#never again are we going to get someone who pours their heart into a club like him
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okay. so. about tedbecca.
this is long and i apologize i just have thoughts.
first, the fakeout in the beginning was cruel. BUT i was willing to forgive because tbh it was kinda funny and i’m not convinced that the “morning after” tension between ted and rebecca didn’t make everyone, everyone, think for just a second that they had slept together. y’know, like, if there was never any chemistry there, why the fakeout to get tedbeccas excited/cut them down and antis worried? did the reason for ted, beard, and jane being there really make a ton of sense? no. therefore, it really does feel like it was just something they wrote in to be mean and, like. come on, guys. why be mean?
second, their talk in the stands??? you gotta be fucking kidding me. rebecca welton poured her fucking soul out to ted and he didn’t have a thing to say about it other than that “i’ve already made my decision” bullshit? didn’t even offer her a hand or hug of comfort? how out of character was that? he seemed so stoic through the whole episode, like he was stunted. which, maybe has to do with his being sad about leaving but still it threw me off. jesus, talk about “subverting expectations” or whatever. also, the things rebecca was saying? “you go, i go”? the ultimatum of “either we both stay or we both leave” and then her saying they’d both go only to take it back in the end? be so fucking for real right now. the offer to pay him insane amounts of money then telling him there was really no kind of monetary compensation that could represent how much he meant to the club (and her), the proposed solution to bring his child and his child’s mother over to london for him to stay (it is one thing to offer to get henry over, but to extend the offer to michelle is something else)? those aren’t things regular old friends say/do for each other, i’m sorry. listen, i love my friends but that’s a lot to offer anyone. you really have to love someone to be willing to do all that and cry real tears while begging them to stay, to choose you, to choose the home you’ve made for yourself.
third, the airport scene gutted me but AGAIN i was kind of at peace with it. it would have at least left it super open ended and allowed the fanbase to imagine what could have happened afterward, y’know. like the whole “rom-com leave-cute” thing was another mean thing to do because where was the rom or the com about that?? why do that? but like i said, i would have been at peace with it because, dear god, the way rebecca was looking at him (again, ted gave us almost nothing but whatever. not even a tear? ugh.). i mean, she was looking at him like she wanted to say “stay. choose me. choose your own happiness.” also i know she’s loaded but WHO BUYS A FIRST CLASS TICKET JUST TO GET PAST SECURITY ONLY TO SAY GOODBYE TO A GOOD PAL? doesn’t make sense to my little pea brain!!! sudeikis, make it make sense (unfortunately for me and everyone around me i still love him)! there really should have been an “i love you” and not even necessarily in a romantic way. these two are supposed to be soulmates, cosmically connected, there’s not supposed to be one without the other and all we got was…”thank you” and a head nod? like, yes, thank you. thank you for showing me warmth and kindness and grace. thank you for reminding me what my strength looks like. thank you for being there for me. yes, yes, yes, thank you! but an “i love you” really would have been wonderful and i’m actually sad they didn’t get to hear it from each other.
fourth, the way nameless boat dude came back in like a fucking generic ass early disney prince was just lame. i thought it was lazy. here we have a rebecca who is devastated that this weird, funny, kindhearted american football coach who shoved himself into her life and her heart has just left to go back to kansas and this little dutch girl trips and suddenly rebecca’s found happiness? it’s frustrating. really, it is. like i’m happy rebecca has a shot at happiness and a family, but she just as well could have had it with ted, who is admittedly very similar to this dutch man. i don’t get it. this is where it well and truly lost me.
fifth (this one’s a three parter, sorry), where’s ted’s happy ending? because i don’t think it’s a life of volunteering to coach children’s soccer. i know people have been implying/worrying that ted and michelle reconcile but i don’t see that happening. ted, at his core, is still the man michelle left. he’s still overly optimistic (although we didn’t see that in the finale, like what?), he’s still punny, and let’s be real, he’s still a mess. i didn’t see the resolution to his arc. in fact, returning to kansas feels like a regression. he literally ran from kansas. that’s the whole reason he went to richmond in the first place. what changed? why is he going back now? for henry, yes, of course, that’s understandable. and at the same time, within the show we’ve been shown that the bond of a father and child is not always enough to get dad to stay/be a good and decent father (i.e. ted’s father, i.e. james tartt sr., i.e. rebecca’s father). this isn’t, of course, true for ted and henry, but i think it’s a point to make concerning everyone saying things about the child-parent bond being end-all, be-all. for some people, that’s true. for others, it isn’t. it isn’t a jab at anyone or the parent-child relationship in general, it’s just the truth. this is a coin that has two sides, y’know.
got off course there but anyway, henry also could have gone to london, which i think might have been the best thing for him anyway, he seemed to have a good time there and he would have had a whole band of new brothers with all the himbos. michelle isn’t a bad mother by any means, but she’s got her own shit to work through if the whole doctor jacob thing was anything to go by. i also don’t think the show did all that great of a job showing us that henry had this super deep connection with his dad, but maybe that was just me lol. regardless, i still understood the bond and its importance and of course ted wanted to be there for his child. that part does make sense. the way it was gone about felt like a disservice though.
ted’s expression at the end there doesn’t scream happy. he looked rather sad to me, like something was weighing on him still. and i’m sure there was. i don’t think he’s at peace with himself yet, or happy. maybe he’ll get happy in kansas. i hope he does. but getting to see rebecca’s “happily ever after” and not ted’s hurt my heart. guess i was hoping they would actually subvert the expectations and have him stay in the home he’d made for himself instead of going back to the place where he lost so much. why did he have to give up his found family and the job he loved (and was still actively learning about!! offsides!!) and the best friend he made and the support system he found (which, no matter your age or your progress, you always need a support system) and the community that had come to love him andandand- all ted did was sacrifice to make other people happy and better and this feels like another sacrifice because his mom guilt tripped him by saying something he already fucking knew (sorry i’m not a fan of dottie). i just don’t get it. how is his happy ending going back to the root of all his problems and staying there? just sucks, really, even if it was always the obvious outcome.
sixth, i’m just mad all the signs lead to nowhere. the matchboxes, the army man, the bantr fakeout (will never, ever be over this one), the hotel room fakeout where they cut from rebecca to ted in the room and then he opens the door and it’s sassy, the romcommunism, the soulmatism. it wasn’t all for nothing, of course. their friendship is so important and i love it, but this ending felt like a big fuck you to it too because ted was so…distant. it almost felt like he didn’t care that much that he was leaving rebecca and it makes me super upset.
all of this is based on the one-time watch from last night but tbh i don’t know if i can handle watching the episode again right now. it really did hurt, especially the way rebecca looked at him at the airport. tbh nothing can convince me she wasn’t at least a little bit in love with him.
and, yes, i know. henry is ted’s everything and that’s so admirable and it’s not all about romance, and it’s not. but just let me believe what i want to believe. let me find the joys in the media i consume and if it’s the hope that two attractive, single, middle aged leads could have gotten with each other in the end and figured out how to be happy together, then so be it. i just hate seeing the hate from all sides, honestly, and a lot of people are legitimately really mean about it when this show is all about being kind.
ted lasso is a beautiful series and, at the end of the day, it’s just another piece of media that the audience is free to interpret and pick apart however they want to.
me, personally? i will continue to live in my delusional little world where ted and rebecca figure out that they belong together/i will pretend the last 10 minutes of the finale didn’t happen. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.
#ted lasso tv#ted lasso#rebecca welton#tedbecca#ted x rebecca#rebecca x ted#3.12#so long farewell#ted lasso spoilers#i am so sorry about the longevity of this post#i had so many thoughts#and honestly i have more#i won't lie i am a little scared about getting bullied lol#seriously can't we all just be kind to one another#and appreciate this wonderful series for everything that it was#for everything that it gave us
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Holy Darkness, pt. 1
hello! my peeps! what's up!!!
it's here! the vampire au! i have no idea how long i'm gonna make this thing, we'll see where the Vibes take us.
this is going to be vampire!Viktor x gender neutral reader multichapter fic
2,3k words, no warnings. i mean, general spooky vibes, but we all know he isn't actually evil okay. i mean the reader doesn't know that. yet. but we know that. right?
(some backstory for this fic idea here and here)
I mean. It’s not like you meant to trespass on the property of the nocturnal hermit living in a rundown abandoned library.
Or maybe you did. A little bit. But that’s not the point.
The point is that you’re there now, in the quiet darkness, surrounded by the scent of wet leaves and heavy silence; the kind that drips down the back of your neck and tingles as it curls around your spine.
It had been a perfectly ordinary night, so far. You’d closed up the small bookshop you worked at, quietly getting everything ready for the next day, swept the floors, just like you always did. You’d eaten dinner alone in your small quiet apartment, just like you always did. You’d put out some food for the too-thin stray cat that hung around your street, and wished, bone-deep, that something in your small quiet life would change.
Just like you always did.
It wasn’t bad, your life. It was actually pretty good, considering. But it was boring. Stagnant. And you just…wanted something more. The town was small and quiet and nothing much ever happened – the most exciting event of your week was usually the gossip you overheard at the weekly book club meetings, which didn’t exactly make you feel better about your own life. A good percentage of the elderly ladies in the book club (or their neighbors) seemed to lead more exciting lives than you did.
You shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you knew that. But your life was boring, and you spent your days surrounded by books; epic adventures, romances that made your heart melt, countless stories where someone gets thrown into a land straight out of your imagination, fantasies where there’s a whole other world just a breath away from this one–
It made your own life seem even more boring in comparison.
And it didn’t exactly help that the only thing this town had going for itself – besides the book club – was that there was an abandoned library that was, allegedly, inhabited by a hermit, who – allegedly – might have been a vampire.
You weren’t sure how much of that story was true. Yes, there was the abandoned library, condemned to be closed down years ago after some unfortunate water damage and lack of funding to rebuild it. Yes, there seemed to be someone living in there. Sometimes you saw lights on in the windows, things that had moved around as if on their own. Someone seemed to be taking care of the property, too, at least to some extent.
Yes, no-one ever really saw this person out during daylight hours.
All anyone knew was that 1) there seemed to be someone living there, 2) the collective guess was that it was a man, probably pretty young, and definitely a loner.
And at some point the collective understanding had also accepted that this man was, allegedly, a vampire.
You weren’t sure you believed that last part. Vampires were, technically, not recognized by science. You’d never met one, that you knew of. But…they were a stable factor in local folklore, and all those stories had to come from somewhere. Right?
And…the longer you stood there, watching the dark building and the dim golden light pouring out from the windows, the more you started to entertain the thought that maybe vampires existed, and maybe this man was one of them.
He seemed to lead an unusual life, and yeah, maybe he was just a hermit, but…for some reason you couldn’t quite convince yourself of that. No-one just appears out of nowhere and sets up camp in an abandoned building, never to be seen in daylight again.
You’d seen his shadow in the window a few times, passing by. You couldn’t see much of his features, but he was lean, like people had said. You stayed hidden the best you could – this was the first time you’d gotten this close – and just…tried to win this internal fight with yourself about whether you should turn around and go home right now or just get a little bit closer. Just stay a little bit longer.
(You weren’t sure which side of your brain you were hoping would win).
You knew it was stupid, being there.
You didn’t know how dangerous this man was, vampire or not. For all you knew he could have been 100% human and still been a murderer or something.
But you were curious.
That’s all it boiled down to.
You didn’t want anything from this man. You just wanted to know. Who he was, what he was doing in there–
and if vampires really existed.
Maybe you should be blaming all those fantasy books in your shop, but – dammit – you wanted to know if something more than this boring human existence really was out there. It was like an itching in your bones; you wanted to know. Your soul refused to settle, and it got more and more restless the longer you went on with your normal little life.
Besides, the man lived in a library. You had no idea how many books were in there that no-one in this town even remembered anymore.
You wanted to know.
That’s what makes you stay. Even when half your brain and most of your blood was constantly telling you that you should go, leave, now.
You don’t really even have a plan. It’s not like you’re going to just knock and go up to him and say hey, I was wondering, what’s your deal?
Yeah. You weren’t going to do that.
What you were planning on doing was just…sort of circling that idea, the possibility of maybe running into him. Walking just on the edge of the property, telling yourself it’s not on purpose. Stopping to see if there’s a light in the windows tonight. That’s it.
It’s not like you were planning on actually going to talk to him.
So when he’s suddenly standing in front of you, you don’t know what to say. Or do.
He is standing there, all sharp-edged in the shadows, dark and tall and silent, and looking at you with the most intense eyes you’ve ever seen.
There’s a moment, when you’re just staring at him, where you feel like your heart beats a hollow beat and everything in the night is silent. The shadows seem to twirl around him, though that was probably just your imagination. Probably.
“Is there a reason you’re lingering in the shadows out here?” He asks, his voice a quiet, captivating drawl.
He seems calm, the kind of stationary bottom-of-the-sea calm that you’d only seen in very intelligent animals before.
(You try to quiet the part of your brain that tries to substitute ‘animals’ with ‘predators’, and you try your best to keep your breathing even. It takes more effort than it should).
His eyes were golden, deep golden, and that definitely wasn’t usual for…humans.
And there was something about his features that made you instantly accept that if vampires existed, and this man was one, you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.
“No,” you answer, and the word is so light that it feels like a lie as soon as it leaves your lips.
You’re not sure what kind of vampiric powers this man might have, but you’re suddenly worried that he might be able to hear your heartbeat, which was definitely way faster than it should have been.
“Hm.” He says, still looking at you, as if he was studying you.
You both pretend that he isn’t the reason you’re there. Or, you pretend he isn’t, and he pretends he doesn’t know that.
You take a deep breath.
“What are the chances you would just go back inside and forget I was ever here?” You ask, trying to sound like you weren’t worried about what the alternative to that might be.
“Very low,” he answers, straight-forward, and then he tilts his head slightly and his eyes trail over you.
He was still studying you.
“I don’t get many…visitors.” He says, and then he smiles. It’s a small, knowing, stupidly attractive smile, and, god, yeah, the man definitely has small fangs. Christ. Was it like a feature that vampires were attractive to like, lure you in? Was that a thing they did?
He couldn't read your thoughts, could he?
“So it is not likely that I’ll forget you were ever here, no.” He continues, “but if you want me to, I will go back inside.” He meets your eyes, “if you tell me why you’re really here.”
You swallow.
Fine, that was reasonable. You were on his property.
Well. Technically it was still probably the town’s property. But still. In essence it was his now.
You take a deep breath and try to silence the annoyingly rattling part of your monkey-brain that was still tugging at you to run away, be smart, please-
The longer you dissect this situation in your brain though, the clearer it becomes.
Yes, you were currently in a dark secluded space with a stranger. Who might be a vampire.
But…he hadn’t actually done anything to scare you, had he?
He hadn’t threatened you.
He seemed quite reasonable, actually.
And if he wanted to hurt you, he could have done that already. Many times over.
But instead, he was out here. Making civil conversation.
Did you really even want him to go back inside?
Wasn’t this why you were here? To find out more about him?
You swallow, lick your lips, and then meet his eyes. Take a breath.
“I was curious.”
“About?” He counters, watching you, tilting his head, as if he didn’t already know.
You furrow your eyes a little bit. Just look at him for a few seconds. He just waits for you to answer, patiently.
“You.” You finally answer. Hold his gaze.
“Ah.” He says, then nods slowly and smiles again, faintly. “Me.”
Then, he looks at you again, now with something more purposeful in his eyes. More…interested. “Why?”
You blink. Go through a quick mental check of what your choices were here; you could lie – and say what?
Or you could tell the truth, and see where it took you.
And – honestly? You were still curious.
So you shrug with one shoulder, trying your best to seem casual about it. Pretend your heart wasn’t still pounding.
“I was curious,” You answer, “about the mysterious stranger living in the abandoned library.”
He looks at you. Studies you. Nods slowly.
"Hm." he says again. "Well, here I am."
You take a deep breath.
He shifts his weight.
"What would you like to know?" He asks, remarkably casually. Like an offering. Or, possibly, a bait.
You take it, whichever one it was.
One way to find out.
"Who are you?"
You start with the obvious, though you're not really sure what kind of an answer you're hoping for.
"My name is Viktor." He says, simply, still with the ghost of a smile on his face.
Nice. A name. Progress.
Viktor.
That still didn't tell you much about what he was really doing here, but it was a start.
You offer your own name in return, hoping not to seem rude. Not that he'd do much with your name; it wasn't very likely that you two would become pen pals or something.
"And you've just…been living in our rundown library?"
"Yes," he answers, shifting his weight a bit again, and again, looking at you like he was inspecting you. Waiting for something.
"Why?"
He tilts his head a little. "That is," he says, "not a one-word answer."
"Most answers aren't." You answer, before you can really think it through. This whole situation was absurd; were you really out here just… having a casual conversation with this cryptid of a man?
He makes a sound that is… close to a chuckle. More of an exhale, but still. You can hear it loud and clear in the quiet darkness, and that makes it feel like he’s much closer to you than he actually is. Like the small sound fills the air around you.
"That is true." He says after a moment. Then, he takes a breath. Visibly.
So he wasn't at least entirely undead then.
"How about we make a deal." he offers, "I'll tell you," he meets your eyes again and smiles a little, "for a price."
"And what might that be?" You ask in return, entertaining the idea, and trying your best to seem casual about it.
His smile widens. "One of those strawberry pies from the bakery, and your favorite book."
You blink. How he knew about the strawberry pies, you weren't sure, but you weren't about to question that now. The answer could have been a lot worse, so you'll take strawberry pie, sure.
"Do I need to point out that you literally live in a library?"
He shifts his weight again, leaning more heavily on his cane. "A library that hasn't gotten any new books in years."
You look at him. Really look at him.
So this alleged-vampire, nocturnal cryptid hermit of a man, had just offered to tell you his life story, in exchange for a pie and a book?
Yeah, if you were honest with yourself, you were never going to not take that deal.
"Okay," you tell him, "my place or yours?"
His lips quirk up a little. "Mine," he answers, "I think that's probably best." Then, he nods slowly and meets your eyes. "It's quiet and peaceful in there."
He smiles, just enough for you to get a glimpse of his teeth again, and it's the most sharp-edged-beautiful thing you've seen in a while.
Something curls around your spine in the darkness, and you're still not sure if it was a bait or an offering that you took.
You're not sure you care.
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1940s New York Schlatt who owns a whore house in France and you’re his favorite…?
(This is a gift for @lvrj4mie, happy belated birthday darling! I hope you like it.)
In the era of the 1940s, the world famous Jonathan Schlatt had established himself as a renowned whore house owner, not in New York, but nestled in the heart of Paris, France’s red light district. His house, "Le Mystère," was the epitome of sophistication, drawing a crowd of wealthy, high-horse, business men looking to cheat on their wives from around the world.
In the smoky, dimly lit atmosphere of “Le Mystère” in 1940s France, the sultry tunes of jazz filled the air as patrons gathered in the foyer to be herded off to separate luxury rooms. Schlatt was known for his keen eye for talent and his love for the art of burlesque.
Among the talented performers who graced the rooms night after night, you held a special place in Schlatt's heart. Your ‘performances’ were nothing short of mesmerizing, combining grace, charm, and a hint of mischief that left the customer enraptured. It wasn't just your beauty that drew Schlatt's admiration, but also your incredible skill at adapting to someone’s preferences.
Schlatt would often find himself watching from the shadows, his eyes fixed on you as you did mundane things and also when you ‘entertained’ a customer with certain exhibitionist preferences. He appreciated the artistry and dedication you poured into each ‘performance’, and he couldn't help but be proud of having you as one of the stars of his club. Your talent was the heartbeat of the establishment, drawing in patrons from all corners of the city who couldn't resist the allure.
One evening, after a long night, you were sitting in your changing room in front of your luxurious vanity when a familiar knock rapped against the door.
“Who is it?” You called out warily.
“Ya boss, sugar tits.”
“Come in!” You chuckle.
“Like I need a fuckin’ invitation…” He scoffs as he enters, having to bow his head in order to not hit it due to his height.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? What’s fuckin’ wrong? Why does everything have to be ‘wrong’ around here?”
“Sorry. What’s up?”
“Just thought I’d come say hi before you get back to work… You know,” He pauses “I pity a lot of you girls in here. However ‘luxurious’ we promote this place to be, you’re still sellin’ your bodies for nought…”
“Pity?”
“Well… Maybe pity isn’t the right word… uh- fuckin’ uhh… whazitcalled? Uhh…”
“Empathy?”
“Yeah! Yeah… And it’s not like I don’t pay ya good, is’ just a shitty feelin’ ya know?”
“At least we get paid,” You say lightheartedly “But what did you really come in here for?”
“What makes ya think I’m here for anythin’ else, sugar?”
“You never come into my dressing room unless you want something. Last time it was for intel on a businessman, the time before that was because you wanted advice on your hair, the time before that was-”
“Alright, alright! You win, broad,” He sighs, “I wan’ed to ask ya out on a little night out on the town. I could take ya to the Ritz, and then we’d go to an art exhibit, maybe dance if we find a busker? I dunno… Just thought I’d ask since… Well I’m goin’ back home soon and, well, ‘m not gonna be back for a while and ya might quit in that time and then I’d never see ya again and I just thought I’d ask cuz-”
“Sure. I’d love that.”
“A-Are you,” He coughs, “Are ya sure, doll? I don’t wanna put you in between a rock and a hard place cuz I’m ya boss. Ya don’t have to if ya don’t wanna.”
“You’re one of the only men that knows about my job and doesn’t look at me like a set of holes so, I’d love to go on a date with you.”
“Well… Shit, doll. I-I’ll grab ya after your shift? W- Is it weird if I take ya out after you’ve had sex with a buncha nobodies for the night?”
“Then take me out now.”
“C’mon then, doll, getcha coat.”
#jschlatt fluff#jschlatt x reader#jschlatt#schlatt#schlatt fluff#schlatt x reader#jschlatt smut#schlatt smut
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Love is what we make of it pt.2 | L.K
Pairing: Lee know x reader
Summary: you knew love with him wouldn’t be easy but you never knew you’d break so fast, now living in a new city, months after your heavy decision, you start to realize you couldn’t love anyone else.
Genre: hurt/comfort, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff
wc: 4.0k
Song suggestion: Someone to stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic
Notes: I couldn’t help but model the couple with semantic error cause I love that show but here is a part 2 cause I couldn’t just leave it at that. Thank you @antoniorhinothethird for the request, I hope you like it <3
Part 1
Music blared as heavy lights blinded you, too in your own head to move along the bodies crashing against you. It had been months since your departure, impulsively moving to a new city as you couldn’t handle the memories that flashed around whilst doing daily chores, just hoping one day all aspects of who you were would burn because thats the only remnant left reminding you of what you had let go. There is not a moment of the past that you could remember without him, whether it was as friends or lovers, all your life you thought he’d be the only constant, and yet here you were trying to cling on to the memory of his voice as it started fade. You knew with a quick google search, you’d easily be able to hear it again, but you thought you didn’t deserve that.
Now in a sea of people with your new-found friends mingling against you, all eyeing different people they hope to take home, you found it impossible to do the same. Your heart has only ever beat for him, even during your school years as you and minho both attracted your own line of suitors, never once did you look at them, keeping your eyes on your supposed best friend. Looking back you wondered how you both never noticed that fact, that no matter what, your eyes never strayed and neither did his. Yet only after decades of knowing each other, and a small fluffy creature came into your lives, did your relationship grew. You chuckled bitterly at the thought, maybe if you had the courage to make the first move, the relationship with a man you considered your first and only love could have lasted longer, living only for a few months.
‘Not a even a year and I already broke’ you thought, cursing yourself for hurting the man you’ve always loved.
Suddenly you felt the atmosphere suffocate you, desperately needing an escape. “Hey, I’m gonna get another drink” you shouted over the loud music, yelling the statement aimlessly to any of your friends but it seemed to fall to deaf ears as they were too preoccupied eyeing their targets for the night. Rolling your eyes you decided they wouldn’t look for you anyways, hastily shoving your way to the quiet-in-comparison bar. You waved at the bartender to order another drink whilst your thoughts continued to consume you.
“Penny for your thoughts” you heard someone mutter beside you
You sucked in a breath as the man beside you seemed to pop out of nowhere, he was extremely good looking, you couldn’t lie, his figure was tall with broad shoulders complimented with a soft yet chiseled face, his monolided eyes holding a certain kindness that made you almost consider pouring your heart out to him.
“Just a lot on my mind” you replied, smiling tightly, hoping he’d take the hint that you were unavailable…even if you unhappily were
“Who better to let it out on than a stranger, you’ll know I won’t snitch since I wouldn’t know who to” he chuckled “plus if you think this is a coy plan to hit on you, I promise I do have a boyfriend who is currently in the toilet but I saw you look troubled and couldn’t help but see if you’re alright” At this point you were desperate for another opinion, as all your friends currently on the dance floor who had heard about the break up had replied with a generic “it’s been months, men are shit, lets go clubbing to take your mind off it”. So you caved, thinking about where you should start when suddenly you heard a blunt voice speak beside you
“He's gay” a shorter man had said wrapping his arms around the taller man beside you, his eyes glaring at you thinking you had been the one to approach his boyfriend. Chuckling the other man ruffled his hair, “I approached her baby, she seemed in distress” he replied “don’t mind him, a bit of a possessive one he is”
“It’s okay, I think its cute, I could use two opinions if your ears are still open” you replied
“Try us?” the shorter man said seemingly understanding the situation quickly, his face now softened as he noticed the blankness in your eyes.
“It’s been months since I broke up with my boyfriend and I am suffering every moment of it” you chuckled, though it soon died as tears came up to your eyes as you retold your story, starting from your childhood up to the break up. Tears were streaming down your face by the end of it, “I just-, the minute I turned my phone back on I got hundreds of messages from him, from his friends, and I- I knew I regretted it, and that even years forward when I find another man to love- If I find another man to love. One word from him and I’d think about it, think about leaving everything for him, and god it hurt to know that I caused him so much pain in just one moment that I couldn’t bare to see his messages. So I blocked him cause any thought of messaging him comes with multiple reasons to stop myself, one including the fact that I hurt him, I don’t deserve that kind of comfort…I loved him so much, I still do and I don’t think I’ll ever stop but although I loved him first, I also think that someone could love him better. God now I'm crying to two strangers about it” you laughed bitterly.
Both of the men looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed thinking of a response to help ease your sobbing self. The shorter man came to rest his hand on your shoulder carefully, nodding to his boyfriend. He told me to come with both of them to take a breather. Now as we sat on the dirty ground of the clubs alley, me inbetween them with a bottle of water, my tears finally dried and my hiccups quietened.
“You alright now?” the taller one said with a comforting smile, his hand rubbed your back as you nodded.
“Okay then let me tell you something, I know how you feel, me and sangwoo started off on a very rough start” they both chuckled, you catching on to sangwoo being the shorter man next to you “to be fair to him, I was an annoying menace trying to get back at him for making me stay back instead of graduating, but as we became friends and work partners, he was…well difficult to read” the man teased
“Hyung” sangwoo whined “I just…my emotions were all over the place and yet I was also showing none of it, I admit I played push and pull, until one day I pushed it too far and it almost led to us never happening and him moving to paris. I was so dead set on the fact that I couldn’t ruin his career and that I could push all of these emotions down and one day move on…but I realized I couldn’t and well he knew”
“I was never gonna leave him, I just made it seem like I was and that gave him the push to finally let him love me. The point is, sangwoo was just like minho but if I had never shown a discomfort in the way he treated me, acting as if he had no feelings for me, then we would’ve never happened” the still unnamed man smiled at his boyfriend “I’m not saying to run back to your guy or that your decision wasn’t completely valid- because it was, but from what I can tell from your story, you’re still in love with him and you shouldn’t push it all down because you think it’s whats better for him. At the end of the day, you never know, it might've been whats WORSE for him”
“Yeah I thought I knew what was better for Jae-young hyung but I ended up being wrong, I realized that, now we’re the happiest couple I know with a succesful game design from that one little project” sangwoo smiled comfortingly “Give it a think at least, if you truly think this is whats best for the BOTH of you, then try to let him go but I think all three of us know, none of this is doing you any good”
You looked at both of them feeling a sense of relief for a surprisingly genuine response, different to everything you've heard recently, finally smiling genuinely for the first time in this whole night. “Thank you both of you, I'll think about it” you replied.
Both of the men smiled at you and you felt you finally gain true friends in this new city, “do you have a ride home? I don’t think you should be driving in this state” Jae-young asked worriedly.
“I’ll probably just walk, my place is pretty near” you replied, smiling to ease his worries.
“We’ll walk you home then? Unless you’re too uncomfortable with that?” Sangwoo added on.
“I’m not uncomfortable nor do I think any of you would hurt me but It’s just across the street and a walk alone might help me with my thoughts” you answered “but if you guys don’t mind can I have your numbers? I feel like we could be friends and I could text you when I’m home safe to ease your worries”
“That’d be great! Here put your number in my phone, jae-young forgot his” Sangwoo rolled his eyes as he handed you his phone, texting you when he saved your number to make sure you had his.
Waving them goodbye, you started your walk back to your apartment, your thoughts running wild to the point you hadn’t noticed when you arrived. Shrugging of your jacket and shoes, you checked your phone to text the guys that you had arrived home safely, when you saw what Sangwoo had texted to save his number.
Unknown: Even from just your stories I could tell he loved you too, at the very least give both of you closure. Just a thought :) - Sangwoo
Your thoughts ran rampantly, you knew he was right, you thought calling him was an option that was least cruel but thinking back ignoring minhos cries might’ve been more cruel than not hearing them. You sighed as you decided maybe the first step to knowing what to do was checking how he was going, you saw a video from an interview around the time of your breakup when you hesitated.
��Fuck it, I need to hear his voice anyways’ you thought, finally clicking on the video. As it played you noticed his quietness, how his eyes seemed consistently glossy, playing with his fingers the whole way through. He was never good at showing emotion and yet throughout this 10 minute video you could read every single one of them. You watched countless of videos of him after that, each one showing that he was never the same, over time obviously he had become more talkative, the smiles and jokes returning, but the spark dulled and your heart hurt knowing you had caused that.
At that moment, you heard the pitter-patter of small feet, turning your head to see your fluffy grown kitten moving its way to your lap, now feeling a sense of deja vu. ‘He needs closure’ you thought firmly ‘I need closure’.
One month later…
It had been a month since your revelation, you wanted to talk to minho, you needed to, but considering you had broken up through the phone, it seemed cruel to try to fix it the same way. You knew he was currently in Korea, but he was also in a different city, so you started slow, unblocking him and stray kids hoping that maybe he still tries to contact you. Ofcourse considering it had been months, he doesn’t, so you had settled with reading their messages from before you blocked him.
Loml <3: Please y/n just listen
Loml <3: I love you so much, I can show it just please give me another chance to
Loml <3: Answer my calls…please?
Loml <3: I dont know if you’re sleeping or just ignoring my texts but I’ll always love you y/n, and I’ll wait life times for you back.
Felix: y/n? Are you and hyung okay? He isn’t coming out of his room :(
Seungmin: don’t tell him I texted you but you need to check on minho hyung
Chan: He’s not doing well y/n, please text him back
Countless of other messages from him and the boys plagued your mind for the whole month. You heard a knock on your door, you rushed to open it knowing who it was.
“Sorry we’re late” Sangwoo said whilst smiling, you smiled back and ruffled his hair you went to grab your luggage as you headed out to the car outside. You had become quick friends with the couple, they became a source of comfort in the city your other friends couldn’t provide. As you told them your decision to get closure, they supported you the whole way through, helping you through the decision to the end even now coming with you to the city you used to live, prepared to help you through any heart break to come. To be honest you also knew they took this as an opportunity to have a vacation but you digressed and was just happy for the company.
After hours of road tripping you finally arrived at your hotel, ofcourse getting your own room to avoid disturbing the couple. As you got ready for bed you heard your phone ding with a notification, you went to check your phone your eyes widened as you saw who it was.
Han: I know you probably still have us blocked but I really do hope one day you come back…
You stilled, shocked that any of them had texted, you were always close to the boys and had been sad to lose them too when you had broken it off, but what had always scared you was the thought that they probably hated you. Resenting you for breaking their members heart. Before you could reply his texts continued.
Han: OMG YOU UNBLOCKED US???
Han: I thought I’d give it a shot but I didn’t know it would actualy send
Han: unless you got a new number and now I’m texting a stranger, shit that would be awkward
Han: Whoever this is I can see you reading this
Han: REPLY?!?!
Y/N: Hi Jisung…
You were awaiting his reply when instead you saw him calling you, hesitating on whether or not you should answer, you decided you had to know whether or not minho was still living at your old apartment anyways and thus you clicked on ‘accept’ putting the phone to your ear and immediately regretting it.
“IS IT ACTUALLY YOU!” you heard jisung shout over the phone, flinching at the volume. “Yes it is me- before you say anything please don’t tell minho yet” you replied speaking quickly as you knew all to well what the boys next move would be.
“And why should I do that?” he said back, you could feel his tone shift to a serious yet soft tone “He’s still not over you y’know, you broke his heart and as much as I’d like to believe your this cruel person to break up with him over the phone for no reason, I know you better than that and I know you had your reasons. It doesn’t stop me from wanting him to be happy though”
“I’m back in town Ji…I want to give us closure, I want to talk to him. But I have to do it in real life and I know if he knew he could text me he would, I want to be the one to come to him.” you replied. Silence took over the call, both of you contemplating your next words. After a minute of it, you decided to break the silence with a question that would hurt your heart to hear any answer.
“Does he…still live there?” you asked
“He couldn’t bare himself to leave, hoping one day you’d come back” he answered quietly “I always thought he was crazy but now I guess he was right”
“I’m gonna go there tomorrow. I don’t expect him to take me back but I thought that at the very least we both need closure” you said. The call quickly ended after that, he told you good luck and that he was sure Minho just wanted you back but that didn’t ease your worries. You finished getting ready for bed, hoping to sleep your worries away, getting ready for the next day ahead knowing, no matther the outcome, tears would be shed.
The next day came quicker than you’d like as your sleep was restless, stirring in and out of it due to worry. You took a shower and got ready for the day trying your best to keep your worries at bay, checking your phone you saw messages from your friends and Han all wishing you good luck and to text them when its all over. You smiled as you saw Han’s message, truly missing the friendship you had with the boys.
Now walking to what used to be your shared apartment you thought over each possible outcome, he could accept your apology and take you back or he could listen to it and accept closure but reject your advances to get back together. The most dreaded outcome being if he slammed the door upon seeing your face. Trying to calm your thoughts you thought back to what Han said, hoping he was right, that Minho still loves you, the way you still love him. Once again your running thoughts made it so you failed to notice that you were now standing in front of your his apartment door. Breathing in a deep breath you started to knock, covering the peep hole to increase your chance of him even opening the door. After a few moments you heard the door unlock, opening slightly, minho cautiously looked at who it was. Upon seeing it was you his eyes widened, fully opening the door giving you hope as he didn’t just slam it shut.
You looked at him, his hair was messy as if he had just woken up, eye bags heavy you assumed from his hectic schedule, and yet he still looked as beautiful as ever. He remained unmoving, not even blinking, in fear that if he did you’d disappear. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something but no words were said and instead he let out a shaky breath, eyes becoming glossy at the overwhelming emotions. You almost mirrored his expression, your own eyes having tears threatening to spill, words choked up in your throat as you tried to figure out the right things to say as all your previous plans were forgotten, your mind blanking the minute you saw him.
“Hi” was all you could muster, your voice shaking awaiting his response and yet nothing came. His expression remained the same, still not believing you were actually there. “I’m sorry minho-” you decided to continue, wanting to get everything out before he could possibly come to his senses and shut the door, but before you could say anything else he cut you off.
“Don’t.” was all he said, you looked down as you heard that. This is what you should’ve expected, you don’t deserve his forgiveness, hell you don’t even deserve to clear yourself out you thought. Before your mind could go rampant you heard him speak up once again,
“Don’t call me that.” he said, you grew confused not expecting and understanding his words “Don’t call me by my name.” he clarified
Your eyes met, still confused by his words. He continued quietly, eyes unbreaking “Even as friends you’ve never called me by my name, just because we broke up doesn’t mean you can start”
At those words tears started to stream down your face as you saw what you had truly lost or rather what you had let go, a man who even through a breaking of his heart, could still know you better than anyone else. Seeing your tears he pulled you into the apartment shutting the door behind him and instantly welcoming you into his embrace.
“God I don’t understand you, you should hate me, you should’ve slammed the door in my face, you-” he cut you off once again with a hush, petting your hair as he heard your hiccups
“Please” he scoffed “I could never hate you and you know that, you understand me more than anyone has. If anyone were to be sorry it should be me, I know how hard it must’ve been to deal with me and every day I thought back to everything I did wrong and everything I could’ve done to show you I love you the way you deserved to be loved”
“Don’t say that” you replied, shaking your head whilst still tightly in his embrace “I was selfish, I knew you loved me and you did show it but…I was so wrapped up in the idea of a conventional affection, I ignored every sign of your own. Everyday I look back at those moments and I regret everything because you were right, I shouldve said something, and I realize that you promised me to try and yet all this time I never realized how much I needed to. That I never tried to say I wanted more, to even notice your efforts, and I will forever be sorry for that. I love you so much that I thought I couldn’t ask you to change when in reality I never truly wanted you to cause thinking back…you made me feel a love that I know no one else could”
He pulled away, now cupping your face lightly, in a way still afraid this would all be a dream and you’d disappear. His silence was unnerving but the look in his eyes comforted you as you felt that nothing he could say would hurt you if he continued to look at you this way. “Love?”
“What?” You replied confused.
“You said love, not loved. You still- you still love me?” He choked.
“I think I’ll always love you min.” You answered back, eyes unmoving.
“But are you still in love with me?” He broke eye contact looking down at his feet, in sudden fear of your answer
“Yes” you answered shakily “even if I know I don’t deserve to. Even if we both go back to our lives and eventually you fall in love with another person, I would still love you and only you. You’re it min, I don’t want anyone else, and I’m sorry I only came back now to admit that”
“I wouldn’t- I couldn’t fall in love with another person if I tried” he chuckled. “it’s always been you, even as kids it was you” He continued. Now looking back into your eyes you fell deeper into his hold, tears drying as now all you felt was a familiar comfort you knew you could only feel with him. Pressing his forehead on to yours, he recalled his last message to you “and I’d wait lifetimes for you, you know that”
You smiled happily, relishing in the arms of the only man you could ever love. “Give me one more chance to love you?” You asked, quickly wanting to be his again once knowing he still loves you
“If you give me one more chance to show it” he replied, finally meeting your lips, relaxing into the kiss as it had been the final confirmation that this was all real.
Love is what we make of it, and you were prepared to see through conventions to make his love shown, because you couldn’t bear to lose him again, not after knowing what his love actually felt like once decoded.
#stray kids#lee know#lee minho#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids imagines#han jisung#kim seungmin#bang chan#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#lee know x you#lee know x y/n#skz angst#skz fanfic#skz scenarios#skz lee minho
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"Knowing that this is all an act and really knowing it are two different things."
Yenskier! If you feel so moved 🥹🤞🏼
I always feel moved to write Yennskier! Here's a modern with magic AU with mentions of background Yenralt and Geraskier (can be read as pre-OT3)
The ring is perfect, a black pearl surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds, set in a white gold band. It’s exactly the kind of engagement ring that Yennefer would have picked out for herself, if she were the engagement ring type. The fact that Jaskier is the one that bought it—even sizing it perfectly somehow—annoys her to no end.
“Well, that went swimmingly,” Jaskier says, carrying a pile of dishes into the kitchen and dumping them into the sink. “What do you think, my pearl?”
Yennefer looks away from the ring, annoyed to have been caught gazing at it like a dewy-eyed schoolgirl who was just handed her first promise ring. “I think that was the most tedious three hours of my life, and Geralt used to drag me to all your open mic nights.”
“Your wifely support warms my heart.” He puts a hand to his chest. The wedding band he selected for himself is just as perfect for him, with a sapphire as big as his thumbnail. He’s probably going to put his eye out with that thing. “But I think they all bought us as a married couple, don’t you think?”
“Well, they haven’t tried to kill us yet.” Yennefer pours the last of the bottle of wine into her glass and leans against the counter, watching as Jaskier puts his ring on the counter and begins to scrub at the dishes.
“The Turners were a bit overly interested in where we’re from and who our families are,” Jaskier says. “But I think they may just be snobs, not necessarily thinking about sacrificing us to any forest gods.”
“Mrs. Paine was very interested in you.”
“Again, I think she may just be very bored in her marriage, not necessarily homicidal.”
“It’s possible to be both.”
“You speak with such experience.” Jaskier looks over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. “I promise you, my dove, marriage to be will be many things, but never boring.”
"We're not married."
“Yes, I know that.” He waves one sudsy hand. “But if we’re going to be doing this for Melitele knows how long, we may as well lean into it.”
Yennefer snorts. She would much rather have gone through this charade with Geralt, but her lover is on the other side of the Continent right now, pursuing another lead. So she’s stuck here with his other lover, investigating the suburbanites who may or may not be trying to harness the power of an ancient forest god. Which she could forgive, if they weren’t so insufferably dull about their potential apocalyptic plans.
“Lean into it?” she asks. “By going to play badminton with Mr. Paine tomorrow? Do you think their forest god is going to be at the country club?”
“I would hope not. Those clawed feet would probably be murder on the golf courses.” Jaskier chortles at his own joke. “I’m trying to get to know the people we’re supposed to be investigating. That’s why we’re here, remember?”
“Just don’t end up tied to any altars.”
“Worried about me, my sun?” He turns to bat his eyelashes at her.
“I just don’t feel like saving your ass tomorrow morning. I have yoga.”
“Well, you don’t have to save my ass. You own enough black clothing; you’ll be a convincing widow.”
“If you die, I’ll have to go to the Brewsters’ potluck alone and I don’t think I’ll make it through the night without turning someone into a hedge.” Plus, she promised Geralt that she would keep Jaskier safe. She tries to keep her promises to Geralt, even if it means not letting his idiot boyfriend get himself killed.
“The Brewsters actually seem perfectly lovely, so we can’t have that.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment, concentrating on scrubbing a tricky spot. His back is turned to her, but she can picture his tongue poking out of his mouth like it always does when he’s focused. “After I get home from badminton, I was thinking we could go look at paint colors.”
“For what?”
“The bedroom.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’ve only mentioned how tacky you find the green and pink seventeen times this week. I thought you might be bored of complaining about the same thing.”
“This isn’t really our house,” Yennefer reminds him. “The owners will remember it eventually and when they get back from their winter in Toussaint, they’ll wonder why their bedroom is a different color.”
“I’m sure you can just waggle your fingers and turn it back.” Jaskier waggles his fingers to demonstrate. “But we’re probably going to be here for a while, so you should like our bedroom.”
“It’s not really ours.”
“Right now, it is. Anyway, it could be a fun project for us next weekend.”
“When we’re not investigating the murderous cult?” Yennefer asks acidly, staring at the back of Jaskier’s head in disbelief. Of course Jaskier would settle into this suburban life so nicely; this is how he grew up. He has a pair of doting parents, four sisters, a gaggle of nieces and nephews. He grew up surrounded by this kind of mundanity, going to barbecues on weekends and watching his parents debate swatches of paint.
Yennefer has never been meant for this life. She went from a pigsty to Aretuza to the Aedirnian government. If her parents ever got invited to barbecues and games of badminton—unlikely, given that her stepfather was the town drunk—they never brought her along.
Not that Yennefer has any kind of interest in this type of domesticity. If she were to ever settle down, it wouldn’t be in a cul de sac of cookie cutter houses, identical save for the six different colors the HOA allows them to paint their doors. She wouldn’t spend her evenings hosting dinner parties for the dullest people she’s ever met. She wouldn’t be cohabiting with Jaskier, of all people.
Jaskier is talking, she realizes, though whatever he’s saying doesn’t seem to require her participation. As he waves his hand to emphasize his point, soap bubbles fly everywhere without him even seeming to notice. A splash of water comes perilously close to his ring, which lies forgotten on the counter. Yennefer picks it up to relocate it to a safer spot.
“Anyway,” Jaskier is saying. “I’m not a sorceress who can look into their minds or a witcher who can fight their forest god. The best thing I can do is casually bring up the local disappearances while I play badminton with Mr. Paine and make a mean brisket.”
“That was a decent brisket,” Yennefer admits grudgingly.
“Wasn’t it?” Jaskier turns to grin at her again. There’s a bubble of soap suds clinging to the tip of his nose. The sight makes her feel an unexpected, entirely irrational surge of fondness. She thinks about closing the distance between them to swipe it away. Instead, she grips the edge of the counter.
“Just don’t get attached,” she says. “These people aren’t your friends. At least one of them is a killer and given the number of disappearances, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the neighborhood is either in on it or knows what’s going on and is looking in the other direction because they’d rather focus on having the nicest hydrangeas on the block.”
His grin fades into a soft, almost sad little smile. “Don’t worry, Yenn, you don’t have to worry about me getting attached. I did theater in college. I know how to put on an act.”
Yennefer isn’t sure why that bothers her. It’s good that he’s consciously putting on an act; it’s what they’re here for. “Geralt dragged me to your plays too. They were terrible.”
That gets the expected offended noise from him. “It’s a good thing you’re not masquerading as a theater critic, Yennefer, because no one can accuse you of having good taste.”
“And it’s a good thing you’re not masquerading as an actor.”
“I want a divorce.”
“We’re not married.”
“Then I want a fake divorce.”
“Mr. Paine’s a divorce attorney, isn’t he? Bring it up with him tomorrow.” Yennefer realizes she’s still holding Jaskier’s ring, the absurdly large sapphire glittering in her palm, and sets it aside. “I’m going to go upstairs.”
“Fine.” He lets out a long sigh. “Leave me to my toils.”
Yennefer rolls her eyes and mutters a spell. A moment later, the dishes are stacked neatly in the dish drainer, all perfectly clean.
Jaskier turns to look at her incredulously. “You couldn’t have done that ten minutes ago?”
“A little manual labor is good for you.”
“Just for that, I’m painting the bedroom orange.”
“Still won’t be the tackiest thing in this house.” Pointedly, she looks over his outfit, eliciting another squawk of protest.
Smirking, she heads up the stairs to the master bedroom, stepping around the pile of bedding on the floor where Jaskier has been sleeping. Even though the room’s horrendous pink and green color scheme is nothing that Yennefer would choose for herself, the room is filled with the trappings of the life she and Jaskier are sharing here: a guitar leaning against the wall, a sweater discarded on the bed, the fake wedding photo Ciri photoshopped for them sitting on the dresser.
Yennefer’s eyes linger on the photo. Ciri is a talented kid; only the most eagle-eyed observer would notice that Yennefer’s skin tone isn’t an exact match of the bride in the elegant lace dress. The false Jaskier stands behind the false Yennefer, arms around her waist, eyes twinkling with love and joy as he holds her close. Yennefer is fairly sure Ciri took his face from a photo of him with Geralt.
They talked about their wedding earlier, the stunning destination wedding to Skellige where Jaskier cried when he saw Yennefer walking down the aisle. They talked about their first meeting at the coffee shop where Jaskier used to work. They talked about Jaskier proposing in that same coffee shop two years later. It was the story of a happy, normal couple, and it was all entirely bullshit.
Yennefer sighs and twists off the perfect engagement ring, dropping it on her ring holder, before she goes to take off the seafoam green sundress she borrowed from Triss.
This is all an act, she tells herself. She just hopes that Jaskier doesn’t forget that.
***
Fake dating prompts
Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome
#the witcher#yennskier#jaskier x yennefer#jaskier#yennefer of vengerberg#ghost's writing#prompt fills#beating back the plot bunny for a 10k version of this with a stick
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mine.
om x reader; Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan
wc : 1.k
warnings : unhinged mc, biting in Levi’s, reader is wearing panties and implied dress/skirt in Satan’s but still gn (cause mc be lookin’ hot no matter the gender yk)
synopsis : mc doesn’t like to share.
a/n : we’re not gonna talk about how this took me forever to finish
Lucifer
The good thing about being Lucifer’s s/o and close friends with the prince of hell is you get to go out with them anytime you want
The bad thing is that, when it comes to meetings, there’s always someone fawning over your boyfriend right in front of your face
Fortunately, they always look and don’t touch. Unfortunately, this witch was either brainless, clueless, or both and kept putting her hands on him
You sighed irritably, exchanging knowing glances with Barbatos as he poured you another cup of demonous- not that it had any effect on you.
“Mc? Are you alright?“
Smiling sweetly, you turned to the demon prince and nodded, “Of course. I was just trying to manifest my demonous into human liquor.” You grinned when he laughed.
“Wouldn’t that be something.” Lucifer quipped, raising a discreet eyebrow at you. He was waved off just as the witch placed her hand back on his bicep.
“Isn’t it unprofessional of you to joke around like that at a meeting? And with the prince, no less.”
Your eyes flashed, nails digging into the tablecloth. “Isn’t it unprofessional to be flaunting around like a common whore at a meeting? And in front of the prince, no less.”
Barbatos covered his mouth quickly, hiding a grin. “I believe we should begin wrapping this up, My Lord. It’s getting quite late.”
“I agree. Lucifer?” Diavolo’s eyes were filled with mirth at the situation.
As they fine tuned the agreement and began sealing the deal, you were practically burning a hole through the witch's hand; it was inching closer and closer to Lucifer’s wings.
BAM!
Your eyes were shadowed by your hair as you peered up, fingers slowly releasing the butter knife you’d stabbed into the table mere inches away from the witch’s other hand.
“Y-you dare threaten me?!”
“I haven’t said a single thing.” You smiled wryly, “Unless you’re suggesting my presence alone is threatening, which I assure you, it is.” Standing up from your seat, you grasped boldly at black feathers.
“Mc!” As surprised as his tone was, it was also a warning. But you were never one to obey easily.
You lifted your head high, “The Avatar of Pride is mine. And I am his. So he doesn’t need your filthy hands on him. Now on behalf of Barbatos, I bid you goodnight and goodbye.”
Lucifer’s lips quirked up, not being able to hide his own amusement at your smug expression. He rose from his seat, circling his arm around your waist, and excused the both of you.
“I can feel the pride rolling off you in waves. How…inebriating.”
Mammon
You were out on the town in the human world with Asmo, showing him around to all your favorite stores before you ended up in a popular club
You were having a great time— laughin, dancin, finally getting to taste human world alcohol again, when Asmo grabbed your attention
“Is that Mammon?”
Your eyes narrowed, cutting across the vast sea of dancing bodies until they landed on your snow headed demon.
He was at a table, accompanied by four witches who sat on the opposite side. It was obvious he’d rather be anywhere else and their sly smiles made you clench your jaw.
“Three is better than two, right Asmo? I’ll go fetch him.” You downed your last shot before making your way over, not caring about the people you had to shove along the way.
Mammon was mid-sentence when he paused, eyes widening, “Mc?!”
You blinked innocently when the witches turned to look at you, “Hey pretty boy. Was wonderin’ where you ran off to.”
His cheeks noticeably pinkened, eyes falling lidded with heart shaped pupils, “S-sorry, darlin’…w-was in a h-hurry…”
“You? Or them?” You barred your teeth at the women, stalking around the table until you were seated pretty in Mammon's lap, arms draped over his shoulders.
“Listen here you-“
“No, you listen.” Your pact with the avatar of greed lit up, “Mammon is mine— not your little chew toy. The only person who can sink their teeth into him is me.”
Mammon’s grip tightened on your hips, feeling the witches’ magic start to charge the air. “M-mc I don’t think-“
“Shhh, baby. Let your master handle it. Now…do you four really want to be on the receiving end of my wrath? You do know I was able to wrangle all seven lords of hell, yes?”
Faltering, their eyes darted from pact mark to pact mark. They huffed and stood, drinks slamming onto the table, spilling over the rim.
You smiled victoriously, “That’s what I thought.” your lips found Mammon’s easily, hands tangling themselves in his hair. “Mine. All mine.”
He panted, “Holy fuck, darlin’. That was hot.” Mammon let you drag him over to his brother without complaint, grinning when you said drinks were on you. Yeah— he was yours alright.
Levi
You’d agreed to tag along to an anime convention with your lovely boyfriend; you were so excited to cosplay with him!
You went as Henry (naturally) and Levi went as the Lord of Shadows (like it was even debatable)
You were happy to see Levi come out of his shell— and his cosplay was amazing— but…why the fuck were they so close to him?
You were good at schooling your expression, keeping the neutral look just long enough to finish taking pictures with three other TSL cosplayers. As soon as they walked away, your eyes darkened, lips curling into a snarl.
Levi stood in between two ruri-chan cosplayers; one traditional and one genderbend. He was shifting around with a bright blush coated on his cheeks because they were close. Really close.
Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to not move. This was fine. Totally fine. They were just checking out the intricate details you added to his cosplay—
“Did you make all of this yourself?” The male cosplayer’s fingers smoothed over Levi’s collar, slipping up until they brushed over his neck.
His friend followed suit, only her hands trailed along his waist instead, “You’re so talented!”
—You saw red. Feet moving with a mind of their own, they slammed against the ground harshly as you stormed their way. No one noticed until your not-so-fake sword prop was drawn.
The purple haired demon startled at the sound, eyes snapping to your frame, “M-m-mc! I-I s-s-swear it’s not…i-it’s not w-w-what-!”
“Oh? And who’s this?”
You give a deadly, but saccharine sweet, smile and stalk closer, pushing past the two cosplayers coldly. Moving to stand behind your boyfriend, you sheath the sword and yank down his collar.
“A-AH!” Levi jolts, head instinctively lolling to the side to bare more of his neck. His shoulder throbs from where your teeth are sunk into the flesh but he fucking loves it; Levi’s eyes roll back and he completely forgets about why you bit him.
“I’m Henry. His Henry. And if I need to go talk to security about you touching other cosplayers without their consent, I will.” Your eyes flashed a rainbow mix of colors, the pacts of all your demons coursing through you, “Now leave.”
They both scrambled away, leaving behind a very flustered Leviathan and a very unsatisfied you.
“You know Levi…I don’t think one bite was enough for me.”
Said demon’s mouth parts, body stiffening as you press against sensitive spots, “i-i-i’m yours e-either w-way…do w-what you w-w-wish.”
Satan
Satan invited you out to the local museum’s art showcase that would be presenting some of the Devildom’s most rarest pieces of work
Naturally, you were thrilled to tag along- hearing Satan’s rich (and excited) voice explain everything you walked past was actually one of your favorite past times
Unfortunately you weren’t the only one in the Devildom that liked your boyfriend’s voice, and this demon in particular had already been infatuated with him before you even showed up…you’d have to do something about that
Satan chose to ignore the person following the two of you- or him, to be more specific. He hasn’t been able to go out with you in two months, so he was content just pretending they weren’t there, but he wasn’t counting on you noticing them too.
“‘Scuse me-” You tilted your head, “Could you stop following my boyfriend around like a lost puppy?”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing? Ever since you arrived, you’ve been flaunting yourself around like the Lords of Hell’s goddamn pet. Makes it quite irritating for those of us who were so so close to having them in our grasp before you ruined it.”
You only smirked, as you knew very well that many became jealous of you over the course of your being here.
“Now, now. It’s not Mc’s fault they’re more desirable than the lot of you that would chase after us.” Satan stifles a grin at your snort of amusement.
They glowered before their features suddenly relaxed; they looked smug. “You didn’t say that when you fucked me~”
Satan stiffened. His past affairs were exactly that- in the past. Now he had you, he loved you, and he certainly wasn’t gonna let a former fling fuck it up.
But you were still smirking, absolutely unbothered. Taking a step forward, you hooked your fingers under the sides of your panties and slowly tugged them down your legs, gaze never leaving the annoying demon in front of you.
“Wh-!”
With a wicked smile, you stepped out of it and leaned in to take their hand and place your underwear on their palm. “You may have gotten a taste, but I’m the one who gets to feast whenever I please.”
Your blonde demon is absolutely speechless as you spin around and take him by the arm. He lets you drag him along to another exhibit, feeling his face slowly flush at how everyone was looking at the two of you after witnessing what you just did.
“Mine.” Your eyes, filled with a familiar wrath green hue, peered up at him innocently.
It set his fucking body on fire. “Yours.”
#obey me x reader#obey me imagine#obey me drabble#lucifer x reader#obey me lucifer#mammon x reader#obey me mammon#leviathan x reader#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#satan x reader#obey me satan
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After rewatching Maleficent: Mistress of Evil yesterday, I’m now very curious if “transformation” is going to be a major theme in Book 7, just as it was in the live action movies. Maleficent was transformed in so many different ways - both physically and symbolically - as she learned to love again after Stefan's betrayal.
There's a part where Connal, one of the leaders of the Dark Fae, tells Maleficent, "But nature’s greatest power is the power of true transformation. You transformed when you raised Aurora, when you found love in the middle of your pain."
I feel that quote, and the theme of transformation, can easily apply to Lilia's relationship with Silver, and how having him in his life has transformed him profoundly.
I know his parenting skills are played for jokes, but he is very clearly not used to the comforts of a loving home. He is used to war and fighting and blood and death, used to returning to the castle with his body bruised and his bones aching, with no one there to welcome him. He tried raising his own son as a soldier and in the ways of knighthood, teaching him how to prepare for life on his own. And why wouldn’t he? That’s all he knew. That’s all he could give Silver. But he did learn to change his ways, and he did so because he was changed.
This is someone who never once had an interest in cooking, and after he found Silver, he asked himself again and again what to feed him and "hiked through the mountains, swam through the seas, and soared through the skies gathering ingredients" just for his son.
This is someone who profusely dislikes looking for things - so much so that it's his official pet peeve - and yet he still spent so many hours looking for Silver in the pouring rain and didn't give up until he found his boy and brought him home.
Someone who was once feared as a terrifying war general, and who is now just that screamo guy from the pop music club who likes black licorice, that problem child from the Master Chef program, that weird senpai who likes to hang from the ceiling and and scare people.
And I think as Book 7 continues, we might get to see how love and connections have transformed, and will continue to transform, Malleus, as well. We got a glimpse of this when Mal recounted the story of him freezing the castle as a child. When Lilia offered him his hand in the end, and bade him come sit at the table with everyone, I'm sure something deep within Malleus's heart changed that day.
And now faced with the prospect of losing the one person in his life who means more to him than anyone else, I want to see how love will transform Malleus into someone who is capable of accepting such permanent farewells.
As a final thought, I adore this transformation in Aurora's lines.
Aurora when she first meets Maleficent: “I know who you are. You’re my fairy godmother.”
Aurora confronting her in the finale of the second film: “I know who you are. […] You’re my mother.”
#lilia vanrouge#twst silver#malleus draconia#twst theory#twst spoilers#book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland spoilers#this was a twitter thread i posted that people seemed to like a lot so posting it here as well 😊#txt
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More psychonauts incorrect quotes?
Ford: You have any sunscreen?
Milla: You can't get a sunburn from a bonfire—
Ford: It's for my marshmallow ya dummy.
*****
Raz: I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t gotten arrested, let alone gotten a felony yet.
Ford: Nat 20 Charisma.
Raz: That is NOT how that works-
*****
Lili: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Raz and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Raz.
*****
Ford: How would you like to live forever?
bobby: I'd hate it. Shut the fuck up.
*****
Raz: Oh my Sasha .
Ford: Don't you mean 'oh my god'?
Raz: You worship your god, I'll worship mine.
*****
Lili: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.
bobby: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.
*****
*Sasha and Ford are texting*
Sasha : Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone.
Ford: What did they change my name to?
Sasha : Chosen One.
Ford: Don’t change it back.
Sasha : BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?!
Ford: I’m the chosen one.
*****
Ford: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough.
Raz: Yeah, you just catch it.
Milla: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit.
Sasha : Then I just use a spear instead.
Ford: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?
*****
Ford: So I have made the decision to trust you.
Raz: A horrible decision, really.
*****
bobby: Yeah, I don’t like people.
Milla: Oh, well now that’s not fair bobby. Have you met all of them?
bobby: I’ve met enough of them. People. What a bunch of bastards!
*****
*Raz sneezes*
Lili: Raz, are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby!
*Ford sneezes*
Lili: Oh my god. Shut the hell up.
*****
Raz, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.
*****
Sasha : What do we say when life disappoints us?
Raz: Called it!
Sasha : No.
*****
Lili: Why are you like this??
Sasha : I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.
*****
Sasha : Hello all, it is I, your favorite person.
Raz: Actually, Lili is my favourite.
Sasha : Okay then, it is I, that bitch.
*****
Milla, teaching Raz to drive: Okay Raz, what does a green light mean?
Raz: Go!
Milla: A red light?
Raz: Stop!
Milla: And what about a yellow light?
Raz: If you floor it, you can make it!
Milla: …No—
*****
Raz: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable... ...and also assault with a deadly weapon.
*****
Sasha : Today at 7 am, Raz poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing.
Ford: I watched Raz brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm.
Sasha : The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.
*****
Lili: I'm very scary.
Ford: You're about as scary as a wet kitten.
Lili: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me.
Ford: And small.
Lili:
Lili: ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.
*****
Milla: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out.
Lili: Fucking Raz and Ford were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.
*****
Sasha : Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for methaphorical distance, and “father” is for emotional distance.
*****
Ford: *gets a text* Oh! It’s Raz.
Milla, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff?
Ford: Yeah, they say they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood.
Milla: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood?
Ford: You wanted fake blood?
Milla:
Ford: I’ll go call Raz.
*****
Ford: Do you think different paints have different tastes?
Raz: They do.
Sasha: ...Why did you say that with such certainty?
*****
bobby: Anyone d-
Raz: Depressed?
Ford: Drained?
Sasha : Dumb?
Lili: Disliked?
bobby: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people...
*****
Lili: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!
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Fic 20 questions
I was tagged by @bewires, thank you!
1 - How many works do you have on AO3?
13, lucky number.
2 - What's your total AO3 count?
67,881 words. Not bad.
3 - What fandoms do you write for?
Right now, only for The Old Guard (2020). I'm a "one hyperfixation at a time" type of person.
4 - What are your top five fics by kudos?
Celebrated for Their Frankness (P&P)
Kissing a Stranger (P&P)
Galeotto Fu'l Cane (P&P)
hand in hand, we stumble and we fall (then we stand, once and for all) (TOG)
seems like happiness is just a thing called Joe (TOG)
5 - Do you respond to comments?
99.9% of the time, yes, even if it's just to write "thank you for reading" thirty times in a row
6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Uuuuuh I don't actually write angsty endings? Even the sadder ones always have a vision of hope in the end
7 - What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Again, difficult to say. Probably c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui (dans la vie) because it's Reunion and Fluff Galore. Or A Marriage of True Minds, because of Wedding Fluff and Feelings.
8 - Do you get hate on fics?
Thankfully not, and I hope it never happens
9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
No, not really. Love reading it, but I don't think I'll go that far myself.
10 - Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
No I don't. The thought never really crossed my mind
11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Never, thank goodness
12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?
No - although one could say that I already am doing my own mental translation since English is not my first language lol - but if someone wanted to I wouldn't mind, as long as they asked me first
13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, never happened
14 - What's your all time favourite ship?
Why are you asking me to rank my children?! Darcy/Elizabeth has been around longer, but Joe/Nicky really Hit Different. So I say it's a tie.
15 - What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
All of them? There's a reason I don't post WIPs - inspiration is flighty and cruel. I never say 'never', but knowing myself if I haven't worked on something for longer than a year it's unlikely I'll ever start again
16 - What are your writing strengths?
I'm the wrong person to ask this - Maybe plot coherency and world building? I tend to take a lot of time to make sure that the plot flows well and that things are as accurate I can get them. Also, clearly, writing soft and fluffy things.
17 - What are your writing weaknesses?
I always have the feeling of my writing being clunky and too detail-filled, because I want the readers to see the scene as I see it in my mind. And I've never been able to stay within the number of words I expected to - my one-shots get stupidly long.
18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I literally make Nicky speak in Italian as much as I can get away with it all the time. But also, if it's a language you don't know well and unless you have a human who speaks it that can check it, I wouldn't just trust a translation software. I have seen enough of glaring Italian errors in fic to make me want to go "please just say that they spoke in another language in the dialogue tag I beg of you."
19 - First fandom you wrote for?
Winx Club, a long long time ago, and not in English
20 - Favourite fic you've written?
I think it's a tie between hand in hand and We're Meant to Find Each Other - they're more team-focused than the others; hand in hand was the first I wrote for TOG fandom and a true stroke of inspiration. Meant to Find Each Other is the only multi-chaptered fic I ever managed to finish, it spans through multiple time periods, and the AU it's set in is very close to my heart.
I don't know who has already done this, but I'll tag @ellynneversweet @raedear @gallifreyburning @nicolos @nicolodigenovas and anyone else who feels like it!
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Finally
Book: Open Heart (book 1)
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine
Rating: Mature- mentions of sexual activities, language
Category: angsty pining
Summary: Post Naveen resigning up until Naveen’s recovery from Ethan’s perspective.
Disclaimer: plot points, characters and dialogue belong to Pixelberry studios.
—————
I walk my way through the hospital where I had given my all in a fit of rage. Myself and Casey had run out of ideas with Naveen and now he only had a month left. He went to enjoy what time he had left. Casey accompanied me, I could see she was disheartened. She had truly given her all and I knew I had made the right call in matching her to Edenbrook. I knew she would thrive with the right guidance but at this moment I know it is not going to come from me. She gently kisses me after we see Naveen off and how I do not take it further I do not know. The moment ends and we go back inside. I see Harper and I take my badge off.
“I quit”. Everyone around me is shocked, I know I am not in the best state of mind but Naveen is the second person who I care deeply about that I have not been able to help and I have never felt as defeated as I do currently. I know some not fun times will be coming for Casey, however I know how the rumour mill will work and I do wonder if I am a hindrance. I am a failure.she runs after me but I can not bear to tell her so I leave.
I decide to head home for a few days. It will be good to see dad and Jenner again. I tell dad in more detail everything that has been happening with me. He gets the same knowing look Naveen kept having whenever I bought up Casey. He does not question further. My time in Providence gives me a new perspective and I have ideas that I can work on in the background to hopefully give Casey a fighting chance. I go home via Naveen’s lake house to see he is still alive. He is.
I hear through the grapevine about the subway crash and subsequent request for an Ethics hearing. I call Harper, hopeful of being able to persuade her to let me testify. Despite my personal feelings I know how well she performs as a doctor but I am denied. She said I am too biased but at this point I actually do not give a fuck. All I know is that Declan Nash has much of the ethics committee in his back pocket and all people deserve a fair hearing and all I knew is Casey would be hard pushed for one. Thankfully I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I know I should reach out to Casey but what do I say. I don’t want to let her in on my plans, just in case they backfire. I groan and pour myself a drink. Just then my phone went off with a text from Casey wanting to talk. I tell her I do not text and invite her over. She arrives and I ask her if she had joined a cult. She states that she had been to a country club to which I state the same thing.
I am asked if I would testify for her. I tell her I can’t. She is angry and goes on about how she came to learn from me and I tell her this me, someone who can not fix the people he gives a damn about.
“Well you told me to never give up and that is what I am doing.”
I tell her I help her if I could whilst removing her finger from my chest. I tell her that I tried and Harper told me I was biased and that she was right.
I make a comment about how I am not her boss any more. Just then you could hear a pin drop at the realization we both had. I do not know who moved first but the next thing I know we are kissing each other with passion and urgency. My mind goes back to Miami and what I wished I continued with that night. I pick Casey up and she wraps her leg around my hips. I take her to my room, only breaking the kiss to take my shirt off and her dress. I ask her what she wants me to do. She asks to show me the view. I can not remember the view ever looking so spectacular. I come up behind her and start kissing the column of the neck and then I start feeling her breast through her bra. They are as magnificent as I remember and I want more. I turn her around and push her against the window. Her breath hitches and I kiss her again, making my way down. The noises that come from Casey are making me harder. I am on my knees and I remove her underwear. With little ceremony I start kissing her between her legs, worshipping her the way I have wanted to in my dreams many times before. She tastes much better than I could ever imagine. I eventually add my fingers and alternate between flicking and sucking her clit with my tongue. As much as I want to worship at her sex forever I also want her to come so that is what I do. Hearing her breathlessly moan my name and scream it makes me more aroused. We finally make it over to my bed and I enter her. She fit around me like a glove and it was glorious. I started off slow wanting to savour being inside her, especially since I denied myself for so long but Casey urges me to go faster, with more speed I get more depth. I bring her close multiple times until I am ready to fall and with a final thrust we both come. I have had vivid dreams of her clenching my cock in the throes of ecstasy but the real thing was more incredible than what my imagination conjured. We go multiple rounds. It had been ages since I had a session that was physically and emotionally charged. I fell into a deep sleep.
I have no idea what time it is but all I know is Casey is straddling me, trying to wake me up and saying she figured it out. I am confused and then she clarifies. She tells me she has figured out what was wrong with Naveen. She goes through the methodology and I agree with her diagnosis. I am well rested but also hungover. She makes a hangover cure while I get ready. I come out and drink it and somehow I am cured. Before we go she gives me a kiss.
“What was that for?”
“Luck”
“Well in that case I am going to need more luck.”
We kiss again. I want to have sex with her again but we have a patient to cure. We head to a lab at Harvard to make the phage therapy then head to Naveen’s.
We make it and he is still alive. That miscreant is there but there is little time to deal with him. I administer the therapy and watch as Naveen heads into unconsciousness. I send Casey away as she has her trial to prepare for. The miscreant leaves with Casey and I am with Naveen. Whilst I am observing I could not help but be proud of Casey for not giving up when I had. My thoughts turned to her trial and I hoped that what I had organised in the background would be sufficient. The Miscreant comes back and he takes over looking after Naveen. Now to the trial and hopefully there is a second person that he cares about that he can be saved.
Authors note: And I end it there as the trial is covered in my fic Bridge over Troubled water. If you made it this far thank you.
Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @genevievemd @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @ofmischiefandmedicine @gryffindordaughterofathena
@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
#open heart#ethan ramsey#choices fanfic writers creations#casey valentine#book 1#inner musings are so fun to write#especially book 1 Ethan
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Fight or Flight Club
"You two were going where? A fight club? Where they beat each other up?" Olive asked, aghast. "Well, I guess he missed his flight, so no bloodsports tonight. Ew."
This really shouldn't be shocking given Aphelion's always going on about MMA and UFC and a lot of other three letter acronyms and Blixa's so into underground scenes that you might as well call him subterranean, but even still, watching people fight for real? Not play fights? Real fights? How so totally morbid!
"I make my plans not around the whims of the unreliable but the desires of mine own heart. Sorry, strawberry, I'm still going. It's only a few hours I'll be gone, never fear," Blixa said as he polished off the last of the rum. "Some musicians find their inspiration in beautiful women and some in a bottle but mine comes from other places."
Cool, her brother who has been pregaming -Blixa, who has half a dozen stories involving less-than-legal things regs might not like- is going to a shady and maybe illegal place on his own in a city he's unfamiliar that's absolutely crawling with regs and weird vampire politics that she didn't understand. Olive freely admitted she was naive but even she could see the potential for this to turn out badly.
"Okay, well, I'll just take Aphelion's ticket or whatever and go with you," Olive said as she tried to put on a brave face. "Don't go places alone! You'll get serial-murdered! That's not allowed on my watch! We are using the buddy system here."
Her brother put his glass down an ew, he poured his blood and rum into one of her good teacups, there's no way that wouldn't stain.
"Olive, I may be blind but I am not in need of a babysitter," he said. "I'm not throwing myself into the ring. I am absorbing the atmosphere. I am basking in hidden worlds. I am rubbing my hands over every surface I can find to steal their secrets for my own. Stay at home and do something fun, won't you? No blood for you, no bruises to see. We can watch Suspiria when I return from my little excursion."
"It's not about that. I'm not...Blixa, what if you lose your phone and you don't know how to find the way back? What if you get drunk and you forget how to speak English again? What if someone has bad vibes? What if there's a devil there and you accidentally sell your soul? I'm going with you. You're just going to have to deal with that."
"Please, my label owns that old thing. They'll have to fight Death Records for my soul," he replied. "No. You would abhor every minute of it. You do not need to come with me. I cannot emphasize enough there is fighting and blood and things you do not care to see."
Anyway, long story short, Olive insisted on going with him despite all of Blixa's repeated protests that she would hate it and should go home, and guess what: she hated every second of being here.
She tried to dress for the occasion in her toughest outfit -which mostly meant that she wore her one pair of black boots and a leather jacket so you couldn't see the hearts embroidered on the front of her dress- but it was clear to anyone who gave her a single glance that this fish was so far out of water she might as well be in a desert. Wow, those guys really were beating the tar out of each other, weren't they? She figured it was super illegal to fight to the death and it was probably like WWE or something, but even still, oh, oh no, wow, that looked painful, ouch. She felt like everyone was staring at her, even if they probably weren’t. More than that, she felt the emotion in the room like a wild rock concert: loud and overpowering and just so, so much. Everyone was excited or angry or hurting or wanting and everyone was as loud as the next.
She needed air. Actually, what she really needed was to go home but she didn't quite want to admit that her brother was right, he neither wanted nor needed her there, and nothing terrible would happen if he watched the fights by himself. Olive did not think she was a prideful person but it was still embarrassing to admit that you were wrong. She slipped away when he was too busy soaking in the ambiance to pay attention. Should she go back to the bar area? But what if someone scary talked to her? Maybe she could just hide out in the bathrooms instead? What if they were gross? She was awash with indecision.
Olive did not like Fight Club or actual fight clubs, it turns out.
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since i have nothing to post until my 13 nights of halloween...
here are more of colby’s tweets from 2019.
i'm leaving out december, bc it needs to be its own post since there are so many from that time (bc he did a mini q&a).
i don’t have proof that these are his tweets, but believe me, they are his.
if it’s bold and italicized, it’s someone’s tweet to him.
if it’s in (), that’s just me commenting lol
added bonus: if they have a * next to them, that means it’s been deleted
~~~~~~~~~~
Oct. 5 - HALLOWEEN IS THE BEST HOLIDAY
Oct. 7 - i’m sick of most people in LA
@/MODSUN: But i love u
you’re an exception Mod
Oct. 9 - i hope your left toe doesn’t look like that lmao (reply to someone)
his eyebrows, hair, eyes, nose, skin EVERYTHING IS PERFECT @/ColbyBrock u need some chapstick tho
Oct. 11 - my lips are constantly chapped what do i do
Oct. 12 - life’s a party sorry mom
Oct. 13 - i have so much love to give
Oct. 15 - it’s crazy how much i play something up in my mind when in reality it doesn’t even matter at all
Oct. 17 - i never thought i’d say this .. but early november i’m dropping a Country song.. with a music video
get ready
Oct. 20 - so happy to hear you guys are enjoying the new series. we’ve poured everything into this
Oct. 21 - everything’s so much easier when you have a best friend to fall back on
Oct. 23 - life’s been a lot more …. enjoyable ever since i met you
Oct 24 - i’m the bad guy
@/DavidAlvareeezy: Prove it. Break my heart
you won’t like me when i’m angry
Oct. 25 - i wanna be your escape from reality
Oct. 28 - if i’m not leaving the house i’m wearing the same thing everyday
i just wanna make cool shit. new forms of art. doesn’t matter what
Nov. 2 - stay strong brother (about aaron <3)
Nov. 3 - i wonder if my postmates driver eats my french fries
i’m tired of shitty dudes trying to fight me at the club for literally no reason
(to this day… his HOTTEST tweet. no i will not explain further lol)
i miss making the legendary trap house videos there i said it
Nov. 7 - your reminder that you have so much purpose. life’s just a game that can be easily beatable. you’ll know why soon
Nov. 10 - just cartwheeled the red carpet at @/peopleschoice awards
why are we like this
Random Fan: @/ColbyBrock : I’d date a fan
Also colby: continues to ignore all of us and likes basically all of amber‘s instagram pictures
@/AmberScholl: um yea what’s up with that?? only “basically all” it should be ALL smh
Nov. 13 - one sec
Nov. 14 - please take care of yourself and put your phone down every once in a while
Nov. 15 - if the world was ending tonight who would be by your side ?
keep those people close to you
Nov. 16 - i pass out at 8pm just to be wide awake now at 3am so i can’t fall asleep then i’m so tired the next day and i fall asleep at 8pm again. lmao why
@/itscoreyscherer: Same
lonely hours
Nov. 19 - i need a girl who’s not afraid to go to haunted places with me
(yo the amount of replies this got??? insane lol)
Nov. 20 - update : i’m still a crackhead
Nov. 25 - i don’t have many friends cause it’s hard for me to let people in
Nov. 26 - save the koalas
Nov. 27 - i’ve always thought @/SamGolbach had BDE… birth day energy #happy23rd
run into random lady at the grocery store:
“hey aren’t you that kid from vine?”
“yup, that’s me”
“…. what ever happened to you?”
thanks.
Nov. 29 - you guys have my back, and im forever grateful for that
(sksksks the DRAMA of this tweet…. good times.)
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The Hitchhiker
In my memory it is a Spring day, maybe early April, and the windows are down in my old Datsun as I headed out of Eugene toward Seattle and a rendezvous with a beautiful redheaded Welsh girl who had stolen my heart. The highway was just picking up a groove and I was probably listening to Paul Collins' Beat or Gun Club when just outside of Coburg I blew past a forlorn figure hunched on the side of the highway. He was rolled up like a potato bug, arms wrapped defensively over his head. It couldn't be anything but a silent plea for help so I pulled over. The figure didn't move. I backed up on the shoulder and still no sign of life. I got right up to him and honked and he....uncoiled. Taller than I expected, lanky and dark dirt brown, he took long strides to come up to the passenger window where he ignored the door handle in favor of sticking his face and shoulders through the open window.
"So what do you think about the whole Jewish-German situation? I think that if the Vulcan Army could be brought to bear everything would work out alright, y'know? And Spock and Kirk, they'd be cool and I think maybe we could have everyone be friends again!"
I've never seen anyone else with really YELLOW eyes but his were a wild combination of jaundiced AND bloodshot. Six or seven days of stubble on his face and dried spit in the corners of his mouth. More out of reflex than anything else I said the first thing on my mind. "Where are you headed?" He hopped in and in a tone that was both eager and matter-of-fact said, "Dammasch. I'm going to Dammasch. It's a hospital and it's my friends' birthday and I'm going to see him for his birthday and it's at Dammasch." I didn't know exactly where Dammasch was but it didn't take much to convince me that the state hospital for the criminally insane was a good destination for him.
We drove north and he talked. Mostly it seemed that he had seen a lot of science fiction and had somehow blurred it with reality and Germany and conspiracies. He told me that he had escaped from a Nazi prison that was hidden in Eugene and that his girlfriend had been a Jewish spy and that he had killed her (!). He had stolen NoDoz from a 7-11 and had been running through the hops fields for three days while "they" searched for him with dogs and airplanes and spy rays and tractor beams. Chewing dry NoDoz and stealing food from farms along the way. He had to escape because he knew it was his friends birthday and he had to see his friend. He had a present for his friend, a present, you see, and it was for his friend who was in the hospital at Dammasch and he had to take him this present. THIS present! He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a wadded napkin that he had tried to keep damp. Unrolled with shaking hands the napkin yielded a tiny little pot plant. All of three inches long and with just a first trio of leaves he had been pouring water into his pocket to keep it alive until he could give it to his friend, his friend in Dammasch. Whew.
I stopped at a truckstop above Albany so we could get water. I thought about driving away and leaving him but thought it unfair to the truckers and that it would probably wind up in some kind of brutal stomping when he tried to peddle these stories to them. As we got toward Salem, though, I wondered if I would regret not leaving him as he began to tell me about his mental prowess. He was a warlock, you see, and could steer the car with his mind. There was a jumbled story of eternal life that could be achieved by cloning someone but to clone a person you had to cut out the roof of their mouth and that was something he offered to do right there in the car. He would drive the car with his mind and all I had to do was lower my bucket seat and he would cut out the roof of my mouth and clone me. Right now. Right here in the car. I was calculating how hard a kick it would take to break one of his ribs or maybe jar that passenger door loose and kick him straight out of the car at 65 miles per hour. Then he told me where he had learned about cloning.
For a long time, no one knows how long, for centuries, there has been a war between the Anti-Men and the Satellite People. The Anti-Men are tall and thin and gaunt and tend toward very rigid fashion codes that wouldn't be foreign to a leather bar or Berlin in 1938. The Satellite People are bigger than raccoons and have fur like cats but with monkey fingers and curiosity. They jump up on your bed at night and will touch your face while you sleep. They have long tails. The Satellite People live in a cloud that orbits the earth and watch everything that happens down below. They're probably related to the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. And the Anti-Men hate them.
So on balmy summer nights, when the cloud dissipates and the stars twinkle in the warm clear sky, the Anti-Men will force orchestras onto flat bed railcars and ride across the open countryside. The orchestra plays and the Satellite People become more and more curious. The orchestra plays faster and faster and the Satellite People come down lower and lower to see what this amazing thing is, this orchestra on a train car, playing feverishly across the broad plains under starlight. And when the Satellite People reach a certain altitude, just close enough, giant spotlights mounted on the corners of the railcars are turned on and the Satellite People are stunned and drop from the sky like frozen lizards in Florida to be captured. And once captured they are cloned and turned into slaves of the Anti-Men, the roofs of their mouths cut out to create a race in chains. Enslaved forever.
And right about this point, and as he began to explain in great detail that his girlfriend had tried to enslave HIM and he had killed her in self-defense because she was working with the Anti-men....right about the point he began to get really insistent about the need to clone ME here in the car....here came the circular drive and sliding doors of Dammasch State Mental Hospital and I slid to a stop and he gathered up his damp napkin with the fledgling pot plant and crowed jubilantly that it was his friends birthday and he had a present a present a present for his friend and went loping gleefully, ecstatically, through those sliding doors and so passed from my trip and this story. Had it gone on any longer I suspect this would have a different ending but as it was I thought I had done a good deed by delivering him to this particular place and continued on my way to go see a beautiful girl in Seattle.
Now, you might think that such a thing would put me off hitch-hikers but in truth I took the new 205 cutoff around Portland and somewhere around the Estacada exit I saw a burly bearded biker-looking guy with a scrawled sign for Seattle. Thinking to myself that "nothing could possibly top that last guy", I pulled over and he limped up to the passenger side and heaved his bulk into the little bucket seat. Then took off his left leg and threw it in the back seat saying "that damned thing was about killing me! Say, buddy, do you know any Hells Angels? I'm a wanted man by the Angels and I'd just as soon avoid any of them so they don't do me in." And off we went to Seattle and perhaps the wildest night of my life but that's a whole 'nother story.
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Charm
Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky checks whether he still has his 1940′s charm.
Word Count: 1,613
Warnings: TFATWS spoilers! No warning, just a bit of fluff I guess???
A/N: Nothing really, just that Bucky deserves all the love in the world :’)
Charming (Part 2) || MAIN MASTERLIST
“You should date someone.”
Bucky groans at Yori’s suggestion. Again. The old guy had been pestering him about it ever since they started their little friendship. Introduced girls and forced him to take them out to dinner or bingo. He did try of course, but it always seemed too fast for him.
“I already did, haven’t I? You sort of forced me to go on one, remember?” Bucky asked before downing a glass of sake in one go.
Thank god they went to a different Japanese restaurant this time. His date with the girl at the other restaurant went pretty badly, with him walking out after a particularly sensitive topic and never returning. Bucky felt bad and as much as he wanted to go back there and apologize, he just doesn’t have the courage to show his face again.
“Yeah, well you messed up.” Yori said pointedly.
Bucky chortled, “Or maybe you messed up by forcing me. I told you, you gotta take it slow like a dance. I mean, you don’t just ask anyone to dance with you. You ask someone you’d like to dance with.”
Yori’s shoulders trembled as he tried to bite back his laughter. Bucky made a face when he realized he’d been talking a lot.
“Then go find someone you want to date. Or maybe you just don’t have it in you.” The older man teased.
Bucky couldn’t help but grin, “Sounds like a challenge.”
As Bucky poured himself another glass of sake, he began to wonder whether Yori was right. Maybe he really didn’t have it anymore, the confidence and charm he used to have back in his time.
Only one way to find out.
-
The club was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
Initially, Bucky thought that it would be the perfect place to find someone to date. Apparently not, because despite the presence of beautiful girls, they were pretty much throwing themselves at him. As much as Bucky was curious about the so called “hook-up” culture in the modern times, it just wasn’t for him.
And good god, the dancing? It’s not what it used to be; Bucky wasn’t even sure if he could call those movements “dance”.
Bucky called it a night and quickly headed to the exit. And that’s where he noticed you, fumbling with your phone and clicking your tongue from what seemed to be frustration. He slowed down in his steps, not wanting to interrupt your little moment as you mumbled a string of curses to yourself.
He eyed you from head to toe, noticing that you were wearing something too simple for a club: just a white shirt, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. With Bucky’s experience, he learned to be observant enough to read someone’s personality.
You were definitely not a frequent visitor to these clubs. And he was right about that because you were just forced to tag along to your officemates to celebrate a promotion.
“Ugh, fuck. Come on!” You unintentionally exclaimed out loud, stomping on the ground causing for Bucky to let out a chuckle.
Bucky’s eyes widened when you abruptly turned around, “Oh sorry. I didn’t meant to uhh...are you okay?” He asked timidly, slowly walking over to where you stood.
You huffed out, “I’m trying to book a ride, but the signal here sucks.” You explained. “And I’m not really comfortable to walk home at this hour.” You quickly added.
It was close to ten in the evening, it wasn’t that late yet but given the location and downsides of being a woman, you really didn’t want to risk your safety.
“Won’t your friends give you a ride home?” He asked.
You groaned, “They aren’t really my friends...I just work with them. They’re all shit-faced drunk and I didn’t even plan on coming here. Not a fan of clubs.” You admitted.
Bucky chuckled as he kicked the ground, “Guess that makes two of us.”
Your hum caught Bucky’s attention and when he looked up, you were looking at him suspiciously. For a moment he thought that you might have recognized him but you merely laughed and shook your head.
“You don’t seem like the type to hate clubs. Why are you here then?” You asked curiously.
Bucky shrugged, “Thought I’d find someone here that I can you know...take out on a date.”
You cackled out loud, it was the kind of laughter that made Bucky join in. You probably thought it was stupid for him to come looking for love at a club. And well, given his experience inside, you were correct.
“I know. It’s stupid. I haven’t been to clubs really, so I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” He admitted, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly.
You nodded, “How was your experience inside then?”
“You could say I was pretty shocked. And disoriented. The lights made me dizzy.” Bucky said, widening his eyes in emphasis.
Laughing, you nodded and agreed before introducing yourself so casually. Bucky repeated your name, he liked the way it sounded.
“I’m James.”
Bucky found himself easily opening up to you. The conversations flowed naturally, from something as basic as favorite food down to your mutual hatred for crowded places and everything in between. Bucky learned that you often volunteer at an orphanage and that you hate plums which happens to be his favorite. It resulted to a harmless debate that lasted ten minutes.
You asked him about his work, something that he had to lie his way around. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, he was afraid that revealing the truth might scare you off. You seemed to be really interested in him whenever he talked about his boring daily routine.
“Do you...do you like to talk somewhere else?” Bucky blurted out.
You offered a sad smile, one that broke Bucky’s heart because you were probably going to reject him. Understandable though, he was a stranger and it was late at night. It was hard to trust people nowadays.
“I have work tomorrow morning.” You apologetically said.
“But you can walk me home...if you’d like?” You asked. “I probably sound demanding but uhh, I don’t think I can really book a ride and I don’t want to walk home alone at this hour.”
Bucky heaved out a deep sigh of relief and laughed, “I thought you didn’t like talking to me.” He sheepishly admitted.
“No, I actually like talking to you. You’re fun. And interesting.” You smiled.
Bucky beamed and extended a hand, letting you lead the way before matching your pace. The more he talked to you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d be the first person he’d willingly ask out on a date.
The walk lasted half an hour but to Bucky, it only felt like minutes. It was definitely not enough for him to get to know you more.
“Well, this is me.” You announced when you reached your apartment building.
“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” You said.
Bucky placed his hands inside his pockets and nodded, “Call me old-fashioned, but I felt like any gentleman should do so.”
Bucky held your gaze and debated how he should ask you out. Should he just blurt out the question? Would that be too soon? Your number! Maybe he should ask for your number first, show his therapist that finally, there was a new number registered in his contacts.
“Well, I should head inside.” You said when Bucky remained silent and although Bucky didn’t want to assume, he thought he saw a look if disappointed in your eyes.
Yori is going to regret saying that he doesn’t have game.
“Wait,” Bucky called out before you could turn around. “Being old-fashioned and all, I know this might be too forward. Or too fast, even.” he trailed and cleared his throat.
“Would you like to go out on a date with me? This Saturday. We can go to the beach, get ice cream...” he suggested.
Wrong move! Out of all the places he could suggest, it just had to be the beach! It’s not like he could wear a long-sleeved top and his gloves without getting dirty looks from people. You were going to find out the truth about him, his arm, his past. And then you’d regret letting him walk you home because who knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of?
“I’d love to.” You replied with a grin but before Bucky could suggest another place, you had already walked up to the front door of your apartment building, pulling it open before suddenly stopping.
“Or we can just take a walk at the park if you want, if that’s more comfortable for you.” You suggested turning your head to look back at Bucky.
He furrowed his brows in confusion. Again, he was unable to say something because you beat him to it with a surprising revelation.
“I’ll wait for you to come pick me up on Saturday. And don’t worry about your arm, I don’t mind. Good night, Bucky.”
And with one final beautiful smile, you headed inside the building leaving Bucky with a confused look. You knew him all along but didn’t say anything. You opened up to him, held his arm when you laughed and still, it didn’t bother you. You didn’t call him out when he lied about working for a mechanic shop, didn’t get scared when he offered to walk you home.
It took a few seconds for Bucky’s brain to process everything. And then he found himself grinning like a fool when he proved something to himself. And well, Yori too.
“Guess I still got it.”
-
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Reminiscent
i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise
Oikawa Tooru x female reader
TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw
“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”
You weren’t the clubbing type.
Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.
Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you.
“She good, dude?”
A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”
And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.
Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.
A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you.
“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”
They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.
You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.
Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop.
Please stop. Please. Please. Please.
You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.
Why won’t he stop?
When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.
And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.
—
It’s nothing like what they show on tv.
There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.
You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.
At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes.
Or worse; pitying ones.
So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy.
The nightmares are just that; nightmares.
And things are fine, until they’re not.
—
“Baby, you’re here!!”
There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.
When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”
“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”
She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.
She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.
For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.
“Oh, wait–”
Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.
“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”
She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.
And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”
The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”
She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.
So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”
She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”
And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.
She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.
She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him.
It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before.
Happy.
She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.
And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.
The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.
You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.
“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.
Not when you still feel all… brittle.
—
Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement.
She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.
Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you.
Your heart stutters.
“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.
He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”
You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.”
There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.
He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you.
“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”
You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”
“We’re celebrating?” you ask.
She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”
Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.
“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”
Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.
You can handle one night of small talk.
—
You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.
Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.
Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.
They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.
“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.
Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.
“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”
“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”
You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”
And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes.
Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”
The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”
If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”
You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground.
“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath.
Goosebumps prickle along your arms.
Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”
He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–
“Iwa.”
It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.
“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”
He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–
“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”
His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.
And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.
“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”
You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”
His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but…
You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–
You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.
“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin.
“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”
You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.
“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.”
He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”
And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free.
It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.
The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”
This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.
Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit.
“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.
Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”
“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”
Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.
You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.
And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–
Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth.
“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”
And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”
Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”
Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”
His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.
“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”
Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen.
And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.
The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come.
You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion.
You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.
And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.
“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”
Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.
It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.
Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.
“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–”
You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.
“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you.
Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.
“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.
And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.
Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips…
“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”
It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it…
But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him.
With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.
And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.
“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.
His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.
Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.
And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.
“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”
#yandere haikyuu#yandere oikawa#yandere oikawa x reader#yandere oikawa tooru#yandere oikawa tooru x reader#tw: noncon#tw:dubcon#tw: drugged reader#tw: infidelity#angst#pain#manipulation#fun times ahead
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stupid in love
request by anon: hey congrats for 2.6k followers, that's so cool!!! I don't know if i'm too late but can i request jesper from shadow and bone x reader with prompt 5? would love for it to be romantic :) congrats again and thank you if you decide to write it!! <3
A/N: is this romantic? no idea but I've been writing this for like a month and I'm beyond done with it so have whatever the fuck this is
warnings: six of crows stuff, blood, swearing, alludes to suicide throughout
"I threw myself out a window for you! What more do you want from me?"
Y/N almost punched him. Him throwing himself out the window was the entire reason she was annoyed at him. It had been terrifying and Y/N had thought Jesper was dead. But Jesper had taken it as another fable to tell the punters - hadn't realised how lucky he was. Y/N glowered at Jesper from across the bar as she poured him another shot.
"Maybe for you to actually pay for these shots?" Y/N asked, sliding the shot glass along the bar top to Jesper.
Jesper picked it up and downed it with one smooth movement. "Ah, it's fine, put it on my tab."
Y/N rolled her eyes but obliged, scribbling down the rapidly growing cost of Jesper's evening. He'd actually only had three shots - the rest had been spread around the entire club in celebration of something or other.
Their last job had been chaotic as usual. Jesper had thrown himself out a window, Kaz had almost gotten shot and they'd blown a few things up. But the image of Jesper falling through a window had stuck with Y/N all night.
The entire reason Y/N had ended up in the Dregs was because of her sister. Her sister, who had gone insane, and leapt off a roof, plummeting to her death in front of Y/N. Every time Y/N relived Jesper falling, she saw him in her sister's place. She saw his body instead of hers.
Which was why, Jesper making jokes about his window-smashing exploits wasn't appreciated at that moment.
"'ello, Y/N," Rotty said jogging up to the bar with a beaming smile, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"Evening, Rotty," Y/N called, setting the cleaned glasses on the side. "What can I do for you?"
"Boss wants you," Rotty replied. He gestured over his shoulder at Jesper who was singing a rowdy sea shanty with an arm around a red-haired woman who looked like an actual mermaid. "And him."
"Have you told him?"
"I did."
"And?"
"He said 'in a moment'."
"Oh for -" Y/N bought her fingers to her lips and whistled. Loudly.
The entire bar fell silent and everyone turned to stare at her. She pointed at Jesper and then up at Kaz's office door.
"You, upstairs, now," Y/N demanded.
Jesper sighed, grumbling to himself as he slid off the redhead's lap and practically stomped after Y/N as she walked up the stairs.
She paused at the top and looked down at the still silent bar. "Carry on."
The chatter and sound of money being lost quickly restarted. Y/N shut the office door behind her, the noise from downstairs all but disappearing behind the thick, iron door.
Inej was, unsurprisingly, already there. She stood near to Kaz, her hands clasped behind her back with her hood up. As Y/N approached Kaz, he looked up at her and then at Jesper who'd flopped down in a plush armchair near the window.
"Is he drunk?"
"No," Y/N replied, sitting down in the chair Kaz had in front of his desk and crossing her legs. She fanned out her skirt and clasped her hands together in her lap. "He bought shots for everyone in the club but he's only had three."
"Good, I need him sober," Kaz replied. He gave Jesper a cursory glance over his shoulder. "Jesper, come here."
Jesper stood up and skulked over to the desk, leaning over Y/N's head to see what was on the desk. "Is that -"
"Yes."
"And are we -"
"Yes."
Y/N frowned and sat forward, looking at the plans laid out on Kaz's desk. She raised her eyebrows. "The Geldrenner Hotel? Really? What's there."
"You mean who is there," Kaz corrected. He handed Y/N a newspaper cut out featuring a grainy print of a member of the Merchant Council.
"Is that Van Halla?" Y/N asked, squinting at the print. "Isn't he meant to be in Os Alta?"
"He's on holiday and is staying at the Geldrenner with his wife and entourage or fifty," Kaz replied. "And whilst he is here, he's attending the extravagant birthday of Van Eck."
"Oh, I see where this is going," Y/N said, nodding. "I saw the Van Eck birthday present list - what did Halla get?"
"The Millenium Watch."
Three pairs of eyes looked at Kaz with surprise and shock.
"I'm sorry, you want us to steal the Millenium Watch?" Jesper asked, gaping. "One of the most expensive watches in history?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I need a new pocket watch," Kaz said with a shrug.
"And the real reason?" Inej asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I've made a deal with someone - in exchange for the Millenium Watch we get the plans to the Boeksplein."
"And what's there?"
"Need to know."
The three of them scoffed but weren't entirely surprised.
"Now, are you done interrogating me?" Kaz asked. "Because I would like to get on with the job."
'So, here's the plan.'
The hotel was ridiculous grand for the streets of Ketterdam. Granted, it did sit in the middle of the Financial District and was within view of the Stadwatch barracks to avoid any burglaries, heists or assassinations.
It was strictly reserved for the rich and wealthy and the majority of Ketterdam knew they would never be privileged enough to see inside the marbled walls.
And up until now, Y/N had thought herself one of those people.
'Jesper, Y/N, you two will go in disguised as staff. Inej will be on the roof and sneak in through the skylight.'
'And what about you, Kaz?"
"I, darling, Y/N, will be causing a distraction.'
"What do you mean there's no reservation for me?!"
Y/N looked up from the bin she was emptying. Kaz was standing at the front desk, dressed in a - quite frankly ridiculous - outfit, waving his arms around and swearing. A lot. Y/N glanced over at Jesper, a smile pulling on her lips. "I take it that that's the distraction," she whispered.
As Kaz continued to flap his arms like a bird, Y/N and Jesper headed over to the hand-operated elevator. The two of them nodded at the elevator operator.
"Seventh floor, please," Jesper said, clasping his hands in front of him.
"Oh, oh, wait, please!"
A woman, dressed in the ridiculous fashions of the wealthy, bustled into the elevator, dragging about eight different cases and hat boxes with her.
"You," she said, snapping her fingers at Jesper, "take these up to my room - number 754b." The woman turned to Y/N. "Be a dear and take these."
Before Y/N could protest, a black, leather briefcase was pushed into her arms as Jesper was pushed out the door. The elevator operator sighed and began working the elevator up to floor 7.
"I like your dress, ma'am," Y/N said, attempting to break the awkward elevator music.
"Oh, aren't you a dear!" The women cooed. "My husband - Van Halla - bought it for me."
Y/N almost dropped the briefcase.
'What floor is Van Halla staying on?'
'Seventh floor, room 54b, Inej. It's the penthouse and the only room with a skylight.'
'Which is how Inej is getting in. But how are we getting out?'
'Front door, Y/N. If this goes to plan, we'll walk out that hotel through the front door with the watch.'
'And if something goes wrong?'
'Well, then, Jesper, I guess you'd better get acquainted with Hellgate.'
The elevator trundled up to the seventh floor and Y/N traipsed after the woman - who was, apparently, Van Halla's wife - to the penthouse.
As Y/N stepped into the penthouse, one thing went through her mind.
Money does not buy you taste.
And that was coming from someone who lived in the Slat which was, to be fair, held up by sheer terror at what Kaz may do should it collapse.
"Just leave the bags in the bedroom, darling," the woman called, waving a hand to the right.
Y/N hovered awkwardly for a moment, trying to work out where exactly in the cavernous, garishly white and orange room she was pointing to. Eventually, Y/N spotted a double door - bright orange like the cushions on the sofa - and assumed that was the bedroom.
She opened the doors and almost dropped the bags.
The 'bedroom' was bigger than her room. In fact, it was probably bigger than her room, Jesper's room, Kaz's room and Inej's room combined.
"Damn," Y/N muttered, her eyes wide. "What it is to have money, huh?"
Y/N dumped the bags on the floor near the wardrobe and turned to go when a small, black velvet box sat on a table. She paused.
"Do you want me to unpack the bags, ma'am?" Y/N called, quietly approaching the table, trying to get a closer look at the engraved plaque on the top of the box.
"No, no, you're fine!"
Y/N stood in front of the table, her heart pounding. Happy birthday, Van Eck was engraved on the top of the box. Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out an identical box.
'So, we switch the boxes?'
'Thanks to Jesper's hidden talent - no need to roll your eyes, Jesper - we have an exact replica of the watch. Minus a few details, obviously, drawings and sketches only give so much detail.'
'And if we get caught with the watch? Because either way, they'll know something's up.'
'Best not to get caught then, Y/N. However, if for whatever someone isn't at the rendevous, we'll plan something.'
'So reassuring, Kaz.'
'Oh, good, I'm glad, I was concerned I my tone wasn't coming across.'
Y/N glanced out into the main room of the penthouse and quickly switched the boxes, making sure the fake was in the exact same position as the original. She slipped the original into her pocket and stepped out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
"If that's all then, ma'am," Y/N said, bowing to the woman.
"Yes, yes, thank you," she said, nodding.
Y/N headed towards the front door when it swung open and a large man, with a red face and a huge moustache, stormed in.
"Excuse me, sir," Y/N said, pressing herself to the wall as he marched past.
The man barely looked at her - he just sniffed.
"Victoria! Why did you not wait for me?" He called.
"You were busy having a go at some man, darling," the woman - Victoria - replied. "Feel better for yelling?"
"Oh, wife, you know me too well."
Y/N quickly left the room before Van Halla started kissing his wife. They were only some things she could cope with.
With the watch secure in her pocket, Y/N made her way back down to the elevator. She spotted Jesper on her way - struggling with the numerous bags Van Halla had apparently abandoned.
Y/N whistled at him and gestured her head, tapping her wrist. Jesper dropped the bags - Y/N was certain she heard something smash - and jogged up to her side.
"You got it?"
"It was surprisingly easy," Y/N whispered as they headed to the elevator. "It was lying there."
The music in the elevator played joyfully as they rode down - Y/N was trying not to bop to the light plinking piano music.
'So, once we've got the watch. How do we get out?'
'No need to point between you and Jesper, Y/N, I knew who you meant. You two will go out the servant's entrance here and meet Inej and I where the carriages are stored.'
'And if things go to shit?'
'Luckily for you, Jesper, I have plans ranging from A all the way to T.'
'What happens if we get to S? Damn, Kaz, no need to glare at me like that, Saints. You could set me on fire!'
'Shut up, Y/N.'
"Never, boss.'
The servant's entrance was quiet and empty which was a blessing for Jesper and Y/N - especially since Y/N could feel the watch box beginning to metaphorically burn a hole in her coat.
A guard was sat in the chair by the door, intently reading a book. He looked up as they approached and smiled.
"Ah, hello!" He said, standing up. "Right, let's do this quickly, shall we? I'm at a good point in my book. So, you know and I know this but I have to state it again for rules - I have to search you as you come in and out the building since we have numerous Merchants staying here. We don't want anything expensive to get stolen since we can't afford a lawsuit!" He clapped his hands. "So, which one of you wants to get searched first?"
Y/N and Jesper shared a look.
"I'll go first," Y/N volunteered, stepping forward and holding her arms out.
The guard patted her down, humming joyfully as he did so. "Perfect! And you, sir?"
Jesper stepped forward but tripped over the leg of the chair, knocking the chair over and jogging the table and knocking a vase over.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jesper exclaimed, kneeling down to pick up the vase.
"Oh, it's fine, I do it all the time," the guard said, smiling. "Anyhoo."
Jesper set the vase on the table and lifted his arms. "You know, this isn't usually how I like to begin."
The guard looked up at him and raised his eyebrows, smiling. "No?"
"No. I prefer a more intimate setting."
Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed. She cleared her throat pointedly and Jesper winked at the guard, stepping aside.
"Seriously?" Y/N hissed as they walked down the side street to the garage at the back.
"It worked, didn't it?" Jesper replied.
"Oi!"
Jesper turned with a smile on his face, fully expecting it to be the previous guard. Except it wasn't. A sterner looking guard was marching towards them both with a glare in his eyes.
"The idiot back there forgot to ask for your papers," he snapped. "Papers. Now."
'What happens if we need papers to get in and out?'
'I've thought about that.'
'And?'
'Well, best get running. And try to avoid bullets.'
'Why did I expect anything else from you, Kaz?'
Jesper's hand brushed against Y/N's as he stepped forward, communicating silently the plan.
Which consisted of nothing more than run.
"We forgot our papers," YN said smoothly.
The guard raised his eyebrows. "Well, then I can't let you leave until I've contacted your supervisor. You'll have to come with me."
As the man reached out to grab Y/N's wrist, she grabbed his arm, and using all her strength, flipped him over her back and into the floor.
"Go!" Y/N yelled, shoving Jesper up the hill as she ran down it.
Y/N leapt over the guard and ran down the street, the steep gradient speeding her up. The garage was at the other end of the street - up the hill where Jesper had gone - but Y/N knew the guard would be chasing after her.
For a moment, all Y/N could hear was her pounding heartbeat, her vision bouncing up and down as she ran. And then a gunshot cracked out.
Y/N stumbled forward and then darted to the right, hiding in a bush in someone's garden as she panted. She kept quiet as she heard the guard stop right in front of her bush. Y/N didn't allow herself to relax until the guard swore loudly and jogged back up the hill.
Y/N leant her head back against the wall behind her and felt tears well in her eyes as she pressed a hand to her stomach. The bullet had gone through her back and out through her stomach. There was so much blood and the pain was overwhelming - almost blinding.
But, Y/N forced herself out of the bush and to her feet. There was a back alley with a set of stairs leading up to the garage - a very steep set of stairs, mind.
Step by step, Y/N climbed up the stairs, tightly holding onto the handrail as she climbed. Thankfully, the row of expensive-looking carriages was at the top of the stairs and Y/N's knees nearly buckled with relief when she saw the familiar slim shape of Inej.
"Inej," Y/N gasped, falling forwards onto her knees.
Inej ran over to Y/N, her feet silent on the cobbles. She knelt down next to her and held Y/N up with a hand on her uninjured side. "What happened?"
"Oh, turns out we need papers to get out," Y/N grunted, hissing with pain as Inej pressed a black handkerchief - that looked suspiciously like the one Kaz carried - against her front wound.
"Where's Jesper?"
"No idea. Where's Kaz?"
"No idea."
"Excellent, at least we're on the same - ow - page," Y/N inhaled sharply, her hand flying to grab Inej's arm as a wave of pain tossed her into a rock. "Saints."
"It went straight through, thankfully, so I think if we stitch it when we get back and keep it clean -"
"I'll live to get shot another day?" Y/N quipped, smiling despite the sheer amount of pain she was in. "I hope one of them appears with a carriage soon."
Inej kept a steady hand on Y/N's side, keeping her propped up on her knees as she tied a scarf around her waist, covering both wounds.
"Thank you," Y/N said softly, her head resting against Inej's shoulder.
"For what?" Inej asked, frowning. "For saving your life? Again? Because I'd do that even if you'd pissed me off."
A breath of laughter escaped Y/N's lips as she lifted her head. "No. Just for being here. Jesper and I..."
"I know," Inej said quietly. "Does he know?"
"About what? About how I had to watch him fall out a third storey window, not knowing if he was alive or dead? To have to cope with the mental images I have of his broken, bleeding body lying in the streets only to be thrown onto the Reaper's Barge? To know that every time I close my eyes I see Jesper where my sister was? I see Jesper jumping off the roof and plummeting instead of her? I see him staring back at me with glassy eyes and a broken neck and bleeding and -"
"Ok, ok, calm down," Inej shushed, putting a hand on the back of Y/N's head. Y/N sobbed, burying her face into the crook of Inej's neck. She cried for her dead sister, for the fact Jesper was at times an oblivious idiot and for the fact her side really fucking hurt.
"Inej I just keep seeing him lying there," Y/N sobbed. "I know he's fine but I -"
"I know, Y/N, I know," Inej said softly, stroking her hair back. She gently took her face between her hands. "But he is not your sister. Ok? Now, come on we need to get you standing."
Y/N managed to get her feet underneath her and with help from Inej, she was soon standing up - albeit a bit wobbly. Inej kept a hand on Y/N's arm, the physical contact keeping them both going as they waited for Kaz and Jesper.
Not even a minute later, a carriage rolled down the street with Kaz and Jesper in the driver's seat.
"Don't tell Jesper," Y/N said suddenly, panic in her voice.
Inej nodded. "I won't."
Kaz's dark eyes looked Y/N up and down as Jespe halted the horses to a stop. "Trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Y/N replied, trying to hide her wince of pain as she tried to stand straighter.
"Inej?"
Y/N rolled her eyes. Kaz had quickly caught on to the fact she often downplayed her pain when injured, so he often asked literally anyone else.
"Through and through - she'll be fine if get back soon," Inej replied.
"Good, on you get."
Y/N climbed inside the carriage, sinking into the velvet green seat with a sigh of relief. Inej hovered by the open door before eventually coming to a decision.
"I'll be up front if you need me," she said softly, knowing that Y/N needed a moment alone.
Y/N had never been so grateful that Inej was her best friend. The carriage doors shut, and with the curtains pulled over the windows, it was blissfully dark. Y/N closed her eyes and relaxed as best she could - she kept a hand tightly pressed over Inej's scarf and her wound.
She didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until someone tapped her knee. Y/N jumped and opened her eyes to Jesper staring at her with eyes full of concern.
"You alright?"
"Mmmhmm."
"Y/N... why are you acting strange?"
"I'm not."
Jesper sat down opposite her as the carriage resumed moving. "You are. Ever since the last job you've been acting weird."
Y/N shrugged. "Sorry."
Jesper frowned. "Is this about the last job? Look, I didn't actually fall out a window for you..."
Jesper's words faded away as Y/N's mind was filled with the memory of Jesper falling. And then it wasn't Jesper it was her sister again. And then it was Inej. And even Kaz. Over and over again they were falling and falling and falling.
"Stop the carriage!"
The carriage had barely stopped before Y/N practically threw herself outside, her side screaming in protest at the sudden movement. She didn't give anyone a second glance as she moved off the open road and down into the hedgerow. There was a small river running through the field near them - one that leads into the Ketterdam canals - and Y/N fell to her knees on the banks of it, plunging her hands into the water.
Stupid, so, so stupid. It had been years since her sister had died and just when Y/N thought she'd moved on, Jesper pushed her back miles and miles.
Y/N leant forward, leaning on her hands as she stared down at the water, her knees getting wet as she knelt in the wet grass. She heard a twig snap and sighed. "I'm fine, Jesper, just leave me alone."
"Flattered that you thought I was Jesper, but alas," Kaz said, standing behind her.
Y/N glanced over her shoulder at Kaz. "Sorry, I'll be back in a minute."
Kaz was silent for a minute. "When the memory overwhelms you, find something to ground you. The feeling of something, the sound of something, even. It helps drown it out."
Y/N nodded, sniffing softly. She grunted as she got to her feet, her hand pressed to her side. A quick glance down and she saw red but not too much. "Sorry."
"Trauma doesn't apologise," Kaz said roughly, turning around and heading back up the hill. "So why should you?"
Y/N chuckled to herself. She spotted Jesper at the top of the hill, pacing nervously as Inej tried to calm him down. It took Y/N only a few seconds to decided what to do.
"Jesper, come here," Y/N called, waving him over.
He jogged over to her and his hands were instantly on her shoulders - almost as if he was holding her together. "I'm sorry -"
"Don't be, Jesper," Y/N said softly. She placed her hand over his and rubbed a circle on the back of his hand. "My sister went insane and jumped off a roof when I was fourteen. When I saw you fall out the window... I saw her. She landed in front of me and I stared at her dead, broken body, unable to comprehend what had happened. So, when you fell... I felt like I was fourteen again. And the fact you kept joking about it didn't help. It was nothing you did, Jesper. It's my own trauma rearing its head and wanting to take me down again. I just..."
"I understand," Jesper said softly, his eyes gentle and caring as he looked at her. "And I'm sorry."
"No, don't be. Trauma doesn't apologise so why should we?"
Kaz, who was trying not to listen, smirked to himself. He tapped the side of the carriage with the head of his cane. "Come on, lovebirds, we need to move."
Y/N turned back to Jesper and smile, despite her heart aching. "All I ask, Jesper, is if you could maybe carry me back to the carriage because I really hurt right now."
Jesper laughed. "Of course I can, love."
#shadow and bone#shadow and bone imagine#shadow and bone imagines#shadow and bone x reader#six of crows imagine#six of crows#six of crows x reader#six of crows imagines#jesper fahey#jesper fahey x reader#jesper fahey imagine#jesper fahey imagines#jesper fahey x fem!reader
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