#(i come back and drop this and an absolute novel of an ask response out of nowhere...thats the dan LMAO)

[saiidahyunie]

say im ur luv 

son chaeyoung x f!reader 

synopsis: is it wrong to be in love with your best friend who’s a tattoo artist?

warnings: fluff ; smut ; friends to lovers ; tattoos

a/n: for @nr1chaedickrider, celebrating chae day early! so i hope you guys enjoy (idk how to feel ab the pacing in this one but lower the expectations, and then drop them again.)

let’s ask the question again: is it wrong to be in love with your tattoo artist?

well, if it is chaeyoung then you’re completely, with no reassurance, fucked. 

chaeyoung has been your tattoo artist since the two of you were both eighteen fresh out of high school with no money to each other's names whatsoever. chaeyoung was actually an apprentice, shaky with her gun and worrying over whether she placed the stencil correctly. 

she was the one who did your first ever tattoo, and you were chase’s first solo tattoo ever. 

so there shouldn’t be any wonder if you were in love with her, something straight out of a romance novel or those corny, coming of age movies that could be easily replaced with something else. 

it’s only up until now that chaeyoung is the only person that’s ever allowed to ink your skin, the only individual that’s responsible for every design etched in skin and you’re in love with every single one of them. she’s a brilliant artist and you’d honestly never go to anyone else. 

but also, chaeyoung is insanely hot. like an absolute hit out of the ballpark in addition to being the sweetest person that you’ve ever met. you’d never expect it of her with a gorgeous tattoo on her lower back that you don’t even know what it is because she’s never actually made it clear herself. aside from all of the imitating and artistic ink, she has that sweet side, a calming presence while also being incredibly patient with her clients, kind nearly to a fault. to this day, chaeyoung barely changed her hourly rate, at least not for you. 

at first, it started to be relatively cheap when she was working towards her license. once she got it, her rate went up a bit, but capped out to a hundred an hour. you know from the online website that she charges far more now and despite that, chaeyoung never charged you any higher. you suspected that it was because you accidentally told her how long it took you to save up for a tattoo, back when med school was sucking the life out of you, draining every cell in your body to pay back those stupid student loans. 

chaeyoung asked you why you haven’t been coming in as often, and you being the idiot you were letting the reason spill out your mouth. you’d always tip her more than enough to cover the difference which resulted in her complaining about it after. she gave up, letting it be a normal thing between you and her, finding new and creative methods to force her to take the extra cash that you’re paying. last time that happened, you slipped it between one of her vinyls that she set off to the side before her session with you. 

the next thing you’d see on your phone were the string of curses about an hour later and it was clearly the highlight of your day. 

however, chaeyoung would also be snarky as hell and give you more than good when riled up. you know that all too well, it’s seen in the years of knowing her, all of the dollars and hours spent upon being stabbed by a needle, but you know you’ll be in good hands with chaeyoung better than any other client she’s been with. 

to backtrack, you are completely in love, and you think you sold yourself short because: 

1. chaeyoung is way out of your league.

2. chaeyoung doesn’t date her clients. 

—

the news itself was a tough pill to swallow when you foolishly told mina that she was your favorite tattoo artist and somi doubled down saying that you were totally in love with chaeyoung. of course, mina being always so forward with what she wanted took it upon herself to get her own tattoo from the said lovely tattoo artist and hopefully beat you to getting with her, just to piss you off even more. 

in all fairness, mina did it in retaliation for the new year’s kiss incident that was never really spoken about ever again, but still who in their right mind would go for something like that? 

blind arrogance and anger aside, you had gone with mina as support while also fending off any advances towards chaeyoung in the form of damage control. this effort would go up in flames and once chaeyoung had slipped her gloves on, mina kept her cool like she always does hitting on chaeyoung, making you stop cold in your tracks by fear that she would accept. 

a part of you was relieved to hear her flat out reject mina, by saying that she was a cool friend to have, but ultimately, “no thanks.” 

then the following sentence just sent your heart down into oblivion when you heard the words, “i don’t date clients.” come out of her mouth in record time. after that incident, it was a tough pill to swallow, but safeguarding all of these feelings for chaeyoung was locked away in a little box sunk to the bottom of the ocean. 

oddly enough, it hadn’t worked and yet here you were, another day with the tattoo appointment with the very focus of obsession the next day. there’s a lot of things going through your head–

regret was one of them.

second being hatred.

both of these things aren’t enough power to really cancel the appointment, but it’s fine. 

working the overnight shift down at the local hospital because there was an opening in your availability, so you took it. surprisingly enough, it was quiet for once. so just chatting on the seats along the hallway of the ER while your coworkers were getting some filing and charting done to kill the hours. thing’s are going great as they are. 

“y/n, weren’t you just here yesterday morning?” yuqi, one of the senior nurses asking across from the check-in desk opposite of you. 

“yeah,” you respond cheerfully, spinning the iced macchiato you saved in the break room to drink. this shit is aboslute dog piss, you’re thinking to yourself downing it, but it’s times like these where you’ve got to do anything to stay awake. 

yuqi frowns, disapproving and the gaze sends a shiver down your spine like she emulated your mom scolding you. “did you take a break by any chance?” 

“qi, my thirty was a little over an hour ago.” 

“when do you get off?” 

“about an hour and a half,” you tell her with a post-it note stack between your fingers. yuqi turns around for a moment, whispering numbers from the clipboard she’s skimming through next to the walkway before turning back, expression stern but prospective. 

“alright, we have more than enough people to last uss for the rest of the night, so why don’t you go ahead and get room 8 set up before heading out, i feel bad that you’re working here back to back.” 

it’s an offer you couldn’t say no to, practically keeping yourself awake with the singular functioning brain cell godforbid standing on two feet - and the appointment with chaeyoung is at nine-thirty, so getting those couple hours of sleep sounds a whole lot nicer rather than showing up looking vegetable dead the moring after. 

“bless your work, qi.” 

she reaches over the desk to lightly tap your forehead, keeping you awake with her cold fingers, “you’re one of my best people, can’t have you crashing on the floor like the other patients, right?” 

“you tell wendy that, and i’ll request another schedule change!” you chortle before swiping the chart from yuqi’s hand, stepping your way towards room 8. it was way too early for you to be this obnoxious, but hey, with three cans worth of red bull and two latte’s from nana’s coffee shop you bought before your shift this is the kind of energy you would have at 3 am. 

you’ve done well for yourself being popular with most of the nurses on your floor and you like to think it’s because you’re good at your job and not for the reason of being adopted as the surrogate baby despite being the youngest of the bunch. you’re not losing sleep over it, nor picky, but it’s better being loathed for incompetence like most of the other new nurses arriving here. 

looking down at the clipboard, you’re skimming through the charts while the brain is rapidly running through all of the symptoms considering the doctor’s potential diagnosis and how you should proceed. 

the name on the line says: son chaeyoung, 24, sprained ankle. 

quizzical, you remember the name somehow, but can’t quite place it where. not that you’d care though, almost out of here and with about two to three days off, the break from responsibilities was so close to tasting that you’re not putting any more thought into it. though, it could be because of the similar age and possibly the same university or whatever. 

a move of the curtain with the back of your hand while your leg pulls the rolling chair from behind for you to sit on without even looking up. 

“good morning ms. son. i’m not sure if the doctor has already told you, but i see here that you just have a small ankle sprain, so we’re just gonna wrap it up with a few bandages and you should be all set to leave.”

you still haven’t looked up to see ms. son just yet, instead of giving the usual tangent while getting yourself into the right position while getting some bandages from one of the drawers below. this was the fifth sprained ankle in this shift alone and you just wish that you can just say that there wasn’t any need to come to urgent care for all of this because, most people could just deal with wrapping this at home, but nothing wrong with going through the checks from a qualified professional, so you don’t say that. 

“y/n?” 

so that’s the funny part. the damn voice that makes your head snap up instantaneously to properly observe your patient becuase you know the sound of your name bouncing off the walls of her mouth and teeth. 

chaeyoung. 

even at three in the freaking morning, she’s still pretty as ever with hair disheveled, wearing black sweats and a grey oversized hoodie. this was one of the few times that you could see barely any of her tattoos, the only ones that are visible are the small ones that were marked across different parts of her fingers, a small hyperfix you have for noticing and dreaming that you get to kiss them, along with–

ah ah ah, we’re on the clock here, remember?

“chae.” you breathe her name without really thinking about it and a smile lights up her face. “i’m not supposed to see you until nine.” 

she cracks a grin, and there’s the girl that you’re so familiar with, it never gets old. “i’m not complaining, though.” 

chaeyoung’s face blushes at this and you follow from the pretty hints of pink from the peak of her cheeks down to the elegant arch of her neck. you don’t know why you said those very words, rarely ever letting a remark with that caliber out in the terms of flirting because it’s never really something that’s to be said outside of the tattoo parlor - and also because you’re deathly afraid that she’s gonna turn you down, telling you that she doesn’t want to see you again, but you need to see more of that blush that’s burning her cheeks by the second. 

“i–uh, didn’t know that you were a nurse.” chaeyoung switches up the subject quickly, sounding shocked. you don’t take any offense to that however, let alone blame her. this career choice wouldn’t even be in the considerable options for the person that’s been tatted a few things on her left arm with a back tattoo also. 

“yeah, i’m actually fresh out of nursing school.” 

“ah.” she breathes out, lifing your gaze up to see her face. 

she’s so fucking cute. 

“right, now would you mind if i can take a look at that ankle, miss son?” you observe, grining while chaeyoung scrambles to swing her injured foot over the edge of the bed. 

“my–well, my roommate brought me in because i tripped on one of her shoes and then my ankle started to swell up. i know this is a bit of an overreaction, and i’m sorry.” she rambles nervously while you’re trying not to internally swear that you’re falling more and more in love every time you hear the sounds of happiness coming out of her mouth. 

chaeyoung, your best friend. a badass, slightly introverted tattoo artist who’s also hot, with her gun and showing off endless amounts of creamy skin on her upper body, drawn up with different designs, but chaeyoung swaddled up in loungewear and twisting over her words was also adorable. 

“nothing to worry about, this was the last thing i expected to happen on my shift tonight.” you acknowledge, bring up her foot gently to your lap so that you can start bandaging. sparing a quick look up to just be sure, and fair enough, the blush is still there, now even more apparent than a few moments ago, fighting back the grin.

she’s in your place of work today, so you can do as you please. 

it’s quick work really, and with the bandage wrapped with a few metal clips, it’s secured so that her foot doesn’t move too much before pulling away, satisfied with the work. 

“thanks.” chaeyoung tells you shyly and you’re fighting to not get over how cute she’s being today, my goodness. 

“no need, just elevate it when you get home and obviously don’t do anything to strenuous, or it could get worse.” 

“does this mean i have to cancel our appointment tomorrow then, you know i wouldn’t want to do anything strenuous.” chaeyoung asks teasingly. 

aside from all of the butterflies flying in your stomach, the urge to tell chaeyoung exactly what kind of strenuous activities she shouldn’t be doing like doing a stupid dance move or tripping on another shoe - because she’s the kind of person to do that again, and it will, so you’re shaking your head while the both of your laugh. 

“chae!” a voice interrupts you two and you see a girl standing behind the curtain with a water cup in her hand. 

“manda, what the hell did i tell you?! keep your voice down, this is a hospital.” 

the girl you assume to be manda does shut up, before not giving you a very thorough look over that makes you feel a little bit uncomfortable. 

“oh, y/n. this is manda, my overprotective roommate that brought me in because she’s impulsive. and manda this is y/n, she’s my best friend since wearing diapers and a regular at my shop.” chaeyoung introduces you, a cautious tone in her voice. 

you were going to exchange some niceties only to be stopped by a gasp from the sound of your name. 

“you’re telling me that this is the y/n? the day one that you’ve been gushing over about for god knows how—” chaeyoung’s quick to slap her hand over manda’s mouth, grinning weirdly while grabbing her socks and shoes while dragging manda away. 

“well, it’s been nice seeing you lovely. actually i’ll be seeing you tomorrow anyway, so this has been fun. i’ll make sure to keep my ankle in shape.” chaeyoung calls back to you, totally ignoring her own words as clearly puts weight on the said injured foot, towing her roomate away, hand over her mouth still. 

“wait!” you exclaim to her peeking out the doorway, “you have to sign the release form!” trying to tell her, but she’s already past the corner and into the main lobby of seats without even putting her shoes back on. the whole dilemma makes you laugh. 

maybe the chance of getting with your best friend is a lot more apparent than it seems. 

—

chaeyoung, on the other hand, wants to die. honest to god for the feeling of crawling into a cave to rot for eternity. 

she’s done a really great job for as long as she could not letting you know that she loves you, while also wanting nothing more than to just have a full-fledged confession scene occur out in the rain. it’s only this possible for her feeling this way for years now. 

unlike you, she’s had her fair share of slips-ups. as a matter of fact, she’s absolutely god awful at keeping things somewhat professional with you and if her brother jeonghoon found out how often she’s taken advantage of your trust as a tattoo artist, then she knew that things wouldn’t be pretty. 

admittingly, chaeyoung also hides the fact of the countless times your clothes were off in the shop. it didnt’ mean to start off like this, but any chance that she got, she wanted you to show as much skin as possible - you know, for stenciling purposes and whatnot. 

a simple tattoo on the arm? roll up the sleeve. 

a tattoo in between your breasts and under off to the side? you’re cupping your breasts for her on the bench. 

even a freaking ankle tattoo? you’d happily oblige with taking off your sweatpants when you didn’t even need to. 

it didn’t matter, whatever chaeyoung wanted for her hobby, she would get. 

all of that would be thrown under the bus because her roommate manda outed her which makes the whole act completely derailed, and she doesn’t know how she’s gonna face you in a few hours. 

chaeyoung has known you since that one random middle school event that was probably a halloween party for the class one day where you dressed up as coraline and she was emulating the early forms of her gothic, grunge core aesthetic. you took it upon yourself to compliment her appearance and ever since that interaction, you and her have been attached to the hip. 

it was some achievement that you’d be the first person chaeyoung would tattoo, but it meant a lot to her. marking you up to make her art was something that she appreciated along with being the first customer. 

your body for her was her own personal canvas, no one else has had the luxury to ink your skin except for her, and the thrill that comes with it is just amazing. in the design book, your tattoos are the ones that chaeyoung always showcases, because they are the epitome of perfection, and she makes sure of it. she’s been the person to point at for every single body modification on you up until now. 

it had been a little bit after the visit to the emergency room, and now she’s going to see you, cursing at the fact that her roommate manda and her big mouth. she groans once sitting up the bed, getting up with a hitch in her step because of her ankle - so much for dressing up, it’ll be a lazy outfit for today. 

even though it hadn’t been that long–considerably a while–-since chaeyoung had last seen you, completely forgetting the fact that you were a nurse, but that just made you hotter in chaeyoung’s eyes. it’s insane to even think about for your own good, a healthcare professional that saves lives on the regular, yeah you’re instantaneously hotter. 

a quick shower and dress up is how chaeyoung does on a typical workday to see her favorite client: a simple shirt that shows all of the tattoos she has on her arms. on the agenda for you was some backwork and knowing that you love to have your head laid onto the side, she hopes that it’ll be a good view to see all of the designs that are on chaeyoung’s arms. 

making her way to the kitchen, chaeyoung’s eyes were set on manda who looks to be making an apology breakfast for her. 

“chae, you’re up! how’s your ankle?” she asks. chaeyoung doesn’t respond, just sitting down and glaring at the back of her roommate's head. manda turns around, a frown marring her normal happy face and lets out a sigh of irritation. “i’m sorry! i don’t know why i said that but i’m sure that it’ll be okay! maybe y/n loves you back and this is just something you needed, consider this a favor!” 

chaeyoung swipes the jug of juice, pouring herself a glass before tossing the cap, clearly unhappy with this development of everything so far.

“hey! what the hell! i said i was sorry!

chaeyoung sighs, hanging her head while manda sets down a plate of waffles down, mumbling a sound of acceptance. “it’s fine, just please keep your big mouth shut about it, okay? don’t even think about coming by the shop, i’ll be tattooing her in a bit.’

“you got it.” manda says, nodding her head resolutely. 

as chaeyoung prepares to dig into her breakfast, manda sits across from her, looking like she wants to say a few more things and she figures that it’s better to get it all out on the table now rather than later. “just say it.”

“you’ve known your best friend for so many years now. why are you staying quiet about it? you’ve been her tattoo artist and you haven’t done a single move on her!”

“god, can you just–”

“you’re not taking advantage of it! for all i know maybe y/n feels the same way!” manda finally says before pondering to add anything else. instead, “okay, i’m done with my rant now.” 

chaeyoung considers her words, and she’s not wrong. the chemistry between you and her has always been crazy, just by being in the same room as you, it drives her up the wall in some cases. while manda might be saying is true, it also solidifies the fact that every tattoo that she put on you was an extension of her no matter how long it took or how it looked. 

she remembers you laughing at all the times of her taking forever, messing around with the size and placement of the stencil. you’d tell her every single time that it was fine, it was those kinds of appointments which turned into hangouts despite the difference in schedules between you two. 

“you’re right.” chaeyoung says, “because you told her that i like her, and now well something has to happen. i can’t ignore this anymore. 

manda simply giggles and chaeyoung puts on her glasses before getting ready to head out the door. she has a client to see soon after all. 

—

now in her own workspace, chaeyoung fiddles around with the different trinkets and equipment about several times because of her sheer nerves because what was she going to do? you know about her massive crush now and there’s nothing but nerves ever since. were you going to say anything about it? what would she do? how should she react to it?

she hates it here, it’s because she’s never been this nervous with you before. 

all of her thoughts would have to wait when they’re interrupted by you entering the room, wearing black baggy jeans and a simple black sweater that might be a little bit cropped that exposes your lower abs. in scrubs or in normal clothes, you looked way to good. 

“hey,” you snap her attention towards you with a bright smile. “your brother at the front just told me to come in, i figured that you were busy getting ready so–”

“that’s okay! i-i was just cleaning a bit, go ahead and sit down while i get the stencil ready.” 

chaeyoung can’t believe what she sounds like right now, she needs to get it together. 

“everything good with you chae?” you ask her while setting yourself on the bench.

chaeyoung is definitely not okay, at this point she wants to melt into slime on the floor, but you haven’t brought up manda’s big fumble so things might be fine. she hates how you say her nickname, it’s so natural, but why does it feel so different now?

“i’m good, even better now that you’re sitting down i’ll show you the sketch.”

you comply, eyes parting like saucers when chaeyoung shows you the sketch of the symbols that you were going to have on the right side of your back. chaeyoung herself hand picked the words and the meaning behind them so needless to say, “my god!? i love it!” 

“it’ll be somewhat similar to what i have on my back already, so i took a bit of inspiration to be honest.” 

“so, matching tattoos basically?” 

“yep.” 

“best friends for so many years and we’ll finally have matching tattoos.”

the hum of the tattoo gun starts to buzz in the room and chaeyoung is blasting some music to help mask it, helps her get in the zone. 

your session was a little over two hours, the outlining was probably the most challenging part since chaeyoung wouldn’t stop drooling at your toned back at times for you to say her name in order to snap out of it. other than that, most of the work had been finished and the last thing was to get the shading in between the open spaces of the symbols. 

“i think we can have this finished by tomorrow.” she says to you, looking up when she has the mirror reflecting the almost completed project. “what do you think?” 

“you sure? i felt like we can have this done by today.” 

chaeyoung leans over to you sitting upright, wrapping your new ink on your shoulder while her face was extremely close to yours, face burning up when she feels your breath hot on her neck. “i’d love to keep you here so that we can catch up, but i do have another client in about thirty minutes.” 

“how does tomorrow sound?” 

“you might be in pain from today as it is.” 

“so? this is nothing new for the both of us.” you tell her, fingers waving forward and backward in the space below while maintaining eye contact. 

“you’re an idiot.” 

“but you love that don’t you?” 

chaeyoung giggles, and you’re putting back on your sweater before standing up on the way out of the door. “so i’ll see you soon then?” you ask, and chaeyoung just nods with a dimple peaking out while your back is turned to her, door closing behind leaving her alone. 

she’s definitely fucked, and it’s even worse when she can’t even speak to you properly anymore.

—

“y/n.”

“hmm?”

“stop moving.” 

you don’t move again in the next session the following day. chaeyoung props her elbow on the line of your lower back, catching on the corner of her eye when your upper back muscles tense up from the sudden pressure. she could get lost on how your body looks from the back and the front, but she loses the willpower to (god help her delusional mind when she finally sits back down on the chair)

eventually, she finally finishes the symbol design in a matter of an hour and to her honesty, it’s one of the best works that chaeyoung had on you for a while now. 

you look at it from the full body mirror on the door, but you’re not even paying single attention to the new design when chaeyoung sees your eyes not even looking at the tattoo, but at her. “you idiot! you’re not even looking!” 

“so, i already did.” you retort, and chaeyoung wants to smack you. 

“do you not like it?” 

“i do, it’s amazing, but this is not what i’m thinking about right now.” 

chaeyoung and her two functioning boba brain cells managed to connect the dots: you were talking about her. as cheesy as it sounds but she falls for it, and had already fallen for you. 

“so, are we gonna keep ignoring what’s happening between us, or do i have the chance to ask you out on a date?” 

“y/n, i know you’re one of my best friends for all time now, but you forget that i don’t date clients.” 

you laugh, stepping closer to her where the space suddenly gets small in the room. physical touches between friends had always been natural with chaeyoung. for some reason, chaeyoung can’t function properly when you’re grabbing her cheek with your slender fingers, imposing your eyes into her’s, staring into her soul.

“i think you can make an exception for me then.”

chaeyoung slaps your hand lightly away from her face, hiding her blush terribly with that same dimple under her cheek breaking through. you’ve already won. “i’ll come get you at 7:30, so be ready by then.” 

chaeyoung too, has also won, without having any role in this development at all.

—

despite being excited for the first date, that gets swept under the bus because once you were at the doorstep at her apartment, chaeyoung decides that it doesn’t matter if she eats or not (she’s gonna eat regardless). she wanted you and needed you now. 

outside of the hospital and tattoo parlor, chaeyoung has danced around the idea of hooking up with her best friend, and luckily the stars aligned when you felt the same way. the dinner was completely unnecessary for her to get you.

and, she motions you inside, following dutifully, taking off your shoes and sliding them into the rack nearby. “i made a reservation at that one place you always liked and after i thought we could just hit the roller rink after.”

chaeyoung ignores you, instead she grabs your arm to drag you to her room. “chae? what’s happening–” 

she shuts you up by kissing you, pressing you against the door. swiping her tongue across the opening of your mouth, letting out a moan once she finally achieves what she’s been building up to for so long. you’re quick to pick up on the message, i mean shit–you could let her do all the work for all you care, but that would take out some of the fun anyway. 

your tongue continues to fight for dominance against hers, hands sliding across her body, reaching down for her ass, grasping it that makes her let out a whine, grinding your knee into the space between her legs. chaeyoung is the first to pull away, resting her head on the front of your shoulder, “fuck–do you know how long i’ve–”

“we really doing this or what?” 

“i’m gonna lose my mind if you don’t get your fingers inside of me right now, so shut the fuck up.” 

her lips are quick to get on yours again, hands sliding underneath her dress and onto her ass, clutching it with everything in your grip enough to get bruises on them, and you will. chaeyoung slips off your aviator jacket, leaving you just in your shirt while it showcases the tattoos that she put on you across your arms. 

managing to reach the bed rather than just getting it down right on the floor, you sit while chaeyoung strips her white oversized sweater, revealing a lacy black bra underneath and all of the tattoos that were on her arms: the line of carrots, her birdcage, the heart and arrow on the side of her neck. everything about her was so alluring, and it’s making you crave for her more. 

she’s quick to straddle you, breathless, like she too is nervous for what’s about to happen. you laugh, “what?” she asks, letting herself nestle into the cushiony seat of your thighs, hands on her bra before it’s up in the air and out of the picture. 

“nothing,” you say, landing a feathery kiss onto her small, perky breast. “you’re so quick to jump on this like you’ve been wanting this to happen.” 

chaeyoung tries to respond, only to let out a moan when your mouth lands on her nipple, slicking it up with saliva while you massage the other one. she shivers at the lovingly touches you’re giving her, lightly playing with the back of your hair on your neck as you indulged in her tits. 

“god, you’re—so fucking–” she grips your head deeper into her chest. “please–y/n–i can’t–”

your eyes look up to hers, mouth still on her nipple, pulling away for a second to catch your breath. “you look so good for me, pretty–god–” chaeyoung pulls you up to her face for another kiss, groaning again for more need, and drowning in pure bliss. 

quick to elevate the next move, you flip her over, bedding being ruffled when her back hits the sheets, a laugh leaves her lips and your mouth is all over her neck. chaeyoung loves this, she’s been waiting for this fantasy to be fulfilled for the longest time now and it’s finally happening all at once. 

“i’m gonna make you feel good now. does that sound good?” 

“please.” chaeyoung stutters out. 

“anything for you, pretty.” 

you then start to trail down to her sweatpants, tugging them away, smiling in satisfaction when it’s a lacy red g string with a visible wet spot in the middle, her hips twitch when you press a finger lightly across the fabric. they’re the next article of clothing to go, kissing up her inner thighs and chaeyoung can’t bear to look at the action of the top of your head happening down to her core. 

“baby, you’re dripping for me.” 

“f-fuck–”

“that’s fine, i like it when you’re excited for me. it’s cute.” 

not even giving her the luxury to speak after that, you latch your mouth onto her cunt and the sudden surge of pleasure makes her groan out loud that even catches you off guard. the surprise is also apparent when she places her feet on the small dips on your collar bones, giving you more area to work with as you’re lapping her pussy up. 

chaeyoung reaches for your hair the more you let your tongue dampen from the wetness of her slit, trying different ways to get new tones of moans out from her, this method works when you slip two fingers inside her and my god she’s soaked. 

“ngh–fuck y-y/n–baby, i—yes–yes, right there.”

she’s jerking and grasping for anything within arms reach, to keep her mind off from the spot inside her that’s being sucked away by you. it’s fucking her head when your tongue reaches deep, ass off the mattress before you restrain her down. 

“don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–”

you hum into her core again, pulling away slightly over her swollen cunt, “you’re close are you?” 

“shit–why did you—” 

“i have an idea.” 

chaeyoung then sees you rise up from the edge of the bed, shifting her back more onto the mattress before slipping out of your pants and underwear, waddling through to chaeyoung’s head before turning around with your pussy hovering over. you then see chaeyoung lick her lips in anticipation of what you were doing, the eyes telling you how much she wanted you and you couldn’t complain about it. 

“don’t be shy, y/n. sit on me.” 

oh. 

smiling at her command, you press your pussy onto her mouth, stifling a moan before you lean over to resume eating chaeyoung out. the sounds that fill up the room are sinful, reactions of approval with hands grabbing at skin, humming inside each other's core to edge out one over the next. chaeyoung is a quick learner when she returns the same treatment you gave her by slipping a finger against your folds, clutching the blanket next to you two while you feverishly grind your cunt over her tongue. 

two could play at that game, and you up the ante with licking up her folds, thumb tapping her clit once, then twice, then a third. she’s shaking into the bed, you’re trying to catch your breath - everything about this first time is euphoric - it’s amazing to relish in when you hook your hands underneath her thighs, finishing up the course that you’ve been craving over the planned dinner. then–

“fuck, baby. i’m so–so close.” 

chaeyoung is begging to cum, and you’re fighting the tightrope in your stomach to not cum before her, but you’re picking it up and she is preactially yelping at this point. eventually, she lets go, trembling when you clean up the arousal, that savory juice that is soaking your fingers and leaking out of her well-worked cunt. 

you’re quick to follow too, gripping her waist and forcing your hips down on her, nearly suffocating to the point before you also let loose from the swirling mouth and tongue eating you up from the inside. shaking once you lift your hips off of chaeyoung’s face, plopping down beside her and leaving sloppy kisses all over her face and neck, drunk on the scent from you and her. 

—

it might’ve been a few hours or the next morning, and the dinner reservation is out of speculation.

chaeyoung is the first to wake up and takes the time to observe her new piece of art in a more closer detail. it’s been a while since she had a chance to look at you like this, tracing along the slopes of your cheeks, the dunes across your chest and waist, down to your hips. she sees the ink all over your arm, especially the one in between your breasts - the inscribed saying under your right boob. everything about you was impressive, and the shading was spot on. 

“admiring the curation?” you ask her, voice labored while you peek down through your pretty lashes. 

“yeah, i’m good at what i do, i can see why you always came back to see me.”

“oh, trust me. you are, but that’s not why i come back to you.” you break a grin and chaeyoung blushes through the compliment,

“shut up.” she says, slapping your arm in retaliation. 

“i do like the one you just did on me recently, the symbol and everything. now cool that we match.” you say, showing the underside of your wrist, “i want this one to be filled in. something meaningful too by the way.” 

chaeyoung scowls. “it’ll be small, but what do you want?” 

“hmm,” you’re being pensive, staring up at the ceiling. “i dunno, something that’s already on you that can be put on me.” 

chaeyoung then shakes her head. “no.” 

you laugh, “would chae be sufficient for you instead of the tattoos you have already?” 

“deal.” 

“okay, i’ll come by next week to get that taken care of.” 

“i’ll get one on me also.” 

you comb her hair, looking at her confused, “what do you mean?” raising a brow after. 

“you’ll see later.” she tells you. 

you find out later indeed, when you’re going down on her on the kitchen counter top, noticing the bandage that finds your name inked just over the small divot of her hip. 

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #hyunie #kpop imagines #twice imagines #son chaeyoung #son chaeyoung x reader #chaeyoung x reader #twice smut #kpop smut #twice chaeyoung

[jae-bummer]

Blocked Contacts

Request: can you please do #15 with a protective hao? like he gets snarky with the ex and drops his funny one liners. thank yooou! :)

Prompt:

15) You and your bias run into your ex.

Pairing: Seventeen The8 x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst

TW: Ex repeatedly contacting Y/N and showing up at their apartment.

.

Days off with Minghao were few and far between. With your opposing schedules and general life responsibilities, it was seldom you were both sharing your small apartment at the same time. When days free of responsibilities presented themselves, it was usually a gift.

Today, however, was not.

Cursing to yourself, you shut your laptop and pushed it away. You knew a disgusted expression was plain on your face as you looked up to Minghao who was casually eating his morning yogurt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he said calmly, dragging his spoon along the bottom of the container.

"I don't know," you sighed, dropping your face into your palms.

He remained silent, the sound of metal hitting glass the only thing in the kitchen.

"If I do, I'm worried I'll get mad, and honestly, I don't want to waste that energy on him," you grumbled.

"Him?" Hao asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but you knew his curiosity had been piqued.

"My ex," you muttered, finally lifting your head. "THE ex."

"Ah," he hummed, looking back to his food. "What's he up to?"

"No idea, but he tried to message me."

"Sudden shortage of children to steal candy from?" he smirked. "Absolutely no puppies left to kick?"

"Hao," you chuckled, shaking your head. "He's not a cartoon villain."

"Forgive me, love," he sighed, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. Moving toward the sink, he dropped his spoon and spun back to face you. "But I've never met the man, so I have to go off of what you've told me."

"I hadn't realized I was giving such glowing reviews," you mused.

"Come here," Hao grinned, extending his arms, complete with grabby hands.

Narrowing your eyes at him, it took only a moment to give in. Shuffling over, you slid against his thin frame, and wrapped your arms around his waist. Nuzzling into his chest, you let out a content sigh as he rested his arms on your shoulders.

He kissed your scalp before setting his chin there. "Why are you so bothered?"

"Why aren't you?"

Hao had never been particularly jealous. He was confident in who he was, as well as your feelings for him. In his head, he had nothing to worry about, so why let an emotion as petty as jealousy creep in when he could keep it locked down?

That being said, he was human, and had gone off of his peaceful rails on occasion. This mostly happened when it came to your attention. If someone was actively trying to take away your time with him, he would have a problem with it. You were his. He had no patience for anyone who acted adversely to that.

"If I was bothered by every man who sought out to contact you, I would be incessantly grumpy," he hummed. You could hear the smile in his voice. "And at this point, I'd likely want nothing to do with any of my members and I'd be planning their demise right now."

"I kind of assumed you were planning one of their impending dooms at any given time," you teased.

"Now who's the cartoon villain?"

..

*DING*

*DING*

*DINGDING*

*DINGDINGDINGDING*

"Y/N," Minghao sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.

"Oh, so the noise is bothersome?" you laughed, dropping your phone on the coffee table. "I thought you had lost your hearing."

Pausing the program he was watching, Hao pivoted himself to face you instead of the television. "I know this is a novel idea, but have you heard of manner mode?"

"I know this is a novel idea, but have you heard of me not giving a shit?" you smirked. Pointing to your phone accusingly, you added. "Plus, I'm not the problem here."

"Well, you have my attention now," he accepted. "What's up?"

"I didn't respond to the message I got this morning," you reported. "So, homie apparently got ahold of my number somehow."

"Then block him."

"You, my love, are a genius," you beamed. "But don't you think I did that?"

Minghao rolled his eyes before scooting closer to you and picking up your phone. His face immediately warped with shock. "What is this?"

"All of the numbers he's created to contact me," you continued. "There's been at least ten at this point."

"Who does that?" he gasped, scrolling up and down. Clicking into a message, he began to read. "Why can't we just talk, Y/N? It's been so long. I've changed."

"Apparently not enough to realize I don't want to talk to him," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Maybe it's time we start locking down you phone," Hao sighed, placing your phone back down as it continued to vibrate.

"Locking down my phone?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

Minghao pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "Yeah, it's common amongst idols. If someone isn't in your contacts, your phone simply will not allow them to call you."

"What about doctor's appointments?" you questioned, feeling increasingly nauseous about the new security suggestion. "Or if someone gets a new number? What am I supposed to do then? I don't have a manager to handle those types of things, Hao."

"I know," he groaned. "It was just a thought."

"Why should I have to change my life because he's an asshole?" you grumbled. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Short of what?" Hao chuckled, obviously frustrated. You hated that you were making this a problem for him too. Hated even more that you knew he wanted to protect you but didn't quite know how. "What do you want me to do? Hunt him down and beat some sense into his brainless head?"

"I mean, that wouldn't be entirely unappealing," you joked.

"Right," he deadpanned. "Your old boyfriend is a psychopath, and your new boyfriend is in jail for assault."

"You pretty much have a built-in gang," you grinned. "Surely at least Mingyu would be down to-"

"Y/N."

"Kidding!" you gasped, winding your body around his. "I just want him to go away."

Hao immediately melted into you, always the first to comfort when things were going sideways. "Want to order take out and forget outside communication exists?"

"That sounds lovely," you sighed. "I'll close my eyes and let you hide my phone."

"Perfect," he smiled. "No promises that I'll remember where I put it though."

"Even better."

...

You wiggled from side to side on the couch, contentment flooding through your bones. Minghao had wrapped you up in one of your softest blankets and put on one of your favorite reality shows before cuddling beside you. "I'm not sure why you watch this."

"And yet here you are," you hummed. "Brain rotting beside mine."

"I do it because I love you," he sighed. "But also, who is that? And why is the other girl yelling at him?"

"I can restart the episode, Hao," you laughed.

"No, no," he muttered, crossing his arms. He was quiet for a moment before he furrowed his brows. "Why would she do that?"

"Okay, I'm restarting-"

*Buzzzzzz* *Buzz Buzz*

"Is that the food?" you gasped, whipping your head toward your boyfriend. He grinned back before springing up.

"My food," he cackled. "Who said I was sharing?"

"Hao!" you gasped.

Giggling to himself, he began unlocking the handful of locks on the door before pulling it open. Swinging yourself around, you peeked over the back of the couch, eager to see what he had picked. Instead, you were surprised when he kept the door cracked and angled himself to hide whoever was on the other side.

"Well," you heard him say calmly. "This isn't my delivery."

"Who are you?"

If you hadn't continued breathing, you would have assumed your heart stopped. How had he found you? Better yet, how did he find the audacity to show up to where you lived with your new partner?

"I'm the person who lives here," Hao said slowly. "Do you have my chicken order or no?"

You knew that Hao was fully aware of what your ex-boyfriend looked like. He was simply toying with him at this point.

"Where's Y/N?"

You felt dizzy with anxiety. Why would he show up here? Sure, he was a supreme jerk when you had dated, but you never thought him capable of his behavior today.

"Who?" Hao asked, his voice all innocence. If you weren't hiding in the living room, fearing for your life, you would kiss him.

"I know they're here, man," your ex insisted. "Just let me see them."

"I have no idea who you're talking about," Hao said plainly. "They have a pretty name though."

If you were in better spirits, you would have giggled.

"Just-" you heard your ex begin to struggle as if he was attempting to move Hao out of the way, but your boyfriend stood firm.

"I would think before trying that again," Minghao said quietly, his tone venomous.

"I just..." your ex trailed helplessly. "I messed up. I want to make it right. I took time and realized that I really love Y/N."

"What's your name?" Hao asked, tilting his head.

"Jae," your ex said quietly.

"Funny," Minghao hmphed. "I haven't heard your name leave their lips. Not once. Plenty of other things though, my name included. Mostly in the dead of night, often loud enough for the neighbors to hear."

"So they're here?" Jae perked up.

You could hear Minghao sigh in defeat. Clearly, the bone head wasn't listening to him.

"They must have forgotten all about you," he said slowly. "Pity."

Backing away from the door, Hao slowly began to shut it. "I'll make one thing clear, so if you're going to clean the shit out of your ears and listen, now is the time. If you're not off my doorstep by the time my food delivery gets here, I will be calling the police.

And if you don't stop contacting Y/N, I'll make sure you'll have bigger problems than getting arrested."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't know what you mean," Hao said lightly, the door only open a few inches now.

"You just said-"

"You must have misheard," Hao sighed. "Anyways, tata, have a nice day."

Slamming the door and locking it immediately, Hao spun to look at you. "Baby?"

Having ducked back onto the couch, you tried to reclaim any semblance of calm. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you popped up again and attempted a smile. "I think so?"

"I'm sorry," Hao said, immediately crossing the room toward you. Pulling your face toward his torso, he hugged your head while you were still sitting.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" you asked, looking up at him. He had done so much for you in the past day, let alone since you had been together. You didn't know if you could possibly love him any more than you did in this moment.

"That was the last thing I wanted you to have to experience," he sighed. You could tell the exchange had shaken him up more than he wanted to admit.

"Well," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "You were extremely hot."

"Was I?" he chirped, tilting his head.

"Being assertive suites you," you grinned.

"Unfortunate," he hummed. "Because I wasn't a fan."

"That's fine," you said happily, burying your face into his stomach. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

#xu minghao #xu myungho #the8 #seventeen #svt #seventeen the8 #svt the8 #seventeen minghao #svt minghao #the8 fluff #the8 angst #the8 fanfic #the8 x reader #minghao fluff #minghao fanfic #minghao x reader #minghao angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Fall | Mat Barzal

wc. 730

A beautiful fall day with Mat Barzal

This was your favorite type of day. 

The kind of day where it’s the end of summer, and the weather is starting to cool but you still have a choice of shorts to wear if you wanted to. The air is crisp, with a hint of fall and all things good. It reminds you of the first day of school when you were a kid, rushing into the new classroom and heading straight towards your friends, with absolutely no care in the world. 

As you grew up you found the beauty of days like this and relished it. You always ended up at a nearby dog park, your tiny pup running around and playing with other dogs. You sat at a bench nearby, reading whatever novel caught your attention this week. 

It was peaceful, not many people were at the park today helping you focus more on the book before you. You had read pretty much half the novel, extremely invested in the story before you. Suddenly you hear a dog bark loudly, and you look up just as he comes tumbling towards you. He didn’t have any malice in his eyes, only pure happiness as he bounded towards you excited to meet another person. 

When the dog reaches your feet you hold out a hand, smiling fondly at the husky. He lets you draw your hand over his head, scratching lightly behind his ears. You’re grinning at the friendly pup so much you don’t even notice the out of breath boy before you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, causing you to look up. 

For a second you’re struck by his features, his brown hair flops across his forehead, a genuine smile braced on his lips. Your heart skips a beat before dropping down between your feet and rolling to a stop. 

“You’re all good,” you finally choke out. 

“Belle really likes people,” he continues with a gesture towards the husky still happily panting at your feet. 

“She’s adorable,” you say, smiling up at him. 

“Uhm, Mat,” he says, sticking out his hand awkwardly. 

You take it in your hand, offering your name in response and he smiles. He looks around, spotting your dachshund slowly but surely making his way over to you. 

“Awe is he yours?” Mat asks cooing at your tiny pet. 

“He is. His name is oliver or ollie,” you respond. 

He leans down, running a hand over your panting dog before scooping him up into his arms. Your dog leans his head on Mat’s chest, similar to the way he does to you and your face immediately softens. 

“He’s precious,” Mat says, smiling at you. 

“He likes you. He doesn’t like many people.” 

Mat grins widely at that, eventually putting Ollie down and the dog sits next to him still seemingly smiling at the boy before you. 

“Can I sit?” Mat asks and you nod, moving your bag to the ground next to you. 

By now both your dogs have bound off again, running and chasing each other causing a giggle to erupt from you at the size difference of the dogs. 

“What are you reading?” Mat asks, tipping your book up to see the cover. 

“Misery,” you respond sheepishly. 

“You’re a writer,” he states like you just said it yourself. 

You tilt your head at the essential stranger, wondering how he knew that quickly. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging as if he can feel your confusion. 

“My friend is a writer. Always has their head in a book. Not sure why though,” he explains, and you grin. 

“Gotta get the good ideas from the best.” 

Mat nods like this makes perfect sense to him and you smile, slowly shutting your book to turn to him. 

“And what do you do for a living?” 

You’re surprisingly shocked when the sun starts to set and your dog has been next to your side laying down for the past half hour. You had been smiling and laughing for nearly two hours getting to know Mat. 

“Uh so I’m late to practice,” he says and you nod. “But can I get your number?” 

He slides you his phone and you’re quick to type your number in. When you hand it back to him he’s grinning widely as he slides his phone into his pocket before calling his dog back over. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, winking before walking away. 

#mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal drabble #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal x y/n #mathew barzal fluff #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal imagine #prettytoxicrevolver fic #new york islanders fic #new york islanders x reader #new york islanders fanfic #new york islanders imagine

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Of Dreams and Dances

Holland March x Reader

Part 2 of a collab with the absolutely stunning @ken-dom after a freaky coincidence about a dream and a movie we both love... about coincidences

Read her beautiful fic and Part 1 Come Back To Me to truly understand our emotional roller coaster we hopped on together ❤️

Just a heads up, it's a tad angsty, and mentions of death, alcohol, and loss.

He wasn’t typically a bouncing ray of sunshine on a regular day, but the last week or so he had been particularly quiet.

You let out a heavy sigh standing at the kitchen sink, staring out into the dismal day that presented itself before you; it had been raining on and off for three days, today it was just overcast, but the dreary weather had been doing nothing for Holland’s solemn mood you had noticed.

You glanced into the living room drying your hands on a towel, music playing softly over your shoulder as you hung it back in place.

Holly, Holland’s daughter from his first (and only) marriage sat with her feet tucked under her, curled in the big armchair engrossed in her book, a Stephen King novel you had recommended to her a few weeks ago you noted; she had a bit of a spooky streak in her like you did…this made you smile.

You grabbed one of the plates with a grilled cheese sandwich off the counter and took it in to her; it took her a minute to realize you had been standing there offering her the plate. You chuckled to yourself when she jumped a little, finally seeing you.

“Good book?”

She nodded taking the plate “Thanks”

You smiled “Just remember, vampires aren’t real”

She scoffed as you turned back toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up “Neither are mermaids” she muttered under her breath burying her nose back in the pages.

“Don’t tell your dad” you call over your shoulder

“Tell her dad what?” Holland asks, barging through the front door like only he can.

“Mermaids aren’t real” she says from her spot on the chair, not bothering to glance up from her book until Holland snatches half of her uneaten sandwich off the plate resting on the arm “Hey!”

He makes a face at her as you come out of the kitchen with a second plate “I made you one too, you don’t have to steal from your daughter”

Before Holland can take the plate, Holly reaches up replacing the missing half of her sandwich; Holland takes the plate in one hand, the other arm locking itself firmly around your waist, the half sandwich he’d stolen off Holly’s plate already gone.

“Jesus Christ Holland, chew” you look at him as he kisses your temple swallowing the last of his mouthful.

He waves a hand dismissively releasing you from his hold as he heads towards the bedroom, plate in hand. “Gonna take a nap”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as he disappears “Love you!” you call after him

A long pause. “Sure thing, sweetheart!” comes his response from somewhere in the bedroom

You sigh, flopping on the couch, turning on the television and flipping channels waiting for something to catch your attention.

“He loves you too, y’know”

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to Holly, her legs draped over the arm of the chair now, empty plate on the floor

“He’s just afraid to say so” she continues, thumb keeping her place in her book “Because of Mom and stuff”

You give her a look and she just nods “I know, don’t say, and stuff” she mimics Holland as she rolls her eyes

You laugh lightly acknowledging her statement with a nod “I know he does”

It’s quiet for a minute before Holly speaks again, this time her voice is a little softer, a little quieter. “It’s her birthday tomorrow”

She’s dropped her head, she’s not looking at you anymore; she doesn’t want to see your reaction, doesn’t want to make eye contact; so much like her dad.

All at once Holland’s recent behavior makes sense, he never coped with his emotions well.

You knew when you met him he had been married before; Holly had very snidely pointed out the fact when you had first met her, you were quite certain she was convinced you were there to do nothing more but ruin Holland’s life.

She has since warmed up to you, confided in you even.

You never asked about his wife, but you knew tidbits,

You knew she had died, tragically, something Holland blamed himself for with a gut wrenching guilt that made your chest hurt.

Holly had told you late one night when you found her in an abandoned lot in their old neighbourhood, their old house it had turned out….

There had been a gas leak, and a fire. “Dad had his nose thing, so he couldn't smell the gas” Holly had said, before quickly changing the subject.

You had found out later, on a night when Holland had been completely consumed with guilt, drunk, and inconsolable, that he had only had time to get Holly out of the house.

***

Your mouth dropped open, hearing him tearfully recount that night that lived so vividly in his mind; you sat with him on the dingy bathroom floor as he sobbed, his body fighting the urge to throw up a second time as sobs echoed against the walls around you, his entire form shaking with grief.

You held him against your chest, rocking gently as he spoke.

“She yelled at me, told me-” his voice catching in his throat as he sniffed “T-told me to get Hol-Holly out”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your own cheeks as he continued.

“She was asleep and I-” he paused taking a breath hiccuping “I carried her outside and someone…someone took her from me. I tried to go back…but, the house it was….the flames were so….”

He trailed off lost in the memory and it was quiet for a long time before he spoke again

“Then it exploded” he said so softly you’d barely heard him “I would have….it should have been me”

****

As time wore on, you learned just how racked with guilt Holland had been, you gathered Holly hadn’t had any idea that he had only fulfilled her mom’s dying wish; for her, Holland just hadn’t learned how to move on, and she had been left to pick up his broken pieces and be the adult, make sure he ate, and slept…or passed out…kept a job. At twelve.

He wore their wedding ring around his neck, even after you had moved in together, you made a point of reassuring him that it was okay, he didn’t have to take it off, you understood.

It had come out on one of these drunken nights, which at first were frequent, and really the only time Holland would really talk to you in his drunken stupor; that he had slept in the tub, filled with water, because he passed out so often with a half finished cigarette that he had been afraid of history repeating itself.

Now, only after many nights of reassurance and many more mornings waking up on your own, only to find him propped up in the porcelain tub, an empty bourbon bottle on the bathroom floor, he slept next to you almost nightly, only having fallen asleep on the couch on occasion after a late night on a case.

It had taken a long time to get here; for all three of you; you hadn’t signed up for a pathetic broken man to fix; who didn’t want to be fixed. A man who would rather numb the emotion and night terrors with bottle after bottle and who chained smoked like no one you had ever seen.

Yet, you found yourself put in his path over and over again for weeks straight and only after what you assumed had to be at least his tenth (you had lost count) attempt at very clumsily asking you out on a date you agreed.

He had told Holly, Healy, and anyone else who would listen that you hadn’t been able to resist his charm; you had never told him, and never would, but truthfully it was out of pity, you felt sorry for this man in front of you who had barely been able to stand on his own two feet, who so obviously craved human contact that you agreed to one date, assuming you would never see him again.

To this day, it had been the strangest date you had been on; it had started off normal enough, you had met him at a bar in the city, not completely surprised that this was his location of choice, it was only after you had found out that Holly had tagged along, much to Holland’s annoyance.

***

“You left your daughter in the trunk?!” You asked, completely shocked as you stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, Holly stood next to you with her arms folded looking irritated with him and untrustworthy of you.

“She was supposed to be a Janet’s” he said gesturing to Holly swaying on his feet, who had just rolled her eyes

“JESSICA’S!” she yelled, her nose almost touching his before she scoffed with disgust

He ignored her, holding his hand out in what you assumed he thought was her general direction “Keys”

Holly held them out and before Holland could reach for them you intercepted taking them from her “Absolutely fucking not”

“I can just drive” she glared at you and your mouth dropped open in shock

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrows watching to make sure Holland didn’t stumble into the busy street as he leaned against the front of the car. “You don’t have a license!”

“You’re joking right?” She turned her attention towards you

You shook your head “I am not, you are a child”

She pointed towards Holland “And he’s a fuck up! He drinks, he lies to people and stuff, and people hate you!” She had fully rounded on her heel, hurling her insults at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t say and stuff, just-”

“I hate you!” She had yelled loud enough to turn heads of passer’s by

“Oh, kay” you pressed your lips together ushering her in the backseat “In the car; I’ll drive”

Holland had gotten himself in the passenger seat, only after somehow managing to nearly slam his fingers in the door first.

The ride back had been quiet, Holland had laid back in the seat and you thought for sure he would pass out; Holly sat behind him in back seemingly completely unfazed by the exchange that had happened on the sidewalk. You assumed that hadn’t been the first time she had told Holland she hated him.

You had pulled into the driveway of the house and without a word Holly stomped off into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Holland had asked you to stay, and against your better judgment, something in your gut had told you to.

You pitied this man, but something about him made you feel like he hadn’t stumbled (literally) into your path by coincidence.

You sat on the front step of the house, playing with the car keys, looking at your shoes as Holland lit another cigarette.

“She doesn’t actually hate me y’know” he said, dropping his lighter back in his pocket.

You laughed a little “I hope not"

He scrunched his nose shaking his head, plucking his cigarette from between his lips “She’s a kid”

You found it odd he could say something so matter of factly and yet he treated her like someone well beyond her years.

You felt sorry for her too, knowing she probably felt she didn’t have a choice, it was clear that it had been the two of them against the world for a long time. She took care of him because she needed to be cared for, and at the end of the day, he was her dad.

“Hey,” Holland’s voice had snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head almost colliding with his; he was leaning significantly closer than he had been a minute ago.

Before you could protest, his nose bumped against yours; his large, overheated hands cupped your face as he kissed you, his lips pressed firmly against yours, his body leaning forward more and more as he had started to lose his balance.

Before he could topple over on you completely, you pushed him back gently and he looked sheepishly at his lap like he had done something wrong.

“Sorry,” he muttered “I just been thinkin’ about that for a while”

For as drunk as he had been, you were surprised he wasn’t slurring his words. You were a little taken aback by his confession and you felt heat flush your cheeks despite the cool night air.

“You have?” you asked, really looking at him for the first time; studying him.

He was an absolute mess of a man, that much was clear, a drinking problem, questionable parenting tactics, questionable ethics, some serious baggage. He wore his wedding band around his neck, and he had just kissed you, after a disaster of a date, if you could even call it that and yet…

He was handsome, almost to a fault, as disheveled as he was sitting next to you on that step. There was something oddly charming about his wrinkled suit pants, his shoes laid on the sidewalk where he had kicked them off, announcing that they were painful and unnecessary and he now sat barefoot. His hair had been windswept and messy, but not unclean. His suit jacket laid next to him on his other side forgotten, his shirt askew, the first couple of buttons undone. His facial features were surprisingly boyish for a man his age, a slender pointed nose and blue eyes that you realized were studying you with an intensity that made you pull your bottom lip against your teeth

He had nodded in response to your question, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink and you immediately found yourself closing the small gap between you, a hand cupping his face, pulling him closer as you kissed him a second time, deeper this time. Your heart fluttered in your chest in a way that you hadn’t felt in too long as his soft lips moved with an expertise even given his current state.

Your lips parted and he accepted your silent invitation, his tongue slipping past your lips hesitantly with a small noise in the back of his throat.

Your body flooded with a deep heat that immediately stopped as the porch light had been flicked on, illuminating the darkness.

Holland had jumped, pulling back but not before biting your lip. You touched a hand to your lips with a small laugh as you looked over your shoulder, Holly standing in the doorway, arms folded with a scowl on her face. Holland looked like a busted teenager and it almost made you laugh out loud.

“You can go now” she sneered and Holland hadn’t really noticed as you both got to your feet

You couldn’t really blame her, she was protecting them, him.

“But you should-” Holland stopped searching his brain for the lost words “You should stay”

You shook your head “I don’t think so” you bent to hand him his jacket and shoes so he didn’t absolutely face plant on the cement.

“Then come back,” he reasoned “Tomorrow”

You sighed running your tongue between your lips “Okay, sure” you shrugged; he was too drunk to remember anyway

“Pinky promise?” He offered a pinky and Holly huffed from her place on the step

You had hesitated simply because of her reaction, this obviously was something special between them. You nodded, but didn’t take his pinky, glancing at Holly whose shoulders had dropped slightly as she relaxed before turning back to Holland “I promise”

Much to your surprise, Holland did remember, and you had kept your promise and come back the next day, and every day since.

***

“He used to sing”

Holly’s soft spoken words pull you out of your memory from a not so distant past. The book she had been reading sits closed in her lap as she stares out the window lost in thought herself.

“Did he?” you ask, slightly surprised, you didn’t take Holland to be the type.

She nods slowly “And dance too; sometimes he’d sing really bad just to make Mom laugh” she scrunched her nose like Holland did when he was confused about something before she continued “He has this weird thing about sweet potatoes too; he used to eat them all the time, he doesn’t anymore”

You smiled, watching her reminisce but your heart broke for her; she had lost both her parents that night and she had never really grieved either of them.

You pulled yourself up from the couch and walked over, wrapping her in a hug as she sat sideways on the chair; both her arms wrapped around your forearm, pinning it to her chest, chin tucked against it and you rested your chin on top of her head.

You looked up catching a glance from Holland who had made his way from the bedroom; you traded a look as he took his dirty dish into the kitchen. You stood with Holly, quiet, holding her until she let go.

She sniffed quietly, a hand quickly wiping away what you were certain were fresh tears before she picked up the book in her lap, busying herself with the words on the page.

You didn’t say anything, just rubbed her back gently before taking your own dirty dishes into the kitchen where Holland stood just out of view.

Setting the plates on the counter, you wrapped yourself around Holland’s slim frame, burying your face in his chest with a deep sigh, breathing in his scent.

After a minute of silence, you pulled back and his blue eyes searched your face;

“Go dance with your daughter” you spoke quietly and his brow furrowed slightly

“What?”

“Go dance with Holly” you repeated “Like you used to”

You watched the realization wash over his features as he put the pieces together about what he had walked in on a few minutes ago and he shook his head

“I-I can’t”

“Holland,” you kept your voice low as your reached to touch his face, his eyes slipping closed as your fingertips made contact with his cheek, his hands still on your waist “She needs this, she needs her dad; especially now”

A single tear slipped down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb as he opened his eyes with a deep breath through his nose.

He didn’t say anything else, just walked around you out into the living room; you turned and watched as he made his way over to the chair where Holly sat, she glanced up from her book as he offered her a hand.

She looked at him slightly confused before he took her hand himself, pulling her to her feet and into the middle of the room, the book forgotten in the chair. She was tall for her age, but not quite tall enough to reach Holland’s shoulders until she stood on the tops of his feet.

After a couple of steps, Holland’s voice floated through the otherwise silent house, humming softly. You watched as Holly’s shoulders started to shake and her head dropped; Holland picked her up under the arms like you would with a small child, lifting her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck properly, burying her face in his neck; one of his hands stroking her blonde hair as she cried openly.

You could tell from your spot in the kitchen, he had been crying too. A lump forming in your own throat as you watched the two of them consumed by a moment neither of them thought they would have again; Holland, getting the chance to be the dad he had wanted, the dad he had intended to be for her. Holly, able to be the little girl she should have been before she had to grow up too quickly. His little girl.

Holland had sank to his knees on the carpeted floor, still holding Holly tightly to his chest; both of them letting the grief and loss they had kept bottled between them for so long finally be felt; You leaned back against the kitchen counter, giving them their private moment. Eyes closed as you listened to the heart wrenching sobs coming from the two of them, tears streaming down your own cheeks as you felt for them, grieving yourself for a woman you had never met but had unintentionally become such a huge part of your own life.

Later that night, you laid in the bed you shared with Holland; Holly had asked him to tuck her in and you could hear the soft murmurs of their conversation across the hall before you heard her bedroom door being pulled shut and Holland appeared in the doorway and he looked tired.

You watched him get undressed, pulling the covers back and climbing between the sheets; most nights you snuggled against him, your head resting on his chest, but tonight roles were reversed.

His head lying on your chest, you played with pieces of his dirty blonde hair, his arm draped around your midsection, his wedding band cool against your collarbone as he laid on his side, breathing softly.

He spoke and you almost jumped, startled by the noise “Does it bother you that I don’t-” he hesitated for a beat “That I can’t-.....that I can’t…y’know?”

You frowned trying hard to piece together what he was asking “Can’t what, babe?”

“That I can’t say it” he sighed defeated

Then you understood rubbing his bare arm slowly “No” you shook your head slowly “No, Holland it doesn’t”

He relaxed into your chest as you kissed the top of his head, watching the shadows dance on the wall in the dark.

The house was quiet, Holland’s head heavy on your chest as he breathed steadily.

“God I miss her” he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep

You thought about letting him think you had just fallen asleep, but decided against it “Tell me about her?” you asked, your fingers moving slowly through his hair again

A long pause.

“She was beautiful” he whispered “Holly looks just fucking like her”

You stayed quiet as he continued “She named her after me….”

Another pregnant pause as he lost himself in a long forgotten memory.

“And she loved tea”

You nodded “Tea’s good” you smiled

“American’s do it wrong” he shrugged against you “I still don’t fucking know what ‘the English way’ means”

You couldn’t help laughing then

“Don’t know how you can fuck up a cup of tea” he muttered, very obviously drifting off as he spoke.

You had drifted off yourself at some point but woke with a start, the weight of Holland’s head on your chest was gone; you turned over and the bed was empty.

You sighed pulling yourself up out of bed, the sky still dark out the window. You grabbed Holland’s housecoat off the back of the bedroom door, wrapping it around yourself as you tiptoed through the dark house.

You poked your head into Holly’s bedroom and she slept soundly. You assumed Holland had made his way back to his old comforts, but frowned when you found the tub also empty.

“Alright,” you muttered softly to yourself, “Where did you go?”

You answered your own question fairly quickly, finding the dark figure you could only assume was Holland, sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, shoulders hunched, moonlight reflecting off the glass of a mostly empty bottle in his hand resting on the table.

“Holland?” you whispered, not wanting to startle him in the dark.

When he didn’t answer or move you let out a slow breath pressing your lips together in a hard line before you tried again.Your heartbeat thudded in your ears as you spoke, muffling your own voice.

“Holland?” you said again, a little louder

He shifted in his chair then and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank God” you whispered.

Just the way he had shifted so unsteadily in his chair you could tell he was drunk, very drunk.

“You came back” he slurred, getting to his feet, catching himself on the back of the chair as you took a tentative step forward.

“What?” you asked, as he was across the room in a flash, nearly toppling you both to the floor as he drunkenly smashed his lips against yours, his arms wrapping around you with a bruising strength.

He pulled back, taking your face in his hands, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, he had been crying. Hard.

“You came back” he whispered before crushing you against him a second time, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“I didn’t go anywhere” you strained against his chest trying to make the least bit of sense about his drunken ramblings.

“Happy Birthday, Baby” He muttered into your hair and you closed your eyes wrapping your arms around him as it clicked.

You stood in the dark kitchen, silently holding each other for a few minutes before he spoke again, his lips pressed against your ear as he leaned into your shoulder.

“God damn it I miss you”

You could smell the alcohol heavy, but wanted to help him hold on to this memory as long as he needed; or as long as you could.

“Dance with me” you whispered; your hand slipping up the back of his head resting in his hair, the other snaking under his arm hooking around the back of his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. You rocked slowly on your feet, but stayed in one spot for fear that too much movement and Holland would either lose his balance or throw up ... .or both.

He had been too lost in the memory to realize you hadn’t been moving much; your neck and shoulder were wet with tears.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him gently, rubbing your hand up and down his back

“I can’t do this without you” he slurred “We were supposed to do it together…a team”

“You’re doing just fine” you soothe

“I’m not” he shook his head a little too aggressively, making himself dizzy “I’m a failure”

You lifted his head off your shoulder then, forcing him to look at you; he was far too gone to differentiate the person standing in front of him at this point. You had your hands on either side of his face, his forehead leaning against yours.

“You are not a failure, Holland March, do you hear me?”

He didn’t answer and you patted his cheek gently “Hey, do you understand?” you asked again “You have a beautiful daughter-”

He just scrunched his face shaking his head “She hates me, she thinks I’m a fuck up”

“She doesn’t hate you,” you said softly. "She loves you so much"

You realized if you let it, this conversation was going to keep going in circles.

“Come on,” You wrapped an arm around his waist keeping him upright “We’re going back to bed”

“Gonna give me those twins?” he asked, leaning on you heavily.

You closed your mouth realizing it had dropped open, as you led him down the hallway not sure what to say. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He flopped heavily on the bed and you pulled the blanket up around him before shedding the housecoat and climbing in next to him.

He turned over none too gracefully to face you as you laid on your side, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “You were supposed to give me a hundred babies” His voice was soft

You reached to push his hair off his forehead; the same softness to your own words “I’m sorry”

He just hummed, his eyes slipping closed briefly as his fingers interlaced with yours between you.

You leaned forward, kissing him gently and he hummed again, slipping deeper into sleep.

You closed your own eyes, pushing your free hand through his hair

“I love you” he muttered, barely understandable

You opened your eyes and watched him lying next to you, one hand’s fingers entwined with yours, his other arm lazily draped over your hip, his eyes closed.

“I love you too, Holland�� You whispered watching as a smile touched the corner of his lips before he started to snore softly, living blissfully in a world he could only reach in a dream.

#holland march x reader #the nice guys #ryan gosling #holland march

[whisperofthehxart]

Flowers in Your Hair

Late Spring 1/?

You’re On Your Own 2/?

3/?

Warnings: sae loves his brother, friends conspire, and a challenger appears

Word Count: ~1900

In the days following the Itoshi family’s visit, your parents berate you for not having told them more about your friends.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Mom, Dad. My newest friends are globally-known professional players.’”

“Yes, exactly that.”

“I didn’t even find out until much after.”

“How did you not know? You said it yourself, it was obvious.”

Their questions are fair, but you still find yourself pouting on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh.

“It’s just, I stopped paying attention to anything soccer for a long time.” Nearly seven years of blatantly ignoring the topic.

The situation clicks for your mother, realizing when exactly it was that you’d slowly stopped wearing your favorite jerseys and how those team posters were replaced by idol groups you didn’t even listen to.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cups your cheeks and presses her lips to your forehead.

She’ll explain the situation to your confused father later.

“It’s alright, we’re just glad that you’ve made new friends.”

-

Sae visits once more before you leave.

“Mom wanted me to drop this off.”

He stands under the door frame of your entrance, in his hand a plastic bag that he lifts in your direction.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Your parents aren’t home, both of them left an hour earlier to do some grocery shopping.

“Wanna come in?”

The bag is now in your hands (you hope it contains Mrs. Itoshi’s famous sponge cake).

“No.”

You’re in no rush to urge him out, it seems like he has something on his mind. He has that cross look on his face, like he’d rather be anywhere but here. And while that is likely, it's also the same face he makes when he’s not sure of himself.

“You changed your number.”

“Yeah, once I started paying my own phone.”

He hums to himself.

Face no longer tense he leans back stretching his arms.

“See you around then.”

And just like that he’s turning around and walking away with his hands in his pockets and an air of satisfaction in every step.

-

When Sae makes it home he greets his parents.

In the same breath he turns to his recently arrived brother and insults him.

“Lukewarm.”

He calmly walks out of the room unbothered by the sounds of Rin’s irritated response.

-

By the time you return to Tokyo, Isagi has given an exact location for New Year’s Eve lunch and you find it’s been scheduled a day early. It gives everyone plenty of time to make it home to their loved ones on the 31st but is also close enough to be legitimately called a New Year’s celebration.

All together, the matter is a small celebration.  Or at least as small as a celebration can get with such large personalities.

Aside from all those you’d already met you were introduced to Chigiri’s significant other and more of Isagi’s teammates (along with their invited guests).

For a decent amount of time you’re locked in conversation with Yukimiya. You trade the names of your favorite novels and your interpretations of them. This slowly evolves into sharing your music tastes, a running list of new recommendations added to each of your phone’s notes.

“If you had to pick one, at this exact moment, what would it be?”

He asks a near impossible question to answer.

“Just one?”

“Just one song.”

“If we were vampires.”

“American?”

“Mhm.”

“Hmm,” it’s inquisitive in nature.

You’re sure he’s evaluating how it is that you came to that decision.

“Favorite lyric?”

He’s begun to lean forward, arm resting on the table in front of him and head on his palm.

“Maybe time running is out is a gift,” replicating his posture as you answer.

You don’t know what about, but he laughs.

You take no offense to it.

“Now, my turn.”

“Absolutely.”

“What kind of tea do soccer players drink?”

-

Two day’s later you receive a notification on social media.

You’ve been tagged in a new photo. It’s a picture that Isagi had asked the wait staff to take of you all. Everyone’s smushed together, arms around each other and all smiles. Privately, you message Isagi for a copy of the photo.

An hour later your phone pings again.

New Follow Requests:

‘@itoshi_rin_, @sae and 328 others’

You accept.

-

You don’t have to confront the situation until you’re twenty-four.

The day of your birthday your inbox is full of well-wishes that you still haven’t finished going through.

You held off until your lunch break to look at them, your parents had made sure to reach out before you left for work so you’ve left your phone on silent up until now.

Aoi’s tagged you in a post (a collection of your greatest photos since university), Isagi’s texted you (going so far as to send you a gift card for your favorite restaurant), and Bachira’s sent you a paragraph of emojis (if translated properly it indicates that he too is wishing you a happy birthday). Nagi messages you through a gaming platform to inform you that your gift is behind schedule and should arrive some time soon.

However, the most surprising of your messages comes in as you're wrapping up your break. Three simple letters, entirely unexpected appear in your direct messages.

sae:

‘hbd.’

The message, so profoundly Sae, makes you laugh. An entirely unexpected but not uninvited aspect to your day that you’ll be sure to mention to Aoi the next time you meet with her. You spend the rest of your shift planning your dinner.

-

You’re twenty-four for hardly nineteen and a half hours.

Takeout is on its way, the newest episode of your favorite show is on the TV and you’re lounging in the most comfortable of your outfits. The ringing of your phone times perfectly with a lag on the streaming service, your TV’s silence allowing you to redirect your attention.

The number is registered as private and unlikely to be a scam call, so you answer.  Only to hear... nothing.

The other end is silent.

“Who is this?”

For a moment you think it must be a prank call, until you hear the muffled sounds of someone’s name called.

It must be a wrong dial.

At least, that’s what you assume until the voice on the other end calls back to whoever is around. The receiver still picks up the sound and it causes your ear to ache.

Finally, they address you.

“Sorry.”

And then the abrupt end of the call.

You know for certain now, it was no mistake.

-

“Let me get this straight. You’re calling me to let me know you called ‘em?”

Sae is only met with his brother’s silence.

“And all you said was ‘sorry’.”

Rin still doesn’t respond.

“So lukewarm.”

-

Signs begin to float around everywhere.

You’ve been twenty-four for seven weeks and you’ve heard mention of Itoshi Rin more in that time than you have in the six years before.

A new line of sports gear dons his name, you see the adverts on your way to and from work. Aoi’s marketing firm is in charge of those very same adverts and now she even wears the same brand shoes and windbreaker. Nagi who’s found himself comfortable enough to bring up his line of work has dropped Rin’s name quite a few times when recalling teenage memories or upcoming game match ups. Even your father let his name slip into conversation last week when you’d called asking for help with a recipe.

“That was yours and Rin’s favorite food. He could never come over without us making some.”

And while every cosmic sign is begging you to call him back, you remember that you’re only strangers now.

-

“Have you considered a career change?”

Aoi’s question is redundant.

This time of the month is always busy and she can always sense how on edge you are. Instead of answering you continue typing an email response to your colleague who’s asking one too many questions about a process you’ve explained one too many times. Before clicking send, you debate whether or not to italicize the “as per my last email” at the beginning. In the end you don’t.

“I’m sorry,” you return to your attention to your friend, shutting the laptop for the remainder of the evening.

“You work harder than you ought to.”

Aoi’s always the first to come at your defense.

“Gotta pay the bills somehow,” the words dry on your tongue.

You don’t mind the work… for the most part.

“Didn’t you ever have like a dream job, something not so… corporate?”

Part of you wonders if she’s lost any sense of self-awareness.

“Aoi, you work in marketing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“And what was it?”

“Being a princess.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Your friends pouts in her seat, arms folding across her chest.

You laugh and decide to answer her question, “Yeah, a professional fan.”

“So, a cheerleader.”

“Mmm, no,” you correct, “more like those kids who paint their face with their team colors and wear the hats and jerseys.”

-

“If you lean forward any more security will think you’re trying to jump onto the pitch.”

“Shit!”

Your feet nearly slip out from under you, hands grasping for the railing in the midst of your fright. At the same time you hear the quickened pace of steps behind you, ready to help you up. While arms reach for your shoulders to stabilize you, you swat them away.

“‘m fine.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

You hear the smile in his voice, confirming it only when you finally look at him.

“That was pretty mean of you, Kenyu.”

When his smirk grows at your remark, you realize your mistake.

“Are we on a first name basis already?”

His tone teasing now.

Rather than respond you turn back to the pitch, looking out at the new athletes who have joined on the field for the training camp.

“Why aren’t you out there?”

Yukimiya takes his place next to you, also leaning against the railing.

“It’s a recovery day for me.”

You simply hum in response.

“Are you still showing me around Paris tomorrow?”

“‘f course.”

Nagi’s gift to you had indeed been late. Apparently he’d been in cahoots with Isagi and Aoi (how he got her number, you have no clue) to ship you off to Europe for a vacation. Originally, Isagi was meant to be your tour guide throughout the French country. The trip had been planned to coincide with the German teams training camp in French territory. However, at the last minute Isagi was scheduled for a press conference and meetings with brands. After hearing Isagi voice his concern, Yukimiya had stepped up as your your guide.

When you asked for his reasoning his response had been, “who else do you know with more experience?”

There were a couple of names that came to mind, but none of them realistic options. So, you kept your mouth shut and thanked him instead.

Yet, now you were looking forward to whatever he might have planned for tomorrow.

“Are we meeting for breakfast?” you ask innocently.

“Mm, yeah.  There’s a nice place I think you’d enjoy.”

He follows up with his own pondering, “Has Yoichi mentioned any dinner plans for tonight?”

You're tracking the movement on the field and answer distractedly, “Mhm, something about a place a friend showed him once.”

There’s no further conversation, just your short mutterings and comments on the drills in front of you. And while you’re too busy assessing Kaiser’s form, you miss the way that Yukimiya’s gaze focuses on you and how his grin only widens at your intense focus.

---

A/N: i published parts one and two without looking at notes, sorry for the delay on the taglist

taglist status: OPEN

@celestair @hellothere9597

#rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]

@today-in-fic | ao3

Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who's had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter Four.

“What do you think?” Monica asks, stepping back.

Scully looks at the almost unrecognisable person who stares back at her in the mirror. Monica and her maids had done an incredible job of fixing her up, taking her from the practical, albeit frumpy looking third class girl and changing her into someone who looks just the part. Her hair, which is usually braided or loose, has been twisted and braided, pinned to the top of her head. Monica had touched up the natural curls that hung around her face, wrapping the strands around the curling rod. Dana had winced at the smell and sound of burning hair but Monica assured her it was all worth it.

The dress Monica had found was red and black. The maids had modified it slightly to fit Dana’s slightly smaller frame and it hugged her in all the right places. The dress was tight, constricting, nothing she would ever picture herself wearing again. Then there was the makeup that Monica had applied herself. Her sister, Missy, put makeup on her once for Missy’s wedding; Dana’s face had burned the entire reception and party. The next day, she’d woken with her face red and puffy. Allergic reaction the medical journals had called it. When it is applied this time, Scully waits for the burning sensation but nothing happens.

Now she surveys herself in the mirror. “I look…”

“Perfect,” Monica finishes. The touches up Scully’s hair. “You look the part.”

Scully’s stomach clenches with dread but she wills it away and smiles at Monica.

“Can I offer you some advice?”

“Absolutely.”

“You look the part, now you just have to play the part. It’s all a game to them, a performance. None of it is real.”

Scully nods. She can be the perfect little actress.

“They’ll try to cast you out,” Monica continues and Scully thinks she hears a slight twinge of hatred in her voice. “Claim you aren’t one of them simply because your name isn’t as old as theirs. New money,” She spits the words out like they’re poison. “they call us as if it’s different, as if it doesn’t come from the same bank.”

Dana refrains of telling Monica that she isn’t new money, she’s…no money. Just a simple Irish girl who grew up on a potato farm who got lucky because her brother decided to play poker…who also got lucky. But Monica knows all that. This is Dana’s part to play: new money.

“So you were…poor?” Scully asks intrepidly.

Monica grins. “Oh yeah,” she says. “My parents were immigrants from Mexico. My father hit a gold mine two years ago and suddenly…we weren’t poor anymore. Not that it seems to matter to these people, they still think I don’t belong.”

“I’m sorry.”

Monica smiles sadly. “So I get it. I know what you’re going through. And that’s why I was so disgusted at Phoebe Green earlier. But she’s just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

Monica gives her a pointed look.

“Of me?” Scully could laugh. How could Phoebe Green be jealous of her.

Monica’s voice drops lower, quieter. “There’s a smart girl under there,” she says covertly. “There’s rumours she used to be quite the book reader when she was younger, and I don’t mean those sappy, romance novels you see them reading, she read real books, factual books.” Monica pauses, letting that sink in.

Dana thinks to her medical journals, their factual writings, designed to educate, the diagrams meant to inform. Missy’s confused look when she picked one up and looked through it, wondering how Dana could be interested in it and Dana’s response; “They’re not supposed to be interesting, they’re supposed to inform.” She thinks of a younger Phoebe doing the same thing, reading through so many medical journals, trying to absorb as much information as possible, like somebody is about to test you on it at a moment’s notice.

“That was until her father found out,” Monica continues, pulling Scully from her thoughts. “He told her she had no business reading such books and when Phoebe said she wanted to go to Oxford he laughed at her and apparently torched their home library not long after, attempting to burn the…” Monica looks for the word. “curiosity out of her. And it worked. She is the perfect example of what that world means. She threw away her potential for fake conversations, for pretty things but there’s a brain in there, Dana and you can’t forget that.”

Scully swallows, nodding. She sees Phoebe in a different light, in a more…dangerous light. That woman was terrifying.

“And…Fox?” Dana says. “Does he know about this?”

Monica shrugs. “I would assume so. It was what endeared her to him, after all.” She smiles knowingly. “He fell for her, you know.”

That shocks her but Scully recovers quickly. “Then what happened?”

Monica picks at the paint on the dresser. “Fox is a…different creature. A Big Foot in the desert, so to speak. He believes the grass is greener on the other side. He wants things he can’t have.” She smiles. At Scully. A chill runs down her spine at all Monica has told her tonight and suddenly, Dana doesn’t want to go. She wants to run away back to third class, to her medical journals, her stupid little brother, turn her back on the door to this world, to Mulder and his endearing smiles, his drawings, his honesty.

But she can’t. She is drawn to this world, to Mulder. They wait for her, he waits for her, his green grass on the other side. Yet the other side is filled with bogs. It is filled with prejudice, with a door slamming in her face. It is the smell of potatoes, of loud, growling, hungry stomachs, a gold cross necklace snatched from her neck, a little boy trying to feed his family, a little girl crying as he tries to take away the last connection to her father. Dana fingers that same gold cross absentmindedly, thinking.

Could that really be greener grass for someone like Mulder?

        When she and Monica finally get downstairs to the dining hall, the others are waiting for them. Mulder’s brooding face lifts up when he sees her.

“Scully!” He unlinks his arm from Phoebe, striding towards her. Scully doesn’t miss the offended look Phoebe gives her.

“We didn’t keep you waiting, did we?” She looks towards Monica. Their conversations kept them longer than they planned. Monica had fell into a panic looking at the time, ushering Scully downstairs as quickly as she could. Her stomach had clenched the whole way down, telling herself just to play the game.

“Not at all.” His eyes roam her body, taking in her appearance. A flush begins spreading through her and suddenly the room is 10 degrees hotter. “You look…”

Scully wants to say Different? Strange? Abnormal?

“Beautiful,” he finally says and Scully beams. She looks towards Monica but the other woman in engaged in conversation with a man Scully doesn’t recognise. She looks around the room. There’s a lot of people she doesn’t recognise and suddenly she feels like a fish out of water, an outcast. Her eyes land back on Mulder, revelling in the familiarity. He is her anchor tonight.

He takes her arm and just as Scully is about to ask about Phoebe, Mulder looks at her, a sorry smile across his face as he drops her arm and moves to back over to Phoebe instead.

She doesn’t miss the woman’s smug smile.

“Miss Scully.”

Scully turns to find Mr Mulder standing next to her. He holds out his arm as an invitation. Scully looks around, looking for Mrs Mulder and finds her holding the arm of another man who smokes a cigarette in his free hand, chatting away to him. Mr Mulder stares at her expectantly and Scully takes it with a smile. This has to be deliberate.

“I must say Miss Reyes has done an excellent job.” His eyes skirt over her but they lack the warmth his son had earlier. “You almost look like one of us.”

Scully is about to reply with her thanks when suddenly Mr Mulder pulls her into him, hard, his nails biting into the skin of her exposed bicep. “Almost,” he repeats with emphasis, lowering his voice as he speaks into her ear. “She hasn’t quite managed to mask the smell of poverty.” He lets go of her arm and Scully glares. Mr Mulder pulls out her seat, smiling at her like nothing had happened, and gestures to it. She sits, finally able to breathe when Mr Mulder walks to his own chair.

She takes a moment to look around the room. A lot of money went into making this place look as grand as it does, from its high ceilings to the massive chandelier in the middle of the room, to even the pristine carpet. Charlie could work for his entire life and still not make up the earrings equivalent to the cost of this room.

She looks to the people seated at the tables, probably unaware of the money they are sitting in. They’ve probably never once given it thought but it’s all Scully can think about.

That is until her eyes fall to a dog that sits in its own chair, eating its own scraps of meat that looks better than what is served downstairs.

Even the dogs eat better than us, Scully thinks with a sickening thought.

Scully looks away and finds herself sitting opposite Mulder and Phoebe. She wishes they were sat next to each other but at least she can look up and see him. Mulder smiles at her, kicking her foot beneath the table and Scully smiles back, reassured as she places her foot on top of his.

His smile drops as he gazes at her and the look in his eyes steals her breathe away. She could be the only person in this room right now.

Scully breaks the eye contact, her eyes falling down to look at the plate and the cutlery that sits either side. Three spoons one side, two forks and a knife the other. Scully stares at it, bewildered and wondering why the need for so many utensils. She’s gotten through life just fine with a spoon and the occasional knife every once in a while.

She feels a nudge against her foot and looks up to see Mulder smiling at her with an amused look on his face, casually lifting up the normal looking fork as if to use it. Scully kicks his foot, unimpressed with his finding enjoyment in this.

Dinner begins and despite Scully’s initial fears the conversation doesn’t gravitate to or about her. They discuss the engagement, of what their lives will be like back in New York again, they gossip about people on the ship, so-and-so being seen with so-and-so whilst married to so-and-so. Scully doesn’t listen much, she eats her serving which is a lot more than she usually eats and plays footsy under the table with Mulder. She’s fine and somewhat happy here, eating decent food and no longer feeling like she’s out of place.

That is until the dreaded words exit Phoebe’s mouth.

“Miss Scully…”

The chatter around the table stops as all eyes fall Scully. She stops the game of footsy she’s playing with Mulder, shifting her own eyes towards Phoebe.

“How are you finding all this?” the girl asks. “Not too overwhelming, I hope.” Her voice is laced with false concern.

Scully looks around, taking in all the faces that have gathered around the table.

She swallows her food before speaking. “It’s not too much different to downstairs, actually,” she says, her eyes moving back to Phoebe. “Better food, though.” It gets a few awkward laughs. Her eyes find Monica who looks away almost disappointingly. Suddenly Scully remembers their cover story, new money and now she’s gone and blew it.

“How is steerage, Miss Scully?” Mrs Mulder asks to the side of her. “I heard the accommodations were well on this ship compared to others.”

Scully shifts in her sit, putting her fork down on the table as she leans forward to see the older woman. There was no getting out of it now.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry,” Scully says with a smile. “A lot less rats here, too.” She looks pointedly at Phoebe. The woman seethes.

“Miss Scully is joining us from third class,” Mr Mulder explains to the new people on the table. “She met my son the last night on the back of the ship.”

Scully sits back, cautious of the reactions around her. Some make inquiring faces towards Mr Mulder and Mulder and to each other.

An older man begins to speak. “Do you often find yourself conversing with…” he looks unsurely at Scully. “third class passengers, Fox?”

“Not usually,” Mulder admits and Scully watches with curiosity at how he handles this situation. “Though I would consider doing it again,” he looks to her then. “They are quite interesting people.”

Scully smiles, impressed.

Of course Phoebe has to ruin it.

“How is it that you’re here, Miss Scully?”

You asked me here, you eejit is just on the tip of Scully’s tongue before Phoebe herself saves them both from embarrassment and elaborates.

“I mean, how did you get on the ship with so little money?”

Scully begins to play her own game. These people want to degrade her, drag her down and make a mockery out of her, so be it. She’ll be honest.

“It was my brother, really,” Scully says. “He won the tickets when he won a game of poker. We were on our way home actually and instead we ended up here.”

“And where is home?” another man asks.

“Belfast,” she answers. “Or just outside of it to be exact.”

“Titanic was built in Belfast, wasn’t it?” Mulder asks but it’s clear he already knew the answer.

“It was,” Scully says proudly. “It’s the city’s pride and joy. We don’t have much but least we have Titanic.”

“Do you and your brother travel around together a lot?” Mrs Mulder asks.

“Only recently.” She thinks to Charlie who is probably wondering where is she. Or he’s too drunk to care. “He’s fifteen, see, so he’s only just been allowed out of my mother’s eye. He’s never been one to stay put and has wanted to leave Ireland for a while now. Mam wanted me to watch over him, make sure he didn’t get into trouble and that.”

“Looks like all mothers are the same regardless of class,” Mulder says and Mrs Mulder smiles though it looks like it takes a lot of effort.

“How is Ireland given the, er…circumstances?” somebody asks.

Scully pauses. Her battle-worn country wasn’t doing so well lately.

“It could be better.” she says truthfully.

“They should leave Ireland alone,” Mulder says seriously. The table falls quiet minus some disgruntled grunts. “It’s obvious they don’t want to be under the union, just give up and leave it be.”

Scully sits back in her seat, enamoured with Mulder’s statement.

“Doesn’t work that way, son,” Mr Mulder says.

“Why not?” asks Mulder, sincerely.

Before Mr Mulder can answer, Phoebe cuts in.

“Do we have to talk politics tonight? It grows heavily tiresome.”

It’s that comment that has Scully transported back to her conversation with Monica. A sudden image of a young Phoebe reading about politics comes to mind. She wished she’d asked Monica if the rumours said what Phoebe had been interested in.

Her eyes catch Monica’s who smiles, giving her that knowing look and Scully turns back to Phoebe who is laughing at something the man beside her just said. It was politics she was interested in and a sudden pang of sorrow takes over Scully.

Just like that the conversation drifts to something else, something other than Scully or Ireland to which Scully is grateful for.

Dinner moves on, course after course, full from her firsts Scully declines another and soon grows bored. Mulder is in deep conversation with a man who introduced himself to the table as John Byers, Phoebe talks with the fourth woman who had been on the deck earlier- she is called Heidi, is the same age as Scully, and is pregnant with her second child. Monica has disappeared to another table, Scully can hear her loud laughter to which the other patrons look towards her with disapproving glares. Nobody is paying any attention to her, the novelty of a third class passenger in their midst having worn off. Her mind wanders to downstairs, to the party that is no doubt commencing down there and how much she longs to be there with them not up here with sore ears from the piano music and her head hurting with trying to keep up with these people.

Mulder catches her attention with a tap against her foot as he mouths, You want to go?

Looking around, still nobody paying attention to her, she nods.

“Father,” says Mulder. “I’m going to take Dana back to the gate.”

Mr Mulder looks towards Scully, “Have we tired you out already?”

Beginning to stand, Scully replies, “I’m afraid so.” She turns to Phoebe. “Thank you for the invite, Miss Green. I’ve enjoyed it.”

Phoebe smiles, an act for the people. “My pleasure, Miss Scully.” She turns to Mulder then, grabbing his arm. “You won’t be too long?” she asks.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

He presses a kiss to the side of her cheek in goodbye and Scully feels her heart twisting painfully at the sight.

The cool air is welcoming, as is the freedom, too. She’d done well, Scully, even with the less-than-appealing questions. He was proud, though he had no right to be.

“So, how did I do?” she asks, as if reading his mind, a habit they had seemed to fall into.

“Amazing,” he says. His eyes roam her body again. God, she looked stunning. Not that she didn’t always but seeing her dressed up like this made him crave more. He would sit through a thousand first class dinners if it meant his view could always be her dressed like this. “You fitted right in.”

She smiles bashfully at the decking. He likes it when she grows shy.

“Did you enjoy it?” Mulder asks. He knows what the answer will be but just out of curiosity really.

Her answer is as expected.

“Does anyone enjoy that?” She giggles to herself and it’s a sound Mulder finds himself wanting to hear again. “I think one night is good enough for me.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He thinks back to that dinner, to the one pressing matter he’s most anxious for her to hear.

“I meant what I said in there, about Ireland, it should be its own country.”

They stop just outside the third class gate. She looks up at him, searching, woefully. “I’m afraid you’re preaching to the choir.” She looks down then, to the stairs, to where the sounds of a party are escaping through the cracks in the door. It sounds appealing, fun, something Mulder has yet to experience of this ship, save from his meetings with Scully.

“Come down with me,” she says suddenly, her eyes big and asking.

Mulder begins to shake his head. “I- I can’t…” he begins, though he wants to protest. “I promised Phoebe…”

Scully sighs, big and heavy, exasperated. “And how many of those promises have you actually kept?” He blinks at her. She sighs once more, calming herself down and shaking her head. “Whatever. You go back and have fun in there.” She spins, beginning to unlock the gate. Mulder stands there, watching, his heart heavy, his heart telling him to go down there and just have some fucking fun, it’s not going to hurt.

“Scully…” he says, catching her arm and she turns. “Will I be okay down there?”

“They’ll be too drunk to care.”

It’s loud and busy. A band composed of various instruments play in the corner, their music floating around the room, upbeat and celebratory. It’s a celebration of life down here, people dancing with whoever, others who drink, play poker, darts, laugh. It’s alive. There’s no need for talking, no need for language or verbal communication, they communicate through dance and laughs, everything is clear and there are no lies. They’re just people. Just people living.

He sits on a stool, a Guinness beside him and watches Scully dance in circles with a little boy who stared imploringly at her hair, not that Mulder can blame the boy, he too has often found himself captivated with it.

He likes it here, likes how he has this corner to himself and he can just appreciate everything- appreciate Scully more so- how much happier she looks down here. She had excused herself to go change when they got downstairs and now she is back in her usual attire, her hair loose but clipped back from her face, her natural curls mixed in with the curls Monica had made. The makeup had remained, though now it was smeared in places from sweat. She was breathtaking.

His gaze stays on her. He can be a voyeur down here; he can watch her without feeling like he’s intruding or looking at her like a creature of wonder. He never has but when it’s just them, and when she looks back at him, he feels like he is.

The boy yawns and the two stop what they’re doing. She wanders back over to Mulder once she’s sent the boy off, a full smile doing its own dance across her face.

“His name’s Willem,” she says as she picks up his drink and drinks from it. Mulder doesn’t protest, they can share everything if she wants.

“Come dance with me?” she shouts over the noise and Mulder had been distracted with the thought of her saliva on his glass that it had taken a moment for him to process her request.

This he protests.

“No…no…” he says, shaking his head.

Scully rolls her eyes, outstretching his hand. “Come on. I’m sure a rich fella like yourself learned how to dance.”

The truth is, his parents had tried to teach him, put both him and Sam in lessons when they were younger and while Sam had naturally excelled (even though she protested originally) he’d lumbered about like a giant (it got worse when he actually grew into a giant)

“And even if you canna,” Scully continues. “Neither can anybody else here.”

Mulder thinks about that for a second, before looking around the room to see that the ‘dancing’ was really just jumping in time to the music. Somewhat less nervous, he takes her hand and pulls himself up.

His hand naturally gravitates to the dip of her waist, and only then does he become aware of how close they are. They bask in the moment of just being free to touch each other, away from all those who might say otherwise. They can do as they like down here and nobody upstairs would know any different.

The tension is broken when a smile breaks out across Scully’s face. “We’re essentially in a tavern, Mulder,” she tells him. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

Mulder doesn’t feel formal; his tie off, buttons undone, sleeves rolled up (he hadn’t missed Scully’s look when he’d done that) He takes his hand out of hers, missing the feeling of it, as it joins his other one at her waist.

There’s a break in the music and Mulder, nervous once more, leans down towards her.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Scully shrugs, “Just do what everything else does.”

And with that, there’s the change of music. Instantly he spins her and then begins jumping around the room, weaving their way in and out of people who are also doing the same thing. It’s fun, Mulder thinks, dancing is actually fun, he could spend the night doing this if he wanted to.

Time speeds up and he has no idea how long he’s been gone for. They know where he is and who he’s with and Mulder couldn’t care any less. He’s six beers in, ready to spend all of Daddy’s money in one night, and in the middle of an arm-wrestling match with someone he thinks is from Belgium.

He refuses to lose, that competitive schoolboy coming out of him. His opponent seems to be the same. There’s no winnings at the end of this- no money or even a free drink. They play for the fun of it.

Mulder loses and he shakes Mr Belgium’s hand and moves on.

Later in the night when the bar has emptied out, the music stopped playing, losing count of how many beers he’s drank but knowing he’s drank enough for the room to be a wee bit out of focus, he gets into a conversation with an American about baseball. Barely anybody in England really knew what he was talking about half the time.

Scully also listens with drunken rapture and he explains the rules to her with a promise that they will play as soon as the ship docks.

The party slowly comes to an end with those left slowly drifting off to their rooms, the bar closing and the band packing away. Mulder sits back in the corner, slouched against the bench, head down, as the room spins around him.

“Think we need to get you to bed,” he hears Scully say.

Lifting up his head, his stomach lurching slightly, a heavy loopy grin crosses his face as he sees two Scullys in front of him.

“Only if I get to go in yours,” he answers back, too happy and drunk to care about the consequences.

He sees her bite her lip and it’s incredibly attractive.

“Come on,” she says, ignoring his comment and helping him stand up.

It was worth the try.

He tries his best to get himself up the stairs but all he wants to do is shut his eyes a sleep, the world spins and he can feel the ship rocking back and forth on the waves making everything worse and he doesn’t like it. He just wants to curl up next to Scully, she’ll make it all go away.

They get up the stairs and he stumbles against the wall, needing a moment to just breathe in the salty air and hope he doesn’t throw up.

“Jesus Christ, how much have you had to drink?” Scully asks.

“A lot more than I usually do,” Mulder says, shutting his eyes against the spinning and the rocking and the overwhelming urge to just throw up.

He opens his eyes and she’s incredibly close to him, concern littered across her features. He focuses on Scully, wills himself to see just one, to use her as a way to calm his twisting stomach.

But something changes as the two Scullys become one Scully, his Scully and he’s had so much fun tonight then he can remember having, he wants this fun for the rest of his life.

He moves forward, ready to capture it, to take that fun and make it stay, make it never go away.

But her hand falls to his chest and all she needs to say is one name.

��Phoebe…”

It sobers him up. Or he sobers himself up. He nods slowly, bringing himself to full height. Phoebe, he thinks over and over again. Phoebe doesn’t deserve this.

Content that he now isn’t going to throw up, or pass out, or whatever Scully moves away from him, taking her hand off his chest and he immediately misses the contact.

Phoebe…Phoebe…Phoebe…

“Goodnight, Mr Mulder,” Scully says, she opens the gate, allowing him to leave.

And Mulder goes, against everything he goes, back to Phoebe, back to his life.

He makes sure to watch Scully go back down the stairs, however, until she disappears from sight.

“Goodnight, Miss Scully,” he mutters to the space she’s left behind.

With a sigh, and a hand rubbing his face, Mulder prepares to leave it all behind and savour the fun he’s had, the world Scully’s opened up to him. Just as he’s about to walk, a voice stops him.

“Had a fun night, Mulder?”

And Mulder’s blood turns cold.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #a jewel beneath the moonlight rewatch #titanic au #scullysexualwrites

[officialgleamstar]

HI TALK ABOUT NORMSCARY TO ME PLEASE i want to hear. um. how do you think they start dating !!

sorry i got so distracted and forgot to look at tumblr but OHHH THANK YOU YES.... OOOOHHH THATS A FUN QUESTION

to me that depends like. when they get together. as ive said before, i mostly ship them post-canon and i have my silly au with their getting together scene written out, when theyre both seniors in high school (i know people havent read that LOL so to summarize - scary realizes that she has a really bad crush on normal and does her absolute best to ignore it. one night theyre hanging out along because lincoln&taylor are on a date and normals complaining about how hes never going to find love, and then he turns it on her, poking her about how come she isnt dating anyone. she basically confesses but due to normal being oblivious, he thinks she has a crush on taylor, and shes so stunned by that that she just kisses normal to get her point across. theyre SILLAY)

but thats boring, ive already done it (joke i still love it), so i wanna talk about if they got together closer to canon. like at the end of this season, starting around where we are now (hopefully with minimal spoilers LOL)!! to start - i always like scary crushing on normal first. it just makes me happy. but ive always written scary confessing to normal, so i think it would be fun to reverse that

like scary gets this crush on normal, probably around the time he comforts her in the Meat Room (😂); hes always so sweet to her despite everything, he always goes out of his way for her, and she cant help but fall for it. she buries those feelings because they feel so inappropriate- theyre trying to save dood, and on a more personal level, her step-dad just died, she cant think about it, theres too much going on. but shes sitting on those feelings and normal just keeps being nice to her and its getting to her. and in turn, normal realizes he has a crush on her in return when she tries to hug him when he goes back to the mascot costume. like scary, hes way too overwhelmed with everything to even really think about it, and hes a little convinced that she doesnt really even like him as a friend, that the hug was just pity, but the crush is still there. normal has never been good at denying his feelings, he knows its there, and its killing him too

and so they have that super like, YA novel romance subplot where theres tension building between them, and theyre utterly unaware that the other person likes them back, and they have so much going on that pursuing anything would be stupid. but theyre teens and theyre hormonal so they cant just ignore it, and they keep having these awkward moments of getting flustered and everyone around them is like "😐... what are they doing."

and it eventually comes out in the climax of everything. normal is completely set on sacrificing himself, because thats who he is, he wants to martyr himself so fucking badly all the time bgjdbfghbhfbdhj and scary is fed up trying to talk him down and she ends up hitting him with something like, "i thought you wanted to get together with hermie or whatever, youre just throwing that away now?" "i kind of got over that awhile ago, scary." "then why have you still been acting like such a loser lately?!" [pause] "because i wanted to get together with you instead." and scary is just STUNNED and he takes that chance to run off and try and enact his plan. and inevitably he survives because like i said. YA novel romance subplot ghjbfdghbfdhj and scary runs to his side and theyre basically just yelling at each other about everything, scary is relieved and also furious, normal is mortified that he dropped a confession and bailed but also so thankful hes alive, and then at some point in their yelling they end up kissing instead--

wow. okay so i didnt mean to like, plot out a fanfiction in response to this ask but UMMMM i hope this answers your question ^-^

#not actually human #ask #normscary #I LIKE THEM...

[the-hinky-panda]

The Preacher's Wife Series - Big Bear Lake (Part I)

Maggie has this down to an art. Whenever a deadline is coming up, she finds a local women’s retreat and registers for it. It’s something that’s expected of a pastor’s wife, that “continuing education” on ministry techniques and how to organize a prayer group. She rents a house nearby, one that is fairly remote and with a garage. She shows up for the first day, signs in, collects the welcome packet, sits through the opening ceremony, and then heads to her Airbnb or Vrbo. She parks her car in the garage and won’t let it be seen again until she heads back to the conference on the last day for the closing meeting. She uses Uber or DoorDash for food. Other than that, she’s locked inside the rented space, trying to finish the first draft or final revision of her latest romance novel. 

She’s sold six books so far and has a hefty amount of money stashed away from the publication and royalties. Her publisher has been chomping at the bit for the seventh book but lucky number seven has been…difficult. And that was an understatement. When this retreat for pastor’s wives was announced as being held in Redlands and was a week-long retreat, she jumped at the opportunity to get away and try to figure out how to get this book started, let alone written. 

She was two days into her seven day retreat when the writer’s block got too much for her. She had been staring at the same blank page for six hours now and nothing, nothing was coming to her. She needed dinner and a good drink. Maybe then she would be able to fill the void with words that would eventually give way to a plot. She calls up the Uber app, places her request, and touches up her make-up. She’s grabbing her jacket and purse when the car pulls up in the driveway. 

The driver is a young man, college age from the looks of it. According to the app, his name is Stephen, which is how he introduces himself with that surfer twang. She asks him for his suggestion of the best local bar, something family owned, no chains. He tells her the best place that fits that description would be Hunter’s Lodge which sits right on the lake. She asks him what he does and he tells her he surfs in the morning, snowboards in the afternoons, and drives for Uber in the evenings. It sounds like a charmed life and she tells him so. He asks what she does and she simply answers she’s a writer, because that’s who she is at the moment. 

He drops her off in the gravel parking lot of a rustic looking cabin that does sit right on the lake’s edge. There’s a patio off the back with a few brave souls under heat lamps sitting out there. It’s May but winter is still in the evening air this far up the mountains. She pays Stephan for the drive and says her goodbye before heading towards the door. There’s only a few cars in the parking lot, a couple bikes, a beat up scrap metal truck with a load of twisted fenders and other broken pieces in the back of it. Romero Brother’s Scrapyard. Why is that a familiar name to her? Before she can figure that out, someone shouts from the front door. 

“Maggie?” 

She freezes. After all these years, almost eight years now of doing these covert writing retreats, her cover is finally blown. Shit. 

“Maggie,” they call again, the crunch of gravel under work boots announcing the person’s approach. “Is that you?” 

She turns and sees one of the men from the Santo Padre motorcycle club, the one that her sister works for as their medic. When she says his name, it’s with absolute relief. “Hank!” 

He gives her a small smile. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m, uh, I’m here, um…” She wants to be honest with him but how do you explain that you’re here hiding from your life and responsibilities because your secret life needs to be addressed? That you’ve lied to your megachurch pastor husband about going away to grow in your relationship with the Lord when in fact all you’re doing is hiding away in someone else’s cabin and writing about some poor woman’s sexual awakening with a handsome stranger because the stories of the other six women with similar sexual awakenings were wildly successful that your publisher wants a seventh. 

“I’m sorry,” he holds up his hand, “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“No,” she shakes her head, “you’re not prying at all. It’s just…complicated.” 

“I get that.” 

She doesn’t know where the bravery and forwardness comes from but the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. “I can explain it over a drink, if you don’t have anything better to do this evening.” 

He smiles again, small and subtle, but immensely genuine. “I’d like that.” 

#hank loza x ofc #hank loza #hank loza fic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc

[deathcoach]

What was the process of getting yourself published? Did you get an agent or did you shop it yourself? Who edited it your or someone else? How long did it take from beginning to end? Was your story originally a fan fic? Who is your publisher / what printing house / company took you on? Thanks!

Thank you so much for these questions @twinsoulvisionary!  There is a lot here so I will try to keep it brief and helpful!

I’ll go a little out of order so it makes more sense!  Follow me below the cut!

Death Coach was written because I have two people in my life, one a published romance novelist and the other a family member, who had read lots of my fanfic and said I should write something original.  So I took a few days to come up with an idea for something I thought I would care about enough to write an original novel about it. 

The idea was simple “Detective gets involved with serial killer he’s hunting.”  That was it. 😈

As to the question of if it was originally a fanfic, it was written explicitly to NOT be a fanfic, explicity to be something I could sell.  However it’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Detective Walker is a thinly-veiled Luke Skywalker avatar, and Terana is at least physically very much like Mara Jade.  There are tons of Easter Eggs in my novel for Star Wars fans, and I don’t want to drop them all here, but absolutely you will find other Star Wars-inspired characters in the book.

About the timeline: 

Death Coach was finished in Dec 2018 and published in Dec 2022, so four years later.  How about that?  I’m just so happy it’s done!  *checks box*

How long did it take to write? 

Everyone writes at a different pace, but when I’m writing and have time to do it, I am super fast.  I think Death Coach was written (first draft complete of 80k) in about 3 weeks.  The first two days after I started it, I was already 20k into the book.  I edit as I go—one of my habits with this book, so I didn’t lose any threads, was to reread what I’d written at least every other day.  I could fix things, tweak, and proofread as I read.  I think especially if you are writing a story where there are aspects of mystery or clues needing to be dropped, it’s a good habit to reread your draft often before you continue. 

So I was on fire and the story wrote itself (as my stories often do).

I edited it myself (I consider myself an excellent editor, no false modesty here) but my sister, who is also a great proofreader, double-checked (and did find things I’d missed).

For getting published, it was a long and rocky road.  I sent the book to many agents and publishers at the same time.  I made a packet, query letter, checked all the boxes. 

I did get a few offers fairly quickly, but they always seemed unappealing.  For example, one publisher came back and said they loved the story but since their readership was primarily into dominant males, they suggested flipping the characters or making Terana more sub and Walker more domineering.  That (if you’ve read the book you’ll understand) is a completely different novel, and not a story that interested me.  One asked for more queer sexual content.  One wanted more explicit childhood trauma for the serial killer.  Another wrote back and offered me $1000 advance with a cap on royalties of $1,000.  Since I am doing this as a hobby, it wasn’t so much about the money, but that seemed low to me and why would I want to cap royalties?

The most encouraging responses were actually from agents or publishers who were like “we can’t sell this right now but we like your style, send us something else/send us a different book.”  Well, this was THE book I wrote and I wasn’t going to write another one until I’d published this one…but that was still nice to hear.  Lots of positivity but no takers.

One of the funniest responses I got was from an agent who was super excited about the premise and emailed me about how much he was looking forward to reading it and then emailed me a couple days later and was like “Uh…this is X rated.  I thought it would be a nice book.”  I was laughing like uh…ok so a NICE book about a serial killer?  Did he even read the synopsis?  Anyway, clearly too prudish to enjoy the smutastic Death Coach.

About a year after I wrote it, one of my friends who had been published under contract with Harlequin for years switched to self-publishing, and made about twice as much as she had under contract (she was making about $14k a book).  She suggested I do it, but I didn’t have the time or energy (as I mentioned, writing is a hobby for me and not a life goal or anything).  She also had the benefit of a following, a known name in the romance business, something I do not.

I am under no illusions about the limited demographic for Death Coach—it’s gritty and graphic in both violent death and sex.  People who are reading Mills & Boon don’t want to read about cunts and sex in the dirt, and people who are reading hard crime aren’t expecting lots of explicit fucking breaking up their action.  But I thought maybe I would go after self-publishing when I had time and see if the book found an audience.

So fast-forward several years (!) and this past August I had some time to explore options.  My friend who has self-published used Ingram Spark, who have global distribution and don’t try to keep any rights over your product.  I worked with her to setup the title on her account, so I didn’t have to start from scratch (but I think it’s pretty easy if you want to set up your own—although if you are getting the impression I am lazy about it, you are right). 

One benefit of Ingram is the option to refuse returns, because sometimes authors actually OWE money when royalties go into the negative due to returns.  So I used SpiroBooks.com for my layout, got the ISBNs myself, had the super-talented @jadedjo do my cover art, and voila, here we are.

I think it’s important to stress again that I do this as a HOBBY.  If I was interested in being a professional author who does it as a career, there were a lot of things I would do differently, including joining professional associations, spending more time and effort on finding an agent, and writing books that are commercial and similar to what is selling (or what the publishers told me they were looking for).  Along the path, I had several opportunities to compromise and sell the book to other entities, but what was important to me was the fact this was written, I liked it as it was, and I had no real reason or motivation to change the story or rewrite, etc.

My goal in publishing this was to see if people liked it, and maybe make a series out of it if it was profitable.  I do love Detective Walker and wouldn’t mind seeing what erotic adventures he has in the future, but I also am happy writing fanfic and working the dayjob.  So we’ll see how it shakes out and if I should continue 🥰

I should mention that I’m overwhelmed and touched by the immense support the book has here on tumblr and in fandom spaces with my friends.  I love everyone who bought it (I think I don’t get sales stats until next month) and thank each of you for giving such a hard-to-categorize novel an audience. 

I hope that answered all your questions @twinsoulvisionary! Thank you so much for the ask and interest, and I wish you luck in your own writing and publishing endeavors!!! 😘 Feel free to ask other stuff, you or anyone else with a question!

#authors on tumblr #books #publishing #self publishing #getting published #death coach #ask the author #novel

[saishuu-heiki]

come one. come all. WELCOME to my humble little blog for sephiroth of ffvii. non-mutuals and personal blogs are not to interact with or reblog any of my personally created content. things may appear drab as i’ll be working on getting links and tags established when time permits. i am friendly, often times goofy, so feel free to leave as many ask things as you’d like, or drop by my messages to plot something out! 

activity  — varies greatly depending on how many interactions i receive; ie threads and ask memes. this could be low or medium-high. i’m a busy person, and this is one of my too many blogs.

depiction  — sephiroth will be canon compliant from before crisis to advent children. the original ffvii game is my default, but i will write within the world of the remake. anything which is not depicted throughout all the games, the novels, and the movie will be of my own creation. i will also create some alternate versions/timelines which will place sephiroth in other worlds pr have different roles within the ffvii universe.

I DO NOT TAG TRIGGERS. I DO NOT SUGAR COAT THE ACTIONS OF SHINRA OR SEPHIROTH. themes of genetic modification, torture, murder, death, manipulation, psychological distress, abuse, gore will absolutely be present. 

i’m a grown ass man ( > 20 ) and while i’ve never encountered drama, i’ve seen and heard any of it that it’s just idiotic. a character’s actions and thoughts are not of the writers. don’t try to dictate what people write. if you have a problem, shut up and move on. this is a hobby.

i’m a multi-para and novella writer, but i will write out shorter things when the time arises or if two characters are just shooting the shit.

i am mutuals only and need to see actual writing on your blog, not just constant ooc posts and shipping calls. i do post some minimal crack post from time to time, but i tag everything in case someone wants to block it. if you don’t have a tagging system, i won’t follow you.

once again, i don’t tag ‘triggers’. if i see you need something specific tagged which i write, i won’t follow you (back). 

not all my threads are necessarily graphic and r-rated; not every post is like an episode out of spartacus, but my character studies and ask responses more likely lean towards the more graphic side of things.

just because sephiroth doesn’t like you, doesn’t mean i don’t like you. i like you, i’m writing with you. yeah, you’re free to try to take down sephiroth, just don’t be shocked when the big dog bites back. honestly before sephiroth started looking into how he came to be, he was a pretty chill guy when he wasn’t working. so if you’re intimidated or afraid, don’t necessarily be unless that’s your thing. 

i do not write on discord.

sephiroth is portrayed as a cis male. romantic entanglements are unlikely to occur but not entirely impossible.

⸝⸝  PROMO .     ⸝⸝  MEME TAG .     ⸝⸝  HEADCANONS .     ⸝⸝  ASK BOX CALL .     ⸝⸝  PLOTTING CALL .     ⸝⸝  AU VERSE (1) .     ⸝⸝  AU VERSE (2) .     ⸝⸝  FFXVI VERSE .     ⸝⸝  HIGH FANTASY VERSE .     ⸝⸝  JUJUTSU KAISEN VERSE .     ⸝⸝  THE WITCHER VERSE .

                                                                               ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴋᴇʟᴇᴠʀᴀ • ʰᵉ/ʰᶦᵐ

#⸝⸝ ⁰⁰¹ : ooc #ffvii rp #sephiroth rp #final fantasy rp #ff rp #castlevania rp

[undeadorion-archive]

Did I ever share the being accused of soulbonding my own OC thing here? If I did, I've forgotten. So it's time to tell it.

So, everyone who knows me knows about Crawford. He's an OC that I've had since like 2003. The story that is now River City slowly grew around him. Everything else morphed around him but he's been roughly the same most of the time. But where he really took root as like my Main Guy was when I started RPing with him on LJ, around 2009. Back when I was relatively oblivious to all the ways a person can hate you. Though I still have a lot of fond memories from that time, there was a lot of questionable shit that happened.

A most of the people in charge of the game I was in were local friends. Or rather, I thought they were my friends. I'd known one of them through a different mutual friend, then re-met them again through this whole RP thing. And they were all friends with my roommate at the time and some of them ended up moving in to our apartment complex. Then others that were involved in the game would come hang out. And I was mostly oblivious to a lot of the stuff that was simmering under the surface.

One of the members of the group who lived an hour or two away resented me for reasons that I still don't know to this day. They just flat out didn't like me from day 1 and gave me the stink eye every time I was around when they were. This is R, we'll need their name for later.

For an example of what these people were like, because I couldn't possibly get into even a summary of everything without this turning into a novel. The game required you to apply to join. The page for applications said they were processed on a weekly basis and they often posted the responses on Saturdays. Well, they almost never did that and sometimes would take weeks to process apps. All of which were public. They would then annoyed when people would ask about app status. And they did this, to me, while I'd had my own application sitting there for them to review for like 2 weeks. They wouldn't take "have you considered communicating with people if you're having trouble reviewing the scant few applications you get?" for an answer.

That's how A worked. Everything had to go their way. No, they wouldn't tell you what their way was until you broke one of their super secret rules. Like they absolutely hated chewing noises. I could understand that, chewing noises are gross. But if your chewing was in any way audible, such as eating something crunchy, they would scold you or glare at you. You weren't even allowed to say "nom nom" around them because they counted that as eating noises. They also scolded me for burping like I'd let out a big nasty beer belch right in their face. When it was one of those barely audible closed mouth throat rumble types. That's the level of control that A demanded.

I eventually left that game and that apartment complex. And thought I'd never cross paths with them again.

Then came the incident that killed RP for me.

I was in a pretty rough emotional state for a long time and just wanted to indulge in one of my favorite hobbies. So I joined a game with a fandom character I enjoyed playing (Thor). Things were going pretty okay for a while, if a bit awkward with some cast mates. I got in a bit over my head, and overwhelmed with everything. A lot of people really wanted to play with Thor but necessarily my version of Thor. They wanted their own personal version they'd imagined from canon. So I got fed up and said fine. You get an OC instead.

Now, Crawford is intentionally a very abrasive character. The only emotions he's comfortable showing are indifference or anger. He solves all of his problems with violence. Until someone can crack through his tough exterior and see what a hot mess he is on the inside. It takes a lot, but he's made friends and even adopted a teenager or two in a way.

So I dropped this angry man full of rage into a town where he was trapped and couldn't return home. And I made it clear that if you wanted to play with Thor you had to play with the angry redhead, first. The catalyst had been people treating Thor crashing hard after some pretty serious events and calling him "smelly" and "lazy" when I said he was basically just sleeping for days on end so I could take a damn break.

Things were going moderately well. Crawford got a fair bit of traction. Rubbed elbows with demons and witches. You know how it goes. Then shit just hit the fan.

While I'd seen that A was in the game, they weren't active at all so easy enough to avoid. What I'd missed was that R was in the game, too. I didn't even clock their name as familiar, because I'd forgotten about their strange hatred of me. Well, I made the grave and heinous error of.................interacting with their character. I know. I'm just such a monster. It wasn't even anything major. They never responded and I forgot I'd commented on their post. So I was really confused when a friend popped up saying "Hey, people are shit talking you on the wankgate." Wankgate being an anonymous community where people rant about the most petty shit.

You can't tell me shit like that and expect me to leave it alone. It would eat me alive. So of course I looked. And they were just eviscerating me and my character. Over the stupidest stuff, too. Literally my OC was bad because they didn't like him. That's it.

They said he was "all edge and no substance." And that he was a self insert and swore to much and that being an angry self insert was "on brand" for me. The sort of comments that showed they just wanted to hate him and me without showing they knew nothing about either.

And then there was this comment.

"omg you're not talking about the crawford oc by colin are you? could never fucking stand that character, and the player soulbonds hardcore with him. he's so boring to play off of despite the edgy tryhardness because he's one-note and it feels like interacting with a brick wall."

Obviously I can't prove who posted these things. For all I know it was all just the "friend" who told me about all this nonsense. But I have a strong suspicion R started it, because this started very shortly after I responded to them. And I'm fairly sure the comment above was from A.

A and R were the only two who knew me from far enough back to remember me that well. And the only thing I can even possibly think of that could be seen as "soul bonding" was that for Halloween and conventions Crawford was my go-to cosplay/costume when I didn't have any other ideas. Because it was comfortable. And easy. And it was the first steps in discovering I was trans, because trying to look like a man made me so much more confident in myself.

I was utterly devastated after these comments. I felt hollow and raw and like I couldn't trust anyone. It was made worse by the fact that a friend was being really insensitive that night. The next day she got super mad at me when I said "hey, you know I don't like jokes like that." So I just unfriended her and her friend/roommate who I also followed. I didn't want to deal with any of it. And within the hour the friend popped up yelling at me, accusing me of unfriending her because I suspected her of being involved with the anon stuff. I hadn't mentioned it to either of them. And I haven't spoken to either of them since.

I tried to keep going with RP. A different character in a different game, but I just couldn't do it anymore. I left for a long time. I've tried going back, but it's like scratching at a wound that still hasn't fully healed.

Perhaps, someday, I'll feel comfortable in one of my favorite hobbies again. But I don't think it's going to happen any time soon. At least not in such a public manner.

#personal ramblings #people are just fucking awful sometimes

[preyforthewicked]

17.

It was in August of 2011 when I finally cracked and told someone about the relationship. 

David had made it crystal clear that no one could know about us, not even my best friends. What if they said something to my parents? It was too risky. They could not be trusted with the weight of such a secret. Only we could bear it.

The reasons why I finally told someone are nebulous and manyfold. The predominant reason was because of who the individual I told was. He had been a friend for years, as well as a crush for some of that time (he was a year or two older than me), and that summer had tried to woo me on many separate occasions. He asked me to go out with him and I said no, not because I didn’t want to go out with him (if things had been different, I would have said yes) but because in my heart I wasn’t single. But I couldn’t tell him that because it was too complicated to explain without letting the whole cat out of the bag, so I gave some vague reason and tried to drop it.

He was persistent. Not in a forceful way, more like a golden retriever trying to get you to play and not understanding why you won’t just throw the dang ball since you don’t look busy at all. Maybe he sensed something off in my replies. 

I theorize now that the other reason I ended up spilling the beans was due to the subconscious exhaustion I felt about the relationship. I felt I was missing out on some integral parts of the teenage experience - namely, dating kids my age. What a novel thought. 

I think subconsciously, a part of me had had enough. The part of me that wasn’t blindly in love with him and wholly devoted to a future with him - the quiet, rational part that had begun to speak a teensy bit louder last summer when he broke up during my writing workshop - wanted an out. I didn’t feel strong enough to say no more, I’m done without a real reason. Didn’t you need a reason to break up with someone? I needed a fortified wedge to put David off me for good. And doing the exact thing he ordered me not to do was a good way to conjure such a wedge.

These are theories in retrospect, and soft ones at that. The facts of the event are:

I told my guy friend in confidence about the relationship, not in a derogatory way but a celebratory one. I highlighted all the positives I saw about it, how in love we were - the whole thing. I hoped this explained my refusal of his requests to date me. 

That wasn’t the only thing it did.

He stared at me for a moment. What he said next sucked the air out of the room.

“You need to end it.”

“What? No,” I said, beginning a rebuttal. “I-”

“You need to end it,” he said again. “Or I’ll tell your parents.”

It took a second for the weight of the ultimatum to sink in. In a sense, it was what I needed, even if it wasn’t consciously what I wanted. My heart beat like a panicked bird in my chest just imagining David’s reaction to the news. What was I going to do? My friend couldn’t possibly tell my parents. I’d be mortified. They could press charges, sending David to prison - the absolute worst nightmare was quickly becoming a possibility.

“O-okay,” I said in a small voice. 

“Do it tonight,” my friend said, his blue eyes intense on me. 

“Okay.”

I couldn’t say much else in the moment. The world was collapsing both around and inside of me. The stress of the ultimatum nearly sent me into a panic attack. What had I done? What had I done?

I had condemned us wholly and completely. There was no coming back from this. 

I went downstairs to the semi-private space I did schoolwork in and tried not to cry.

Later, I begged the universe for David to refrain from signing in. I couldn’t do this. I was falling apart. The pressure of my friend’s texts, did u do it yet??? propelled me forward, but at the same time I was buffeted back by the anticipation of David’s response. I would be crushed between the two forces, and no one would recognize what was left, let alone want it.

David signed in. I was met with a smiley. 

I was devastated knowing I’d soon be the cause of something very, very far from a smile on his face. 

I told him. I told him I’d told someone and they’d threatened to tell my parents. Our worst nightmare come true, and I had single handedly ushered it in. The vampire was already in the living room, snacking on my neck before I realized I had been the one to invite it over the threshold.

At first, he was at a loss for words. Soon the sparks of his speechlessness flared into a full-blown forest fire of panic. I choked on the smoke, sobbing as quietly as I could manage, as he doled out directives and insults. 

The heaps and heaps of guilt he buried me under were all weighted with the same things: how I had thoroughly betrayed his trust, that he could go to jail for this and I had just completely ruined his life. I had committed the ultimate sin. I had exposed him. This was the end, of everything.

And yet, even then, I reassured him that I was on his side, that I loved him and that counted for something as a defense against sending him to jail, didn’t it? I didn’t want him to go to jail either. How could loving me possibly break any laws? 

I had no more ground to stand on. I was a stupid little girl whose fat tears could help no one. Nothing I said meant a thing, except when I answered yes to his demands that I delete anything and everything with our names on it. All chats, emails, everything. Histories wiped. Computer scoured of every last trace. There could be no evidence.

I had fallen onto my own sword.

He signed off harshly. This felt more like The End than any other time before. This realization rang through me. I collapsed to the carpet and could do little more than coach myself to breathe. 

I only had a few moments to collect myself. My mom called down the stairs that they were almost ready to start the festivities. We were celebrating my grandpa’s birthday. 

And when I finally picked myself up to join them, I pretended my heart had not just been sucked out of my ass with a woodchipper. 

I told my friend I had done it, I’d ended it, and he checked in on me periodically to see how I was doing in the wake of it all. Terrible, absolutely terrible, like flaming dog shit, but I wouldn’t say that out loud. 

It is not clear in the little documentation I have of this time how long the break was. But it was not nearly so permanent as it felt it would be. It could have been a week, or weeks, or months, but by the New Year, whatever I had broken was slightly mended. 

After enough time had passed for any dust to settle, and David hadn’t received a court summons or been arrested, he relapsed into old habits. Once again, he was reminded of how blindingly lonely his world was without my company. 

He messaged me out of the blue. I was in the kitchen helping my mom put groceries away when I pulled my phone out of my pocket. His name on the screen submerged me in a pool of emotions I’d forgotten I had access to. Though I had been tempted to reach out to him, I thought things were so finished that my message would be met with little more than rage and fury. How dare you continue to jeopardize my life, he’d say. It would not have been worth the risk. But that was not so, for here he was, risking everything to talk to me.If this wasn’t true love that was meant to be forever, I didn’t know what was.

#preyforthewicked #sexualabuse #autobiography

[meatmechapilot]

Rivaereri FallFest 2022 Day 11 - Prompt: Family/Age Gap/Incest

Claiming His Ward

They said that it was a truth universally acknowledged that a single alpha in possession of a good fortune, must in in want of an omega.  Lord Ackerman certainly had his fair share of proposals from the mothers of eligible omegas.

Certainly, any one of those omegas would make a suitable bride, but there is just one omega that Levi wants to claim as his.  

Levi remembered when he first met Eren, the omega in question, five years ago.

It was a dark and stormy day when Levi first laid eyes on the omega.  Levi knew a that great tragedy had befallen Eren.  His father, Grisha Jaeger, was a doctor and was helping to stop an epidemic.  He fell sick and so did Eren's mother.  Soon, they both died, leaving their young omega son alone.  

There was an older half-brother, but he refused to care for the omega and was thinking about putting him in an orphanage.  Levi knew that an orphanage is absolutely nothing good for omegas, there is a way too high chance that Eren could end up in a brothel or even on the streets.

It turned out that the Jaegers already made a suitable match for their son.  Therefore, Levi, the Jaeger's lawyer, decided stepped up to adopt the omega as his ward, to raise until he is of marriageable age.

Levi met the boy, he's very quiet and subdued.  Grief must have made him that way, Levi thought at the time.  The boy quickly grew out of his shell and bloomed into a beautiful omega.

Now, at fifteen years of age, the Omega's scent is beginning to smell sweeter and sweeter; it wouldn't be too long before he has his first heat.

Levi decides that he should put his plan into action.  He stood up and went to seek out his ward.

He found Eren sitting in the garden, reading a book.  Upon further inspection, it looks like he was reading one of those guides for young omegas to learn how be proper omegas.  Eren has been reading a lot of those types of books in the past few months.  With that information, Levi decides on a plan of attack.

"Lord Ackerman!" Eren immediately closed his book and stood to greet his guardian, dropping his book in the grass.  The alpha bent down to pick up the book to hand it back to the omega.  Levi did not miss the way Eren blushed as he took the book back.

"You've never been interested in learning how to be a proper omega, why are you reading those guides now?"  Levi asked.

Eren blushed even harder and lowered his eyes.  "I know that I'm engaged, so I thought I should start to learn how to be a proper omega and also learn how to please my future alpha."  Eren said, smoothing his dress.

Levi frowned at this, he knew that before agreeing to becoming Eren's guardian that Eren's parents already betrothed him to one Reiner Braun, but as Eren edges closer to maturity, Levi's come to want the omega for himself.  Levi decides that he needs to break this betrothal soon and decided to initiate his plan.

"Instead of reading these guides, would you like to have some hands-on experience?"  Levi asked his ward.

"How would that work?" Eren asked, as naive as ever.

"Come into my study after dinner, and I will show you."

---

After dinner, Levi waits nervously in his study for Eren to show up, hoping that Eren hadn't changed his mind.  Just as he thought Eren was not going to show up, Eren showed up at the door.  Levi quickly led him inside.

Eren had brought a stack of those guidebooks he was reading.  "All of these books make refences about omegas pleasuring their alphas physically, but none of them said how."

"Some knowledge can't be gained from books." Levi said. "For example, those books don't even say that it is also the alpha's responsibility to pleasure their omegas."

"Really?" Eren asked, astonished, he read in some novels that the union between an alpha and an omega must be beneficial and pleasurable for both parties, but that was the extent of it.  He didn't have any older omega friends, so he couldn't ask about first experience either.

"I could show you if you want." Levi offered.  Eren flushed, lately, he's been feeling funny around his guardian.  He thought that it might be because he's getting closer to adulthood, and thus will have to marry and leave the alpha he's come to see as family.  But the thought of marrying a strange alpha and bearing his children fills him with dread.  He wished he could stay and marry Levi instead.

"But isn't it inappropriate for anything to happen between unmarried alphas and omegas?" Eren asked, even as he allowed Levi to take him in his arms, the alpha's proximity making him lightheaded.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything that would be permanent." Levi assured the omega before maneuvering him to lie flat back on the desk.  Levi lifted up Eren's skirt and pried open his legs.  The omega blushed but didn't move away from his touch.  "And this is one way an alpha can bring pleasure to an omega." Levi murmured before diving his face into the omega's cunt.

"No, wait," Eren said weakly, clearly embarrassed, but Levi's talented togue is already making him week in the knees.  Levi added his fingers in addition to his togue, and the omega begin slicking in no time.  Levi greedily lapped up the sweet nectar, while the omega moaned and squirmed under his ministrations.

Soon enough, the omega was driven to climax under the alpha's attention.  The omega dozed off immediately, not used to the type of exertion he just experienced.  But he will be very used to it, Levi thought, as he carried Eren into his own room and tucked him into bed.

As he was turning to move, Eren suddenly grabbed his hand.  "But we haven't gone over how omegas would be pleasuring alphas yet."

"We went over a lot tonight and you should rest," Levi replied.  "We can cover it in our second lesson."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

All is going according to plan; Levi will claim his omega yet.

#Rivaereri Fallfest 2022

[gogogobarry]

[ Just a random thought that’s probably been discussed before, but I love how Barry ends up with two of the rarest Honey Tree encounters (Snorlax & Heracross) on his team.

As I see it, there’s only two explanations for this:

Barry got extremely lucky.

Barry ran around the entirety of the Sinnoh region nearly every day, wildly slathering Honey (and then impatiently checking) on every tree he came across. He was a regular Honey fiend. The Honey Guy in Floaroma ran out of Honey to sell him. Yes, the famous Honey Guy.  

The first option is more likely (and here’s a story on how my Barry met his Munchlax), but the second is way funnier so I’m going to ride with that mental image for now. ]

#(floaroma town quakes in fear of...the HONEY FIEND) #(bee afraid...) #(i love barry more at 11) #(i come back and drop this and an absolute novel of an ask response out of nowhere...thats the dan LMAO)

[kazuchii]

Hihi, can I request hcs for Xingqiu, Venti, Albedo, and Diluc with a gn s/o that seems aloof but they're such an idiot? Like for the first time s/o's bf see's how soft s/o really is and s/o is kinda being a tsundere about how soft they really are. I hope that made sense ashbesjks

Aloof GN!Reader w/ Genshin Boys

A/N: Hellooo! Thank you for requesting! You’ll be my first request so I’ll do my best to fulfill everything! I hope everything seems in character, I really need to get used to writing different personality types.

Synopsis: The Genshin boys discover that their s/o is actually softer than they originally thought.

Characters: Albedo, Diluc, Venti, Xingqiu

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

Albedo definitely didn’t mind you being distant towards him. I mean, he struggles with interactions in general so he just assumed,

“Oh, they must struggle as well.”

He never saw it as an issue between you since he knew deep down that you deeply cared for him.

He knew you’d always come back to him at the end of the day, he fully trusted that fact about you.

Strangely enough, he found you an intriguing person due to this.

Although the citizens in Mondstadt appear to see him in a positive light, there still are many who fear him deep down. After all, he keeps his secrets zipped up inside him. They know absolutely nothing about him or anything he’s capable of.

But you…you didn’t seem to care about that. And he was thankful for that.

And that brings you to today; a bright sunny day with the rays from the sun gleaming down.

The two of you, along with Klee, were outside the walls of Mondstadt, nearby the lake surrounding the city of freedom.

Today, Klee decided to have a little play date with the two of you. While Albedo was painting away, you and Klee were supposed to play around together.

If he’s being honest, Albedo was a little nervous.

You and Klee had never played together before and due to the distant and cold personality he was used to when it came to you, he wasn’t sure how you’d react with being around a bouncy and hyper child such as Klee.

So when Albedo spotted you playing with Klee, a soft smile on your face, he had a mini heart attack.

Not because he was panicking or anything, but more because he wasn’t used to seeing you smile like this. It made his chest feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Later that day, Albedo made sure to comment on the event.

“Well, it appears you two were getting along fondly.”

“You were watching?!”

“Of course I was watching. How could I look away from that fond smile you had on your face?”

“Shut up!”

“It was very cute.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

Diluc and you first met months earlier. You were just another customer at first to him while he was simply a bartender.

Immediately though, he found you interesting.

While his other customers were loud and obnoxious, you would just sit at a table in the corner of Angels Share, minding your own business.

You would only ever speak to ask for another drink, which he would always provide.

“Another glass of apple cider, please.”

He doesn’t know what came over him when he decided he mentally decided to court you. He probably will never know the exact answer either.

It wasn’t the easiest either. Courting you was one of the most difficult things this man has ever done, and somehow he accomplished it in the end.

You were challenging with your distant personality, to say the least. It seemed to him that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, that you didn’t see him in the way he saw you.

So when you finally accepted him after weeks, the relief this man felt wash over him in an instant is indescribable.

Now present day, Diluc finds himself heading back to Angels Share in the middle of the night. The moon was directly above him as he silently walked through the city, the only other light source being lanturns.

Due to the drowsiness that he was currently feeling, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he spotted you.

“What in the world are they doing out in the middle of the night?”

But what startled him more than the time on the clock was your facial expression. For the first time, Diluc saw you smile.

Diluc just stood frozen in time as you sat there, rubbing the belly of a stray dog, an empty bowl beside you. He could only assume you’ve been taking care of a stray.

“Who’s a good boy? It’s you, isn’t it!”

“(Y/N)?”

You instantly froze in place, your head creaking towards Diluc’s direction.

“D-Diluc.”

“What in the world are you doing up at this hour?”

“I-I could say the same for you! What are you doing up this late, huh?!”

You shot up from the ground, face beet red.

“I asked you first, love.”

“NOTHING. I WASN’T DOING ANYTHING!”

“That dog below you giving you puppy dog eyes says otherwise-“

“WHATS A DOG??”

Venti was simply just strumming away at his lyre, the sound alluring the Mondstadt citizens around him as he stood at the foot of the Barbatos statue in the plaza.

His eyes were shut as he too, was preoccupied with listening to the soothing sounds.

When his fingers came slowly to a halt, his aqua green eyes peeked open, the sound of the citizens around him clapping filling his ears.

A smile morphed onto his face.

But soon that smile increased in size. Beyond the crowd surrounding him, he spotted you. You weren't doing anything special, just standing there.

“(Y/N)!”

The bard could hardly control the excitement of you watching him doing what he adored.

Although your facial expression read that of a bored person, Venti didn't seem to mind at all at that moment. Instead, he craved your attention.

Soon enough, the bard stood in front of you, his grin somehow getting wider.

"(Y/N)! Did you enjoy the song?"

"It was nice."

Nice? Only nice? Your facial expression said otherwise. Was the song boring to listen to? Did he mess up a note? Maybe it just wasn't your type of song.

Venti's eyes narrowed in thought, his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. He wanted you to say something more than just nice, he wanted you to smile for once due to one of his songs.

That is how you found yourself in this situation. Daily, Venti would find you around Mondstadt, play a song for you, and then wait for your response. He wanted you to say something more than the song was nice without a single hint of emotion before leaving.

But each time, that was your answer and Venti was getting annoyed. Not at you of course, but that he lacked the power to make you smile. He’s the Anemo God, but he can't seem to make his s/o smile.

So the astonishment Venti felt when he glimpsed his eyes over towards you after he played yet another song and saw you smiling ever so slightly, he almost dropped his lyre.

"(Y-Y/N)...are you smiling...?"

"Wait what-"

"I saw it! I saw you smile!"

When I tell you Venti was all over the place, I mean it. He was like a bouncy ball with him bouncing in every direction. But he couldn't control it. The pure bliss he felt in that moment took over all his actions.

"I-I didn't do anything. My face twitched."

"You can't lie to me! I saw it with my own eyes!"

The relationship between Xingqiu and you happened almost instantly. The two of you went from total strangers to Xingqiu always dragging you on his little adventures.

It all started with just a single sentence;

"Oh, you like Legend of the Shattered Halberd as well?"

Let me tell you, the look on his face when you said that. He always dreamed of having another person he could converse with when it came to books. So, the moment you said that he wasn't about to let you walk away without learning your name and other books you have read.

A friendship sparked between the two of you. He was one of the only people who would constantly talk with you even if you acted distantly. Soon enough, the two of you became a couple.

He wasn't worried about grabbing you from your home and taking you outside on a little adventure after he just finished reading one of his adventure novels. And of course, he'd always have a book with him during this time. You found that cute about him, but you never showed it.

Whenever the two of you would chat about books, Xingqiu was always shocked whenever you told him you haven't read a certain book.

"You're telling me you've never read The Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies?!"

"Never."

That's when he shoved the first volume in your face, an immediate serious expression on his face. Blinking a few times, you accepted the book from him.

"Read it and then tell me how you feel about it. I can give you the other volumes if you enjoy it."

"Okay."

Xingqiu thought you seemed wary at first to read it. He knew you weren't as majorly obsessed with books as he was, so he internally was just preparing for you to end up not reading it.

He didn't mind it though, reading wasn't for everyone after all.

The following day though, he felt the sudden urge to stop by Wanwen Bookhouse. He just wanted to skim some of the books there, maybe purchase one or two.

But those plans immediately ended when he spotted you. You were leaning against the wooden red railings, the book he had let you borrowed flipped open in your hands. And you were a chunk through it already.

Xingqiu could've worn his eyes were bulging out of his eye sockets because the one other thing he saw was the tiny smile located on your face.

You didn't seem to notice Xingqiu before he was standing right in front of you, a huge grin on his face.

"You seem to be enjoying the book I lent you. Would you care for the remaining volumes?"

You almost dropped the book as a shriek left your mouth.

"Where did you come from?!"

"Well, I felt the urge to stop by the bookhouse and saw you. So, about those other volumes..."

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, your cheeks slightly reddish.

"I'll...pick them up later..."

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #albedo x reader #venti x reader #xingqiu x reader #aloof reader #gender neutral reader #anime x reader #tsundere reader #headcanons #fluff

[yandere-sins]

Stares

Horrortober Day 5: Disturbance “Nothing can interrupt us now.”

I will admit I wrote this one way too late into the night. I should go to sleep yikes :’D Enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere, Body Horror, Kidnapping, Molestation, Harrassment, Sexual Innuendos/Actions Characters: Sukuna x Reader

It was rare to see the King of Curses calm and even a little approachable.

Not that you liked seeing him at all, but you preferred it this way than any other. Ever so often, he peeked out of Itadori Yuji’s face, taunting you, belittling his host. However, you were just glad to get through with your work that day, teaching the boy the necessary theory he had to learn. You’d be gone before you had to deal with the host or the curse inside of him, just like every day. Routine, that’s what Nanami called it. Routine would benefit all of you, but you still hadn’t come around to like what you were forced to do.

Morally, it was wrong to call the boy a curse. He ate something cursed, and now he was beyond screwed, but still… Whenever you saw him, pure survival instinct ran through your veins. You wanted to defeat him, end this miserable life, but you weren’t allowed. Sorcerers weren’t supposed to teach curses, just kill. But you were torn between your orders and duty, looking at what was sitting in front of you.

Asking other sorcerers for their opinion on the matter, and you were faced with the same responses. The same struggle and conflict you were facing, except, maybe, Gojo, who seemed to be unbothered by what he dragged into your holy halls. However, the most unnerving thing that came up in conversation was how often Sukuna showed himself in your class… but not in the others. Given, they did see the casual third or fourth eye, or one mouth too many. Still, even if the others were unnerved, they chose to ignore, while you were the only one to actually have spoken to the king—though it was no honor.

“Brat, the teacher’s staring.” Instantly, Yuji’s attention shifted to the extra mouth on his cheek and then to you, expecting you to say something. You quickly caught your composure, not having realized you’ve been staring - probably in disgust - at him, almost feeling bad. Clearing your throat, you picked up your book again, shaking your head in denial before continuing to monotonously read the text inside of it out loud. Sorcerer history hadn’t been your favorite subject either, but you were stuck with it, unfortunately. Yuji was diligent enough, but even while you read, you couldn’t get your mind off the threat in front of you.

Especially not when long, clawed fingers gripped your book by the spine, lowering it with surprising force.

“No, you’ve been staring. There’s no denying it, Sorcerer, spit it out,” Sukuna grinned at you cheekily, having temporarily taken over your real student.

“I was trying not to vomit looking at you,” you snarled back, slapping his hand away that he retracted in fake hurt. “Bad liar,” he called you before the marks suddenly faded, Yuji going back to being himself.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he muttered apologetically like so many times before. And you sighed, assuring him it wasn’t his fault.

»»————————

It wasn’t his fault either when Sukuna cornered you in one of the hallways around the school. Being cornered by strong two arms did not give you the butterflies that all these novels always tried to sell. Granted, you flinched pretty hard, but once you were face to face with him, your anger far outweighed your fear. He was scary, no question asked. Sukuna could destroy you with a flick of his finger. But somehow, naively so, you didn’t believe he would. Something about ‘he could have, but he hasn’t’ made you bold apparently. Stupidly so.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed, and he rolled his eyes. Yuji’s body looked stupidly wasted on him, the boy being such a ray of sunshine in contrast to his evil counterpart. Sukuna didn’t become him. His attitude didn’t.

“You’ve been staring at me,” he repeated. Why was the topic so important to him?

“So what? What is it to you?” you returned snidely. Lips curling into a grin, you felt like you had actually humored him. Not the direction you wanted to go with the King. “Well, I wanted a good look at you…” he mumbled, his eyes driving from the shirt on your collarbones to the shoes you were wearing slowly, noticeably, and… lusty.

“...too,” he finished his sentence before licking his lips.

“Disgusting,” you whispered dryly, staring at him perturbed, and Sukuna chuckled at your obvious rejection.

“Well, I have what I wanted.”

Before you could repeat, he disappeared, leaving behind a slumping student of yours, and you cursed the King of Curses quietly, dropping everything to had in your arms to support Yuji. “Asshole,” you mumbled, and for a brief moment, you thought you heard him chuckle again, but you couldn’t be sure.

»»————————

It was him. He was planning something all along, and you knew it.

But no one could see it since this plan almost exclusively involved you.

“Shrivel and die,” you told him through gritted teeth, pushing at his chest as hard as you could. Sukuna was undeterred, pressing you against the old chalkboard and nibbling on your earlobe. Why did no one believe you when you swore up and down that he wasn’t just a quiet bystander? That he indeed was trying to do something—or someone?

“I do love a filthy mouth,” he sighed, making you want to throw up just from the implications alone. Even with your elbow between you, there was no movement. The other sorcerers had told you about Yuji’s strength, but you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. Apparently, however, you couldn’t, and it was infuriating. While Sukuna was doing as he pleased, you decided on a different approach, opening your mouth to scream.

Finally, it caused some reaction in him, his head recoiling at the jarring sound, but before long, your lips were captured with his, a fight breaking out between your mouths. He was trying to silence you efficiently with his tongue in your throat, the mere thought of kissing a student repulsing you, and you were biting at his lips which didn’t seem to bother Sukuna at all.

“Someone will come,” you reminded him fiercely as he broke away to give you some air.

“Silly,” he only commented before kissing you again. You were hammering at his chest, trying to make your disapproval evident, but it was to no avail. Sukuna wouldn’t budge. Only when he, mercifully, allowed another breath, you screamed again, using your palms to defend from his face closing in to shut you up. The weight of his body was pressing you into the wall painfully, but realizing your powers simply wouldn’t show no matter how hard you tried was even worse. Did he have some kind of ability that stole your energy from you? Was it fear that blocked you from using it? Were you afraid?

You were. 

It was indeed silly, even if it was painful to agree with Sukuna. You never feared for your life, taking every day and mission as it came. But you were scared now because of the monster in front of you. You had been right: you should have killed him when you could. Stupid! Absolutely stupid to keep around!

Even you understood that it wasn’t death you feared. You feared Sukuna’s presence and the effects it had on you. How defenseless you were suddenly and how, even though he always disappeared in the end after annoying you, he just didn’t seem to let go of you now. 

“Scream some more,” he taunted, and you weren’t going to object. Immediately, you put up the fight again, feeling your lungs clench when you robbed them of all the air to get some help. But nothing happened. “I like it when they struggle,” Sukuna laughed, crazy, madly, victoriously. As if he won a war you didn’t know about.

“Come, open your eyes! Look where you are!” he encouraged you, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, you looked around, seeing the same old classroom that you always had when teaching Yuji. The sight slowly began to shift, fog collecting at your feet and the walls moving unnaturally under your gaze. You’ve been scared before, but it was nothing compared to what you felt as everything shifted. 

You hadn’t realized it. 

Not for one moment did you know he activated his domain, something no one had been able to explore until now. It was different from what you expected, much more vast and deadly. But you also saw the remainders of the classroom, and you wondered how much of it was taking up the actual reality. Horrified, you looked around, now knowing your screams wouldn’t echo for no one but you two here. You always thought you were a decent sorcerer but maybe… maybe you were nothing at all. At least not in the eyes of Sukuna.

“Finally,” Sukuna sighed, satisfied and seemingly exhausted by effort you didn’t know he was making. “Nothing can interrupt us now. I just needed you to lower your guard.”

“You…” Your mumble was met with deafening silence. Not even Sukuna’s breathing made a sound in this space, and you immediately felt claustrophobic in the pitch black that encased the realm. His realm.

“I was nice. I waited. Those… manga said it was proper in these times, though, I don’t care for them. But you kept staring at me as if you were trying to kill me. Do you know how hard it was to wait? A king shouldn’t have to wait-no. I shouldn’t have to wait for you when you are coming on to me.”

Blinking a few times, you looked back at him. Perhaps, for the first time, you were truly meeting his gaze, always finding a reason to not look at him directly before. But not anymore. Now you were indeed looking at him, not remembering those times he said you stared when this was the first and only time you really saw him. “It’s been too long that I had company. How nice of you to offer yourself up to me~”

“I never did-” you tried to argue, but you were swept into another kiss, flailing in his arms as you feared falling. Endlessly. You could no longer discern where the realm started and ended. “You’re mine now,” he growled, unhinged.

“I will devour you, Looker. It’s punishment for not welcoming me sooner. There’s a lot to make up for.”

You’ve never seen Sukuna calm before. Because if what you had witnessed was what you called calm, it had been because he was waiting for the right moment. The right moment to pounce, and to your misery, it was now. Stares could kill, people said. It was true, you found out, as you killed yourself with it by making the King of Curses recognize you. Though, you wished you were dead.

You merely killed your freedom with your actions, as there was no way Sukuna would let you have that ever again after you piqued his interest unwillingly.

#Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #Sukuna jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere!sukuna #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere!jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere!jjk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #horrortoberchallenge2021