genre: fluff wordcount: 0.9k pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader tags: based on 'my girlfriend' by TV Girl, daughter of hypnos!reader (she/her), use of [reader], from percy's perspective, minor gods have cabins, established relationship, they're like 15 in this, phones/devices don't attract monsters (eg. noise cancelling headphones) summary: sometimes she just struggles to get out of bed. she can’t help it. notes: noticing how both my percy fics have similar titles, anyway happy international sleep day!

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the sun was bathing camp half blood in a golden light as campers began exiting their respective cabins and heading towards the dining pavilion for breakfast. stepping out of his own cabin, percy was immediately engulfed in the wave of campers, but he did his best to push through the current of others toward the cabins of the minor gods. it had become routine for him by this point; wake up, get sorted for the day, go to cabin 15, drag [reader] out of bed, go for breakfast. percy wondered whether clovis would be up yet or not. who knew with hypnos kids. percy knew that if he didn’t go check up on [reader] she’d willingly hibernate like a bear throughout the winter.

percy knocked on the door to cabin 15, his mother had raised him to always be a gentleman. the door was opened slowly, revealing a bleary-eyed clovis who, upon recognising percy, ushered him in so he could close the door once more. percy liked the hypnos cabin. it always smelt warm and the soft violins made everything feel serene. it was an ironic comparison to personalisation of the beds; messy sheets, a collection of cups, plates and cutlery, clothes strewn around, as well as their own belongings from home. almost every bedside cabinet had either a pair of headphones upon it or a pair of ear plugs.

instantly, percy went over to [reader]’s bed. she was still asleep. of course. it seemed incredulous to percy that anyone would be able to sleep through the morning conch, but here was living proof that it were possible. percy gently shook [reader]’s shoulder to try and ease her out of her slumber. she let out some incomprehensible mumble before promptly rolling over and hiding her face in her pillow.

“c’mon,” percy coaxed, “gotta get up and get breakfast”

[reader] spoke into her pillow once more but this time percy could catch bits of what she was saying, “be fine without… don’t wanna get up… didn’t sleep good..”

“you need breakfast.” percy stood his ground, “and the reason you didn’t sleep well is because you never go to sleep at a reasonable time, it’s a wonder the curfew harpies haven’t caught you yet.”

“I’m too smart for them.” [reader] rebutted, finally turning to face percy and squinting her eyes at him.

“yes you are, now up.” percy quickly pulled the duvet away causing [reader] to let out groans and mumbled protestations at his actions. “come on.” percy reiterated, holding out his hands for [reader] to take. she continued to squint her eyes and scowl at him, but took his hands anyway.

“wash up and then we can go to breakfast” percy proffered.

“can’t I just go like this?” [reader] contested, gesturing to her pyjamas of fluffy black pyjama trousers and make-shift pyjama top of a vintage graphic tee.

percy raised an eyebrow, “you know you’ll get into trouble with chiron if you do.”

“when is getting in trouble an issue for you?” [reader] raised an eyebrow.

“please.” percy begged.

“percy, you’re lucky that I even got out of bed, besides it’s not like I really have any activities to do today, so why do I have to get changed?”

percy sighed, trying to reason, “how about you just change into the shirt? at least for breakfast?”

“fine. turn around.” [reader] motioned with her finger.

it was coming close to the end of breakfast when percy and [reader] finally entered the dining pavilion. since it was basically empty, the two sat together at the hypnos table. thankfully there was still some food left, but not as much as percy would’ve liked, especially after sacrificing some to the gods.

“considering you went out of your way to drag me here, are you actually going to eat or not?” [reader] asked as percy seemingly just stared at his food.

“yeah, yeah,” percy shook his head as he broke out of his reverie, “was just thinking.”

“about?” [reader] prodded.

“just… how do you go a day on so little food? if I didn’t wake you up in the mornings you’d sleep straight through breakfast.”

“I nap and I don’t do anything strenuous. I’d rather rot in bed than go on a quest. I don’t need a lot of energy. besides ‘girl dinner’.”

“it’s breakfast.” percy pointed out.

“whatever, not the point.”

percy rolled his eyes at his girlfriend and went back to eating. it wasn’t until the two were finished with their food and basically the only ones left in the pavilion did he ask:

“so, what are you going to do today?”

[reader] shrugged her shoulders, “dunno, might go to the arts and crafts centre. don’t have to do anything strenuous there.”

“want me to join you?” percy asked, gathering their plates to take back to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to, I know it’s not your favourite place, you could go to the sword-fighting arena to practise if you want. I’m probably going to end up falling asleep anyway.”

“cool. I’ll be there to wake you up if chiron or mr d come by.”

a smile spread across [reader]’s face. she gave percy a light smack on the shoulder before looping her arm through his and dragging him off to the arts and crafts centre. she could already feel her eyelids drooping as she walked, anticipating the peace and quiet of the crafts centre that would let her nap until lunch.

© thornnii.tumblr.com 2024

[nadvs]

basketball player!rafe just seems like the "i don't wanna get married but i want to be a father" guy bc of his commitment issues jsjsjsj imagine they've been in a relationship for 5-7 years and had a baby already but rafe hasn't proposed yet, do you think reader would be comfortable in that kind of set up?

YOU’RE SO RIGHT 🙂‍↕️

based on this fic

» au masterlist

YES 100% he genuinely wants to be a dad, but a husband? that freaks him the fuck out. a kid is a big commitment, but he’s ready for it because he knows as long as he does a good job, that child will love him. as it turns out, he knows both children will love him, because they learn she’s having twins.

but a woman can wake up one day and decide she doesn’t want to be with him anymore. a ring and a piece of paper don’t give him any comfort. and he never saw a good example of a marriage.

neither did she, so she’s okay with it. after all, even in their college days, their friends said they acted married. she doesn’t need the title. she hears comments about it, people judging him for not asking and judging her for staying. but she’s happy with things being like this. maybe she’ll want marriage eventually. but not now.

a few years later, he gets a bad injury on the court. potentially career-ending. and his girl does not leave his side. he’s in constant pain and is the worst version of himself. rude, abrupt, distant. she still sticks with him.

one night, while he’s bedridden, he overhears her telling the kids that their dad is sick and not himself right now, but he’ll get better and he still loves them very much. he doesn’t know what he did to deserve her. and throughout his healing period, it gives him time to reflect, and he realizes part of him worries she’s only still with him for the kids.

he gets better. he overcomes it. and he gets back out on the court. he’s not as risk-taking of a player as he once was, but still a damn good one. the night of his first game back, he’s lying in bed with her and he asks her what she would have done if his injury happened and they never had kids. she confidently says nothing would be different.

he buys a ring soon after. they’ve been together for six years, the twins four years old, when he proposes.

she doesn’t see it coming. and he feels like an idiot for waiting for so long. he realizes he didn’t have to wait for her to prove herself. none of it was on her. deep down, he needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t a coward. that he could commit on this level and have the confidence and faith that she would love him enough to commit, too.

she doesn’t have to think about it. the yes is instant.

[hawkinasock]

haiii pls spill abt ur chimera yq ideas... i have my own (https://www.tumblr.com/waterfrontcomplex/758520749229277184/dunmeshi-chapter-37ep-17-spoilers-look?source=share)

i also drew my own idea of him (swallow + abundant deer)

Yes ofc!! I'm so happy that someone else has had this idea too, it has so much potential. I want to see all the chimera Yanqings.

Mine looks like this. I actually didn't have a design drawn out for him initially, so I had to whip something up quickly. That's why it took me so long to answer </3

Originally, he had a more swallow-based design.

I still really like it, but I changed the lore a lot, so I made the new one, the current au, which goes something like this:

(CW for blatant body horror, descriptions of digestion, as well as brief details regarding real world animal death)

Here's my idea. Like most aeons, Lan The Hunt has emanators that carry out their will. One of these emanator's is currently unnamed and without a solid design yet. It has an animalistic appearance in my head. Imagine Feixiao's inner beast, or the Mourning Aix from WuWa. That'll give you the best reference.

It travels the cosmos, tracking down and eliminating the Abundance. it does this with the use of extremely powerful olfactory cells. Even with galaxies separating them, the emanator can detect abominations through smell alone, and when it finds one, it will consume it to ensure it cannot possibly regenerate.

Suffice to say, it's very good at its job, and Yanqing, unfortunately, is not an exception to their heightened senses. Surprisingly to no one, Abundance Yanqing coexists with this au, and he is immediately recognized as an abomination when the emanator is in proximity of the Luofu. Yanqing is unaware of his status as an spawn of Yaoshi, so when the devourer of monsters (working title) visits the Luofu, he never would have expected it to turn its eyes onto him.

To say the Luofu is thrown into chaos when one of Lan's emanator's eats a Liuetenant of The Hunt is an understatement. The emanator insists no mistake has been made and it is justified through Lan's divine will. It actually shifts the blame onto Jing Yuan for assigning an abomination as his Lieutenant in the first place, citing incompetence on his part. Kind of a shitty thing to do after eating the man's son but okay...

Not long after, the emanator starts to... change. It begins experiencing sudden and visible signs of mara: bouts of aggression, delirium, and eventually flora and fungus sprouting from its flesh. It's incorrectly concluded that Yanqing's death was a result of early unset mara in the emanator, and Jing Yuan decides the emanator has to be killed via decapitation, such is their duty as followers of The Hunt.

You can probably guess where this is going.

So, you know how bones are capable of fusing together or into other objects during the healing process? Like that deer that was shot by an arrow and the ribcage actually fused itself with the arrow? That's essentially how chimera Yanqing is born.

As an abomination, Yanqing is capable of postmortem regeneration, and as an abomination that is particularly favored by Yaoshi (in my delusional mind) his regeneration capabilities far exceed that of the average denizen, and one this emanator's digestive system was not capable of overriding.

Much like how that deer bone fused with the arrow, Yanqing's body begins the process of fusing back together after partial consumption, and during that process, he inadvertently fuses with the emanator's body, which triggered those mara symptoms. Additionally, because there had also been remains of other denizens in the emanator's stomach, they were unintentionally included in the revitalization process. This, in the end, gave the chimera's body the claws of a Borisin, the wings of a Wingweaver, and the head of a human (his body structure is also the same as the Houyhnhnm, but that's obviously a coincidence on my part lol).

The flowers and mushrooms don't really serve any other purpose besides looking pretty and emphasizing his connection to the abundance - his power is so palpable that life is literally sprouting through his skin. I just think it's kinda neat.

Anyways, in terms of psychological aftereffects, Yanqing himself is still there. However, his sense of self is muddied and most of his memories suppressed. Because he's at the head, he's in control of his own movements and actions. Usually, he's completely docile, but in the face of people currently trying to kill him, he becomes confused and scared, and fights back in self-defense. He's also experiencing prolonged dysmorphia from his new form, which causes him greater confusion and even pain.

For Jing Yuan? I think everyone would agree he wouldn't want to kill Yanqing. He believes there's still a way to reverse Yanqing's affliction, even if the Ten Lords insist otherwise.

Currently I don't have an detailed outline of what happens next. My current ideas are similar to yours actually, where the disciples take an interest in Yanqing for whatever reason, be it desperation to stop the Luofu from killing him and seeing him as blessed by Yaoshi, what have you. It could honestly go a similar route as Dvalin's manipulation by the hands of the Abyss. If I were to give this au a happy ending, I could incorporate the Viscorpus' ability to shapeshift and have Yanqing hone that ability, allowing him to regain his human form.

That's all I have for what was meant to be a short, detailed summary </3 All these asks always end with me yapping, forgive me. I've had this au cooking in my head for so long now, and I'm glad I have an excuse to spurge about it now.

(p.s. pls make more of your chimera au, I would eat it up)

[gravestrain]

walked in and dream came trued it for ya (nh13)

happy summer fic exchange @nol-pat! I hope you love this, my goal was to write a fun, lighthearted, Euro summer fic and I hope that translates into my writing. thank you as always, Demi for hosting this event for our community. @wyattjohnston. title from espresso by Sabrina carpenter :)

This is 1.8k words of pure fluff, strangers to lovers, I tried my best to make this a gender neutral reader so that it's safe for all to read.

You weren't sure that you ever imagined a trip like this.

One of your best friends was getting married to the love of her life, and when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, of course, you said yes. When you met Lucy in middle school, you couldn't say you thought that the two of you would be in each other's weddings. The "friendship" started off rocky, with Lucy holding hands with your boyfriend during science lab right in front of you. Lucy however, had no idea he was your boyfriend, and when she found out, she pushed him over and immediately coined you two as best friends. You were apprehensive at first of her outward nature, but soon found out the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Lucy decided to go to NYU for college, you staying closer to your home, neither of you could've imagined that she would've met the love of her life weeks in to her freshman year. Or that the love of her life would just so happen to be New Jersey Devils defenseman John Marino.

John was in his first season with the Devils when Lucy met him at a bar downtown, and the two of them clicked immediately. The two had been dating for a few years when John proposed. A few months later, John was traded to Utah, taking your best friend with him.

Since John's first full season in Utah, you had only seen Lucy once. When Lucy let it slip to John one night that her dream was to get married in Italy, a long lost dream that had gotten lost amongst the piles of student loans and outlandish New York rent fees, John jumped through every hoop to make it happen, and managed to get it all pulled together in a year. This all led you to here, in beautiful Lake Como, clutching your bags at the arrival gate feeling like a fish out of water.

To her credit, Lucy met you at the gate, the two of you embracing in a hug that was so needed after the long months you spent apart. "I missed you so much! I can't believe you're here!" She exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. "I can't believe it either! And I can't believe John paid for my flight," you grumbled in an attempt to hide how guilty you felt. When Lucy told you her and John were to be married in Italy, it took only seconds of her observing the horrified and disappointed look on your face until her and John decided to fund the trip. Lucy paid her share, working as a nurse practitioner now based in Utah, and the two of them didn't flinch before booking your trip. Lucy said it would be "absolutely foolish" to get married without you by her side as one of her bridesmaids. The title of maid of honor was always reserved for her sister, you coming in as a close second.

"Oh! And I have to tell you, I paired you up with Johnny's gorgeous teammate. He's foreign, single, and not to mention, he's the captain." Lucy squealed as you walked out to the rental car, your eyes bugging out. "Oh I'm googling him immediately," you giggled.

----------

The group of wedding party members arrived a few days early to spend some time in Italy exploring the beautiful country before the wedding duties begun. All Lucy informed you of was that you were going to be boating around the water and having lunch at a waterfront restaurant. As you got ready in what you thought was most appropriate for the occasion, your mind drifted to the man you saw on your phone screen yesterday.

When you found Nico on social media, you couldn't believe that Lucy had paired you two together for the wedding festivities. Nico was absolutely stunning. You never felt like a particularly shy person, but you found yourself rehearsing potential conversations, feeling like nothing could prepare you for any sort of interaction you had with the Swiss center man.

When you walked into the lobby of the resort, meeting the rest of the bridesmaids, they all squealed when they saw you, ready for the day on the boat. "Oh my god! You look incredible!" Daphne, Lucy's college roommate squealed, pulling you into a hug, which you had learned was her signature greeting. "Nico isn't gonna know what hit him!" Another bridesmaid had yelled. You shook your head laughing. You knew that Lucy had made it out to seem like you were forlorn, but the truth was that Lucy hated your ex so much that she was determined to set you up right after the breakup. What you felt was enough time to cope with the breakup had added an extra year onto that time, and it was safe to say you were ready to get back in to dating.

When you met the happy couple and the groomsmen at the boat, you weren't sure what to expect. But you can safely say you definitely were not expecting a party yacht, with blaring music, and men who already looked like they had downed a few bottles of champagne. After the boys moaned and groaned about your "late arrival" of 10 minutes, the boat set off.

You snuck away from the hustle and bustle momentarily to watch the views, seated towards the water with your drink of choice, when the man you had been thinking about for the last 24 hours came to greet you. "Y/N?" he asked hesitantly, almost like he wasn't completely convinced it was you. "That's me!" you smiled at him, and when you turned and made eye contact with his smiling face, little did you know the two of you melted like butter in the hot summer sun.

"Wow," he muttered out loud, much to his dismay. Sensing his nerves, you stood up to shake his hand. "Hi! Nice to finally meet you, Nico. I understand we're going to be walking down the aisle together?" you asked with a smile. He took your hand with a shake, albeit a bit clammy, and put his other hand on your forearm, causing goosebumps to arise. You were suddenly grateful for your decision to wear your favorite swimming suit, the one you felt most confident in. You considered leaving it until after the wedding, but no better time than the present.

"Yeah, we are. Have you been in a wedding before?" You asked him with a smile, causing Nico's cheeks to turn pink. "I've been in two weddings before. Best man in one and a groomsman in the other. What about you?" He asked you, trying not to show his nerves. "I've never been in one. I haven't been to many weddings, this is all very new to me." You smiled at him, grateful that you would have his smiling face next to you throughout this journey. You didn't know hardly anyone here, and before you met the other bridesmaids, you were starting to realize how nervous you really were. But as you met the other bridesmaids, the wives and girlfriends of John's teammates past and present, and of course, Nico, you felt much more comfortable with the fact that you had never traveled outside of the country, had never been in a wedding before, and knew virtually no one outside of the bride and groom.

"Hopefully I can keep you good company, make your first wedding very memorable for you." Nico mentioned cheekily, the same blush dusting the apples of his cheeks. "I hope so."

-------

You never doubted that Nico would make the wedding and your trip memorable, but you were surprised at the amount of chivalry he was pulling out. You were so nervous to impress him, but little did you know, Nico had been thinking about you constantly since you met on the boat. Not to mention he spent the rest of the time on the yacht keeping you company, getting you refills of your favorite drink, and bringing you water when the July Italian sun proved to be as bright and as scorching as you had imagined.

You were getting ready with the other bridesmaids, putting on another coat of mascara when you heard a knock on the door. You were the only one doing your makeup at the time, and after a quick scope around the room to make sure none of the girls who were changing were gonna flash the visitor at the door, you opened the door.

A pleasant surprise greeted you: Nico with a bouquet of flowers, looking breathtaking in his soft grey groomsman suit. "These are for you," he mumbled nervously, pushing them towards you with that blush on his cheeks that was becoming very familiar to you. "Thank you, these are gorgeous!" You smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek as a sign of gratitude. Nico had no idea how he was standing on his own two feet at that point. In just a few short days, you had turned him into putty in your hands. He found himself wondering how far the travel would be from where you lived to Newark when the season started.

He bid you a goodbye, the both of you going to finish off getting ready for the wedding and helping the bride and groom respectively to get ready for the walk down the aisle.

When you met Nico at the end of the aisle, the two of you felt your heart stop. And when Nico continued to make eye contact with you during the ceremony, keeping a soft hand on your back throughout the reception, and when the two of you finally joined each other at the end of the night for a dance, you melted into his arms, Nico feeling so lucky to have been paired with you. He felt himself falling hard for you, and you felt the same way.

"Can I convince you to make a trip to Jersey this season? I know Lucy and Johnny aren't there anymore, but I'd like to think you have another reason to come back." Nico asked with his head resting against the top of your head. "Do I?" you teased, causing Nico to laugh. "I'm kidding, I'd love to." When you looked up at him after confirming his plans, seeing the sparkling look in his eye, you only had one more thing to do. The two of you felt the magnetic pull towards each other, your lips finally touching, and you both knew that the two of you were smitten. As Nico rested his hand on your waist and pulled away, seeing John and Lucy smiling at you, everyone had a feeling the four of you would soon find yourself in a similar situation a few years down the road.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

The Start of the Future (Part 26)

Previous | Masterpost

The ring of rage made it possible for Danny to open portals to the Infinite Realms on his own, which would at least make commuting back and forth much easier. While they were at the Watchtower Danny had raided the equipment that had been liberated from the GIW bases and, after his panic attack, he found a suit of ectoplasmic armour that he could update and upgrade for Jason. Sure he was already liminal but Danny would rather be safe than sorry with the amount of concentrated ecto he’d be exposed to in the Infinite Realms. It was pretty easy to tinker with, improve the blasters and repaint it to match Jason’s colour pallet, once it was slimmed down a little as well and given a better finish Danny had to say it looked cool as hell. 

Once it was done and Jason had some experience wearing it and operating the weapons, they were as ready as they were ever going to be to face the mountain of paperwork that was inevitably waiting for Danny. It was easiest to leave from the Batcave, leaving Jason’s motorbike there before Danny transformed back into Phantom. With one last check on Jason’s armour Phantom ripped a hole through space and time to get to his new castle. As he stepped through onto the dark cobblestones he felt a shiver run down his spine. God this place was so deeply infused by Pariah’s malice it was going to take him a long time to shape the haunt to his will instead of its previous master. 

Danny was not pleased to see that half the council and the Observants were waiting for him, as was Fright Knight. Just great. The portal closed and Fright Knight stepped forward, and Danny stepped back, Jason slid between the two of them glaring at Fright Knight through his visor. Fright paused looking annoyed, but after it became clear Jason wasn’t going to move and Danny wasn’t going to come forward again Fright elected to ignore Jason and just focus on Danny past Jason. 

“My King,” Fright Knight bowed to Danny. “I want you to know that my vow to the crown still holds. I will serve you however you order, I will be your knight.”

“No you will not,” Danny said calmly but firmly, ignoring the look of hurt and fear in Fright’s eyes. “I will not revoke your title, and you may continue to serve the crown, but I will be knighting Red Hood. He will be my knight, not a knight of the crown,” He said with a sneer. “For now you can serve me by making sure news of my rule is properly spread. Make sure they know, and know that things will be changing and do it without threats. Understand?”

“Yes my King,” Fright said, though he still didn’t seem pleased he wouldn’t disobey an order. He got up and shot a glare at Jason before flying off to do a task Danny hoped would keep him busy for a good long while given the Realms were Infinite and all. 

Once he was gone Danny turned back towards the rest of his ‘welcoming party’, He sighed and forced his shoulders to relax. “So, show me to the work that needs to be done,” He said, more confidently than he felt.

“Oh there will be plenty of time for that,” Clockwork said wryly, leaning heavily on his staff. 

“There’s a royal wedding to plan!” Frostbite butted in, excited and eager as ever, trigger near identical startled sounds from Jason and Danny. 

“Are you sure? We were planning on waiting and getting married in the mortal world first. I’m sure there’s a ton of stuff to do before…” He trailed off because Pandora was shaking her head. 

She held out one set of hands, the other still clasped behind her back; “A royal wedding is exactly what we need. It had been a long time since the Realms had a king, and much longer still since anything to do with a king could be called a joyous occasion. Not counting when the council managed to bind Pariah Dark.

“A royal wedding will bring everyone together so they can see you, while ensuring the expectation is that they be happy for you, and bring gifts. Since the coronation was immediate, and took place in the human world, this is the best opportunity for you to meet the other governing bodies within the Realms, and to set their expectations of you.” 

“I do not want my wedding to be a political affair,” Danny said coldly, drawing himself up to his full height, which still wasn’t very impressive at all in the face of Pandora and Frostbite. He was taller than Clockwork now at least. He relaxed just slightly when Jason rested a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“You can still have the wedding you want in the human world, the ceremony here won’t be binding there. And you can have whatever guests you want as well as the political ones, the guest list will be hundreds long as is, and we’ll make sure spaces for family are reserved right at the front,” Frostbite assured, placatingly. 

Danny took a deep breath and shook his head before turning back towards Jason. “What do you think?” He asked, taking one of Jason’s hands, he couldn’t quite lace their fingers together with the size of Jason’s gloves so this would have to do. 

Jason shrugged; “I told you I’m happy to get to marry you multiple times, This isn’t the way we planned it sure, but this can be a dress rehearsal basically, and I gotta admit I’m curious as fuck about what sort of gifts ghosts will give their king. I think Robin and Phantasm will have a blast with it too. Ohhh you should invite Constantine! Seeing him scramble to get a gift would be hilarious!”

Danny couldn’t help but smile at Jason, glad he wasn’t taking this seriously as he might have, and could see the humour in it. “Alright,” Danny agreed fondly, leaning forward to kiss his helmet over Jason’s cheek. “How do ghostly weddings even work?” He asked, turning back towards his new council. 

Clockwork smiled approvingly and Frostbite downright cheered, Jason and Danny were shepherded into a council room where planning began. For the most part Danny and Jason let the planning take place around them rather than actually taking part in it.  They put in their input here and there, colour choices, food, making sure things were human-safe options for the few guests Danny and Jason wanted to bring. The councilors were the ones who knew who in the Realms needed to be invited, mostly kings and chiefs of various sections of the realms who were too used to ruling without oversight. 

When it seemed like all the personal touches were finished Danny placed his palms on the table and stood up, smiling around the table without much feeling. “Is the guest list all you’ll be discussing now?” He asked calmly.

“Well, yes but-” Pandora started but Danny held up his hand and shook his head. 

“I don’t care who you invite other than my family. Send me a list of who you decide to invite and what I need to know. I’m going to have a look around the rest of the keep to see what else I’ve inherited from that bastard, other than a complete mess.” Danny dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Did Pariah Dark have an office?”

There was a moment of silence, the rest of the council glancing around at one another, everyone clearly expecting someone else to have an answer. “He must have had an office right?” Frostbite questioned. 

“I’m sure that he did,” Pandora agreed, nodding firmly. “He wasn’t always mad, he did his duty at some point.”

“Great,” Danny sighed, pushing himself back from the table and standing up. “Well, maybe we’ll find his office while we’re exploring and if not I’ll choose a new room to be my office. I should start remaking this place to suit me anyway, I don’t want anyone you bring to the wedding to think that I’m in any way like him after all, I should start reshaping this place.”

“Very well,” Clockwork sighed and turned back towards the table, launching back into discussions about the guest list. After that would be discussion of seating arrangements. Danny fully expected this to take days. Even if they insisted this needed to be done quickly, all of the people discussing it were ancient and immortal, to them tomorrow still meant next month. Of course thanks to the time dilation in the living world they would still get around to the wedding before Danny and Jason could, unless they wanted a Vegas wedding, which he didn’t. Although… No, he wouldn’t compromise the wedding that they had dreamed for this. 

Danny slipped out of the room with Jason on his heels to explore with him. Danny paused to take Jason’s hand again so they could walk together down the broad, dimly lit haul. Danny grimaced and glared at one of the torches. “Okay to start with we can get some more fucking light in here, and maybe a rug,” He grumbled, closing his eyes and focusing on the ecto around him. It was resistant to his touch, he wasn’t the mind that it was used to responding to and it didn’t want to listen to him. But this was his haunt now, he was the master of this space now and it would answer to him. 

The world beyond Danny’s eyelids brightened slightly and Jason gasped softly. Danny opened his eyes and gave a self satisfied smile when he saw the torches were brighter and a slightly warmer shade of green and there was now a very grand rug stretching off down the long hall. “Good, that’s better. Let’s get going.”

“How did you do that?” Jason asked curiously. 

“Oh right, you’ve never been to the Ghost Zone before! The entire place is made of ectoplasm, that means it responds to emotion and will. Not all of it I mean, every ghost has a haunt and the ecto in their haunt responds to them, everyone’s haunt is specially tailored to them. Actually… because when I died I didn’t come to the Realms naturally, I’m not sure I had a haunt here before I defeated Pariah and took his. I’d better make the most of it huh? I’m going to manifest an observatory!” Danny exclaimed, excitement getting the better of him for a moment. And why not? It was about time this place felt a little bit of joy. 

Jason laughed and Danny grinned at him, tugging him along after him. “Come on, we should find a bedroom for the two of us as well and make that ours. We’ll be spending some nights here while I set everything up, or at least I will. I’ll figure out how to make it safe for you so you can have a comfortable place here too while you’re still living.”

“I love how ominous you are,” Jason said with genuine warmth, making Danny laugh again. They continued on with a bounce in their step and the energy of giddy children exploring an ancient mansion, and they found plenty of hidden rooms and hallways to justify that excitement. Though whether they’d been there before or if the ecto was manifesting them because Danny expected them to be there was anyone’s guess. 

They carried on that way until they found a potential bedroom that, with a little editing, would work for the both of them. Danny could will a lot of the ecto in the room to be inert, or absent, but it took a lot of concentration and it wasn’t perfect. He was going to have to invent something, a miniature ghost shield maybe? Either way it would be safe for one night and Jason was tired.

Danny lay with him until he was asleep, but in his ghost form and in a place of infinite ambiently metabolizable ecto he didn’t need to sleep much and he wasn’t tired. He slipped out of bed again and left a note for Jason in case he woke up while Danny was gone. Then he continued exploring, looking specifically for the office now because with Jason asleep he had nothing better to do then get a start on the work right?

Unfortunately he did find the office, which was dusty as fuck somehow despite no one here shedding skin cells. There were piles upon piles of papers here, the stacks had probably started on the desk, but when they got too tall work had started to pile up on the floor. As Pariah lost interest in the actual work people must have continued to just drop paperwork here in the hopes he might get around to some of it… eventually. They had probably only stopped once Pariah had been bound in the coffin, and then enough time passed for everyone to forget this office even existed. 

Danny sighed and settled into work, starting with the dustiest piles because those were the oldest. Most of the papers that didn’t disintegrate as soon as he picked them up were probably not valid anymore and the ones that were were probably long overdue and increasingly desperate. He incinerated ones that said they needed things on a time limit, thousands of years expired the need had probably passed one way or another, and if not they could re-submit the request to him this time. The ones that seemed like they might still need help he set aside to ask Pandora or Clockwork about when he got the chance. 

The task became meditative; pick up a paper, scan it for dates, then set it aside or incinerate it. The small amount of ecto in each of the papers giving him a little boost as they disintegrated. It gave him the time and the brain space to pay attention to his new haunt, expanding his mind to start the process of properly melding with his new haunt. It was resistant to his will for now, and he didn’t feel like forcing it, he wasn’t going to be that kind of king after all. For now it was enough to let it get used to his presence, like sharing space with a neglected cat.

At least by the morning it was responsive enough to tell him that Jason was up. Danny sighed and got up, stretching with a groan. He had gotten through about a quarter of the accumulated paperwork, not reading it or anything, just sorting out that maybe he should read it later. But still the room looked much less crowded and dusty so he was going to call that a pretty good start! He shut the door after him and concentrated for a moment to alter the door, making it more distinctive and easier to find for the future before he rushed off the say good morning to Jason, and open a portal out of the zone so they could at least get some breakfast.

Jason met him at the door and hugged Danny tightly, scooping him up as Danny yelped then laughed, wrapping his arms around Jason’s shoulder in return. “Put me down,” He laughed, not really meaning it so Jason held him for a minute longer before putting him down and kissing him sweetly enough Danny started purring instantly. 

“Let’s go to the courthouse,” Jason announced, soft and breathless once he put Danny down. 

“What?” Danny asked, shocked, but when Jason looked chagrined and started to pull away Danny hugged him tighter and pulled him back in. “No no! I’m not opposed to it, I’m just surprised!”

“I know. And I’m really not upset about the ghost wedding thing, I meant that! And I don’t want us to rush before having our big wedding. But that’s going to include a ton of heroes right? So it’s kinda a masked wedding, and I want us to be married before we’re politically married you know? Let's pick up our siblings, maybe Bruce, and go to a courthouse. I’ll buy you a bouquet, and Bruce can pay for the fanciest fucking dinner of our lives as an afterparty…” He trailed off as Danny laughed and pulled Jason in for another kiss.

“Add Roy to the list of people we’re picking up and absolutely! I think we have to call ahead to make an appointment though. And I have a little more to do here, can I drop you off at home to call the courthouse and get those flowers? I’ll finish up here and come join you as soon as I can?” He asked hopefully.

“You got it Moonlight,” Jason agreed easily. 

“You’re the best, Boss,” Danny teased laughingly and Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Keep that nickname for the bedroom now Cub,” Jason replied, pushing Danny away for just a  moment before pulling him back in as Danny purred.

“Tonight?” He suggested hopefully. 

“Tonight,” Jason agreed and they kissed one more time before Danny ripped open a portal for Jason to head home with both of their tasks assigned. 

Danny threw himself back into work, doing what he could do. He dismissed the souls that Pariah owned, and set the ones that wouldn’t or couldn’t leave to cleaning the castle with strict orders to take regular breaks if they’re tired, and maybe try a couple hobbies as long as it doesn’t bother anyone else. That’s the best he can do for now. It’s going to be slow going until everyone he loves can join him in this world, and this time they actually will. None of them will be killed with ecto weapons which simultaneously destroy bodies and souls, he will never have to lose this family like he did his last one, no one will. 

He arrived home while Jason was halfway through making dinner, and got to hear about Jason’s day. He cooked and told Danny excitedly how he had called the courthouse and managed to get an appointment for the afternoon after next, and he’d called their family and everyone would be able to come! Including Dan who hadn’t gone so far that Ellie couldn’t catch up to him and ask him to come back for the wedding. Jason laughed as he told Danny Dan had been relieved to hear there was going to be a smaller wedding so he’d have an excuse not to attend the bigger ones later! 

Their home was warm and cozy, their safe nest just the two of them and any stress Danny had been feeling melted away. He couldn’t wait to eat, he couldn’t wait to spend the night with Jason, he couldn’t wait to get married in a couple of days! There was so much to look forward to, so much in a life, an eternity, of people that he loved. He couldn’t say he didn’t regret what had happened to his first family. But with Pariah gone, the GIW on the run, and Jason at his side Danny could say he was finally, and unequivocally, happy.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

i've been waiting for you

part three of daddy all along: part 1 here, part 2 here

pairing: older (dad's best friend)! leon x younger! reader

cw: brief mention of past suicidal ideations, oral sex, semi-public sexual activities, love

summary: the aftermath of daddy all along pt 2 (you had me at 'hello'). mild angst, mild smut, mild fluff. their trials and tribulations still have a happy ending

a/n: this is a commission for the lovely @porcelainseashore <3 !!

wc: 8k

title is a reference to the song of the same title by ABBA. (this story is best experienced alongside the song).

The kiss you shared was laced with the kind of love that was powerful enough to stop time. Until your father interrupted the sacred moment with a far-from-subtle “ahem”.

You turned to see him in the hallway, standing behind you. He’d just witnessed the spectacle. You weren’t sure whether to be angry that he interrupted you or that he wasn’t applauding your love, which had gone through trials and tribulations and come out stronger on the other side.

“I suppose I missed a lot while I was in rehab,” he said.

You looked at Leon, hoping he’d have an answer, but his mind was still hazy from the kiss.

“I think I deserve a briefing on this,” your dad said, nodding towards the living room, an order to follow him.

You silently did as he asked, but Leon lingered in the doorway, uncertain despite the simple directions.

“Leon?” your father called him back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” Leon said, still drunk on the kiss.

“We’ve been friends for decades, don’t call me ‘sir’.

Leon had to resist the urge to say “yes, sir” again. He nodded and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. He followed you both into the living room and sat on the couch with you, placing a noticeable distance between his body and yours, in an effort to keep things appropriate in front of your father. Though it only served to make things more awkward.

“So?” your dad said, looking back and forth between the two of you, probing you both for answers.

“You saw what happened a minute ago. What more is there to say?” you said because you didn’t know how to tell the story. At least, not in a way that would be acceptable to him.

“I think there’s a lot more to say,” he said. “What happened while I was away? Did you two get together?”

You tried to be as diplomatic as possible, which meant being vague. “We got to spend a lot of time together while you were gone, and we realized that we have feelings for each other. Well, I already knew I liked Leon, but I didn’t know he liked me back.” You conveniently left out the part about having sex on your birthday.

Your father turned to Leon, looking for his explanation. It was about as revealing as yours. “I know it might seem a little weird, but I love your daughter, and I care a lot about her. I always have.”

Leon looked at you affectionately. He even dared to reach across the couch and grab your hand as proof of his love.

“Are you mad?” you asked your dad.

“No, I’m not mad. Like Leon said, it’s just weird for me… to see you two like this.” He turned to Leon, and said, “I know you’re a good man, Leon. I’ve always known that, but I know your history with women, and I need to know that you’re not going to use my daughter… as a hook up. I don’t want her heart to get broken.”

It pained you to hear your dad mention Leon’s past relationships, or lack thereof. Was it worse to think of him as a man with a history of one-night stands, or a man who’s truly loved other women before you?

Your dad played it as cool as possible, holding in all the things he wanted to say, until you decided to head to bed. You hoped Leon would come with you, but your dad asked him to stay downstairs under the guise of hanging out together for the first time since he’d been home.

Still, you sat at the base of the stairs to listen in on their conversation. You always did. Any information you had about Leon or your father – their lives outside of being your caretakers – was gathered through this method.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t. You’re gonna break her heart, and I can’t let you do that.”

“You know I’d never let her get hurt.”

“She’s gone through so much lately… with the accident, me going to rehab, and now, coming home. It’s not fair to shake up her life even more.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now? You’re asking me not to shake up her life because she’s dealing with the problems you’ve caused?”

There was a pause, and you swore you could see the looks on their faces. Your father’s horror, Leon’s regret.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that,” Leon backtracked.

“Go,” your father said, stern, but not aggressive. “I’ll tell her you had to leave and you didn’t wanna wake her.”

You heard Leon’s heavy footsteps walking towards the door and you bolted up the stairs, slipping in your socks and falling face-first on your way.

Leon saw it happen, but didn’t move. He used to pick you up when you fell. His arms were strong, but the awkwardness weighed them down, and he couldn’t reach out to catch you. Your father heard the thunk-thunk-thunk sound and ran over.

You turned to them, realizing the option for flight was gone. You had to fight — for Leon, for you and Leon.

“You were just gonna lie to me? Both of you were gonna lie to me?” You were used to your father lying. As angry as you were, you weren’t surprised by his behavior. Leon’s near-instant agreement to go along with his lies was what made your heart sink. How many times had he done this? Was your whole life a series of your father’s lies and Leon’s willingness to cover them up?

“Listen, sweetheart,” your dad said, “I was just trying to keep you safe.”

“You only care about me now that you’re home, and all you wanna do is control me again,” you said. Holding back tears, you turned to Leon. “And you, you wouldn’t even fight for us? After you came here to confess your love for me? Is it all just bullshit to you?”

“No, I care about you,” he said, “just like your dad does.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Neither of you care about me,” you said, stomping up the stairs and shutting yourself in your bedroom. Nothing good would come out of arguing further. It was 2 vs 1, an unfair fight, you’d better quit before you embarrass yourself.

It was ironic, you realized, how — mere hours ago — you would’ve given anything to have your two favorite people here with you. Now, you got what you wanted — what you thought you wanted — and you would give it all away in an instant. Maybe you were right, back at the dinner table, when the realization came to you that you couldn’t have it all. You’d have to choose between leaving Leon and disappointing your dad.

It was wholly frustrating that you did have them both for most of your life – there didn’t have to be a choice, there was always dad and Leon. Leon was right, sleeping together was a big deal, and maybe you should’ve heeded his warnings.

Questions flooded your mind, all unanswerable. Is this what regret feels like? If you could turn back time would you change it?

Who can you cry to when the people you love most are the ones who hurt you?

When you snuck downstairs later that night to grab a glass of water, Leon was gone. He’d left hours ago. You weren’t sure who to be more angry with – dad or Leon. Their previous togetherness multiplied the amount of love you received as a child, and now it multiplied the loss.

You refused to speak to your dad for days. You didn’t have to refuse to speak to Leon, as he didn’t try to reach out. You learned how to draw and ripped up the pages, you started journaling and ripped out the pages. You called a friend and tried to avoid explaining what was going on. But it was hard to think about anything else. Your life was filled with Leon, Leon, Leon. Like always. Sure, you’d lived with him for months during your father’s rehab, but you had a life before him – no, not before him, but before his constant presence. But where was it?

Leon left. Clearly you weren’t in the mood to see him, and your dad had explicitly told him to leave. What’s that saying? “If you love something, let it go���? Leon tried that with Ada many years ago. He let her go, and she came back, and then she left again, sticking them in a perpetual cycle of what he perceived to be intimacy and completely ignoring the others’ existence. They’d been seeing each other periodically for decades. Leon’s love for her faded a little bit every time she left the morning after. He let her go and she let him go. If she wasn’t willing to fight for him, then he wouldn’t fight for her. But, you were different. The way Leon loved you made him consider the possibility that whatever he felt for Ada wasn’t love. More likely it was a deadly combination of admiration, attraction, and misplaced trust. Plus, the inextricable link that forms between people who’ve saved each other’s lives.

Usually, Leon didn’t give himself time to make mistakes in his relationships – he tended to leave the morning after, never wanting to be a nuisance. If a woman ever came home with him, he’d make her coffee in the morning and lend her a clean towel so she could shower. He didn’t think he had much else to offer.

He knew how you took your coffee and how you liked your eggs. He knew how to set the thermostat to your preferred temperature. There was always more in his heart for you.

A woman thought he was being considerate when she noticed that he had tampons under the sink, but really they were for you, not her. Another thought he was seeing someone else when you left your toothbrush at his apartment. How could he explain to her that you were the most important woman he knew, but no, he wasn’t seeing you. That was well over a year ago. It should’ve been easier after “I’m in love with you.” Who is she? She’s my girlfriend. A one-word explanation.

He tried to devise a plan to win you back, like the male love interest in a cheesy rom-com. He seriously considered the prospect of showing up at your house with a boombox playing Peter Gabriel like Lloyd from Say Anything. It would probably give you second-hand embarrassment, he decided. If only he knew, you’d still take him back.

Leon knew you well enough to know your idiosyncrasies. You stayed up to watch American Idol on Monday nights. You’d be in the living room if he came over around 9. He could park around the corner and sneak up to your window. Your dad wouldn’t be watching unless he had a complete change of heart. (He’d refused to watch American Idol since the contestant he liked didn’t win in Season 2 – he was convinced from then on the competition was rigged.)

Leon got home from work, quickly changed, and headed over to your house on his motorcycle, hoping he could convince you to go for a ride with him. Something you’d never done before. Because he hadn’t allowed you to. Maybe he should have worried about the possibility that he was letting his protectiveness over you slip to accommodate his need to please you. As much as you used to beg him to do things he considered too dangerous, he’d never budge. Watching you throw a fit always pained him, but being a father figure meant protecting always superseded placating. 

Had you broken down his ability to refuse you? Or was he a selfish man looking for love in a girl he should be hesitant to pursue?

Monday night came and he knocked on your window in the special pattern the two of you had established many years ago when you were afraid of letting a “bad guy” into your room by accident as a child. Knock – pause – knock, knock – pause – knock.

You immediately knew it was him. He could see in your face that you were ready to run out the door to him, so he held his finger to his lips to remind you to be quiet. Thanks to the summer weather, you could step outside without having to make a ruckus by putting on your coat.

Your teenage years weren’t far behind you, and with a former cop for a father, you knew how to sneak out. Under the porch-light, you were barely visible, but Leon could hear your smile when you spoke.

“You came back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I told you I’d never leave you.”

“Are you gonna come in?”

“I don’t think your father would like that very much.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I love you. And I want you to come out with me, just for a little bit.”

You learned your persuasion from Leon. You’d watched him talk his way in and out of endless situations, from speeding tickets to free food. And those people were strangers. He already had you wrapped around his finger.

“Okay,” you said, “but I should leave a note, so my dad doesn’t think I went missing.”

“Good girl,” Leon said, and when you looked in his eyes you could tell he was trying to get you worked up. And he was succeeding.

“Wait- where are we going?” you asked.

“I was going to let you choose.”

“Can we go to the hill? I’ll get a blanket for us to sit on.”

Leon was ready to blow his salary on you, and all you wanted was to lie down in the grass. His worries about your safety riding on the back of his bike were no longer a problem, since the hill was within walking distance.

“That sounds great to me.”

You returned to him moments later with your hair tied up, cherry-flavored chapstick on, and a picnic blanket under your arm. Leon carried the blanket with one arm, and held out his other, offering you his hand.

Somehow – after sex, after a love confession, after knowing Leon for your entire life up to that very moment – holding his hand made your heart flutter. You hoped your hands weren’t too sweaty. His were warm and calloused with a scar on one palm. You discovered this long ago. His hands were the ones to bandage you when you fell off your bike, the ones that wiped your tears after a nightmare, the ones that rubbed your back when he hugged you. You knew them well.

You walked to the hill where you used to go sledding as a child. It was tucked into a corner behind a thin curtain of trees, a little neighborhood secret. Leon put down the picnic blanket in a secluded spot where the street lamps couldn’t outshine the stars. You laid on your back, unsure of where to put your hands. They remained awkwardly on your stomach. You could feel Leon’s eyes on you. You turned to him and he snaked his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer.

“What’s up with you?” he asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“No, not nothing. You’re nervous.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes. Are you worried about your dad finding out? I’ll make sure you don’t get into any trouble with him. You can blame it all on me.”

“No, I’m not worried about him.”

“Then what’s got you all anxious?”

“This is gonna sound so stupid.”

“It might, but that almost makes me wanna hear it more.”

“You’re so smooth, like, you’re giving me butterflies and I don’t know how you do it. I feel so awkward and I wish I was better at this.”

He laughed, really laughed.

“See? I told you it was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, baby.” He put his hand on your arm before you could turn from him. “I was laughing because I am the exact opposite of ‘smooth’. Ask anyone I know and they’ll tell you that I’m awful at flirting.”

“But you’re so good at it right now.”

“This isn’t flirting. I’m just having a good time with you. I’m not trying to get you in bed or whatever. I love you and I wanna spend time with you.”

Leon didn’t know that he felt that way until the words left his mouth. It didn’t miss him that you didn’t say “I love you” in return. He was old enough to accept the fact that sometimes people don’t say it back, or at least, to cover up whatever anxiety he felt when it happened.

“I love you” wasn't sufficient to describe how you felt in that moment. You grasped for words for as long as you could bear the silence. You ended up concluding that in this case, actions could substitute for words. So, you kissed him, letting your lips guide you unrestrained so that soon you were engrossed in a full-blown make-out session, hands in each other’s hair, grasping at each other’s shirts. Every time you pulled away to catch your breath, you thought you’d stop to talk – but you found yourself giving into the desire to kiss him endlessly. At least, until your breath was heaving. All you’d done was kiss.

“I want you,” you said, reaching down past Leon’s hips to find him hard.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, though you could see the intrigue in his upturned lips.

“No one’s around.”

“I’ve taken enough risks for one night. Your dad is going to murder me if he finds out I helped sneak you out of the house, and I think it’d be a lot worse if he found out from the one free phone call you’re allowed when the cops take you in.”

“What if we didn’t have sex? What if we just did a little bit more than kissing?”

“What does ‘more’ look like to you?”

“I wanna touch you. We won’t even have to take our clothes off.”

He sighed, and a bashful grin appeared on his face. He didn’t agree with words, believing he could do much better with his fingertips on your skin. Leon kissed you from your lips to your neck to your collarbone, even daring to place one on one of your breasts. It was risky to pull your top down to do it, but Leon wanted to mark you someplace only he could see it.

As soon as his hand reached the threshold between panties and skin, you unzipped his pants and started touching him. You locked eyes and stayed forehead-to-forehead until he kissed you forcefully, capturing your moans before they left your mouth.

You were left in a daze after your orgasm while Leon was hit with a moment of clarity that was much different this time than the last. He understood the risks clearly, and yet, had no second thoughts. There was nowhere he’d rather be than holding you under the stars.

When you arrived home from your date with Leon, you found your father in the kitchen.

He knew.

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Where were you tonight?”

“With a friend.”

“Is your friend’s name “Leon”?”

“Don’t get mad. Please, dad.”

“Why didn’t you ask me before you went out?”

“Because I thought you’d say no.”

“At least you’re honest.” He picked up a can from the table and took a sip of it, and for a second, you thought it was beer, you thought you could turn the tables. You noticed it was a can of soda about a second before you opened your mouth to yell at him.

“I can’t stop you from sleeping with him, but you’re not doing it while you live under my roof.”

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea of us having sex?! It’s not the only thing we do.”

“Sure. You hang out. That doesn’t mean it’s love, nor does it mean that it’ll last.”

“You don’t know anything about love.”

“Maybe so. But Leon is a man in his forties who’s never had a serious relationship. And there’s a reason for that.”

“Maybe he hadn’t found the right person.”

“All I’m saying is that I can’t remember the last time I saw him go on a second date with a woman, let alone have a long-term relationship.”

“And? You ended up being a single father because you fucked up so bad that mom left you!” And if Freud was right, then that’s why I have daddy issues.

“I will not have you talk to me that way.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll ask you to go upstairs and think about your words or you can pack your bags and go.”

The second option was hyperbole. He would never kick you out. But you took it as truth and grabbed your purse. You called Leon from the driveway.

Your father’s disapproval became the least of your worries once you began staying with Leon. What was eating at you was the comment your father made about Leon’s love life. Over dinner one night, you confronted him.

“You said you’ve been in love before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you still love her?”

“No.” He was sure of it. He liked Ada, liked having sex with her, but he’d fallen out of love with her a long time ago. That ship had sailed.

“How did it end?”

“What?”

“The relationship with whoever you were in love with.”

“There wasn’t really a relationship. There was nothing to end.”

You hummed in contemplation.

“Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t want you to fall out of love with me.”

“I don’t plan to, and that situation was entirely different than what we have. This, what’s between us, is much stronger.”

He looked you in the eyes, and said much softer, “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I can’t fall out of love with you. I tried to, multiple times. It didn’t work and that’s why I’m here.”

“What do you mean you ‘tried to fall out of love’ with me?”

“I slept with other people… as you know,” he said, nearly wincing at the awful memory of you catching him with another woman in your living room. “And, the night I came to your house, I had just left a date.”

“So, you slept with someone before you came over and-”

“No, I went out to dinner, and she offered me… the opportunity to go back to her place, but I said no.”

“Was she ugly? Unfuckable by your standards?”

“No, wait- what?” He shook his head and tried to explain it the best he could. “I was thinking about that night in the hotel room when you said that thing about Celine and Jesse and I actually brought it up to the girl.”

“You told her about that night?”

“No, I just mentioned how I liked the movie.”

“And?”

“And she said she didn’t like it.”

“And that’s the reason you decided I was a better choice? Because she didn’t like your favorite 90s romance movie?”

“No, well, sort of, but no… I just started thinking about how you love that movie and how she’s nothing like you, and how I love you. And then I saw your picture in my wallet and… I just knew what I had to do.”

For a moment, you wondered if he was just trying to get in your pants. If he was, it was working. You gave in, telling yourself that his intentions shouldn’t matter because he wasn’t manipulating you, you were hoping he’d ask you to sleep with him anyway. You weren’t going to let your dad’s assumptions get to your head.

Leon scavenged the house but couldn’t find any condoms. “I think I’m all out,” he said, sounding very apologetic. “The drug store’s still open, though, so just gimme like 15 minutes, and I’ll be back.”

You beckoned him closer. “What if we just didn’t use one?” you asked, putting on your cutest face.

“Uh-uh,” he said, “and before you try to talk me into it, I’m serious.”

“But Leon…”

“No, that’s my final answer. I can go to the store or we can do this another time.”

“Or you could just pull out.”

“You went to health class, right?”

You nodded.

“Then, you know that the pull-out method isn’t 100% effective. Or did you convince me to pick you up the day they taught that?”

You actually had convinced him to pick you up that day, but you were still aware of the pregnancy risk if you didn’t use protection.

“What if I wanted to get pregnant?”

“You’re joking, right? This is a hypothetical.”

“Sort of, but you’re getting older – no offense – and if we wanna have kids, then maybe we should start before your sperm count decreases.”

“My sperm count is fine, and no, we are not ready for a baby.”

“You might not be.”

“Sorry, I meant you are not ready for a baby. I could take care of a child, but you’re 21.” Suddenly, your age-gap seemed to widen in Leon’s mind. He felt like he’d already raised a kid and you weren’t close to being ready to have one.

“Okay, fine,” you said. “But you wanna have kids someday, right…?” It was wishful thinking, and though you had no reason to believe Leon had the same idea in mind, you believed he did. In all your daydreams you were parents.

He was completely taken aback. “Uh…” The last time he’d been asked if he wanted to have kids it was a theoretical question, from Claire, decades ago. Back when they thought it might still be a possibility in this lifetime. “I don’t know…” He decided not to say any more, fearing he’d disappoint you.

“But, I do, and I think I’d be a good mom.” After the words left your mouth, it hit you, the horrible realization. No, you might not be a good mother, and in fact, if you had to put money on it, you wouldn’t bet on your success. If you were anything like your parents, you’d be terrible at it. It must’ve shown on your face because Leon’s expression shifted from stern to sympathetic.

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I think you could be a great mom one day, but let’s not talk about it tonight.”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and wiped them away with the back of your hand before they could fall. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. You tried to awkwardly laugh your way out of the discussion and Leon must’ve felt bad enough for you not to call you out.

Sex was no longer on the table – that conversation had gone stale. The idea was wholly unpalatable that night, for both of you.

“Sorry,” you said, stopping yourself before you could start your own pity party.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. If you were apologizing for being obstinate and trying to manipulate your way into unprotected sex, he’d take the apology, but he knew what you meant: I’m sorry for killing your boner and crushing my own dreams. It wasn’t your fault for hoping Leon could be more than the man he was.

You fell asleep quickly, as one does after crying. Leon’s arms around you eased your pain. Some things never changed.

When you were younger, like many little girls, you liked to play with baby dolls – you bottle-fed them, pushed them in a stroller, rocked them to sleep, but it was all pretend. You believed motherhood would be easy back then, and it wasn’t like Leon was going to crush a little girl’s dreams by telling her the harsh realities of being a parent.

When you were very little – little enough that this memory is one only Leon bore the burden of keeping – Leon mentioned something about you pretending to be a mommy, to which you remarked, “I don’t know how to play mommy.”

Sure, kids talk nonsense, but regardless of your intent, you didn’t have a mother figure, and you never would. Leon didn’t have the same delusional optimism that your father had in the beginning. He was convinced your mom would come back to him. Leon knew better than to get his hopes up, not that he had much at stake.

Ironically, the father you grew up with, the morbid, ever-pessimistic father, was a direct result of his prior optimism. He decided being a cynic would protect him from being disappointed. He never perfected the art of acting happy in front of the kid quite like Leon did. Then again, Leon knew depression, even suicidality, but he’d never been heartbroken to the extent that your dad had because he’d never given himself over to someone entirely. After watching your dad fall headfirst into alcoholism, Leon was being reasonable by keeping himself guarded. Or so he thought at the time. Now, he began to consider the fact that he may not have been as brave as he’d always thought he was. He was a hero, risking his life to eradicate the threats of bioterrorism worldwide. But, he didn’t choose that life, he fell into his position as an agent due to his own cowardice – at least, that’s how he felt when he couldn’t pull the trigger when he held his own gun to his temple.

In retrospect, he was glad he hadn’t gone through with his plan to off himself. Classify it how you want – cowardice for backing down or bravery for deciding to stay alive – Leon was still alive decades later. And before him stood another one of life’s toughest decisions, though the answer was much clearer this time. Would he let himself fall in love with you, knowing you could break his heart? Yes, though, he didn’t have much say in the matter by the time he realized what was happening. He didn’t choose to set his soul on the table in front of a starving woman. You pulled it out of him with every kiss, every laugh, every steady breath you took while you lay next to him in bed.

When Leon walked in the door, you were there to greet him like a pet who’d been left alone for hours, desperate for affection. Unlike a puppy, you didn’t pounce on him immediately. With his arms behind his back, he said, “I got you a present — pick a hand.”

As skeptical as you were, your intrigue was stronger. You tapped his right arm and he held out a box of condoms. “Surprise,” he said.

“I think this ‘present’ might be for you,” you said.

“You caught me,” he said, already leaning in for the kiss that would lead to the night’s escapades.

Leon planned to take you to the bedroom like a gentleman would, but you dragged him over to the couch, shoved him into a seated position, and stripped in front of him. He had to resist the urge to speak, knowing he’d say something stupid since the image of you in your current state had taken over his mind entirely, turning everything else to mush. The only organ still at work was the one in his pants, and that one was working overtime.

You straddled his lap once you were down to your underwear – a matching lace set. Since you and Leon had become official, you made sure you were always prepared. Not that he expected you to dress up for him. Maybe it was the nagging voice in the back of your mind that constantly reminded you that he’d been with other women. You had others to compete with for the top spot in his mind. He didn’t. He was your best and your only.

You had no idea how many women Leon had been with – romantically or sexually, and you were afraid to ask, worried that the amount would be high enough that he wouldn’t recall the exact number. He told you that you were the best he’d ever had, but people lie. All the time.

You tore off Leon’s dress shirt, haphazardly popping one of the buttons off. “I liked this shirt,” Leon mumbled, momentarily disappointed.

When you sank to your knees, all was forgiven. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head that told him this was wrong. He should be taking care of you, right? You’re his baby girl, you can’t do this – not that he’s naive enough to believe that you’re the innocent little girl you used to be, he knew for a fact that you’d left that girl in the past for a woman who was looking at him bright-eyed, kneeling at his feet – but you could get hurt doing this, you could choke if you overexerted yourself.

You were teary-eyed and gagging before he could think of a way to protect your poor throat. An overachiever. Part of Leon’s mind was enraptured by the sight and begging him to let you continue. If you were any other girl, maybe he would give over all control to you. But the reasonable man he became the day he met you, a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, remained stronger than the sex-crazed idiot he was before.

He pulled you off of him gently. Maybe it was just an illusion from your watery eyes, but you looked hurt.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, soft and sweet, “but you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You are.”

“But I wanna do more, I wanna please you.”

“You wanna please me, huh?” You could see the glint of mischief in his eyes, but you hadn’t figured out its source yet.

“Yes, please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He pretended to be astonished by your offer. You were being hyperbolic, he assumed – he hoped. “Okay,” he said, standing up, “c’mon.” He held out his hand for you to take.

You grabbed his hand without hesitation, and he led you to the bedroom. The tables turned the moment you entered the room when he pushed you down on the bed. He climbed atop you and kissed you forcefully, undoing your bra with his deft fingers.

With open-mouthed kisses he made his way down your stomach stopping only to remove your panties, only a thin layer of lace between his mouth and your core. He was more careful when he undressed you than you were when you did the same for him. He wanted to see you in this again.

His lips teased your inner thighs first. He placed soft kisses everywhere except the place you wanted to feel his mouth most. He only gave in when you started to squirm. The sound you made when his tongue touched your clit told him how much you longed for this.

“You taste so good, baby,” he said, words muffled as his mouth was occupied.

“Leon, wait-”

He looked up at you, with kiss-dark lips and a dazed expression, clearly having been somewhere else mentally.

“I said I wanted to please you, so-”

“Trust me, I am more than pleased with what I’m doing right now.”

You were conflicted. Maybe he was a rare breed of man who truly got off on going down on women, or maybe he was lying. But if he were, he would be doing it because he wanted to make you happy. Because he wanted you.

And who were you to deny him?

You were multiple orgasms in when you finally got Leon to come up for air. His hair was a mess all thanks to your hands tugging at the strands. You were surprised he came up looking relatively unscathed when you’d worried you’d suffocated him with your thighs, maybe twisted his neck too. But, no, he met you face-to-face with a grin, only superseded in prominence by his hard-on.

You ran your thumb over his tip, through the fabric of his underwear which now had a small wet spot, and he groaned.

“My offer still stands,” you said.

His eyes flickered to your smile, which was wider than his and even his ever-bleeding heart couldn’t protest. His dick wasn’t the only part of him that wanted you.

Leon always had an acute awareness of his own mortality. From the moment his parents were ripped away from him as a child, he realized the harsh reality that death can never be fully anticipated and all too often it happens far too early in one’s life. He was aware of that fact, but hadn’t watched anyone die in front of him until the Raccoon City incident. It takes seeing to believe. And even after believing the truth, it took him years to accept it.

It took him until he was 40 to get to that point. Even then, every ill-fated day that Hunnigan called him while he was with you, he was confronted with the same unsettling feeling, the fear of death that he thought he’d gotten over.

If he had to leave unexpectedly, he’d wake you up before he did, give you a hug goodbye. Sometimes, you were in such a deep sleep that you didn’t remember him saying goodbye at all. You’d later accuse him of leaving without telling you, and from then on, he’d leave a note by your bedside to confirm that he’d been there.

You kept them in a box in your closet. They were the sad reminders of the fact that he was gone, but they smelled like him. You always wondered how it was possible for paper to absorb the scent of someone’s cologne so easily. As it turned out, it wasn’t magic or an obscure fact of science, but rather, Leon spraying cologne directly onto the paper because he knew you liked the smell of it.

In the beginning, you watched Leon get dressed in the morning just as you’d imagined back in the hotel room months ago.

Leon got up early while you stayed in bed, but he never left without kissing you goodbye. It was a bit of tradition and a bit of superstition. When he cupped your cheek, you felt the cold metal from the watch on his wrist against your skin.

Eventually, you became accustomed to the sound of Leon’s 6:30 AM alarm and the feeling of his weight being lifted from the bed. You could sleep through his morning routine until the goodbye kiss he always gave you on the forehead. Loving, but so sadly superstitious on his end.

You realized that part later.

You were awoken bright and early by Leon, which was generally a beautiful thing – though, that morning you could hear the apprehension in his voice. You were acutely aware that something was wrong. Sometimes it seemed his hyper-vigilance was wearing off on you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He held himself back from asking you how you knew. “Nothing major,” he sighed, picking his words carefully. “I have to leave this afternoon.”

“Where are you going?” Based on his tone, you could guess that it wasn’t a tropical island vacation. He had business to take care of, and you certainly weren’t going with him. It didn’t really matter what city or country he was leaving for; it was all equally dangerous.

“Romania. I might be gone for a few weeks.” So, I woke you up early to spend as many hours with you as possible before I leave.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, though your voice gave way to something you wouldn’t say until hours later, when you were naked in the sheets together, having one last bout of intimacy before his flight: “I’m scared of you dying”.

Often, in the post-orgasmic bliss, you tell him how much you love him, how good the sex was, and infinite praises. That morning, you told him you were scared he was going to die, and the minutes before that meant something entirely different. While he was away, memories of you beneath him would permeate his mind. It wasn’t the first time you had affected his ability to focus in the field, but now, he was overcome with not only longing, but also sadness and an unprecedented wave of guilt. How could he leave you like this? You must be worried sick. Hopefully, you’ve patched things over with your dad.

While Leon was gone, you moved back in with your dad. You rung his doorbell, ready to beg for his forgiveness, something you never thought you’d have to do.

To your surprise, he opened the front door with a smile.

“It’s good to see you,” he said when he pulled you into a hug. “I missed my little girl.”

You had convinced yourself that you’d made yourself immune to your father’s actions, that he couldn’t make you cry anymore. But, you broke down in tears. You were so used to apologies, excuses, and bargains. He rarely said he missed you, and never with such conviction.

“I missed you too, dad,” you said, refusing to let go of him. You had the shared knowledge that you didn’t mean that you’d missed him for the small period of time you spent at Leon’s, you missed the person he was when he was sober, the person who was standing in front of you. There was a significant period of your childhood during which he was sober, or at least rarely drunk, but you’d accepted that the man he was then had abandoned you. He was home.

He noticed your suitcase, and asked, “Are you planning on staying awhile?” He was trying not to get his hopes up. That was something you had in common.

“Can I?” you asked.

“Of course. I haven’t changed your room into a man cave just yet.”

He carried your suitcase upstairs, he helped you put the fitted sheet on your bed, he cooked dinner and sat across the table from you. It didn’t feel like a transaction or a placation either.

The topic was inevitably brought up.

“So, Leon…” he said, hoping you could fill in the blanks.

“I still love him, and I want to be with him,” you said.

His pointed gaze asked, why are you here?

“He had to leave for work,” you answered.

He nodded, accepting the situation. “I’ve been thinking a lot while you were gone.”

You braced yourself for impact.

“I think I was being too hard on Leon… and on you. I’ll admit, I still think it’s a little weird to see you two like that.” He looked up from his plate and made eye contact finally. “And I don’t want to find you two getting it on in my living room.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“But, as long as he’s good to you, I’ll learn to be supportive. I don’t want to lose either of you in my life, especially my daughter.”

“Me neither. I want to be with Leon, but I need my dad too.”

“I know.” He paused before saying, “Plus, I thought about it, and if you insist on dating a middle-aged man, there are much worse ones you could pick.”

Leon came home with a bloody nose, broken fingers and too many bruises to count. His clothes were torn and dirty, his eyes were tired, but his smile was warm as ever.

You wanted so badly to run into his embrace but you approached him slowly. Much like when he fell from the pedestal you kept him on the day you found him with another woman in the living room, his facade crumbled in front of you. His injuries were proof that he was breakable. He was made of skin and bone, powered by blood pumping through his veins just like you, not stardust or whatever angels are made of.

“I missed you,” you said, holding back tears.

“I missed you, too,” he said. He looked oddly well-adjusted to the situation. You wondered how many times he’d come home beaten up like this. Moreover, how many times there was a woman waiting for him.

This was the first time he'd tell you if you’d asked.

He headed towards the kitchen, but you stopped him.

“I’m just getting a glass of water, baby. I promise I’m not leaving.”

“I’ll get it. You should sit.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he said, backing towards the couch. He was too exhausted to argue. It was emasculating to have you take care of him, but he’d have to get used to it. He realized, then, that you’d do this for him – you’d have to – if you stayed with him through his old age. If he made it that far.

You brought him some water and sat down on the couch next to him. You surveyed his injuries. You tried not to stare, but failed. Even if he wasn’t covered in blood, you’d stare – he was the love of your life, how could you not?

“What?” he said, turning to you.

“Just looking at you,” you said, trying to remain cheery, though your tone gave way to something sad.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’ve been through way worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

He shrugged. “You told me to come back alive, not to come back unscathed,” he said.

You frowned. He grabbed your chin and moved closer to you, going in for the kiss. “If you don’t want me like this, then-” he started.

You cut him off with a kiss. You were lucky his lips weren’t injured. You could kiss him as hard as you wanted. And you did. When you pulled back, you said, “I want you like this. I’ve wanted you for weeks.”

He tried to speak, but you put your finger to his lips, shushing him. “But first,” you said, “I want to get you cleaned up.”

“Don’t worry. I planned on taking a shower before getting into bed.”

You stood and offered him your hand. He took it and headed for the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the linen closet on the way. When he noticed you were following him, he asked, “Are you coming with?”

“Yeah,” you said as if it should have been obvious. “Who else is going to help wash you?”

He sighed, and you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face.

“You’ve taken care of me my whole life. Let me take care of you for once,” you said.

“Fine, but don’t get used to it. When I’m all healed, I’ll be taking care of you.”

“Whatever you say.”

You watched him strip and all of your thoughts faded – aside from one, which you spoke aloud. “You’re so hot. Your dick better not be injured.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. I kept it safe just for you.”

He turned on the water and tried to adjust it to the optimal temperature, but he got distracted when your clothes came off. He whistled.

“Leon!” You covered up instinctively, feeling flustered by his whistling.

“Oh come on,” he said, “You’re gorgeous. I couldn’t help myself.”

His shower was not made for two – and it was further complicated by the fact that Leon had to bend over for you to be able to reach his head. But, you made it work. It felt emasculating, borderline humiliating, on his end to be so incapable of something simple, and to have to rely on his girlfriend to do it for him. But your soft hands washing his skin and your fingertips massaging his scalp, the way you made sure not to miss a single spot on his body, the way you cared – all he had was gratitude. And a whole lot of love for you.

[yaut-jaknowit]

this gave me idea about The King thought Male Yautja was just "Kidnapping" His Daughter but it turns out that she didn't want marry to four bastards princes(which yautja killed them) who is tries to kill king or steal golds from Kingdom or even forcing princess to marry him,so she could finally marry peasant although yautja has actually crush on princess but princess told him that she already had found true love (please angsty because that's sappy ending) (sappy means both sad and happy)

A Knight In Shining Armor

Pairings: Achoshi (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4275

Summary: In a kingdom where you are the princess, you are protected by the knight. A faceless, towering, imposing figure you saved a year ago. By his honor code, he is bound to you until the debt is paid. When four suitors present a problem to gaining your hand, he clears the problem. Only to come up empty handed in the end.

Author Note: This is such a sweet and sad ask. I rarely get angsty asks like this. Its good though! I like the variety.

Masterlist

Ao3

Red blood drips down callused hands. Stone floors stained by the life essence pooling at the knights massive feet. Four heads. All carried in two hands. Their lifeless eyes peering ahead of them, never to see the light of day again. The skin cool and taunt.

Screams and gasps of horror echoed back at the beast. He does not flinch. The silver of his mask reflects in the midday light shining through the open windows. The day may be bright, but a shadow has fallen onto the court. Death is heavy in the air. All due to one creature who no one has seen his face. He is a force to be reckoned with.

The king’s knight.

Guards on either side of the royal family arm themselves and wielded their weapons. The beast pays them no heed. Each step towards the dais is a threat on the king himself. The skulls in his hands swing and further dirty the ground the castle stands on.

Once he deemed the space closed between them, he tosses the heads at the base of the dais. Shouting from the crowd rung out. Anger laced in their voice. His dark eyes are on king. Not worthy of the title. If only the young woman to his right hadn’t trapped him into servitude.

Under the mask, his eyes drifted over the woman who was nearly damned by the stupidity of the king. A moron who nearly lost his life this morning when the moon still hung in the night sky. The king was lucky to have him bound to his daughter. So, he is forced to roam the castle, guarding the royal family from harm. A wish bestowed upon him by her.

It was his own stupidity that got him into this mess.

In all of his royal glory, the king stands to his full height on the dais. A sharp gaze pointed down at the knight. “What is the meaning of this?!” he snaps and thrusts a finger towards the decapitated heads of former princes of neighboring kingdoms.

As the guards advanced, the beast made no move. He shows no interest in the weak oomans that dare to threaten him. Even after he saved the royal family from heartbreak and total damnation.

From your seat, your brows are furrowed together in both hurt and confusion. The knight you saved little less than a year ago has killed the suitors your father had brought forth. Each of their heads laid at your feet. Yes, you were relieved not be forced to marry any of them but… for him to kill them and do this. You were shocked at the brazen action of a man who’s face you’ve never seen.

The edge of the chair bites into your butt. You are ready to spring into action and defend the knight. There has to be more to the story than meets the eye.

Only a raised hand prevents the guards from reaching him. “Shall I have no time to speak?” he grounded out. The timbre of his voice feels ancient.

Out of everyone, you’re the only one to hear his voice the most. He is reserved. He keeps to himself. His voice is used when he deems necessary. You watched the eyes of the court widened at his demanding tone and hearing him in general. It is an honor to hear him speak.

On top of the dais, the king’s jaw clenches. “Guards, do not attack unless I give the order,” your father reminds his men. Even he knew to start a war against the unknown knight would be trouble for his kingdom. A war he’s rather not be dragged into if he could help it. “Now, are you going to explain why you’ve brought the head of my daughter’s suitors at my feet?”

You’ve never heard your father so angry before. You feared what he could do the knight if the answer wasn’t up to par.

He looked lax as if not threatened by the weapons at the ready. The knight simply gestures to the heads. “I found them in the vault. Bags of gold in hand. They attempted to rid you of your wealth,” the knight answers truthfully and went straight for the point. Like hunter going for the throat.

It must have been a one verses four fight; the masked beast looks in pristine shape. There wasn’t a scratch or bruise on his thick, scaly hide. A warrior with skills no one has seen in all of the kingdom’s years. A beautiful blend of beast and knight you were more than thankful to have within your court; despite how much he dislikes being around the majority of people. He willingly gives up his time to be around you.

The general, a few paces to your left, tensed up. It was his guards who failed to protect what the king holds closely. You could care less about the riches. Yet, your father on the other hand.

His head whipped over to the general who looked white as a sheet. “General Sorrengail!” The name was grounded out like two rocks rubbed together. “My gold had been nearly stolen from me during the night. Not only am I learning of this now during the middle of the day but from him! Where were your guards?” The raging heat in his voice could rival the breath of a dragon.

“S-sir! There must have been a mistake. My guards reported nothing unusual,” he attempted to save himself from the burning gaze of the king. The wrath was something not many survived from. “He must be lying! He could’ve killed them on his own accord. He’s a beast!”

Finally, you stand up and leveled your gaze on the general. “That is enough, General Sorrengail. I’ve heard enough from you. He would not lie,” you easily defended the masked knight. The man decorated in armor to protect the king sputtered, taken aback by your sudden voice. “If you have an issue with my knight, speak to me about it.”

Sorrengail narrowed his gaze on you for a fleeting moment before a rumbling growl warned him. The man scoffed and looked over your shoulder at the king. “Sir, I shall discuss with my guards and perform a thorough investigation. We will get to the bottom of this,” Sorrengail promised then bowed.

Despite not getting permission to leave, the general marches down the dais and off to the corridor to your left. You watched until his red cape disappeared behind the wall before finally sitting down in your seat. This is your knight he dares to threaten with lies. You would defend him again. The same way you saved him from meeting the gods.

Your father bristled when Sorrengail abandoned his post then returned his attention on the knight. “If what you say is true, I have no choice but to thank you. You’ve out down my guards. I am thankful you have stumbled into not only our lives, but specifically my daughters.” Without you, the knight would never been known to exist. You smiled softly down at him. The corners of your mouth meeting your eyes.

Once the energy that buzzed in the room soothed, the king sat back down in his throne. One of his hands motions for the knight to leave. “Take… the heads. We will convene at a later date to come to a conclusion,” the king explains. Instead of looking down at the lifeless eyes of the princes he once thought of highly, he kept his gaze on the beast.

A grunt leaves the giant. He consumes the rest of the space until he reaches the base of the dais. Each head was picked up and attached to his belt. With a simple bow of his head, he spins on his heel and struts out of the chambers.

You watched him go, praying to your gods this won’t end badly for him. He doesn’t deserve the scrutiny. You already knew from the beginning those princes weren’t worthy to be your suitors. Not that you wanted them anyhow. Slimy, gross, greedy men who thought they could win over your hand.

It would’ve come down to you in the end. But it’s like picking which sword you would rather be stabbed with.

None of them.

.

Heated discussions occurred everyday for the past two weeks. General Sorrengail’s title was on the line. If what the beast states is true, he could loose not only his position but his head as well. Not that you mind. His snooty attitude always irked you to the point you wanted to throttle him. Yet, you somehow reframe.

When the day came, the court was called. The king, the general, the beast, and the princess, yourself. Other important people milled into the room. Everyone held their breath.

Someone was going to lose their head today.

Your father sat upon his golden and stone throne. A stern, displeased look on his face. It could be the day he would be assigning a new general.

Both accused stood at the base of the dais, looking upon the royal family. Small but mighty. The general held air an of uncertainty, worry filling his frame. He danced from one foot to the other but held his head up. He tried to maintain an façade of the title he holds. Yet, you could easily see through the smoke to find his anxious self.

On the other hand, the beast stood still. Like a hunter perfect for the hunt. Neither was he tense. His shoulders lax as he calmly looked up at you. Only you. Those dark eyes felt like they wanted to consume your soul, claim it as his. He refrains.

Two warriors who stand on the other side of the fence.

At the end of the chambers, the door creaks open to reveal a group of guards. Two are chained. They are led to stand behind the beast and the general. Each bowed their head in deep respect and shame for the royal family in front of them. No words are said. A disgrace to utter even a sound.

General Sorrengail finally takes the opportunity to plead his case. “If we may, your highness?” he questions. A subtle dip of your father’s head is the answer he needs. Sorrengail motions behind him for the two guards to move forward. Each listen on their own accord, hesitantly. They refused to lift their eyes from the ground.

“These were the guards in charge of watching your vault, sir. Each insist there had been nothing wrong with the vault that night,” Sorrengail announced, projecting his voice for everyone to hear. His goal was to clear his name and win over the court and king. “There hadn’t even been a speck out of place.” Quietly to yourself, you scoffed and rolled your eyes, catching the attention of the beast.

The king looked down at the men. “Is this true?” he demands in voice that holds no room for arguing.

Both of them jolted but rapidly nodded their head. It felt like they were lying straight out of their asses. You full heartily believed in the knight. He had no reason to lie. Plus, you were thankful for the save on your marriage life. The last thing you wanted was to marry any of them. It would’ve been terrible.

Even your father looked at them with a rough expression. He, too, felt what you experienced with them.

“Knight?” His attention swept over to the relaxed knight who kept his attention on you until then. The beast looked upon your father.

The knight pulls up his gauntlet and begins to press on the metal. He’s shone you the magic before. An amazing sight to experience every time. There was nothing in the kingdom you’ve ever seen do that before. As the princess, you’ve seen and experienced a lot.

A sight that was indescribable came to life, floating upon the gauntlet. “I can show you the past with a little… magic. I can show exactly how it happened and when I saw them attempting,” he explains and takes the steps, two at a time, until he is right in front of the king.

Astonishment flashes in the old man’s eyes. A new life filling them. One you haven’t seen since your mother passed away.

As if you were in the very moment, magic reveals what the knight saw that night. Each man carefully walks up to the front door of the vault. The guards that stood accused before you willingly let them in. You gasped and covered your mouth. Not only were the princes bad but so were the guards. The betrayal sat hot on your heart.

Not that you knew them personally, but to know the people suppose to be protecting you had betrayed you was a bitter taste. Your face twisted with hurt, gaze turning towards the guards.

“Lies! He lies! He is nothing but a mindless beast. He deceives you, my gracious king,” General Sorrengail spats viciously. Heat blazed in his eyes. “This-this magic shows false record of the night. It is fabricated to deceive you. I have been your general for twenty years. He hasn’t even been here a year.”

If it came down to it, you would trust your safety and heart to the knight over Sorrengail.

A gasp fell over the court. How could someone say such a thing in front of the king, your father?! Your face morphed into a snarl, ready to defend at a moments notice. Again.

Before anyone could stop it, the beast had his hand secured around General Sorrengail’s throat. A deep, threatening snarl that had you scared tumbled from his barrel chest. “I have had enough of your yapping. You constantly bicker and whine. You are not worthy of the title as a warrior. I will be more of a warrior than the one you wish to become.”

The coldness in his words made you shiver. You’ve never heard speak in such a way. His voice is always soothing. A rumble that seemed to take the ache out of your bones.

This was completely different. A one-eighty.

Once the words left his throat, a deafening silence overcame everyone. A mouse could be heard sneezing. You gripped the armrests of your chair for way to ground yourself.

“Knight, release the general. I have heard what I needed to hear.” The king, in all of his glory, stood up from the throne and stood at the edge of the dais.

A growl leaves the knight’s throat before he drops the struggling man. He falls down to his knees and rubs at his red neck. Coughs rack his body.

Everyone’s attention fell upon the most important man to walk the lands. “Let it be known, I find not only my general but his guards at fault for this breech. All three will be executed before the sun falls tonight,” he announced with a voice that left no room for arguing.

It was final.

“The knight has come to our aid again,” you spoke up, wanting to show your appreciation to him while in a room full of the court. What you said was the truth though. There has been a few times he saved you. But, this is the first he’s killed for you.

The king dips his head. “Yes. What my daughter states is the truth. It is an honor to have him with the ranks of my kingdom.” You smiled softly at his words and looked back at the knight. He’s become stern, like a brick wall. But, his eyes brighten at the sight of you gazing down at him.

“Before the night falls, blood and heads will rain down.” Gruesome but the truth.

Sorrengail and the guards look in front of them in horror. Terrified of what is to come to them. Death is in their very future. A death well deserved for what they’ve done.

It happens. A cheerful night of celebrating their deaths. It is quickly forgotten about a week later. Nearly an entire month has passed since the heads had been dropped at your father’s feet. Word about it has completely disappeared. It had become old news. You had been the returned topic of suitors and marriage. The usual for a princess soon to hit their twenties.

Everyday of the week, the knight had been visiting you. He loves to accompany you throughout mundane tasks such as reading, writing, learning. The usual for a princess. An educated royal was dangerous. Not to the kingdom nor their people, but to their enemies. Something your father taught you.

On this particular day, the knight finds himself at your side. The garden is your strolling grounds. Each flower and bush carefully maintained by the workers. A place you looked to explore over and over again.

No matter how many times you find yourself back in the confines of the walls.

You hopped onto the ledge that barred the dirt from spilling onto the tile pathing. Your arms were slightly spread out to help with your balance. But, the knight stepped closer to you, guarding you from a fall. An action you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at. He was sweet. It wasn’t like you couldn’t take a fall or even keep your balance on a stone ledge less than four inches tall.

The two of your explored the gardens all over again. You took random paths. It was an expansive place. Many things to explore and rediscover once more. A giggle left your lips when you stopped to pivot on your heel. The towering knight stops and becomes your object of attention.

“You’re more quiet than usual, sir knight,” you teased him and poked his shoulder. The faceless creature was quiet majority of the time. You’ve come to realize when it was just the two of you, he grew out of his bonds and allowed himself freedom to converse. Yet, now, he was the same as he was with everyone else. It made you concerned for his wellbeing.

A grumble sounded from his barrel chest. His fingers twitched at his sides. He turned his head away to look at a flower bush to the side. Then, his attention returned to you.

“I have something I wish to show you, princess,” he states after a minute of debating whether or not to go through with this. Your face brightens at his words. You stand up higher on your toes and clasp your hands together in front of you. The knight raises a hand to quell your excitement. “But, you must trust me.”

Such a silly thing for him to state. You gave him a deadpanned look. “I trust you with my life and heart. You know this well.” The time the two of you’ve known each other has been less than a year but, your trust in each other has grown beyond speculation. He is your knight.

Those dark eyes of his looked into yours for a long moment. As if they found what they searched for, he reached with a hand to cover your eyes. He gave you plenty of time to retreat or deny him this.

The warmth of his palm covering your eyes was welcoming. Another hand slid against the small of your back. It guided you off of the stone ledge to stand in front of the towering figure. He softly pushed you forward and continued to lead you through the gardens, in the darkness. You tried to map the area out mentally but it felt like he was taking you in circles at one point.

It wasn’t long before he came to a stop. You felt his heat wash over your back as he leaned in close. His mouth hovering next to your ear. “Keep those pretty little eyes closed for me,” he whispered into your ear and caused you to shutter against him. A resounding growl left him.

Underneath his palm, you kept your eyes closed. He slowly peeled his hand away before letting them both fall away. You turned your head towards where you believe he was. “What do you have hidden for me?” you asked in a soft tone to make him relent quicker. You were a princess. A princess doesn’t wait for their presents.

He chuckled deeply under his breath and moved to be in front of you. “That is something you will find out shortly, princess.” Your bottom lip stuck out in a pout, arms crossing over each other. “Ah, no pouting, little one.” You made a whole show of rolling your eyes despite them being closed. Two fingers pinched your jaw and tugged in close to the knight. Your hands slammed down on his chest to steadied yourself. Yet, somehow, your eyes didn’t open. “Be good and stay here.”

A huff escaped you. He took it as agreement before pulling away. The knight walked a few feet away from you. Something scrapped against stone. Your head tilted, trying to figure out what the sound was but came up empty handed.

A sharp hiss entered the air. One you’ve never heard before. You perked up and faced the sound coming from directly in front of you.

Silence fell over the two of you for a fleeting moment. The knight took in a deep breath. “You may open your eyes.” His voice came out much more clearly.

You blinked open your eyes to find a sight you could never even imagine.

Four human skulls sit on a stone bench. All in pristine shape. Then, your gaze roamed up. Your jaw drops as you looked at him. His metal mask was gone, attached to his hip. Something you never expected to see was his face. One of your hands covered your mouth as you took a step back. He was no man. He was nothing of these lands.

“W-what are you?” you whispered into the tense air. Honesty, you weren’t scared. Not completely at least. But, you were apprehensive of him. That wasn’t what you were expecting under his mask.

Something flashed in his dark brown eyes. Too quick for you to pick up on. Instead, the unmasked figure bowed his head and took a knee. “My princess. Before you act on fear, allow me to plead my case,” he asked from you. Only for a moment, he raised his head to meet your eyes.

And, you stayed. “Tell me. What are you?” you demanded, voice firmer this time. You stood your ground and straightened your back.

He keeps kneeling behind the bench. “I am a Yautja. I’m… not from here. My name is Achoshi,” he released this information freely to you. This… Achoshi wants to keep your trust. With his arms, he motions to the skulls. “I present the skulls of the suitors I killed. I show my worth to you, my skill. I wish to court you, princess. Claim you as mine.”

All of this information was far too much in the span of a minute. He wasn’t form here. He’s a… Yautja. Whatever that is. He’s been hiding his face this entire time, actively deceiving not only you but your father as well. If it was any other person, you would demand for their head to be taken off of their shoulders. Yet, you let the tension in your shoulders lax.

Then, there’s the fact he’s trying his hand in courting you. If only he knew beforehand. Even some secrets the knight can’t know of all the time.

“Achoshi, is it?” you attempted the foreign name on your lips. He gave you a nod. You timidly walked up to his kneeling form. Despite the complete differences between the two of you, you reached out and cupped his strange jaw/mandible. “I apologize… but I love someone else. I am grateful for the path you’ve opened up for me though. I can stand a chance now to plead my case in front of my father.”

The rejection burns in the pit of his stomach. But guilt is a stronger emotion. He missed his chance of winning your hand over before another had came through and swept you off of your feet. Achoshi bowed his head. The strange dreads that hung from his scalp slid off of his shoulders at the moment. Then, he stood up. Your hands sliding off of his jaw.

“Then, I must apologize. I appear to be too late.” The hurt in his voice broke your heart but you stood strong and firm. The love of your life already captured your heart.

Once more, you reached up to run your fingers along his jaw. Over the course of a month, you’ve given this thought plenty of time to stew. But, it was time.

“My sir knight, Achoshi, I release you from duty. Your debt has been paid in the eyes of the royal family. You are no longer chained to servitude.” Your own words slightly shocked you. You hated to let him go but it was time for him to be free. It would be cruel to keep him locked at your side until death took either of you.

Achoshi softly cupped your cheek, eyes zoned in on yours. “I’ve paid my debt long ago. I stayed merely because of you, my princess.” You gasped, heart rate jumping.

His hand left your skin, drawing away all the warmth it held. With one more look at you, he disappears from sight. You stumbled a couple of steps away. A few more moments passed until his presence was completely gone. You were left alone in the garden you so loved.

[quillyfied]

Happy Halloween and Happy Ghostfuckers, time to dig into the chest cavity of this episode and not come back out until the next! Another banger of an episode; someone in the Helluva Boss tag called it the Truth Seekers of season 2, and I am so inclined to agree, actually. Equal parts reaction and analysis, and 100% spoilers, like, did that even need to be said?

First: MILLIE MY BELOVED. After a season and a half (over five whole years) of some pretty lukewarm development and attention, having this episode start off with Millie being her happy cheerful self is already such a breath of fresh air, especially given the relentless nonstop personal drama Blitzo and Stolas have been part of for the last couple of episodes. It’s great that this episode is starting after a brief time skip, too; feels more natural for an audience that has had three months to process it all. Watching Millie step right into emotional support is amazing, too, for reasons that have been hinted at before; Happy Campers was so good for her and Moxxie’s characters and I’m prepared to fight about it. Having one of the few women in the cast be relegated to “emotional backbone” doesn’t feel as bad when she’s already expressed insecurity about her importance in life, shown that being an unbelievable badass doesn’t always give her the kind of attention she wants, and isn’t afraid to knock the people in her life down a peg when they aren’t supporting her back. Yes that was just from Happy Campers, and this episode reinforces that with further excellent context. But sshh. We’ll get to that later. Time to watch Loona and Moxxie breaking down because they’re sick of Blitzo’s shit but not to the point of leaving him yet (because they love him too shsshhhshshsh).

Interesting that after a few weeks of moping, NOW is when Blitzo is starting to ramp up his destructive behaviors; what tiny glimpses we were allowed to get in the mission shorts showed a Blitzo that was coping but seemed to be holding it together (you’ll pry the idea that Blitzo’s inability to work the crystal in Mission: Antarctica is directly related to his confidence, not his skill, out of my cold dead rotten hands). This sudden left turn into emptying IMP’s bank accounts and forcing Moxxie and Loona to act out his grief with him appears…new. Maybe lying around eating ice cream and cheese (bro) like a sad sack while watching human television isn’t a new behavior, but the Blitzo-level catastrophic destruction masquerading as retail therapy reads to me as a sudden snap, maybe due to the proximity of a certain lunar cycle. It’s certainly looking on par with running three rings to Wrath and maxing out someone else’s credit cards on shitty horse riding lessons (something that, based on the vague timeline I’ve been able to wrangle out of this godforsaken show, Millie wouldn’t have been present for, though to be fair it’s not like Blitzo ever really has a measured emotional response to anything).

(Viv, if you’re listening, consider this a brief cosmic request for Secretary Stolas to help poor Moxxie with this paperwork. Please. PLEASE. PLEEEEASE.)

I love too that Millie’s approach as default team Emotional Intelligence isn’t to meddle, either, because that also shows maturity on her part; letting the grown ass adults around her handle their shit while still being sweet to them is such a good and necessary component of the IMP team. Hang on having another Millie Feelings Moment while trying to have some sort of chronology here.

…it’s entirely purposeful that Bethany Ghostfucker has Charlie’s hair, right? Because they share a voice actress? Which means…Blitzo has now cosplayed some reference of Charlie…THE STREAMS THEY ARE CROSSING.

I also love how nOTHING could have prepared me for realizing that Blitzo’s outfit in this episode is a cosplay. Of a HUMAN. WHO FUCKS GHOSTS. I don’t know why I am so surprised at how literal the title is; this show continues to both sicken and delight me XD (raunchy humor isn’t my thing and Blitzo was definitely pushing it for me this episode, but also…it’s so nicely balanced with the real emotional breakdowns that I can’t even be mad about it)

Anyway, back to Millie and her Emotional Genius: very glad that she realizes what Blitzo is going through requires a little more babying than usual, and VERY glad that she and Blitzo already have an established system for when he needs to be babied and she doesn’t initially cave to it (I will be buying that magnet, thanks Spindlehorse). I also love how Millie encourages Loona to step up and help Moxxie (who also desperately needs some help, but Millie really can’t focus on him right now because she needs to focus on the root of the problem, which is Blitzo), essentially through begging but also just by being her usual kind self. And that quiet little moment of Millie using Loona’s name for maybe the first time ever is just…mwah. Chef’s kiss. No notes.

Sidetracking again to wonder why the subject of ghosts is just now coming up when Blitzo literally has an alert light labeled “Ghost.” Like. I feel like Blitzo believing in ghosts while Millie staunchly does not is such a good dynamic to play with, but also why is this the first that it’s being addressed. XD Okay, I get it, throwaway gag from the first episode that is becoming relevant now and maybe didn’t have that much thought put into it when it was first made, but I can dream. Or pick relentlessly at tiny details while completely missing the bigger picture. It’s fine. I’m fine.

What I’m not fine with is how Blitzo can completely trash the van in nearly the same way two episodes in a row (assuming that IMP going on the run is happening in Mastermind, which is far from a given, but phwoar would it be maximum emotional impact, to have an episode showing IMP finally moving into their shitty office and how much it means to them, only to have it ripped out from under them the next episode LOLOLOLOL). I’m mostly irritable that my prediction was untrue :P Although I am glad that the prediction that this hotel guy was Leviathan was disproven, because let’s be honest, that would make no sense. Some rando infestor demon, though? Totally on point. Also makes sense why he “falls” for Blitzo’s bullshit disguise; he knows they’re imps because he’s also a demon. Something new to play with. Though it’s interesting that even when Rolando goes rooting through Blitzo’s head, he still doesn’t seem to know either of their real names. Informational blind spot? Would make sense, with how the fight goes down, but later. Later.

Side note to wheeze with relief because when I first watched this episode, it was without subtitles, and I thought Igor was wheezing Blitzo’s name. Him saying “bitch” makes more sense actually. That’s fine. It was much creepier thinking he was saying Blitzo’s name actually XD

Listen. Listen. We know that Blitzo sort of self-medicates with sex and sexual humor. We know that he’s loaded his confidence eggs into the competent at sex basket, because his competence at emotions has a body count (literal). Much like how it was painful to watch Blitzo operating at maximum asshole behavior at the beginning of Apology Tour what with his relentless insistence at returning his relationship with Stolas to safter, sexier ground…watching Blitzo try to distract himself with a sexually charged silly new hobby is equally painful. Because for him, sex is surface level, because anything deeper is dangerous (lord above please ignore the innuendo IGNORE IT). If sex happens to come with emotional attachment, he ruthlessly severs it. But Blitzo being horny isn’t the problem, it’s his disregard for the people that get caught up in his horniness (and he certainly knows how to weaponize his raunchy humor and sexual charisma when it suits him). The Scooby Doo antics are hysterical, but watching Millie start to buckle under the strain of indulging Blitzo is as fascinating as it is inevitable. We already know Millie doesn’t have infinite patience even for Moxxie. So to watch her reach her limit with Blitzo when she might be the only person in IMP whom we have never seen snap at him…delicious. Absolutely the best. And GOOD ON HER for snapping at him for cutting her off, which is a thing he does all the time with everyone ever but rarely gets called on (because he’s waltzed off at that point usually).

And, as I dearly hoped, it’s Millie that starts to really get through to Blitzo, not by being gentle, exactly, but by being her refreshing blunt-not-bludgeoning self. She gives Blitzo the reaming he deserves, but doesn’t belittle him about it; she just points out that his behavior is harmful, draws a boundary, and leaves. Exactly what Blitzo needs…though his brain is certainly going to fuck with him about it first, because lol rejection-sensitive dysphoria being exacerbated by fucked up haunted trauma illusions is a BITCH.

When the gif for this episode dropped and it was Blitzo sliding down a ventilation shaft, I never saw a single other person remark on the dark liquid in the corner of the gif sliding down the shaft after him. I didn’t say anything about it either, just noted it and freaked out quietly every time the gif passed me by. NOW KNOWING THE CONTEXT OF THE DARK SLIDING LIQUID MAKES IT WORSE. I already suspected it was blood (Hellborn blood to be exact). I did not suspect that it would be THAT MUCH BLOOD. Though it’s interesting that Blitzo doesn’t recognize it as such, never calls it that, never seems to realize it. So. Maybe it isn’t blood (spoiler: it’s not blood, I am just dumb and didn’t realize what it is until a third viewing, good job me), but it sure as hell resembles Hellborn blood enough that I have the heebie jeebs. And the visuals are just SO CREEPY—Blitzo is practically drowning in it as he’s dumped into a waking nightmare, and like. Blitzo is an assassin by trade now, and we know IMP did a lot of in-Hell contracts before switching to corner the Sinner market, so there would ostensibly be a lot of Hellborn blood on his hands, but he doesn’t care about that. A job’s a job. The blood he feels guilty about…well…we know, okay, I won’t insult y’all’s intelligence by rehashing it, because it’s about to be made real damn obvious anyway.

THE HAUNTED MILLIES BEING ALL THE TIMES SHE COULD HAVE DIED IN PREVIOUS JOBS THOUGH. Bless the people smart enough to pick that up and throw that spaghetti at the wall because folks it STICKS, it’s so obvious and SO GOOD. And SUCH a neat little insight into Blitzo’s head, too: he cares SO MUCH about his employees, his family, and it does actually haunt him, how many close calls they’ve had. It does occur to him that his actions affect others. It’s just never bothered him, certainly not to this degree. I fully blame Apology Tour and Verosika for getting him started on considering how his actions have consequences for other people, how he “hurts other people’s fee-fees” but also routinely leads his team into dangerous situations where his mistakes could cost them all. And these phantom (lol f-word) versions of Millie not only driving this home through the visuals, but saying the quiet part out loud, asking Blitzo if he realizes this about himself? If he’s ever loved someone without hurting them? FUCK.

I said so many times I wanted Blitzo broken in half; I have FEASTED, friends, because Blitzo’s issues are bigger than Stolas and if he doesn’t address them, he won’t ever be happy with himself, let alone with anyone else, romantic or platonic. ALSO, feast upon the intersecting themes between Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel, because “you think you can change?” immediately put me in mind of “addict trash like you doesn’t change,” which…I believe whole-heartedly is something that Val said to Angel, maybe even said in that moment, but the framing of it and Angel’s character arc made it so clear to me that Val’s words had become Angel’s own. Except Angel started proving him wrong. He started struggling, however small and desperately and weakly, to change who he was, to become someone he actually liked instead of what everyone else wanted and liked. Blitzo is in the same boat. Because both of these shows are so much about how hard it can be to become a better version of yourself, especially in a world that’s set against you being that person, that will hurt you for daring to be better, to be different, to be YOURSELF. What Blitzo is going through right now is the emotional beat-down that every person who has ever wanted to self-improve despite (or maybe even because of) trauma or mental illness puts themself through. If you’ve ever been this mean to yourself and driven yourself to a sobbing panic attack, clap your hands (clap clap).

And then the low blow. The tearjerker. The cry-maker.

Teenage Blitzo running to his mother. Calling out for Mama. Telling her about the scary dream he was having. AND SHE COMFORTS HIM. She never turns on him, she’s never angry, she never even flinches as she’s burning alive in front of him. Ghosts aren’t real (sad) and we aren’t ever going to meet Tilla except through other people’s eyes, most likely Blitzo’s, but that double-edged knife of knowing that Blitzo both was so loved and loved so hard back, only to be the one who got her killed…we’ve known as an audience for a while now that this is the biggest burden on Blitzo’s soul, the one thing he may never forgive himself for and can’t conceive of anyone else forgiving, because it’s what’s Fundamentally Wrong with him: he makes everyone’s lives worse. How can he love when he is so completely destruction incarnate? How can he reach out to Moxxie, to Millie, to Loona, to Stolas, to Fizz, when the person dearest to him crumbled to ash in his hands and it’s his own fault?

How can Millie look at him and tell him he’s wrong, that he made her life better?

Fuck hang on cry break FUCK I forgot to remove my eye makeup before doing this lolololol

Okay. Pivoting to scrutinizing this flashback, because the first thing that is immediately apparent to me (besides how hot Millie and Blitzo are DAMN) is how much older and more tired Millie looks. Millie in particular. We’ve become accustomed to Millie looking a certain way, so the new look is certainly exciting, but it’s the expression that’s really the kicker here. She looks hardened and badass, but so, so tired. She’s tired of just being the muscle. She’s tired of scraping by for a buck, and fewer of them than she deserves. My theory that Wrath is saturated with imps of a similar skill set is correct; my theory that Helluva Boss isn’t going to address the class/race issues they’re drawing on in any meaningful way might yet be disproven. Because Millie doesn’t have horrific family trauma. What she has is what every imp has: systemic oppression and its accompanying insecurities. We got hints of this back in Happy Campers, when she was so thrilled to be the center of attention and important and liked, and NOT for how well she kills people. Now it has further context, and is why Millie being the Emotional Support of the team is so important to her as a character: she never thought she could be anything else. She never let herself believe she could be anything but someone’s underpaid goon that was going to die an early death and be as meaningless as everyone told her she was. Until Blitzo and IMP carved out a space for themselves and moved to THE TOP RING IN HELL. The one where Lucifer lives, the one where the Goetia seem to congregate, the one ring that, despite being a flaming hellhole (lol) that is full of weird dead humans and is constantly being beset by angels at least once a year, is considered the one place imps can’t make their mark. Gosh this episode is so important for making so much of that thinly-veiled subtext all throughout Helluva Boss into text, for underlining Striker’s compliment to Blitzo for making a name for himself by owning his own business, for saying EXPLICTLY AND OUT LOUD that imps aren’t even good enough for the shittiest, most moth-eaten office in Pride.

I’m still not holding my breath on Helluva Boss actually solving anything socially within itself, because that seems like a tall order. But it is no longer too much to ask for Stolas to grapple with some pretty heavy questions about his behavior and his preconceived notions, his internal biases and the ways he has hurt Blitzo in return. SECRETARY STOLAS PLEEEEEASE, I AM BEGGING.

Anyway. Time to drool over the fight choreography, first of this fight between Millie and Blitzo, because it’s GORGEOUS. They have what I was hoping so hard for them to have: fighting as a love language XD Blitzo and Millie understand each other on a pretty instinctual, almost primal level; their fight is a dance, not just because they’re both good at it. It’s an extension of their friendship, or what will become their friendship. Their bodies are their most basic communication tool, Millie often through touch and snuggles, and Blitzo through either fighting or fucking, depending on what’s needed. They both have killer instinct, which Moxxie’s anxiety often chokes out within himself and which Loona hasn’t really had the chance to hone.

I also love that moment before Blitzo tips the pool table, the whole “reputation is everything” “Oh yeah? So what’s your reputation?” Because. BECAUSE!! Millie is an exceptional assassin, but in this fight in particular, she is so different from how she is in the rest of the show. She’s a proper Wrathian imp assassin, angry and hard and relentless. Compare that to the beginning of Ozzie’s, when she scuttles into frame holding an axe in her teeth and screeches about how she’s still so jazzed up, clearly amped and so much more joyful than she is during this flashback. Again, said it at least twice, will say it once more: she looks so exhausted, like she’s burning herself out just to make it. And she isn’t a unique case in that regard by any means. It’s working for Blitzo that makes her unique, that gives her joy in her work instead of making her rely on how other people see her. Sinners already don’t care about her or her feelings; her next meal isn’t contingent on appearing as hardened and badass as possible, it’s on a Sinner having a grudge, which is an exclusive meal ticket that only Blitzo could have weaseled them into.

I also want to point out that this fight between Blitzo and Millie? Pretty well mirrored by the fight between Millie and Rolando!Blitzo. The way Millie blocks him with her forearm, the way she slams him into the wall—those are things Blitzo did to her, back during their first fight. Granted, Millie getting the coolest anime punch-stop of all time is something that’s all hers, because Millie is so special and had no idea until she found a new life. She is the happiest imp there ever was and she kicks no less ass for it.

(WHERE IS MY TIMELINE, IMP WAS AROUND FOR A YEAR BEFORE THEY GOT THE BOOK AND THE OFFICE. Unsure of how long after meeting Loona and Moxxie this meeting with Millie takes place, and this does scramble around the timeline of how long Blitzo had the book before Stolas calls to make the arrangement, and where does Moxxie and Millie’s marriage fit into this? They’ve only been married a year, so probably started dating pretty soon after meeting…still have no idea on when Stolas and Blitzo’s first time happened and how long after that was Loo Loo Land. I will tie myself into knots over this, must stop now.)

Anyway. Putting the fights to bed for the moment, gotta get in on those good good BFF snuggles, which will go immediately into Blitzo’s Trauma: The Movie. After Rolando does the honor of driving home the point that yeah, imps have it real fuckin’ bad in Hell canonically and textually and said out loud and everything, thanks for asking.

…oh. Right. Rolando dissolves into black goo. Blitzo wasn’t crawling through a tunnel of blood. It was a tunnel of Rolando. That’s somehow worse. Ah well. My point about Blitzo’s regrets and visually looking like he’s wading through Hellborn blood stands.

Small detail that’s standing out to me in this episode: how much Blitzo is holding his chest during the Rolando fight. Wondering if he’s cupping the pendant he almost lost, or if he’s injured in the chest pretty badly. Which is SO IRONIC if true, because. Y’know. Feelings. His are hurting.

Gosh this fight with Rolando is so scary, though. We’ve never seen infestor demons before (unless you count the Glam sisters, but they weren’t in their element, so to speak), and the power differential between Rolando and Blitzo and Millie is pretty stark. Different from the fight between Striker and Millie and Moxxie, Striker overwhelms with skill. Rolando is overwhelming with power. Don’t you just hate it when higher-class demons have special powers that reinforce the hierarchy? Bullshit. Anyway. THE FIGHT TAKING PLACE NEAR THE POOL IS SO GOOD. Because why wouldn’t an Envy demon have the water advantage? They’re literally fish people. And it’s TENSE OKAY.

BUT NOT AS TENSE AS BLITZO’S TRAUMA: THE MOVIE IS ABOUT TO BE.

I find it particularly significant that Rolando licks up the scarred side of Blitzo’s neck and then says a few minutes later that Blitzo’s level of insecurity is “intoxicating.” Yeah I imagine he’s super tasty to demons who feed on that kind of thing. See previous horrific trauma hallucination. Which I now have reason to believe wasn’t based entirely in reality; we already know all the Millies didn’t die that way, and now a snapshot of Blitzo finding the pendant in the wreckage. He didn’t watch his mom burn to death, not the way he was forced to watch in this episode. Goddamn. Rolando is an asshole, huh?

The Cash backslap really took me aback, actually, not just because Blitzo flinches away from it. The stills show that Cash does it while holding Blitzo’s still-burned wrist in his other hand, so this is really soon after the fire; one has to wonder if Cash did it because Blitzo caused his mother’s death, or if it’s just for the circus. Hard to get a read on Cash, no idea what his attitude towards Tilla is besides a gleeful willingness to use her to manipulate his son. I suppose I’m also shocked because I never really doubted that Cash probably hit Blitzo at least a little, but…a backhand, to me, reads of casual violence, something that’s done without much thinking about it. The way Stella reared back to backhand Stolas and we know by her shocked expression that he’s never caught her wrist to avoid the impact before. Terrible comparison, by the way, and by terrible I mean great but causing me emotional distress. I hadn’t suspected that Cash was likely just as physically abusive as he was emotionally abusive towards Blitzo. Nice to have the confirmation. I hate it here.

Okay, because I haven’t seen the screenshots anywhere yet: first scene of Millie and Moxxie is from Murder Family when Moxxie unties them. Second…I don’t know, actually, and I’m embarrassed to admit that. Maybe Truth Seekers? I could make the argument for Exes and Oohs if Moxxie was in a wedding dress, but I’m not sure. Any of the many times Blitzo has intruded on their time together, I suppose. And, fun fact: the shots that are playing in Blitzo’s eyes when Rolando forces Blitzo’s eyes open are the ones of Fizz and Verosika in Ozzie’s again. In case that was information you wanted. It’s also upsetting that Loona in LA is part of the reel of Blitzo Thinking Everyone Hates Him, because the fight in Spring Broken at least makes sense to flashback to. Though I do keep forgetting, constantly and with an insistence that infuriates me, that Loona and Blitzo were also having a fight during Seeing Stars and when she kicks him off of her at the end, it’s while Blitzo is apologizing for threatening to replace her.

I find it very interesting that there’s a split-second of Barb that cuts in when the Stolas part of the reel plays; it’s so fast, but right after Blitzo pulls away from Stolas’ hand in Ozzie’s, there’s a second shot of Barb as she’s yelling at him in Happy Campers. Significance? Probably that their separation hurts him just as much as his current one with Stolas, he’s just had more time to try and get used to it. Or represses it more.

Oh hey. Blitzo in his head is back in uniform, crystal and all. Nice. I didn’t even realize it. (…Crystal and all. Like it’s become part of his self-image already. HMMM.)

So interesting that Rolando chooses the most obvious pressure points to try and get to Millie…without realizing that coming out of Blitzo’s mouth, it completely robs them of power BECAUSE of their heart to heart. Millie already knows in her core that Blitzo rejects that image of her, because it’s an image of himself that he also rejects and he refuses to let her wallow in it. Their friendship is built on, well, building each other up in that way. Why in fuck would Millie listen to this asshole wax on and on about how she’s a lowborn inbred hick (what the fuck dude) when he’s currently possessing the guy who helped her break that image of herself? Like. Come on, asshole, use your brain, not your bigotry. But I guess that’s also the point of this episode, showing with explicit clarity that IMP is special because of all the anti-imp sentiment they’ve had to wade through and dismantle within themselves, so why would a supposedly “superior” demon think he had to hit any harder or more precise than that? Also. Though. The careless way Rolando is just throwing around Blitzo’s body is pretty sickening.

Special moment of silence for how Millie knows that Blitzo can take a beating that few others can and uses that to expel Rolando. I’m not crying. It’s fine.

“You’re dead, Bethany!” This is. Such a weird thing to say. Especially when you just went on a pleasure cruise through this guy’s deepest darkest fears. You can pull out what haunts him in the night, but not his name?? Counterpoint: he didn’t CARE to pull out Blitzo’s name. Because he’s an imp.

The knocking Rolando into the pool thing was hysterical, though. Such an anticlimax. Right before the electrocution and the eye-popping and all. Lol.

“FUCK hotels!” Says the man who was casually cosplaying an aspect of the princess of Hell who runs a hotel. I love these shows. I love the casual interplay between them. A crossover one day would be the best thing ever.

“I’ve never had a real friend that I didn’t want to fuck.” That is such a blisteringly honest thing for Blitzo to say that I don’t think he expected it to come out of his own mouth. And I love that Millie knows it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with Blitzo, and how Blitzo feels about Stolas. I just don’t think Blitzo realized he felt that way until he said it out loud.

And wrapping this all up with a nice bow with some Loona and Moxxie character growth, where she ACTUALLY takes care of him instead of leaving him to his own devices! Giving half a shit prevents arson, folks, love to see it.

This had the exact structure of Truth Seekers that got me hooked on this show in the first place: cutting the raunchy humor (which is hit or miss with me, usually don’t like it overmuch) with really deep, complex, and honest character moments. The way Blitzo mentors both Moxxie and Millie in different ways while still relying on them is just so satisfying. Even more satisfying is seeing Blitzo change from a one-note loud pervert into a complicated guy who has real feelings about other people and doesn’t actively want to hurt the people he cares about because he DOES CARE. He’s a fuckup, and he’s trying, and it’s so, so, SO good.

I’m sure I have forgotten to wax eloquent about something or other, but it’s almost four hours later and definitely almost five thousand words into this thing, so I’m gonna cut myself off here. Toodles! See you all in November for Mastermind, which is gonna be FINE I’m sure!!

[ghostiiess]

doing skincare with sunoo!

synopsis: title says it all!

warnings: mentions of nickname (baby)

type: fluff, wholesome

pairing: bf sunoo x gender neutral reader! (no pronouns used)

author’s note: my enhypen’s smau is coming out soon 🫶🏻

permanent taglist (tell me in my request box if you’d like to be added): @firstclassjaylee @choppedballoondetective

(hc under the cut!)

doing skincare with sunoo would be amazing!

and also so relaxing

we all know that sunoo LOVES doing skincare, so ofc when you asked him if he could show you his skincare routine, he said yes :D

he was so HAPPY!!

if you’re into skincare, congratulations!! 🥳 you’ve officially met the skincare king!

no because the numbers of skincare products he has in his room??

this man’s taking care of his skin and it shows because he’s glowing, he’s super cute, he’s having the skin we all wish we had

if you’re not into the skincare, let me tell you that you will be soon, because this man will make you love it!!

imo, sunoo probably know everything about skincare!

including skin type, the correct (and right) order to apply the products, some tips and tricks to help you…

so if you’re unsure about your skin type or how to apply your products or stuff, let me tell you that you will know!

sunoo could only look at you and your face and says “that’s a ____ skin that you have”

he’s good like that, yes 🙌🏻

not only this man would give you products based on your skin type and give you tricks, sunoo would literally do skincare sleepover with you

“baby, let’s watch a movie tonight and do skincare!”

i’m telling you, this man is not lying about skincare and the importance of hygienic care

“y/n, you can’t go to sleep without washing your face first! it’s not okay”

“you gotta apply your night cream before going to sleep”

sunoo would give you the best tricks and tips to help you out

“and when you apply your cream, it’s easier if you go like that!”

“i like to double cleanse because that way, I’m sure my face is clean when i go to sleep!”

this man would have satin pillows case

“baby, it’s not useless!! it’s proven that satin has many benefits!”

“alright alright, continue to use your original pillow case, we’ll see who have the best skin later on”

I’m telling you, sunoo would be so so happy to share this interest with you!

he would buy a lot of facemask (only fancy ones because he only put good stuff on his face, so if you’re used to buy ‘cheap’ facemask… sorry it won’t ever happen again) for you and him to try!

the way he wouldn’t even let you take some stuff because he read that it wasn’t good for your skin (some products lies by saying they’re good when they’re so so bad for your skin and shouldn’t even exist💀)

“baby, i heard so many bad reviews on this cleanser.. would you want another one?”

he’s not saying this to annoy you or to control you, don’t worry!

he just want your skin to be good and healthy :D

he would put relaxing music/ a movie/ a tv show/ anything to make you relax while doing your skincare routine

he would ask you if he can apply your cream face mask

and he would hope that you would do the same to him ;)

he would take pictures of you two doing skincare and would smile so so much

“we’re both so good looking”

“you look so cute in this picture!!!”

he would laugh and smile because why do you look so cute 🥰

“baby, let me take another picture!! you’re so cute!!”

his smile is so pretty, but omg yours?? he loves it

sunoo would def be the type to buy you new skincare (just because he saw you running out of them or just because he wanted to)

“i save that your toner was going pretty low…so i bought another one for you!”

“i saw those face mask and i thought that we could try them together?”

“i know you’ve been wanting to have this product, so… i bought it for you”

“wdym why? can’t i spoil my wonderful partner?”

“you could just say thank you, omg”

our cute sassy king 👑

def a wonderful experience to do skincare with him

be ready to have glass skin in like 2 weeks or so

and to have a lot of products now!

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[peachdues]

I understand that this might sound really silly but I am SO invested in the world building in Compass. It is SO well done and had left me with so many questions, not because it's incomplete or vague in any way but because it's genuinely peaked my curiosity. Is there a hierarchy amongst the Hashira? Is Sanemi somehow less respected then, say, Tengan, since he seems to have more privileges and a nicer hideout? Is it because Sanemi does more "dirty" or less profitable work? What jobs do the other Hashira control? Will we see more of Genya in the story? Feel free to ignore this, but I love your writing and this fic even though I'm not even a huge Sanemi fan.

NO NO NO NOT SILLY AT ALL?? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THIS KIND KF ASK IS EVERY AUTHOR’S DREAAAAM AHHH

Ok ok, I’m calm. I’m so calm. THANK YOU SO MUCH??!?😭😭😭 I’m do questions first.

1. Is there a hierarchy among the hashira?

Not in any significant way except for when they’re all called together for a meeting, Uzui tends to lead — but I also think that has more to do with personality. Orders for jobs tend to come from the “higher ups” (*cough* Ubayashiki family). Other than that, they each help out on jobs for the others if the opportunity arises. Sanemi might be a little unique in that his job tends to be enforcement of the other Hashira’s jobs, which is why you see him doing a lot on behalf of the others. Future chapters will show him working jobs with other Hashira, though — namely, Iguro.

2. Is Sanemi less respected than the others because of his title?

Nah, Sanemi plays an important role for them, in that he’s able to hunt down/collect what the others can’t. Him living in a shit hole has less to do with his title and more to do with his personality. Uzui might have more properties, but they *all* live in the Silo, except for Rengoku. Part of that is convenience, since most of their activities run out of that end of the City/that’s where base is. For Sanemi, too, he doesn’t really need anything nicer — it’s just him, after all, and he puts most of his money into Genya’s (and now Reader’s) savings.

I could add in that Sanemi also doesn’t think he’s allowed to have better than what he’s got. That’s an ongoing theme with him, and it bleeds into his living arrangements, too.

3. What other jobs do the Hashira control?

So far, we’ve seen that Kanae ran a very profitable drug operation (RIP the Kochos) that’s now up in the air since her murder. Uzui runs nightclubs that are largely for sex work purposes. Iguro deals with stolen goods (like, high priced items), and Rengoku does white collar stuff. More details will come next chapter, as the Hashira will come together for a meeting. Note that one canonical Hashira is not a Hashira in the Corps in this story — in fact, they’re not a Corps member at all, but a civilian.

4. More genya??

lol, yes, Genya will come back!! He has a much bigger role to play later on/near the end of the story.

Okay, now I can say alsmsosmskskasm thank you so, so much. Not only did your ask make me feel all giggly and happy, but it truly made my day. Being asked about these kind of details is seriously every author’s dream — there’s so much I have that went into making the world/setting for Compass that might not ever make it onto the page, so to have someone ask about the dynamics and the background of the story just makes my heart sing. Thank you so fucking much.

[glorytoukraine2022]

Hi fellow Frozen fans! I’m here to talk about an opinion from the Frozen fandom that has been bothering me since Frozen 2 came out. I’ve heard several people claim that Elsa was selfish for abdicating the throne to Anna to become the Fifth Spirit. Some people even seem to imply that Elsa doing so is ruining Anna and Kristoff’s lives and their plans for the future. I don’t know where all of this is coming from, but based on varying complaints from the fandom, I have a few ideas.

I think, that some people are just upset because they would rather Elsa remain the prim and proper Queen of Arendelle and Anna, the carefree, bubbly princess. The people who sport this idea annoy, and even anger me to some extent. Anna and Elsa are so, so much more than that. Do you all just want them to remain frozen in time? You have no desire for them to grow as people? If you truly love and appreciate the sisters as characters, then you would WANT them to grow, and reach their full potential.

Why shouldn’t Anna get a chance to lead her people? Why shouldn’t Elsa, a woman who was locked away in her room for thirteen years, get a chance to experience true, complete freedom? Why should she be denied the chance to be happy? To live a happy and fulfilling life?

Is it because she’s the first born and you feel she needs to live out the rest of her days fulfilling that obligation? There were undoubtably plenty of first born Kings and Queens who assumed the throne yet had do desire for such a burden. Nobody should have to be resigned to such a fate. Especially such a unique person like Elsa.

Another reason that I have heard mentioned, is that some people prefer the “Two Queens“ ending. For the people who believe that Elsa and Anna should have ended up ruling Arendelle together, as equals, let me start by saying that that’s not how monarchies work. A monarch usually refers to a single person. A person of royal blood and related to the Royal family.

Yes, a monarch usually does wed another person, but the person who marries an heir apparent only shares their rank and title. They do not have any sovereign powers over the kingdom. They do not rule. Any political power they have is limited to what the monarch allows them to have.

So, the “Two Queens” idea would not work not only because the power of the monarch can only belong to one person, but Anna is Elsa’s sister. Yes, there WAS insest in real life monarchies, but as two females, an heir would never be able to be produced. This was the main reason why monarchs were, often forced, to marry. To produce an heir. The only reason Anna was able to ascend was because Elsa abdicated without a child of her own. They could never have ruled Arendelle together.

I know that part of the reason that this idea appealed to people is because it fit in with the “two sisters“ theme of Frozen. Many people believe that Elsa leaving Arendelle goes against that theme. Or that Elsa leaving Arendelle won’t strengthen their bond. I understand where people are coming from, but again, I disagree.

Elsa is 24 years old. She’s an adult. She’s around my age, and I have many friends who have moved out of their homes. That doesn’t mean that the bonds they have with their parents and siblings deteriorate or that they don’t love them anymore. It just mean that they’re independent. Same with Elsa. It’s only natural that the older sister is the first to move out of the house. She’ll always lover her family and can visit them at any time she likes.

As I mentioned above, Elsa is not ruining Anna and Kristoff’s marriage and lives in the future. She isn’t shoving off uneeded responsibility onto Anna. While Anna may not have been groomed to be Queen growing up the same way that Elsa was, she probably was made aware that as the second born daughter of the King and Queen, that if anything happened to Elsa, Arendelle would look to her. It’s not like Anna is coming into this with zero understanding of what’s expected of her.

I don’t know how many of you read any of the artick of interviews with Jennifer Lee and Chris Buck when Frozen 2 came out, but I did. They stated that the entire point of the movie was for “Anna to become Queen and Elsa to be free.” So the outcome that you’re complaining about was always the intention. Sorry.

Chris and Jen said that Anna should become Queen because of her deep love for her people and that Elsa doesn’t deserve to be trapped in a box. I couldn’t agree more. Anna loves her people and wants to help and do things for them. That’s what being a Queen is all about. That’s why Anna would want and do well in the position. She would be helping her people.

Elsa is a unique person with a unique gift. Even though her powers had been accepted by the people of Arendelle and she was a beloved Queen, she was still somewhat restrained for the sake of fitting in. Elsa could have never embraced her powers and all that she is if she had remained in Arendelle as its Queen.

Elsa abdicated the throne because she had a higher calling. As guardian of the Enchanted Forest, a place where the magic of nature is respected, Elsa can be herself and use her powers to the fullest extent to protect the forest and all its inhabitants.

In conclusion, By abdicating the throne to become the fifth spirit and leaving Anna to become Queen, both Elsa and Anna get the chance to grow into their best selves. This is about what is best for both of them and their happiness. Not about your fantasy preference for their future.

[saraakpotter]

Peter Parker being a simp for y\c\n for 4 mins

based on the request: "can you do Peter Parker (tom holland) being a simp for y/c/n?" in this one y\c\n is a 17 year old who is Natasha s daughter and is also an avenger who goes to the same school Peter dose. plus i added some scenes to the movies. i hope this is how you imagined it.

y\n, Anthony, Sebastian and Tom (Holland) are having an interview. the interview was going in characters future.

"so, what do you think the mcu has for your characters future?" the interviewer asked looking at his notes

"i dont know about 'falcon' but im pretty sure y\c\n and spider man will end up together!" Anthony answered making Tom blush

"i totally agree!" Sebastian said

"what the.... where did you get that idea from?" y\n said with a raised eyebrow

"oh come on y\n you are better than that! havent you noticed? Peter keeps simping for y\c\n the whole movie!" Anthony answered

"what! no he dosent"

"yes he dose." Sebastian answered

"i will send you prof!" Anthony replied slyly

later that night, y\n, went home thinking about the interview. she changed to a more comfortable cloth, jumped on her bed and opened her phone while clicking on the MCU group chat. it was a group they made after the avengers to communicate more and add more people by time.

as expected, Anthony, sent a youtube video with the title: "Peter Parker being a simp for y\c\n for 4 mins"

y\n quickly checked others massages in the group before clicking:

Scarlet said: this is definitely true!

RDJ said: flirting with widows daughter? not the best idea!

Chris Evans said: as much as cute this was i have to agree with Rob here!

Tom Hiddelston said: are we watching MCUs next cutest couple here?

Chris Hemsworth replied: im pretty sure we are Tom!

before reading other massages y\n clicked on the video.

the video started with a cute intro and then the title: Peter Parker simping for y\c\n for 4 mins duh

then there was a picture of Peter Parker looking at y\c\n with heart eyes which made y\n laugh.

the video started: the first video was for 'avengers infinity war' where Tony, y\c\n, Strange and Peter in Titan and just finished the miss understanding with the guardians.

 Peter Quill let go of spiderman, Tony threatened Drax and y\c\n nearly beat the shit out of Mantiss and rocket when they tried to stop Tony.

"ok so im happy to know we are on the same side" Peter quill said with a soft cough

"yeah well couldnt you figure that sooner?" y\c\n exclaimed angrily

"wha....you beat the shit out of me what are YOU mad about?" rocket said

"well i ruined my hair in the process! we could have skipped that!" y\c\n said angrier

"your hair looks good either way!" Peter Parker told her with a smile making her smile to

the next video was for 'avengers infinity war' again, just a bit earlier in the scene where y\c\n, Tony and strange where fighting the aliens Thanos sent.

y\c\n just finished beating and literal alien army and looked at where Tony was you didnt see him. instead you saw Peter talking to Wong and not noticing y\c\n. but when he dose he suddenly stops the conversation and goes to the new alien army and kills most of them.

"what do you think y\c\n? pretty cool right?" he says walking to her

"hmmmm... not bad for a 15 year old!" you teased

" im 16 and you are only a year older than me!" he said

"relax! its just my Romanoff urge to teas! lets take this one down together shall we?" y\c\n said pointing at the new army with head

"ok then!" Peter said trying to hide his happines

the next video was for 'captain America: civil war'

it was the scene in the airport, y\c\n, was in team ironman and Peter still wasnt there but they all knew he was hiding somewhere

"ok Pete! you can come out know!" y\c\n shouted with a smirk preparing herself and her weapons. Steve who seemed to notice they are more prepared than they thought throw his shield at her weapon but before it hit her Peter jumped in and caught the shield with his spider power.

"no, no, no! we dont throw a shield at a Beautiful and smart girl like our y\c\n here do we?" he said making Tony chuckle, Nat raise an eyebrow and and you look at him.

the next video was for 'spiderman homecoming'

it was the first parts of the movie when Ned and Peter where having lunch and y\c\n approached them.

"hey guys! can i sit?" y\c\n asked

"ye...yes...yes of course!" Peter answered almost Immediately

"great! i would sit anyway" y\c\n said making the three of them laugh

"so, y\c\n!" Ned started "whats your favorite movie?"

"well i dont really watch movies, nor have time for them but if im going to say one i would go with.......star wars!"

"STAR WARS" Peter asked happily

"yeah you like it to?" y\c\n asked

"we LOVE it!" Ned answered high fiving Peter.

the video paused with a little two days later. Peter approached y\c\n, who was at her locker with a box in his hands.

"ummm...he......hey y\c\n!" he said

"oh, hi Pete!" y\c\n looked at him

"this is for you." he gave the box to her. she looked at the box and saw a built star wars lego.

"oh my god Peter this is great! did you made it?" she asked

"yes, this one is my favorite so i thought you would like it to." he answered

"i love it, thank you!"

the next video was for the first movie and the scene in Mays car

"we should go back, this dosent feels right!" Peter said

"oh come on Peter it would be just fine! you got this." May told him

"yeah but...."

"plus y\c\n is going to be there!" Ned said

"wha....you know what aunt May? i think you are right, i got this!" he said opening the cars door.

before the next video can be played you went out and went to the chat and typed: ok, i see it now! earning a blush emoji from Tom Holland, some laugh emojis and a 'i told you so' from Anthony.