#before they at least had some reassurance from the workings of the dungeon and the behavior of the dragon

[s-lycopersicum]

#i don't know how it goes from here (don't tell me) but #IS THAT ALL THAT THEY GET? #all that they went through #they only get to spend A SINGLE NIGHT-- no-- LESS than that #but now she's just GONE AGAIN!? #before they at least had some reassurance from the workings of the dungeon and the behavior of the dragon #now they don't even know where or how-- #and the little time she spent with them was so amazing and fun-- GOD ARGH #dungeon meshi #falin touden #laios touden #marcille donato #gif

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Milkshakes - Billy Hargrove X Female (Henderson) Reader

Title: Milkshakes

Billy Hargrove X Female (Henderson) Reader

Additional Characters: Dustin, Mike (Mentioned), and Reader's mom (Mentioned)

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

WC: 780

Warnings: N/A

That morning, you woke up, eyes fluttering open as the morning sun slipped through your open curtains. Giving a small stretch and yawn, you sat up, looking to the other side of the bed to see it empty. But, as you raked your hand across the sheets, they were still warm. Billy must’ve left not that long ago. Looking around the room, while rubbing one eye with your hand, you saw his shoes and jacket gone, as if Billy was never there.

Getting up and getting ready for the day, You made sure your bag was packed and you had everything you needed for another day at school. Going to your bathroom, you stopped. On the mirror was a yellow sticky note. 

"Thanks beautiful." -Billy 

Heading down the stairs with a smile, you ran into your brother, Dustin. Back from Mike’s no doubt. He was heading to the dining room like you were, ready for breakfast that your mother had prepared for them.

“Good morning, Dusty.” You greeted, taking your seat beside him at the table.

He looked up at you, before going back to his waffles.

“Mornin’, sis. Are you going to come with me after school to Mike’s? You said you would join us tonight for Dungeons and Dragons.” Dustin asked, as he bit into his waffle.

You had honestly forgotten about your promise to the middle schoolers. Quickly thinking about your day, you racked through your brain to see if there was anything else that you had to do.

“Yeah, I’ll even drive you over. Give mom a break.”

Dustin grinned his cute little smile and quickly ate the rest of his small meal before chugging his milk.

As if eating faster would cause the day to go on faster.

Quickly eating your meal as well, you grabbed your bag and said goodbye to your mother, getting in your car with Dustin climbing in  the passenger seat, before driving off to drop Dustin and both, yourself, at their schools. 

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Closing your locker, you were once again greeted by Billy, leaning against the locker beside yours. A smirk on his face, the pink Band-Aids from the night before replaced with the regular tan ones. Billy waited as you situated your textbooks nicely in your bag before you turned to look at him.

“Got a hatred for pink or something?” You asked, as they made their way down the halls and out of the school.

“Well, pink does mess up the look, wouldn’t ya think?” Billy asked, his arm wrapping around your shoulder like the day before.

Even though you weren't in a bad mood, you didn’t push his arm off. Which shocked both Billy and you yourself. Normally, you would just shrug off his arm, but after so many weeks, seeing Billy at school compared to your room, his arm around yours was oddly calming and reassuring in some weird way. It made you feel safe.

Billy had noticed this as well. Though he had wanted to tease you about it, and ask you if he was growing on you or something cocky like that, he was worried that you’d shy away, locking yourself away again. He didn’t want to be the one that caused your walls to go back up, after so long of working them down. He won’t admit it, but having you so close to him made him feel happy. He was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, you liked him too. Or at least felt the same when you were around him, as he felt around you.

Stopping at your car, you pulled out your keys and unlocked your door, tossing your bag in the backseat, you turned back to Billy who was still with you, standing patiently. Rubbing the back of his neck and he gave his usually cocky grin.

“You want to go get milkshakes with me at that new diner that just opened up?” Billy asked, hopefully, a smirk on his face.

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth before wincing.

“I wish I could but I have to take my brother to his friend's house. He wanted me to stay and watch them play some dragon game.” You spoke, checking your calculator watch at the time. 

Billy’s smile faltered a bit but he nodded, understandingly. “Oh, okay. Maybe some other day then?” He asked and you nodded.

“Absolutely, I’ll get milkshakes with you. Just not tonight. I’ll call you when I get home and we can plan something, yeah?” You spoke, before you opened your car door and hopped inside. 

Shutting your door for you, he leaned on the window, giving you a small smirk.

“Alright, Beautiful. It’s a date.”

______________________________________________

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

#billy hargrove fic #cute #fluff #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #stranger things #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #henderson reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader

[captainschaos]

dreaded grin, cold light

wrote this fic for @k-asternix for the @mcyt-halloween gift exchange!! it was a little out of my comfort zone since I really only watch mumbo/scar/grian through life series, but I decided to go for it anyway and had a blast :] a little platonic soulmate action with some spooks on the side, hope you enjoy!

(also worth noting, this will likely be part 1 of 2 for your gift!! unofficially since I don't think it will be done by tomorrow, but I do have a second piece in the works and can tag you when I post that too ^_^)

word count: 3851 This will likely be posted to ao3 too! I'm new over there tho so wanna make sure I get all the parts right before I put it up, will edit to link that here when I do ---/---/---

The atmosphere of the Deep Frost Citadel has always made Mumbo feel at least a little on edge. Sure, he often felt such glee here too, laughing with the other hermits outside the dungeon door, smiling and barely containing their excitement as they all wait for their turn to run the game, but there’s also… an unease. It is not hidden that the Citadel is a hostile place, with its spines and glaring eyes abounding in the crevices of its stonework walls, but it’s deeper. Maybe it’s just the chill that always makes it a bit uncomfortable to sit in one place for too long inside it. Maybe it’s the groans that come from deep in the place’s belly where the dungeon churns with hunger. But no matter how much he loves Decked Out, and how often he will always return to this place with joy, Mumbo just can’t seem to shake the underlying twist at the pinprick in the center of his belly that something is not quite right here. 

But still, it’s a place he loves, and he loves being with his friends here. So right now, he sits with Grian in their shared room, listening as Grian goes through his deck. 

“I mean, I’ve just about got all the commons covered, so I get to get into the fun stuff now, y’know?”

“Mhm,” Mumbo hums in response, smiling down at his own small deck he’s shuffling through while he listens to Grian. 

“I’m just not sure…” Grian sighs, though Mumbo can hear that it’s a playful kind of half-feigned irritation. “It’s nice to be able to choose, but now I have to make decisions, which-”

Grian’s words are cut off, and Mumbo glances up quickly as he hears the feathers of his wings rustle slightly. The harpy’s wings and shoulders are tensed for only a fraction of a moment as Mumbo looks at him, but he quickly shakes it out and picks up another of his cards. 

“Are, uh- you alright, Grian?”

“Oh, yeah.” He shoots Mumbo a reassuring grin. “Scar just tripped over a berry bush I think. He’s running the dungeon right now.” 

“Oh, uhm… Right.” 

Of course. Ever since Double Life, Scar and Grian have had a soullink which lets them feel the other’s pain. There had been signs they were soulmates for a while before that, but it was that iteration of the great death games that had cemented it in a way that was unignorable. Mumbo sometimes wishes he had been there, wonders who he might have been matched with, but it is what it is. He and Grian are soulmates too, even if they don’t share this. 

Less than a minute passes before Grian hisses with a shallow gasp of pain again, and this time Mumbo catches the momentary glow of the pale, spiked halo that signs the action of his soullink. It’s silvery, like the vex magics that line Scar’s smile, but with a bronze undertone that complements Grian’s dusty-brown hair and feathering. It almost looks thorned. Certainly painful. 

Even before Mumbo can say anything, Grian laughs about it. “Scar’s just fallen off something, the idiot. He’s not going to be able to take a hit from a ravager, I can tell you that much.” 

“Sounds like Scar,” Mumbo says with a half a chuckle in response. But it’s hard to cover up the unease he’s feeling. 

It’s always hard to watch though. Seeing Grian in pain, when there’s nothing to do about it… it makes Mumbo’s stomach twist. But there’s an element of love in it, and Grian always says it’s fine, not to worry, and always laughs and shakes his head affectionately after he winces. So as Scar continues his run through the depths of the dungeon, Mumbo watches and listens, biting his tongue, as Grian narrates each unfortunate twist of the vex’s journey. When Grian grabs his arm and announces Scar must have healed up, because that couldn’t have been anything but a ravager bite, Mumbo’s insides twist in knots. The Citadel feels colder than ever around him when Grian shakes out another berry prick, but there’s an affectionate smile that Mumbo just can’t quite understand. There’s an unsettling feeling of watching through a window that shouldn’t be there while Grian narrates with uncanny specificity as Scar trips and fights through the dungeon, a journey that should be known only to the stomach of Decked Out, but has wormed its way through the soullink to Grian and now squirms in Mumbo’s gut. He feels off. So when there’s a shudder, and Grian clutches his chest and his wings spread in automatic response, Mumbo can’t help but jump to his feet and go to his friend. 

“Grian!” 

“I’m fine!” As Mumbo reaches out for his soulmate, Grian’s hand comes up to block him through a flat-palmed gesture, and he shakes out his feathers. “You don’t need to worry, Mumbo, I’ve told you this! It’s all–”

“Well THAT was a nightmare!” Scar says with an enormous smile as saunters up to Grian and Mumbo’s cubby. “All the ravagers in all the wrong places, just awful. I do not recommend trying to get an artifact through there right now.”

“Seemed it, buddy!” Grian says jauntily. He looks at Mumbo with one last look, clearly trying to calm him, but it somehow just makes him feel more queasy when Grian goes back to talking to Scar like it’s all fine. “It was Willy who did you in at the end there, wasn’t it?”

Mumbo knows what just happened though. Scar barely had to feel the dying, the world snatching him up as soon as his soul cried out and shuffling him comfortably back to the bed to respawn. That’s part of how they all set up their respawns, it’s all designed to mitigate the pain. But Grian… 

What did he feel?

Mumbo can’t help but feel sick at the thought of it. 

But deeper down, in a more selfish part of him, he wonders if it’s the fact that he’s the only one who has no way to know that makes him feel sick to the stomach. 

Maybe it’s just the Citadel getting to him. 

Yeah. That must be it. 

---/---/---

Scar hums to himself as he shuffles through a shulker box, pulling out a bundle of pumpkins to set out between himself and Grian. 

“There we go! Where would you like them, buddy-ol-pal?”

“Pretty much everywhere!” the harpy announces giddily. He’s already got rolls of black and orange and green wool streamers wrapped around his arms as he looks up at the entrance of his base with both hands proudly on his hips. The Halloween colors are blooming all around Grian’s base, and with Scar and Mumbo’s help, they’re just coming to pop more and more. 

“You got it!” Scar hefts up a pumpkin under each arm, tutting as the enchantment on his leg braces fizzes under the weight. Not his fault he’s so strong! He taps his foot to realign the runes, and then whistles as he picks a nice spot by the door for these two lovely golden gourds. 

“Hm… do you think that should go a bit higher, Scar?” Grian asks. 

“What should?” Scar responds as he straightens up and brushes the pumpkin-dirt off his hands. He looks over to Grian, then follows the line of where he’s pointing. The harpy’s gesture leads up to where Mumbo stands up in the ring surrounding Grian’s nether portal. A bit precarious, but his elytra is folded snugly against his back, ready to catch him should he fall, and he keeps at least one lanky arm clasped to the stone ring around him at all times. More specifically, Grian is pointing to the enormous fake bat the mustached changeling is holding up, showing where he plans to hang it from the top of the portal. “Oh. Hm hm… probably just a bit! Don’t want it to hit your head if you come rocketing out of there with a piglin on your tail, you know.” 

“Good point. Alright–” 

And with that, Grian locks eyes with Mumbo across the distance, and there’s a glow. Soft and warm, almost violent in hue with the depth of the shade, a red light seems to pool in Grian’s mouth as he looks up at Mumbo, lips parted slightly. The changeling in turn looks back, and even from this far away Scar can see the glow that shows the message has been received, and sure enough he shifts a bit so that he can raise the decoration higher before securing it with string. Scar turns to see Grian blink a few times, and then he gets back to his own work throwing streamers over everything in reach, smiling softly to himself. 

Scar knows, there’s no need to be jealous. Grian and Mumbo have their soulmate bond, and Scar has his own with the harpy, but… he still wonders. He can’t help it, shoving words in different spots to create every configuration of what might pass between them that he can’t hear, through their sharing of thoughts. It is nice that at least there’s the glowing sign when it happens, so he’s not completely left out of the loop, but there’s still… there’s just still some unshakeable feeling about it. Something uneasy. Something that makes the ground feel unstable under Scar, like he doesn’t quite know where to step without falling. It’s silly, he knows. But knowing what he doesn’t know doesn’t seem to help much. 

But nevermind all that! He has pumpkins to throw around after all, and he delights in putting them in as many ledges and nooks as he can reach without Grian being able to. Realistically, the harpy has the wings to reach any of it, but that doesn’t stop Scar from laughing as he has to hop to readjust one of the jack-o-lanterns Scar’s placed a bit askew. But like punctuation throughout this, there are the moments where Grian looks over Scar’s shoulder, and there’s a momentary rush of adrenaline as he wonders if there’s a creeper behind him, and then he sees the glow in Grian’s mouth. 

It casts shadows that seem to accentuate every sharp edge to the harpy’s teeth. 

“Mumbo’s just about done,” Grian says after one of these moments. “You think we’ve done our work here?”

“Oh, for sure!” Scar announces, putting his hands on his hips as he looks over their handiwork. “Looking mighty spooky here, friend. A nice spread of tricks and treats.”

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here and maybe grab a bite to eat then, huh? All this work has certainly got my appetite up.” 

Scar keeps smiling, but as Grian talks, he can’t seem to look anywhere but at his teeth. There’s a pinch in his stomach. 

“Sounds good.”

---/---/---

Mumbo sits alone in his vault, at a desk he tends to keep reserved for redstone planning. There are sketches laid out in front of him, pages and pages of blueprints that are more like redprints with the lines of redstone scrawled across them, but none of them are right. His head is in his hands, his changeling claws just barely pressing into his scalp as more of a grounding pressure than anything, but there is something bothering him. 

And the maddening thing is, he doesn’t know what. 

It’s an aching, something that he keeps thinking is hunger, but he’s been eating. Golden carrots at first, he always keeps a bundle of them at his desk for this purpose, but they didn’t help. He snapped his teeth through piece after piece of the clicking-crunching things, the sound of them breaking rattling like brittle bones, but they seemed to glide right past the sensation rolling in his gut. After biting through a handful of them, he thought maybe he was just having a different craving, so he went to find some steak, but that did little besides give a new ripping instead of the crunching. He even tried golden apples as his desperation grew, but he almost felt he was being taunted. He was hungry, and yet eating did nothing to help him. 

And the churning in his stomach is only growing. 

---

Scar sits in one of his many workshops hidden throughout the back areas of Scarland, looking over the plans for the latest and greatest ride to come. Or at least, he’s trying to. At the moment he’s holding his head in his hands, palms pressing into his forehead, the heels of his hands smothering his eyes as he tries to rub away the weight that seems to have settled on his eyelashes. He can hardly even look at his plans, much less process them, as his vexish wings flicker behind him in a visual representation of his struggle to just keep himself upright, as something tugs at him. 

But he has no idea what. 

He’s trying to keep on his smile, despite the fact that there’s no one in the room, just to keep himself sane. It’s solidly into the evening hours on the server, sure, but he’s had plenty of rest. And yet there’s an aching when he peels his eyes open, and it feels like folds of weight have been hung over him to pull him, smother him, to the earth. Every bone in his body feels like a support beam about to snap, and he would swear his spine creaks as he tries to straighten up. It seems like fatigue, but he knows he should be fine. He makes sure he rests, he knows he should be fine, and besides, he even tried sleeping. He laid down in one of the spots he has set up in case of occasions like this, closed his eyes, and… nothing. The silence was maddening. There was nothing to disturb him, and yet, no sleep came. So now he sits here, listening to nothing, looking at nothing, and yet he remains. He feels chained to the ground itself, every movement is a dragging, and yet his mind remains, stagnant and stale in this state. 

And the weight around his neck is only growing. 

---

Mumbo is trying to focus. He is desperately trying to focus. But it feels like something is trying to rip him in two, the way this strange, poltergeist of a hunger is clawing at him. 

Still, nothing is working. Mumbo’s tried potions now, splashing them and drinking, hoping for something to put even just a dent in the hunger tearing at his insides. It did nothing for the aching in his gut, the tightness in the back of his throat, like a hand clenched around his neck. He leans now against the door of his vault, trying to use the coolness of the metal to drag his mind away from it, but there’s no thinking about anything but the hunger. It’s grating at his mind. Panic is starting to form a new core to the grinding in the pit of his stomach. A fear, a wondering- what if this never leaves? What if there’s no answer, what if this is it? He has no idea what’s caused it, so what if there’s no way to end it? There’s a hopelessness beginning to emerge, like an animal crawling out of a cave. He doesn’t want it to be there. But even worse, he’s scared there’s no defeating it. 

His gut drops if he thinks too much about it. 

---

Scar wants to focus. He really, truly wants to focus. But it’s just impossible, it’s impossible! He’s absolutely positive now that there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Nothing has worked. Scar’s flipped on every beacon in the area now, hoping their powers might do something to rejuvenate him, but it did nothing. It had no effect on the horrid grip around his temples, the feeling dragging him toward the floor. His limbs feel like lead, and he now sits in his wheelchair, just trying to ignore the feeling of weight and dulled senses pulling at him. A kind of claustrophobic desperation is welling up at the center of it all. The dread of not knowing how this will end, the panic of having no idea what’s happening to him, the cause of this weariness. He should know how to fix this. He should be able to fix this. But still…

His chest tightens if he thinks too much about it.

---

There has to be a solution. There has to be. 

The changeling just wants to fix this. He just wants to know what’s wrong with him. He just wants to know what this is, haunting the space just under his ribcage. 

It’s consuming him. He hardly even realizes when the hunt carries him out into the night. 

---

There has to be a solution. There has to be. 

The vex just wants to end this. He wants to know what’s happening to him. He just wants to know what this is, consuming the space just behind his eyes. 

It’s haunting him. He hardly even realizes when the need takes him out into the night. 

---

Two figures tumble into opposite sides of an alleyway. Teeth bared, stomachs snarling and snatching, skulls lolling toward the ground, they lock eyes with one another. And in their horrid torments, enveloped in the cold night, something snaps in place. 

---/---/---

Grian happily carries a shulker box full of building materials as he walks down the path toward the shopping district. He knows he could fly, it’d be much faster, but it’s such a nice day! He wanted to enjoy it. 

“G!” a voice calls, and he stops and spins to try and find it. There are no buildings around this part of the path, but he quickly spots two figures not too far off the road, waving to him. He jogs over, and finds Mumbo and Scar laying on a blanket in the grass, side by side in the laziest of friendly ways. 

“Hello, you two! Enjoying the beautiful day, are we?”

“Certainly better than last night was,” Mumbo says with a lighthearted but slightly concerning chuckle. Scar pipes up to help clarify, or at least attempt to, before Grian can say anything concerned though. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s all fixed up now! And it did us more good than bad, didn’t it?” 

Mumbo laughs again, this time with a bit more vigor. “Very, very true.” 

“Wait- what happened? Everything’s alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah! Here, we can show you,” Scar pipes up again. “Watch this.” 

With that he rolls over a bit to look at Mumbo, who just smiles and keeps still. After a moment of Scar’s concentration, there’s a glow, and Grian looks down to Scar’s hand where the light seems to be cupped in his palm. Matching, Mumbo’s own palms seem to mirror the glow, and Grian would recognize that silverish light anywhere, though this particular iteration seems to have a very slight green undertone, copperish and almost mimicking sunbeams underwater. 

“Soulmates?!” 

“Soulmates!” Mumbo and Scar affirm, in sync, causing a ripple of giggling. 

“Not sure exactly how recently it, y’know, popped up, but yep! And I can use it to tell you that… Mumbo needs to talk to you.”

Grian finally moves to sit, making a spot for himself between his two soulmate’s legs, but leaving the near-touch they have between their shoulders so they can all sit as together as possible. “So the link’s something need related?”

“Yeah, well,” Mumbo begins, somehow managing to twiddle his fingers even with his hands making a pillow under his head, “I think it might have been at least partially shaped by… what we were missing, from our soullinks with you. Not that you aren’t amazing!” Grian nods understandably, waiting for the explanation to finish. “It’s just- Scar and I were both seeing how you connected with the other, and it- it made something to be left out of, I guess? Or maybe just made it easier to notice what we were missing, I’m not sure it just-” 

“We were missing the link to each other,” Scar finishes for Mumbo. A glow fades from his palm again, not as strong as when he was focusing on it, but a sign Mumbo may have been in need of a bit of silver-tongued rescuing. “I had the pain, he had the thoughts, and so we bridged the gap.” 

“Thinking about each other’s pain,” Mumbo says with a grateful smile given to Scar. “That’s the way I’ve been thinking about it, at least.” 

“So… how did you figure this out, exactly?” Grian asks. 

“Oh, ah- well, Scar hadn’t eaten in far too long, and I thought I was getting ripped apart from the inside out!” Mumbo laughs, rolling so his elbow can jab into Scar’s shoulder. 

“Hey! At least I take all the cat-naps a man could need, one of us needed some shut-eye so bad it was driving me up the wall!” 

And at this, Grian laughs. He was asleep plenty early last night, and must have stayed asleep through any inkling of this event. But of course, these two managed to get supernaturally attuned in precisely the right way to bully each other about taking care of themselves. As much focus as Mumbo had on him, he knows Scar and Mumbo have their very own, very unique friendship. And he has no need to be jealous- he knows they love him in equally wonderful ways. 

“Oh, you wonderful idiots! How’d you get that mess sorted out then?” 

“I practically tackled Mumbo into bed of course!” Scar says with his hands thrown in the air. 

“But not before I shoved about a stack of steak into your mouth!” Mumbo shoots back through giggles. 

All three of them are laughing, and Grian pats a hand on each of his soulmates’ nearest knee. “Well, glad you seem in much better spirits now. Can I see the soullink work again?”

“Sure! Here, I’ll give it a go this time.” Mumbo turns to Scar and scrunches up his face comedically as their palms glow once more, and the two barely hold back giggles as their foreheads nearly press together. “Hmm, I think Scar’s hungry. For… Grian brainsss…!” he announces with a punctuating wiggle of his fingers for extra spooky effect. 

“What! No no no, that’s your thing, Mr. I-Am-What-I-Eat!” 

The group collapses into a fit of giggles, and Grian falls onto his chest between his soulmates, wrapping an arm around each in a wonderfully clumsy hug. Scar throws an arm up over Grian’s head to reach around to Mumbo, and the changeling in turn reaches across Grian to playfully swat at Scar’s other hand as he gestures wildly. They remain like that for a while, safe and comfortable in each other’s presence, smiling and talking all too loudly for reasonable interaction. But affection has no need to be reasonable, in the face of unreasonable obstacles, even if those obstacles have been thoroughly overcome. It’s the absurdity that will keep them running strong. It’s the laughter after the dark that will always bring them back to each other. 

#grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #mcyt halloween #captain's words #this was super fun!!!! like I said out of my comfort zone a bit but I had a good time :D #I always loveeeeee some queerplatonic soulmates so I just had to do it #you also said you loved like hybrid headcanons and stuff so while I didn't get into it much I did include mine- all the hermits are fae ! #of different sorts yknow I very briefly mentioned each of my hcs for this trio :] #you also said you like angst/hurt/comfort so I went for some of that hehe #all around just had fun with this n hope you enjoy !!! #and also jade thank you again for organizing this!!! it was super fun :DDD

[bluesfortheredj]

The knight.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie beams as you shuffle timidly over to his table with your bag clutched tightly to your chest, “take a seat right here,” he taps the chair next to him and you smile and nod at the others as you perch nervously on the seat.

You begin to unpack your lunch, setting it out in front of you carefully before opening up the foil wrapped sandwich first, and you can feel questioning eyes watching you as you do so.

“The campaign’s well under way now,” Eddie announces, redirecting their gazes quickly, “I expect everyone to be on top form this evening as the story expands before our very eyes.”

He grins excitedly at everyone until his eyes fall on you and he softens his smile when you look up at him mid-chew. His hand reaches out to your shoulder, landing on it tenderly, then he rubs your jacket with his thumb until he’s snapped out of the moment by Gareth choking on a crumb.

“Dude, chew your food slowly!” Jeff tuts, banging him on the back.

Eddie’s eyes find their way back to you quickly, “you’re coming tonight right?”

You nod and swallow the remainder of your sandwich, “if that’s still okay…”

“Of course it is.”

This wasn’t your usual seat for lunch and you were well aware that the members of the Hellfire club were trying to weigh you up while you sat with them; were you worthy of being in their company, or were you a fraud? In reality you were neither, your mission was not to join the sacred club at all, it was to escape, and Eddie was key to your plan working. You look over to your regular lunchtime seat and grimace as you watch Simon pace back and forth nearby, waiting for you to appear until another member of the basketball team slaps him on the back with a smile. He turns to face his friend, his eyes moving across the direction you’re in, and you duck behind Dustin so as not to be seen.

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassures, “he didn’t see you.”

Simon was a friend, at least you thought he was, yet his behaviour recently had changed quite drastically and what once was a close friendship had turned into unwanted advances, attempted kisses, and other worrying moments where he tried to cross the line of your very clear boundaries. It made you uncomfortable to say the least, especially as you’d made sure to tell him that this was something you did not want from him, and so you’d asked the only other person you trusted to help you out; Eddie.

“What you thinking about?” he muses, resting his chin on his closed fist.

“Uhh, how I’m dreading this biology lesson,” you lie.

Eddie narrows his eyes at you, knowing your answer wasn’t the entire truth of the matter, then smiles, “hmm, well at least you’ve got me there to distract you.”

“True,” you chuckle.

“I saved you a seat at the sidelines for tonight by the way. I hope you’re ready to see some dungeons and dragons action!”

“I am more than ready.”

“Excellent!” he grins, clapping his hands together excitedly just as the bell goes, “we’ll see you later.”

You exit the canteen using Eddie as a human shield then rush off down the corridor to your next lesson where you can breathe a sigh of relief for the remainder of the afternoon, knowing you don’t have any classes with Simon for the rest of the day. Once your final lesson is over you head to the D&D room and slipping in through the door quietly, yet still garnering some attention from the players who are dotted around the main table. You mouth a sorry at everyone and Eddie nods to the chair against the wall that’s been set aside especially for you.

“Now… you walk through the dense woodland, the jagged edges of the gnarled branches clawing at your cloaks like fingers as you move…” Eddie slowly rises from his majestic chair at the head of the table and places his hands flat on the surface in front of him, “…that’s when you see it, the glowing orb of orange and red that peeks through the trees, the heat intensifying as you near it…”

Your eyes can’t seem to leave the Hellfire’s enigmatic leader as he continues his story with gusto, gesticulating wildly as the story comes to a head and the others around the table sigh in defeat at the imaginary actions that had just taken place. He was fascinating to watch and time is up for this session all too soon, much to your disappointment. The guys file past you with distrusting expressions; neither one of them knowing why you were suddenly sitting in on their evenings.

“So what do you think?” Eddie grins, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he walks towards you.

“I… It…”

“It’s not for everyone, I know, but-”

“No, no, it’s not even that… I loved it. You were incredible, just absolutely incredible.”

He bows his head in gratitude, “why thank you m’lady!” he chuckles timidly.

“Seriously though Eddie, I’ve never seen you so… passionate. It was amazing to witness, and I’m already looking forward to the next one.”

“You’re too kind,” he smiles, placing an arm around your shoulders, “come on, I’ll drop you home. Simon’s well gone by now I’m sure.”

“Thanks Eddie, this means a lot.”

“Anything for you sweetheart, you know that,” he soothes, “how have the last few days been?”

The two of you begin to walk out of the school side by side and you sigh lightly with a shrug, “well, not so bad now that I’m hiding. He’s certainly finding it difficult to corner me, so that’s a huge bonus.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way then. Keep coming to Hellfire and hopefully he’ll find another poor soul to focus his affections on.”

“Hmm.”

“I know it sucks losing a friend, but you could definitely do without a friend like that.”

“I know,” you exhale sadly, “it’s just such a shame. I didn’t want it to end like this.”

The two of you get into Eddie’s van and pull the doors shut, “yeah, but he gave you no choice but to end it this way, remember that.”

“Yeah,” you reply wistfully.

It really wasn’t a nice thought that you had to hide from your friend like this, but he just wasn’t listening to you and just as Eddie had pointed out, it gave you absolutely no other option but to take such drastic action if he couldn’t even listen to the simplest of requests.

“See you tomorrow then yeah?” Eddie mumbles against your shoulder as you give him a hug goodbye.

“See you tomorrow,” you confirm.

The days trickle by slowly, Simon now seemingly giving up his task to track you down and getting the rather obvious hint that you didn’t want to see him, yet you still make your appearances at Hellfire thanks to Eddie’s insistence to make sure you wouldn’t bump into him on the way home. Generally everyone had gotten used to you sitting in the outer rims of the room and observing quietly from the sidelines, yet Gareth hadn’t quite adjusted as well as the others, and he was certainly less than happy at the fact that you were still sitting there more than two weeks later.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Eddie nods as you stand from your designated seat once the session ends.

You slip out of the door and lean against the wall with your bag tucked between your feet as the others file out in a short line, but when Gareth exits he stops next to you with a furrowed brow and a definite chip on his shoulder.

“Why do you keep showing up?” he questions bluntly.

“Uh… I was invited…” you stutter, a little taken aback by his abrupt enquiry.

He folds his arms in defence, “but why? You’re completely ruining the atmosphere in there, and no one wants you to come.”

You open your mouth to try and come back with something but words fail you, and you’re even more shocked when you turn your head as you hear footsteps coming up beside you and see Simon standing there with his arms open and wide grin on his face as he presses himself against your body. There you were, stuck between a rock and a hard place, and you were going in to some sort of anxious state as the two guys seem to close in on you from either side.

“Umm… I…”

“(Y/N)!” Eddie calls, his hand reaching through the middle of the two men like a rope for you climb out of a difficult spot, “come on, we’ll be late.”

Your fingers grasp his and he pulls you from the ever increasingly claustrophobic position you’d found yourself in to the light of the corridor, then the two of you race to the front doors and burst out of them into the air. The first deep breath you take almost stings your chest from how hard you inhale, then Eddie bundles you in to his van and drives you to his Uncle’s place.

He swings the front door open for you and places a hand on your lower back to guide you inside, “well that was a close one, wasn’t it?”

“Too close.”

“I’ll have a word with Gareth tomorrow, he was completely out of line for saying anything-”

“No, no, it’s okay, I won’t come any more, it’s fine, honestly,” you say, waving your hand dismissively as you take a seat.

Eddie gasps, shocking you in to looking up at him and his hands that now cover his mouth, “I need you there!” he insists, “I’m at my best when you’re there.”

A weak smile crosses your lips but you shake your head from side to side as your gaze turns down to the floor at the thought of Simon and his arms attempting to wrap around you.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly as he squats down in front of you, “you’re safe, okay?” he places his hands on your knees delicately as you meet his deep brown eyes, “you’re safe with me, I promise.”

You rest your hands on his and nod, “I know, I know I am.”

“Now I’ll get you a drink and we can watch some crappy telly until you feel better, yeah?”

Your lips turn up into a smile and Eddie mirrors your expression, “sounds good to me.”

Request: Could you do one where Eddie is hanging out with reader and his friends and she keeps showing up to D&D events but doesn't get involved because she's avoiding someone and Eddie is the only one that knows and one of his friends get annoyed and pulls her aside after an event and gets mad then the person that she's avoiding shows up and Eddie has to get her out of it then Eddie takes her to his place to make her feel a bit better?

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fluff

[cha0ticspacebi]

The King of the Hellfire Club: Chapter 1

Your dad promised this was the last move until after you graduate. You see Eddie Munson outside Nancy's house shortly after your arrival in Hawkins. Everyone tells you to stay away but you're sure there's more to him than he lets on. Now it's the day before spring break and you just have to work up the nerve to actually talk to him before you lose your chance.

Tags: 18+ MDNI, falling in love, full of cheesy cliche high school romance tropes, dungeon master Eddie, dom Eddie, rockstar Eddie hurt/comfort, getting together, fluff/smut

dividers by firefly-graphics

Chapter 1/13 ☆ → Next chapter

☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link! ☆

College. It was on everyone’s mind as senior year neared its end. Well maybe not everyone. Maybe not all your classmates were panicking to the same degree you were. Nancy already got her acceptance letter and yours was still MIA. Your parents and friends kept reassuring you that it would arrive any day but any day wasn’t soon enough. 

It was the day before spring break and it started off like any other day since you moved here. 

Hawkins, Indiana. Unlike any other city in the county you’ve lived in. Your father’s job had you moving around quite frequently but he promised this was the last move at least until you graduated.  You’re surprised you still ended up here after hearing about the bizarre disappearances and a suspicious mall fire last year. But after LA you figured it would be nice to spend your senior year in a small town away from the outside world. Why the government built a high security research facility in the middle of small town America? Who knows. Your dad said it was a newer facility and he was needed to help them get started.

“Mom, I'm leaving!” You called out as you grabbed your bag, “If I get any mail can you call the school so they can tell me?”

She yelled from the other room, a hint of laughter sneaking through, “Sweetheart you know a watched pot never boils! I’ll see you after school.”

You finished putting your shoes on and headed out, “Hey there baby,” your prized red Chevy drop top glistened in the morning sun rise. Robin’s advice from yesterday rang in your ears as you turned on the radio, Girl you need to chill out! Smoke some weed or something but you're tied way too tight, enjoy life ! Maybe she’s right, You thought to yourself, I know I did my best on those entrance exams and not to brag but my marks in class have never been a problem. Maybe the mail is just backed up. No reason to stress. The song from your speakers caught your attention. You turned it up. The sun was rising. It was a warm morning here in the midwest. You rolled the top down and for the first time in a while you felt relaxed as you pulled into the dirt parking lot of Hawkins High School.

Tonight I wanna give it all to you

In the darkness there's so much I want to do

And tonight I wanna lay it at your feet

'Cause girl, I was made for you

And, girl, you were made for me

Spring break anticipation was palpable as you turned your car off and followed the crowd into the gym for this morning’s pep rally. The basketball team was headed to their championship game tonight. Even though sports weren’t really your thing Nancy would be there reporting for the school paper and Robin will be there playing in the band. Maybe…  

“He’s not here,” Nancy teased as she sat down, watching you obviously scanning the crowd for a certain metalhead, “He’s never been one for school functions.” 

“I wasn’t looking for anyone!” You defend yourself, “I was thinking about the mechanics of these bleachers and how they are designed to hold this much weight.”

She laughed, “Oh that’s a new one. When are you going to admit that you have a crush? You’ve been eyeing him since the first day you moved here! Senior year is almost over and even if he doesn’t graduate, again, you will and you’ll lose your chance!”

“I don’t have a crush! I just… wish people weren’t so judgemental of him.”

“He must have friends though right, I mean Mike’s in that hellfire club of his.”

“I’m sure he has friends but come on Nance, could you concentrate on Mrs. Click’s history lectures with all the whispers? When half the school thinks you're a satanist and the other half thinks you're just drug dealing trailer trash? If everyone made a spectacle when I showed up to class I’d skip too.”

She shrugged, “If you're so concerned about his well being why is it you’ve never actually talked to him?” The band started playing and cut your conversation short.

After the school fight song concluded, the basketball team came in and their captain, Jason Carver, gave a moving speech on how winning a highschool basketball game could be just the thing that the town needed to move on after all the tragedy that had befell this quiet community shortly before your arrival. The cheerleaders did a dance number and before you knew it; it was time for lunch. 

You’d been thinking about what Nancy said all morning. Maybe it was her push to take action, or maybe it was Robin’s smoke some weed sentiment, or maybe it was the infectious, flirtatious nature of the impending spring break holiday, whatever it was that brought you to your current position here you were. Standing on the edge of the lunchroom, gripping your school issued lunch so tight the tray threatened to crack, watching the infamous Eddie Munson saunter across the top of a table, taunting the jocks, the science club, and anyone basically that would be considered “fitting the societal norm”. He hopped down just in time to block the path of 2 cheerleaders. Your heartbeat quickened as you watched his gentlemanly display of allowing them to pass unbothered. He must be done, you thought as you watched him retake his seat at the head of the hellfire lunch table. And I must be out of my mind . You walked towards them.

“Come on Eddie!” Dustin yelled, “Can’t we just reschedule? Lucus says the team needs him.”

Eddie’s eyes were dark as he lowered his head, “Re….scheulde? You want to reschedule the jaw dropping finale of the Cult of Vecna? ”

“It’s just until tomorrow!” Mike spoke up, “Like no big deal right?”

His eyes shifted and head tilted in surprise, “No. Big. Deal? If it’s no big deal. Get out there and find a replacement! If Sinclair would rather throw balls into laundry baskets then we will simply replace him.”

No one responded to him. 

“Hi Eddie,” It was painfully obvious how nervous you were. You could feel all the eyes at the table on you, you definitely interrupted something.

Thankfully Mike broke the silence, “Oh hey,” he addressed the table, “Guys this is my sister Nancy’s friend - ” he was cut off.

Eddie turned to face you, bright brown eyes smiling up at you from his seat, “Wheeler’s friend huh? Well to what do we lowly peasants owe the pleasure of your presence?” 

His voice went right to your chest. This was the first time you actually worked up the nerve to talk to him and all you wanted was to hear him speak again. You cleared your throat and bit your lip, forcing the words out “Eddie? I was wondering if I could ask you…”

“I’ll stop you there princess, I know the nature of your quest and what it is you seek. Meet me out on the edge of the forest. There’s an old picnic table. After school. Now if you’ll excuse me, miss, I have some treacherous wretches to deal with.”

“Treacherous? Come on Eddie!” Dustin threw his arms up, “If it means that much to you we can just play your sick, twisted, sadistic campaign without him? I mean we will probably die without the extra person but hey that could be a good story too right? Maybe the bad guys win this one and then after break we return with all new characters to avenge our fallen heroes!” The whole table laughed! Even you couldn’t stop a snicker from escaping. 

“I gotta admit Henderson,” Eddie shook his head, “You’ll make one hell of a dungeon master. Maybe even worthy enough to de-throne me one day.” He took a napkin from the table and folded it into a crooked circle shape before placing it on the crown of his head, “But for now, what the king says goes! And I say, find me a replacement!” 

You realized you have been awkwardly eavesdropping on their conversation. You turn to walk away as a hand reaches outstretched, “Oh fair maiden,” Eddie falls to one knee dramatically, “Will you come to this king’s aid in his time of need? The fate of the world may depend on you!”

Your eyes widened, fingers still death gripping the plastic tray in your hands. Before you could answer, Eddie and his table of minions were all laughing again. Eddie rose to his feet and smiled at you, his voice lowered as he leaned in, “Hey sorry for putting you on the spot like that but,” The charm practically dripped off his tongue, “My invitation was genuine. I know spending your evening with a bunch of dungeons and dragons dorks might not sound all that fun but I promise to make it worth your while.”

Your face flushed, “Well I don’t know anything about it or how to play but it sounds intriguing. Can I think about it and give you an answer after school?”

Eddie grinned, pleased, “Of course fair maiden,” he bowed, “I’ll await your decision in the forest.”

You nodded and spun on your heel as you headed towards the library to eat your lunch. Despite all the conversations and voices clouding your perception, you thought you heard something. 

“Wow I'm shocked she didn’t say yes, ” Gareth mocked sarcastically.

Eddie’s eyes locked on you, watching you disappear in the crowd, grin widening, “She didn’t say no either.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content #high school sweetheart eddie munson #dungeon master eddie munson

[sgtjamesrogers]

WIP WEDNESDAY

welcome back to 'who's wip is it anyway' where jesse posts a wip from yet Another fandom he hasn't written for before, today we have 1.5k of 'buddie fic where eddie discovers that the girl buck was involved with in virginia beach didn't just teach him how to surf'

The thing is, it really should have been a routine call.

Or at least, nearly routine. Just south of routine. After all, it’s hard to get standard, by the book, “to the letter” in terms of rescues every day when you’re living and working in Los Angeles. Even so, Eddie is fairly certain that they’ve attended to weirder and more awkward emergencies than this one. 

Even if ‘accidental fire inside West Hollywood’s most exclusive BDSM dungeon’ ranks pretty high on the master list of strange. 

“Go ahead and take a deep breath for me,” he tells the person wrapped in a silk robe in front of him. He presses the drum of his stethoscope to their back, squinting. “And one more time… perfect. You might have a bit of a sore throat for the next few days, but it’s nothing to worry about. Lungs sound great.” 

He loops his stethoscope around the back of his neck again, watching them glance nervously into the entrance of the building, and Eddie knows that look. 

Instead of reassuring them directly, he says, “That’s a nice-looking robe.” Eddie gestures to the silver embroidered monogram on the chest pocket, it looks expensive, to say the least. It’s the right thing to say; their chest puffs out in pride as they look down with a pleased smile at the monogram. 

“My partner had it made for me,” they say conspiratorially, straightening out the pocket. “She didn’t want to only do a collar, she said, ‘I don’t want to own you, I want to keep you warm.’ ” A little lovestruck smile curves across their lips as they speak, and it’s cute, it’s adorable, honestly, except Eddie’s– 

Eddie’s not flustered, that’s not it, it just feels like something is trying to escape from behind his sternum, trying to dig loose from between his ribs. It’s nothing he could verbalize if prompted because he knows how it would sound. 

And he’s not being judgemental! Really! He knows when he’s judging because it’s always on purpose. This doesn’t feel purposeful, this feels like some strange animal just woke up in his chest and found the dial to crank his pulse up without warning. 

He’s saved from working out a way to respond by a figure bursting from the front doors, and his patient sits up straight and waves with both arms. 

“Naomi! Here!” 

Naomi comes striding across the parking lot to where the 118 has set up triage and does an incredible job of wrapping his patient up in her arms, since she doesn’t look taller than 4’11. Grateful to have an out, Eddie stands up from the crouch he was in. 

“They’re just fine, only a little smoke inhalation,” he relays, eyes scanning automatically down Naomi. She looks a little smoke-smudged but otherwise fine, and her dark platform boots somehow look immaculate. “You get checked out inside?” 

“Someone looked me over, scout’s honor,” she replies with a wry smile, one that only grows as her partner tucks their face into her neck as they hug. A protective hand runs down their back and then tucks a few fingers into the leather choker Eddie had assumed was just a necklace, before. 

“Diaz! Buckley needs another pair of hands inside!” 

Eddie spins away with a half-hearted wave, striding toward the sound of Bobby’s voice. He hopes he doesn’t look too grateful as he turns to squeeze past him, and into the building. 

-----

For a dungeon, there are more windows inside than Eddie was expecting. Which ends up being for the best, because it allows the smoke to filter out and make the “rescue” Buck’s currently working on less dire, and more just–

“Embarrassing!” Cries out the woman still strapped into an apparatus that Eddie is sure has a name, but he certainly doesn’t know it. “This is so fucking embarrassing!” 

The big circular furniture sort of reminds him of old circus acts of girls belted to spinning wheels, with performers throwing knives at them. It’s listing heavily to the right, and the woman’s body weight has tightened her bonds too much, leaving her trapped as the rest of the club evacuated. 

Thankfully her play partner– currently standing to Buck’s left with a matching mortified expression –thought to tuck a terrycloth robe over her front like a sleeveless snuggie. Buck is bent closer to where the woman’s right wrist is strapped in and he’s… angry? 

Eddie does a double take. Buck is definitely angry. 

“I’m so sorry,” the play partner groans out, half covering her face with one hand. “I shouldn’t have–” “Used this rope? Or this knot? Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done either,” Buck cuts her off, terse and unhappy as his fingers work at the tight knot at the woman’s wrist. “It’s got no give, too much tension, and there’s no way she’s not going to have rope burns. Not to mention this knot…” He gives part of it a frustrated little tug. “Would always get tighter the more she pulled. Not safe.” 

He tips his head to the side to level another displeased look at the partner. “Why the hell didn’t you just use silk rope? There were probably at least five other people in this building who could have loaned you guys some.” 

“It was my idea,” says the woman, miserably. “I wanted the rope burn, it was… it was going to be a whole thing.” 

“Well, now your rope is going bye-bye,” Buck says with a shake of his head, looking at Eddie for the first time since he entered the room. “I need your pocket knife, mine isn’t in my gear.” 

Eddie stumbles forward, hands jittering through his pocket like he’s just remembered they’re attached to his wrists. He feels strangely weightless, like maybe he’s just watching this happen in front of him like a movie, and he’s not thinking about anything. Nothing at all. 

“Thanks,” Buck mutters automatically as Eddie passes it over, slicing through the ropes at one wrist. He cuts a quizzical look at Eddie once he’s done. “Eddie?” Buck’s eyes are wondering why he’s hanging back, and Eddie doesn’t exactly have a good answer for that. 

He steps up and prepares for their patient to be cut loose, helping her tuck her free arm through the robe properly, and then her other arm as Buck bends to free her legs. She grimaces as she steps down onto the floor, and Eddie can easily see how raw her ankles already are. 

He tucks the robe fully around the back of her like a hospital gown as Buck lifts both her arms in front of her, eyes assessing. This is usually Eddie, Hen, or even Chim’s job before it’s Buck’s, but he’s so uncharacteristically focused that Eddie just watches and ties the belt at her waist. 

“No tingling in your fingers?” he says, instructing her to open and close her hands. “Your forearms?” 

She shakes her head, looking from Buck to her partner. “No, no. It’s all fine.” 

He gives a short nod. “Good. If you notice any later, have her take you straight to the ER. Nerve damage is nothing to mess around with.” Before the couple can start moving toward the entrance, Buck stops the play partner, making sure to catch her eye. “Listen, even if you were the dom in that scene… you know you can always say no, safe words are for everyone.” 

She flushes to the roots of her hair, and Eddie can feel her mortification like his skin is crawling with cold chills. He takes Buck by the shoulder, tugging him back. 

“I’m sure this is really important, but I think she gets the picture Buck,” he says, words more level than he expected them to be. Buck looks at Eddie like he’s finally seeing him, and his eyes widen with horror. It makes Eddie feel a thousand percent more normal, if he’s being truthful. Look at him, he’s being so nonchalant. At no point was he “chalant”, nope. 

A few seconds pass, and when Buck keeps looking like the floor is seconds from dropping out from under his feet, Eddie knows what he has to do. This has to be just like every other mildly embarrassing fact about Buck that the team likes to razz him with; like the Peru pictures where he clearly had a mishap with a bottle of Sun-In, or the fact that he peed his pants a little on a movie date to see The Village. 

“So,” Eddie says, grinning. “Safe words are for every–” 

Buck cuts him off with a theatrical groan, rolling his eyes with his whole body as he walks away. “He thinks he’s hilarious,” he remarks to someone who Eddie thinks might be a B-Shift substitute. “A comedian, even!” 

Eddie feels proud that he handled that so well, and he decides he’s going to brag about it to Frank tomorrow. Or wait, he’ll have forgotten about it by then, because he handled it so well and also because he’s going to forget all about it before the end of their shift. 

He’s positive that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

#911 fox #buddie #jesse writes fic #kicking and screaming on the ground at the fact that this was only supposed to be 4k and it's going to be at least 8 #why doesn't my brain know how to write short anymore

[honeyhhearted]

Hold My Hand - Chapter 3

View on AO3

A/N: A longer one this time! I decided to try and get the chapters to a better length so there's more to read per update. :) Still no Loki, but I promise he's coming! Little more drama this time though ;)

Warnings: None!

You returned home quickly.

As you thought, your mother was waiting by the front window. It had been over an hour since you left, and she worried that you had been taken or lost.

“Where have you been?” She hissed as she swung the door open, grabbing your arm tightly. She yanked you inside, shutting and latching it behind you.

You looked at your feet. “I am sorry, mother. I didn’t mean to worry you. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time? The sun is merely fully set! How am I to believe you simply lost track of time?” She looked angry, but you recognized the look of fear in her eyes. You had truly worried her. 

Guilt tore through you. How could you just leave your family in the morning? If this was how your mother reacted when you arrived home late, how would she cope with you being taken from her as she had feared your entire life? How could you stand here and reassure her, knowing that when the sun rose next, everything would change?

“I truly apologize. But I am okay.” You soothed, trying to ignore the way your heart ached. “Everything is fine.”

-

You slept fitfully. Thoughts of the palace dungeons, your parents’ arrests, and your siblings being sent to an orphanage or adopted away filled your mind in cruel spirals. 

I can’t believe how irresponsible I was. 

The only thing you had ever been asked was to be careful. To be sure that no one was around. But you had become careless after years of routine. You’d become used to and spoiled by the uneventful nature of your practice. Why wouldn’t you? After so long of being in complete solitude, you had never expected the young Prince of all people to stumble upon your little spot in the forest. Why had he been there in the first place? Perhaps you could ask in the morning, when he arrived to whisk you away from your family, your life.

You listened to the soft breeze coming through your window. The sky was a soft indigo. You had barely been able to close your eyes before the sun began to rise again. How soon will he arrive? Will my mother see him, as she enjoys her sunbathing in the early hours before work? Will my father spot the carriage and run home, hoping he would not return for the day missing his eldest child? Will the village all watch as you are escorted away, and inundate my family with questions?

Before you knew, the calming indigo turned into the sunrise blue you’d been dreading.

-

You sat straight up in bed, your hair a tangled mess from tossing and turning all night.

The distant sound of a carriage was the first you heard of your impending doom. You ran through your regular morning routine: a freezing bath – you were far too anxious to wait for it to warm of all things – carefully brushed your hair and changed your clothes. While you were certain imprisonment waited for you on the other side of an opulent horse drawn carriage and the palace doors, you at least did not want to give the Allfamily reason to see you as nothing more than dirt on their shoes.

The carriage drew closer, and you knew it was time.

You quietly moved across the house, careful not to step on the spots you knew the floorboards would creak. As expected, your mother was out front, enjoying the early sun. Nerves slithered up your spine as you straightened, prepared to face her fear.

As you stepped out the door, she spoke without turning. “They are coming for you. Am I wrong?”

You paused, heart in your throat. “How did you know?”

At that, she turned, a sad smile curving her lips. Her eyes, you saw, were glistening. “I saw the royal carriage last night and…I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew that we would have heard if something happened in the village, and when you arrived so late…” She trailed off, blinking away some of the moisture in her eyes, before continuing, “I knew. Who found you?”

You finally allowed your eyes to well up, a tear escaping before you are even able to force it away. “Prince Thor. Prince Thor saw me, mother. But I swear, I promise you I did not realize he was present with me in those woods. You know I have vowed to you to be careful and I was, but he was there anyway…I didn’t know what to do. His Highness should be nearly here by now, and I will be taken to the Palace. He promised no harm would come to me, or to our family.”

As you stared back at your mother, you realized how tired she seemed. The beginnings of wrinkles around her lips from frowning, the creases between her brows. She had wisps of gray hair framing her face. Was this because of you?

All of your life, you’ve been different. Not being able to play with the village children because of the risk of accidental magic had done damage to your family’s reputation. You were a freak, an outcast in this village, and your parents were too by association. Even your siblings, who were not cursed as you were, had to endure ridicule and shunning from their peers as their parents forbid them from interacting with such an odd bunch.

Despite no one being aware of just how “odd” you were, your appearance was always a giveaway. Your father used to chuckle every time he shattered your heart by saying, “Dearest, we almost handed you over to the local orphanage. As soon as you were laid on your mother’s chest, I felt there was no way you could possibly be ours. But by the time you began to speak, I realized just how like me you truly were.”

He was, of course, speaking of the snow white hair and singular golden eye you were born with. There was not much you could do to change the fact that you were a freak, but having to face your own monstrosity in the mirror had been too much in your adolescence. You knew looking at you reminded your parents of the burden they had been handed. 

Your mother still had not responded. She looked away from you, back toward the sky.

“Will this be easier?” You asked, softly. Your voice sounded like that of a child’s to your own ears.

Silence came, before she responded, “If you are asking if you being taken from us will be easier, I am not sure. I love you. You are my child. You are my heart. But I cannot lie and wonder if the village will accept us. If they will accept your sister, your brother. If your father will be able to make sales, finally, without buyers worrying that the pieces are cursed as we are.”

Your heart ached. “I am sorry, mother. For all that I have put you through. I am sorry that you were cursed with me as a daughter.” At that, she whipped around to face you. “No. Never apologize to me for that. Do not apologize to me for having been born. It has not been easy, I will be honest with you. But having you as a daughter has been beautiful, and losing you will be one of the hardest things I will ever have to do.” She cupped your face, wiping away the tears that fell with her fingertips.

“I love you, mama.” You said, sniffling. You had not called her that in years.

“And I love you, little one.”

-

The carriage arrived shortly after.

As it pulled to a halt, reality set in. You were terrified.

Prince Thor emerged with two guards, and smiled at you as he approached. You dipped into a low curtsy, as did your mother beside you. 

“Good morning, my Lady. And I suppose this is your mother, yes?”

Your mother smiled politely. “Yes, your Highness. My daughter has told me that you have come for her.”

“I have. And I make the same promise I did to her, no harm will come to your daughter or your family.” 

She nodded. “Thank you, your Highness. Your graciousness is appreciated.” She turns to you, eyes flickering with fear before she pushes it out of view. “Good luck. I love you. I will inform your father…that he missed you.” Her smile falters, realizing she will have to explain your absence to the family.

You stepped forward and hugged her, memorizing the scent of warm air and flowers in your mother’s hair. The way her small frame wrapped you up just as it did when you were a small child. “Thank you, mama. Please apologize to papa for me, and give the littles the most love.”

As you stepped away, Thor led you to the carriage. He offered a hand to step in, which you accepted, thanking him. Before the carriage could pull away, you stared at your home in the corner of the village, the trees waving goodbye to you as the breeze carried one last breath of the scent of your family and the life you knew.

The palace was a beautiful sight. Under better circumstances, you would have been in awe at its size and opulence. However, all it symbolized to you right now was the ending of all you had.

“You seem nervous.” Thor noted from across from you. He had been quiet most of the ride, and his voice startled you. 

“I will not pretend, my Prince. I know I should trust you at your word, but…” You trailed off, gnawing on your bottom lip. He nods, a small smile curling his lips.

“Aye. I understand the fear of uncertainty. But truly, my lady, you have nothing to fear. I have spoken with my mother and father and they have assured me that no harm will come to you. I would not allow it.” He reassured, and you feel the rope around your chest loosen marginally. You can see in his eyes that he is genuine.

The carriage ride had been smooth, as you watched the countryside blend into the city, before the stone turned to gold, with perfectly trimmed lawns and shrubbery. Even the air seemed lighter here, you noted. You wrung your hands together in your lap as you watched the smaller royal buildings come into view. Stables, supply buildings, and extravagant gardens passed by you, taking your breath away. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you truly got to see the palace up close.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Thor said, breaking into your thoughts. He was smiling at you again, watching your reaction.

You felt your cheeks warm at being caught gawking, and cleared your throat. “It is. I have only seen it from the village. I have never imagined being so close.” You say, adding, “Your Highness.”

Thor nodded. “After living in it my whole life, I have to admit that its beauty becomes something of a routine. Seeing it through new eyes always reminds me. How exciting, to see the wonder in someone else.”

You smiled at him. Thor’s reputation made sense. You found yourself able to relax the more you speak with him, and it allowed you temporary relief from your anxiety. 

The carriage came to a slow stop. Your breath caught for a moment, your heart beginning to race again. Is this where they take me? Has Thor been misleading me so I would not put up a fight? You barely had the chance to spiral before the doors were opened, flanked by two royal guards. Thor exited first, before turning and offering his hand. You took it and stepped out, careful to stay steady on your feet.

The guards turned silently and led you toward the doors, tall and intimidating. They swung open, and you quietly gasped as you took your first look into the palace. The floors were covered in a red and gold rug, with pristine white columns running up and down the hall. The walls held millennia of Asgardian artwork, as well as portraits of the Allfamily. As you were led to the throne room, your eyes could not absorb the surroundings quick enough. You drank in the view of Asgard from the windows and admired the gold and jeweled vases and art pieces. In that moment, you had never felt smaller. You, a girl from the village, were walking through the hall for an audience with the Allfather and Allmother. Through this hall that held thousands of years of Asgardian history, wearing a dress full of hand-stitched repair patches and holes not yet big enough to waste thread on. You looked down at your hands, squeezing them together tightly.

-

Entering the throne room, you could hear a pin drop. Odin and Frigga, the Allfather and Allmother, sat at the end atop thrones of precious metals and jewels. You swallowed down your heart before it could crawl out, trying to keep its vicious beating in check. Thor walked ahead of you, bowing at the waist when he reached them.

“Father, Mother,” he starts, “I have returned with the girl from the outer village. Please, step forward and introduce yourself.”

You step forward, curtsying as steadily as you can manage. “Your Majesties, thank you for allowing me here today to speak with you.” You present your name, and the names of your family. Both nod stiffly. “If you, the Allfather and Allmother could be so merciful to spare my family. They are not like me, and have only ever wanted an honest life for themselves.” You pull in a deep breath, hating how your voice wavers.

Odin stands and stares down at you steadily. The look in his eye shows he views you as nothing more than a speck. Frigga, however, looks at you curiously. There is something more behind her eyes that you can’t quite place.

“Do not fear, child. We have decided to spare you and your family. No harm will come to them.” Odin’s voice booms, and you can feel its strength in your chest. His words make your shoulders drop in relief immediately, letting out a puff of air.

Frigga stands, approaching you. “What my husband is not clarifying,” She begins, with a glance at him, “Is that you will be spared, but you will not be able to return home.” This you expected, but it does not hurt any less to hear. 

She continues, “You will be brought into the palace as a member of our family. You will be trained as a sorceress, working with me personally. You will live out a life as a royal, adopted as a ward.”

You nod. “Yes, your Royal Highness. Anything I can do, I will do with gratitude.”

She smiles at you. “I know you will, child. I can see your heart, and I know that it is good. That is why we have also decided to add an additional stipulation to your stay with us.” 

Odin’s face crinkles slightly, before rearranging itself back to its stoic state.

What could they have me do? Live in the servant’s quarters? Do chores? Be an apprentice? Nothing they could ask of me would be an impossible task.

Something about this seems off, though. You can’t quite put your finger on it. “Yes, your Royal Highness?”

“We expect you to wed one of our sons.” She says resolutely.

Odin clears his throat. “We expect you to marry Loki. You are not true royalty, and thus would not be able to ascend to the throne.”

You freeze. Loki? The quiet son, the trickster god? All you have heard about him is negative. Cruel pranks, biting remarks, crude behavior toward village women. They want you to marry him?

Thor seems to sense your worry. “Mother, Father…are you sure? You know of his temperament.”

“This is not your concern.” Odin says harshly. Frigga glares at him.

“What your father means is that we are sure. We have discussed it extensively, and have settled on this being the best option.” 

You feel sick. You are sure that this is not a face worse than death, of course, but of all of the things they could have asked of you, this is the biggest. Your hand, guaranteed in marriage to Loki Odinson.

Next chapter

#hold my hand #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #thor odinson #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fic #arranged marriage #arranged marriage fic #enemies to lovers #not really enemies but like #you don't like each other lmao #odin allfather #honeyhhearted

[questioned-quetzalcoatl]

30 Days of OTP: Day 26, Getting Married

Rating: K

Verse: Canon

AN: Zeaonga marriage is now real, and it's adorable.

I've been rather excited for this day, I have a few ideas of what their wedding would've looked like, so much so I can hardly put it into words that sound right in my head ;w;

It was really the best I could do, re-writing this over and over until it was perfect. A bit of a love-letter to this pairing, who knows maybe I'll write a full marriage fic one day

-

He’d been hesitant about leaving James to organize and buy everything for the big day, Kainga fiddling nervously in the suit he was wearing as they drove to the venue. At least, that’s where he assumes they are driving, James having left special instructions with the driver to have Kainga blindfolded before he got into the car and to keep him that way.

God only knew where he was taking him. He'd been running around like a nervous wreck for the past few weeks about it, James saying he had everything under control didn't help his case either. He knew all to well that if the Kiwi spoke those words, everything would end in disaster. He especially didn't want it to be on his wedding day, the words 'Wedding' didn't sit right with the Tongan. He’s not getting married is he? He’s been taken to some Kiwi sex dungeon in a white suit of all things. It's still taking him some time to get used to the fact that he and James would be married soon, he should feel happy but with his nerves, he didn't know what to feel.

Kainga’s not sure how long he’s in the car, just that the road seems to just get bumpier and bumpier, coming to a stop and his nerves are back. Where are they? Where was he getting married? He’s excited but the doubt over letting James plan this all was still there and ever leading as he was lead out of the car, jumping as someone else took over.

“Don’t be so jumpy, Kainga, it’s only me.”

That voice, the one he was going to be wed to, James's voice is all he can hear as the door opens and Kainga practically falls into his arms due to the blindfold his around his eyes. The Tongan doesn't know if that's meant to be reassuring him as James helps him stumble out of the car door, Kainga's arms wrapped tightly around his neck like he's being dragged away.

Once outside the car door he hears, birds. Lots of damn birds, all with different calls. The rustling of leaves and, were they in a forest? James starts to gently guide him around on a beaten dirt path, from what he can feel under his black polished shoes at least. Some steps more and he's whispering in the direction that he should be going in, Kainga is somewhat amazed with how gentle James is with him. Finally they stop, he can hear the grin that beams off James's face when when blind, soon seeing it all when the blindfold is slipped off his face. Kainga blinking and squinting as light invaded his vision.

It…It was perfect. Shit. It was actually perfect, the flowers, the decorations, even the candles were perfect. Here they were in the New Zealand forest, surrounded by nothing but beautiful lush native bush. The aisle is nothing but a dirt path, leading to the alter with a large arch of blooming flowers of all different colors yet they all work so well together. Candles lit along the aisle in scents of Lavender, honey and Eucalyptus, their flames flickering against the darkness of the bush along with the strings of lights hung up from the trees to the flower arch. He’s not even married yet, the guests aren’t even here yet and yet he’s stood there, trying not to cry as James slowly lead him down the aisle.

It was beautiful, he couldn't ask for anything more. That shock on Kainga's face slowly pulls into a grin, crinkling the corners of his eyes and lifting the edges of his lips. It’s the biggest, brightest smile that James’s seen on Kainga’s face outside of a post-orgasm glow. Kainga is almost on the verge of full on laughter.

“See, I didn’t quite have enough money so it’s all a join effort. The candles were a gift from dad, the flowers from Aliti…”

"James, it's perfect..." Kainga replies in awe, coming closer to walk with him, his head on his shoulder as the tears start to prick in his eyes.

Against the symphonic call of the birds around them, they moved slowly more towards the altar, stopping as they got there and Kainga is confused, there’s not even a vicar here. There aren’t any guests. He gives James the single most confused look as James moves round, taking both his hands in his. James's laugh was gently and hearty, he knew why Kainga was pulling such a face at him as soon as he saw it, his hands grip tenderly on Kainga's.

"The guests will arrive soon with all the gifts, but, I wanted to give you mine first." He said sweetly, stood right at the alter with him.

"Oh? A gift from you. What would that be?"

Kainga finds himself getting flustered as the other leant in, resting his forehead against the others before starting to sing.

“My gift is my song, and this one’s for you…”

It was that song, that song he’d somewhat drunkenly sung for him on their first valentine’s day, when he’d drunk 5 bottles of liquid confidence and turned up at his house drunk, proceeding to sing his rendition of Elton John outside his door at 3am.

"And you can tell everybody this is your song..." He can only pause for a breath, feeling Kainga's face heat up right next to his.

"...It may be quite simple, but now that it's done"

"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words, How wonderful life is while you're in the world."

The guests are coming in as the other sings for him, Kainga not noticing them in his embarrassment or it would have surely increased tenfold, swallowing thickly as James’s eyes look up to meet his.

“…And well the thing is, what I really mean. Yours are the sweetest eyes, I’ve ever seen.”

#30 days of zeaonga #hetalia #aph new zealand #aph tonga #aph #hws new zealand #zeaonga #hetalia oc #hws tonga #ao3 fanfic #30 day otp challenge

[aotaku12]

"𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮, 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈"

✧ Summary | Ever since Fischl was shown on the Midnight Channel, Mona has been egging them on to rescue her as fast as possible. Despite the risks and dangers, the Investigation team obliges.

✧ Warning | References and Spoilers to the Day 3 Summer Fantasia Event (Immernachtreich Apokalypse)

✧ Additional Tags/Notes | Modern AU (No Visions), Persona 4 AU, Lumine as the MC, Persona 4 Gameplay Referenced, Minor Mona x Fischl

✧ Word Count | 1k+

✧ Author's Notes | Yep, this was made because (like many others) I saw similarities with Fischl's Domain and Persona 4. I will be using P4 game terminology so for those unfamiliar, I put a guide below (I tried my best to explain in simple terms). As for the shadows I'll be using Persona 4 Golden Stats. I didn't change much of the canon dialogue at the end because it's already fitting!

✧ Persona Terminology Guide | Persona = The Manifestation of one's self ; Dungeon = Domain ; Velvet Room = A Special Room only for those "worthy", the room is used to further develop Personas ; TaP Soda = Item used to Restore SP ; Zio = Electro ; Shadow = The Manifestation of one's negative traits/emotions.

"Come, Asteria!" Mona's Persona appears behind her as she summons several stars orbiting Mona. She closed her eyes in concentration and picks the star that belonged to Fischl. Upon touching the star, it heads off in the direction to Fischl's Dungeon. The Investigation Team follows it and they find themselves in front of a Castle. "Woah..." They say in awe, but before they could comment any further, a voice suddenly speaks. 

"Five adventurers from across the land has stumbled upon the gates of the Immernachtreich. A fallen kingdom awaits them, for they are about to explore, the Hymn of the Holy Land." 

"A narrator huh? It...somehow fits her." Xinyan stated. "I often find her in the library, so it makes sense." Kazuha added. "Well Lumine, ready to go?" Paimon asks. Lumine glances at the Velvet Room door but decides to check her Personas first. Once she was finished she nods, "Ready."

"Ugh! Why are there so many ravens!?" Paimon cries out as they take a break. "At least it's on theme...?" Xinyan says, trying to reassure her. "We're still on the first few floors, we shouldn't let our guards down." Kazuha stated.

"But Paimon was expecting for us to all fight! Lumine's been doing all the work..." Paimon frowned. "It's okay Paimon, I stocked up on some items so it's going to be fine!" Lumine pats her head as she held TaP Soda on her other hand. "It's kind of unlucky of us to have groups of enemies weak to Zio. Not sayin' Kazuha, Paimon and I can't use our normal attacks but..." Xinyan didn't elaborate any further.

Mona was busy in the corner, analyzing the dungeon with her persona. "Hm...that's strange, it says we have about...30 floors!?" She gasps. "WHAT!?" Paimon exclaims. "I know this is a castle but it's far too many for us to take care in less than a week." Xinyan stated. "Might I suggest we take another few floors and then leave for the day?" Kazuha said. "Yeah, that's fine." 

"Sorry everyone, I'm just worried about her." Mona sighed. "It's okay. Because of the camping trip, we couldn't get to her sooner." Lumine said in reassurance. "Yeah, don't sweat it!" Xinyan added.

The fog was getting nearer and all of them had to push themselves due to the amount of floors and puzzles there are. If this were their usual run-through, they wouldn't have to do this. 

"This is the last floor! Everyone, are you ready?" Mona asks. Everyone gave their nods of approval before opening the door. "Library? Why are we inside a library?" Mona asked. "Shouldn't it be like...the Princess' bedroom or something?" Xinyan added. "Hey! It's Fischl!" Paimon cried out as they all rushed towards her.

"My dear retainers! How long hast it been since I've seen another soul?" Fischl said in relief. "Fischl? Shouldn't you have met your Shadow...?" Kazuha asked. They all looked around to find her Shadow and Lumine spotted a person standing on higher ground at the distance. "Over there!" Everyone turned to where Lumine pointed.

"So you must be the so-called Shadow my retainers have been looking for. The useless and cowardly Prinzessin." Fischl glared at her shadow. "Hmph. How laughable. What gives you the impression that you can defeat me? You should know over the past few days I've seen all your fear and trepidation." the Shadow scoffed. "So, have you come to surrender to me, little Amy?"

"Amy?" Paimon looked at Fischl in confusion. "Now's not the time for questions." Kazuha whispered. "Ugh...you..!" Fischl clenched her fists in anger.

"I shall inform you that the Immernachtreich is a place with no way out." the Shadow stated. "What do you mean? Is not the Immernachtreich a sacred land of liberty and theater?" Fischl asked. "You are gravely mistaken if you presume the Immernachtreich to be some kind of amusement park. Listen closely...this place is a tomb for those who cannot face reality." 

Fischl staggers back in shock, "A tomb...?"

"You of all people should know about this. Why does it always rain in the Immernachtreich? Why isn't there any music in this so-called paradise?" the Shadow asked. "Because of you! It's all because of you!" Fischl cried out. "Ahahaha...How pathetic! No, dearest Amy, not I, are the one responsible for all of this! You dreamed up a vast kingdom, but you can't bear it's weight. Swayed by fear, you can't face the very world you've created. You may try to avoid it but the fact is: You can't change yourself."

"You...! You..!" 

"GAH!? Fischl, no! Don't say it!" Paimon cried out, trying to stop her from saying the forbidden words. But to everyone's surprise, she said something different "You're right...I can't face reality. I discarded my own name in favor for a Princess I dreamed to be!" 

"You're right- Wait, HUH!?" It seemed like the Shadow wasn't expecting it either, but collected herself, "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You think I can simply be swayed by words alone? Amy...you are a weak fool who doesn't deserve to be in this world. Begone." the Shadow summons several shadows to fight them.

"If I can't persuade you with words alone...Then I shall go onto your level!" Fischl declared. "Fischl, stay by me. We don't want you getting hurt." Mona held Fischl closely by her. "O-Okay then..." Her face became tinted with pink by the action. "C'mon everyone! Let's get her up there!" Xinyan exclaimed, taking out her claymore. 

"Impossible! how did you make it through that nightmarish library...Stand down!" the Shadow demanded. But Fischl ignores her words and walks up to her, "Do you still think I'm going to lose?" 

"You...!" Now it was the Shadow's time to be pissed. 

"You looked down on me. You thought I was a worthless coward. And yes, I did use to be like that because...I am someone who can't face reality, who spends all day daydreaming and can't cope with setbacks or criticisms. The world I have created...the Immernachtreich, that is the source of my power, my imagination! And yes I am a coward! Fischl isn't some princess I dreamed of becoming anymore...I AM Fischl! This is MY kingdom and I want it back!" 

Deafening silence surrounds the room, the Investigation Team had their weapons out just in case the worst-case scenario happens...but it doesn't.

"Hmph. I'm glad that you understand now..." the Shadow's voice wasn't spitting with venom and arrogance anymore, it was comforting. In a flash of blue light, the Shadow turned into a Persona known as Ozvaldo von Hrafnavins.

"Oz huh..." Fischl says in awe, "Well Fischl can't be without Oz after...all..."

"FISCHL!!!" The team cries out as Fischl collapsed. Luckily, Mona was able to catch her head before it hit the floor. "Phew. Paimon got worried." She sighed in relief. "I'll carry her when we head back." Kazuha offered. "Thank you Kazuha." Mona nods her approval. "Well, despite the time constraint, I'd say we did pretty well!" Xinyan exclaimed. "Let's go home everyone." Lumine summons a Goho-M to return.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #genshin fischl #fischl von luftschloss narfidort #genshin mona #mona megistus #genshin xinyan #genshin kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin lumine #genshin paimon #persona 4 x genshin impact #genshin summer fantasia

[larkawolfgirl]

Sleep, Weakness, and Payback (Yuuram)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou!

Relationship: Wolfram von Bielefeld/Shibuya Yuuri

Summary:  When Wolfram wakes up to an empty bed, he seeks out his missing husband. This ends up leading to a discussion about couples and weakness.

Inspired by artwork by Chicacherry_mocha and colored by Zireael707. View the artwork on a03

Read on a03

Wolfram isn’t sure what wakes him. He could be sappy and account it to the fact that he’s definitely alone in their bed, but he doesn’t want to consider himself that desperate. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what woke him up; what matters is why he is still alone in their bed. He had gone to bed later than usual, and a glance outside the window gives the impression that it is quite late at night now. What could possibly be keeping his husband so late?

It isn’t like he has that much paperwork. If he did, Gwen would surely have helped out. Hell, he’d help out if needed. But no one–besides Yuuri that is–seems to want to tell him anything important. They do, of course. They have to now that he’s prince consort, but still. They don’t seem to enjoy doing it. Therefore, it wouldn’t surprise him if both his husband and brother holed themselves up in Yuuri’s office without telling him.

Grabbing his robe and tying it around himself, he padded out into the dark hallway. The guards give him a confused look, but neither say anything. Good. Wolfram can do as he pleases.

There is not another soul anywhere. The only other active guards are stationed around the castle entrance and perimeter. Wolfram both appreciates and hates it. Guards are within calling distance if help is needed, but not stockpiled throughout the castle to intrude. However, to be heard you have to be near an open window, and even then, it will probably take some time for a guard to reach you. Not that Wolfram fears for his own safety. His husband is a wimp, though. It’s reassuring that they have guards posted outside their chambers, but it does not sit well with him that Yuuri has been spending more after-hours time unguarded in his office.

The more he thinks about it and how unsafe it is for a wimpy king like Yuuri to be alone and defenseless (Morgif all the way in the castle dungeons), the angrier his footsteps become. He sets a swift pace, taking a shortcut to reach the Maoh’s office as quickly as possible. He will have to have a talk with him. As his husband and personal guard, he should at least be nearby.

He opens his mouth, ready to tell his husband this, even before he has fully opened the door, but one look at the double-black causes him to clamp his mouth shut. He’s breathtaking and infuriating. Soft, relaxed face planted in a large stack of papers. A bit of ink is visible on his chin from smearing it against a wet signature. It’s an infuriatingly endearing sight. Wolfram hates how it makes his chest fill and how he wants to pet over his dark displaced hair like he would a child. How dare he make him worry? And look so peaceful doing it?

He wants to shake him awake and yell at him. He is angry that he allowed himself to fall asleep here rather than heading to bed at a decent hour. He hates that he chose work over him. But he doesn’t yell. Yuuri is Maoh. Yuuri doesn’t belong just to him, as much as he hates that fact. He can’t yell at Yuuri for taking his responsibilities seriously, especially after he spent so many years yelling at him to do just that. Wolfram might be petty but he isn’t a hypocrite. Usually.

Since he can’t yell, he is tempted to leave him there. Let him suffer the morning aches from spending a night bent over at a bad angle against a hard surface. But this would entail Wolfram heading back to their chambers alone and going back to sleep alone. The revenge does not outweigh the sacrifice. Besides, he can’t leave him here unprotected. He could order the guards to move here, but that would be stupid and still leave Wolfram sleeping alone.

So, he does the only other thing that makes sense. He lifts his sleeping husband up into his arms and begins carrying him back to their chambers. He looks so defenseless cradled against him, so much like a princess being saved from the Hell’s Paradise work Goala. He feels pretty light, too. Lighter than Wolfram remembers him being the last time he carried him like this. Has he been eating enough? Wolfram will have to pay closer attention from now on. Perhaps, he can help the maids prepare him a special lunch tomorrow and personally deliver it so that he can make sure he actually takes a break to eat it.

Although, when he thinks about it, that sounds like a reward when he is supposed to be planning out revenge of some sort for this selfish move of his. But maybe that can be the revenge. He doesn’t have drills this week, so he can just follow him around all week like a shadow. Yes, that sounds perfect. Yuuri will hate it.

Greta might not, but she can just tag along. Yuuri will hate that even more. Especially when the girl tries to coerce her way into sitting on his lap while he’s doing his paperwork.

It will be priceless. Maybe he’ll paint the image so that he can relive Yuuri’s heartfelt abuse forever. He can use the smelly paints too.

He doesn’t realize he’s smirking devilishly until Yuuri’s voice spooks him out of his thoughts. “What’s so… funny ?” He says the word funny funny because he must be uneasy from his expression.

Wolfram carefully crafts his expression back to blankness. “Nothing really,” he says nonchalantly. “Just thinking about how rude you were this evening.”

“Rude?” Yuuri jostles. It is only thanks to how close Wolfram is holding him that he does not tumble to the ground. “What are you talking about? All I did was my paperwork.”

“Exactly.” There is a bite to his tone now.

“Huh? I do my paperwork every day. What’s the big idea?” He moves his head about, apparently just realizing that he’s being carried. How he didn’t realize immediately, Wolfram has no idea. “Why are you carrying me? I can walk myself.”

He starts kicking his legs and actively attempting to break Wolfram’s hold. Wolfram is not about to give in, though. He’s a trained soldier, damnit. He can take whatever resistance Yuuri throws at him. Anyway, Yuuri’s really cute struggling. It’s too dark to tell, but Wolfram is sure he’s blushing as well. He was blushing the last time, at least.

“Remember the last time I carried you like this?” he asks, not even caring that he sounds sentimental.

Yuuri stops struggling. “The only other time, you mean.”

Wolfram chuckles softly. Yuuri would stick to the technicalities to support his fragile ego. “Yes. You had sprained you ankle horribly.”

Yuuri is definitely blushing now. He hides his face in the crook of Wolfram’s neck. It’s so cute that he is giving the blush Wolfram can’t see away by attempting to hide it. If only Yuuri knew how much his little actions mean to him.

“It was so lame,” he whines against his skin.

“Yeah.”

Yuuri groans.

“You just had to slide across the ground to catch that random kid that fell off their horse.”

“I skid all the time in baseball!” he protests.

“That’s not that same, and you know it. Your silly baseball field is prepared and you aren’t catching someone when you do it.”

“Hey! Baseball is not silly.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wolfram grumbles. Honestly, he’ll never understand what Yuuri enjoys about the game so much, but he has come to appreciate certain things about it. Such as watching him skid across bases. That still doesn’t make what he did any less stupid, though.

“But then,” Yuuri says, “you just had to carry me from place to place.”

“Of course! You couldn’t walk, and I was your fiance. Who else was going to do it? Gunter ?” His voice comes out testy.

“Con–” Yuuri stops, smartly reconsidering his words. “Still,” he whines again, “it was so embarrassing!”

“Why?”

Wolfram comes up to the hall leaning into chambers. The guards raise an eyebrow but again say nothing. They are aware that a single word will surely send Yuuri into a panic. No matter that they have been married for well over a year. Anyone seeing this display means mortification.

As expected, Yuuri does not answer his question until they are within their bedroom and his feet are firmly planted onto the floor. “It’s embarrassing to be carried around like a baby.”

“You couldn’t walk. What else were you supposed to do?” Wolfram lights a candle on the bedside table, then sits down on the edge of the bed.

“I, I don’t know.”

Wolfram sighs. He’s talked enough with Conrad, Murata, and Yuuri’s mother to understand Yuuri’s brain a bit better now than when they first met. “You think it makes you seem girlish, don’t you?” There is nothing wrong with femininity, but to Yuuri, this equals “girl.”

Yuuri lowers his head. “Yes.” He sounds ashamed. Like he knows he’s just being stupid.

“I don’t know about Earth, but no one here looks down upon someone for receiving aid when they need it, especially when that person is their king. If they so much as looked at you as if you were weak and helpless, or a girl, I would slay them on the spot.”

Yuuri cracks a smile at that. “Please don’t.”

Wolfram smiles back. “I’m sure Conrad will help me cover up the murder charges.”

Yuuri shudders. “It’s scary that he probably would.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Yuuri. Especially when it’s your husband carrying you. Don’t couples carry each other on Earth? It is a form of bonding.”

Yuuri finally joins him on the bed. “Actually, they do. But it’s typically only on their wedding night, and it’s always the man carrying the woman.”

Wolfram nods. Attempting to think like Yuuri, he takes away the main point of this. Typically, only women are carried by men. That means that he looks like a woman if he’s carried. It is pointless to repeat himself, though. So he switches tactics. “Do you not enjoy it?”

He jolts a little. “Huh?”

“I enjoy carrying you. I like having you so close and knowing you’re safe.”

“I…” Yuuri looks away, obviously embarrassed. “I mean, I don’t hate it.”

Wolfram smiles and wraps his arm around him. “So what’s the problem?”

“Even if I don’t look like a girl, don’t I look weak? Like I have to be the girl of the relationship, you know?”

Sadly, Wolfram does know. Only thanks to Yuuri’s obsession with such matters. “You don’t,” he assures him. No one worries about such things here. He misses the days when he didn’t have to either. Not that he would give up his relationship with Yuuri by any means. “Would you rather carry me instead?” He is half-teasing, but Yuuri whips back to face him.

“That’s a great idea! Then no one can call me weak.”

Wolfram shakes his head fondly. If it makes Yuuri feel better, he can carry him around all day. Well, not all day. He needs to go to his drills, and he still wants to ride his horse and paint and other things. But he can carry him a lot.

“Do you want to carry me now?” He asks for two reasons. First, he wants to know how it feels to be held in his arms that way. The only person he can remember ever carrying him was Conrad and Gwen, and he was so little he hardly remembers it. If he enjoys holding Yuuri that close to himself, he’s sure he’ll enjoy being held that closely. Second, he wants to make sure Yuuri doesn’t make a fool of himself in public. Not that he doubts Yuuri can lift him, he just worries.

“Oh.” Yuuri looks taken aback. “Sure.” He stands up and holds his arms out as if he expects Wolfram to climb into them.

“Why are you acting stupid? You’ve carried Greta before.”

“Oh.” Yuuri rubs the back of his neck. “Right. I guess I just…”

He trails off as he moves his arms into place around Wolfram’s body and attempts to lift. He does lift, but not far. It’s obvious, he won’t hold it for long. Wolfram savors the feeling of being supported while he can. He’s glad he remained hovering over the bed because he is suddenly dumped back down without warning.

“Phew!” Yuuri exclaims. “You’re heavier than you look!”

Wolfram glares. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh.” Realizing his mistake, Yuuri lifts his hands defensively. “No, I didn’t mean that you’re fat or anything. I just meant you are heavy. With muscle. Muscle mass, you know.”

“Hmph.”

“So, I guess I can’t carry you around. I am weak,” he says dejectedly.

Wolfram sighs and takes his hand. “You can practice.”

“Thanks. But I guess I really am the girl in this relationship.”

Okay, Wolfram has had it. He can think like Yuuri and support Yuuri, but he can only take so much before snapping. Yuuri is so damn stupid sometimes. “Like hell you are!” He tugs on Yuuri’s uniform top, pulling him into a crushing kiss. “I don’t kiss girls.”

Yuuri stares at him for a long moment. His eyes are dazed, and he almost goes back in for another kiss before blinking himself out of it. When he does, he laughs beautifully. Joyful and amused. “I guess not.”

Wolfram bumps his nose with his. “We’re both men and that’s fine, wimp.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

Wolfram takes his hand, and Yuuri immediately squeezes it back. “You can carry me if you want to, and I can carry you if I want to. Just like I can kiss you if I want to, and you can kiss me if you want to. It’s what couples do. All couples. ”

“Hmm.” Yuuri rubs his nose in a circle around Wolfram’s. “What about what else couples do?”

Wolfram breathes out a laugh through his nose. “I definitely don’t do that with girls.”

“You better not.”

Then Yuuri does move back in for another kiss.

#my writing #yuuram #yuuri x wolfram #yuuri shibuya #wolfram von bielefeld #kkm #kyou kara maoh #maruma #fanfic #fanfiction

[hrtsmom]

Arstor was alarmed when I told her of Arathel’s intentions. “Surely she cannot leave now,” she protested. “It is far too dangerous for her, and for the baby.”

“There is no other choice. I need you to help her prepare to leave. Dariel will help as well.”

As I was turning to go, she stopped me with a hand on my arm. “I will be going with you,” she said firmly. “She will need my help when the baby comes.”

“That really is not necessary – ”

She scowled, shaking her head. “Who would know best about that, you or me? How many babies have you helped birth, Kahri Aldien?

“And there are others who will come with us,” she went on, as she pushed me toward the door. “I will let them know we are leaving.”

I could see this decision, at least, was out of my hands. “Very well. Only be sure this plan does not spread too far. We do not want the Council to hear that we are leaving.”

“You may trust me,” she said. “Now go and finish your preparations.”

I smiled to myself as I left her, surprised by the way she had taken this problem from me. I had not planned for anyone else from the castle to accompany us, but I was glad to know there were people willing to do so. Perhaps Arathel would feel less helpless, knowing that not everyone was against her.

As soon as I had packed my own belongings, I left the castle and went to the inn where Radjann had been staying all these months. When I gave him the news, he insisted he should go to Arathel. Only with great difficulty did I convince him to let me take care of her. I sent him on to alert the captain and crew of our ship, and instructed him to wait there for the rest of us.

Once I had seen him off and returned to the castle, there was nothing to do, except to wait until nightfall. I stayed with Arathel, trying to reassure her that everything would work the way we had planned it. And Arstor came to my rooms, to tell me she had found ten men and women willing to come with us. As soon as it was safe, we would make our escape.

It was nearly midnight when we all gathered in my rooms. My entire body felt tight as a bowstring by then; the waiting had not been easy. It seemed Arathel would never finish her farewells to Dariel. I had to resist the urge to separate the two sisters by force. But at last we all left the castle – forever, as I thought then. We went by way of the dungeons and the old siege tunnels beneath the castle, sneaking out of the only home any of us had ever known.

The trek down to the docks passed quickly, though I had some difficulty keeping the whole party together in the dark streets. Radjann was waiting for us at the dock by our ship, pacing up and down until he saw us coming. The captain had secured the little ship directly to the dock, so we did not need to wait for a boat. As soon as we were aboard, the last lines were cast off and the crew made sail. In the light of a waning moon, it was not long before the Throne of the Sun was lost to sight. Even the red elf-star Igiran seemed to shine less brightly that night, as if it knew one of its land’s queens was leaving forever.

We intended to sail directly for Morstan, to the port of Geahael, where Radjann lived when he was not at sea. But we had not reckoned with the growing autumn storms. Once the harsh winds began in earnest, the ship was off course more often than not, and the captain was forced to make several unplanned landfalls. At least once, the crew nearly mutinied. The voyage lasted several months longer than we had expected.

You, Zania, were born on a stormy morning. Arstor helped with the delivery, while Radjann and I waited outside the cabin. I was nearly as nervous as Radjann was, while the ship tossed in the waves and we listened for sounds from behind the closed door.

Finally Arstor came out, smiling broadly. “A month early, but she is a strong, healthy baby.”

“A daughter?” Radjann asked.

Arstor nodded. “They are both well. Go and see for yourself.”

#fiction #fantasy #fantasy adventure #The Throne of the Sun #indie author #I made this

[seven--secrets]

how does your heart beat in such a hollow cavity || Kanna || Trial 3.1 || Attn: Wakaru

So, it was back to this again, huh? One more soul, dearly departed from the trial-room. Soon, the room would be more empty than crowded, huh? The amount of liminal spaces that stood beside each of them, an empty void breaching life and death, would never be filled again. Hollow slots that used to have names and faces, now speaking nothing but static. Kanna didn’t protest when Miku moved to join Riley, only offering a single stiff nod and muttering something queit – something like a ‘thank you,’ or a substitute for an apology of some sort.

And for a long few minutes that stretched to eternity, she deliberately held her tongue. She allowed the others to talk before her, to give their alibis, align their stories, assort their excuses and defend and accuse, while she wrung her hands under the table. She didn’t want to participate, not just yet. Not until there was a buffer to work with. Because she noticed it, in the investigation. The curiosity from Riley, the questioning glances from Wakaru. It had her on edge since before the start of the trial. She’d been walking a thin rope since the investigation. Tension struck her body stiff and rigid, locking her jaw against anything she had to say – don’t say ANYTHING.

Nobody here would help you if you said the wrong thing. 

But nobody said a word to her. Mercifully, she was left from the proceedings until she was ready to speak. Slowly but surely however, her form slackened, relaxing. She let out a few, quiet, measured breaths – in and out. In, pause for a few seconds, and out. It was fine. It wasn’t fine, and if Ryou was going to die, he might have had the courtesy to do it earlier so Kanna didn’t have to see her mother looking so –

wilted. 

Kanna didn’t look like that, did she? Her dry tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth at the memory while Shigure suggested they could eliminate all those affected by the motive as suspects. Kanna hadn’t considered Riley, Himeyuri, or Yaldabaoth as potential suspects anyways, but it was reassuring to be lumped with them, to have that safety net to fall back on. That’s right, at the very least, the timing was convenient, but so unfair.

Why her mother? Hadn’t that miserable lowlife been through enough? Hadn’t she cried until she drowned already?

She never once asked her mother for advice. Learned from a young age she could never turn to her or count on her for anything, but late that night, picking at her nails, staring at the ceiling of her tent, she found herself talking to her dreams quite a bit.

'I don’t know what to do, Mom, I don’t know what to do.' She wanted to slash through your tapestry, cut you from her thoughts and head like the dungeon all over again, but the thought of snipping that thread was so nauseatingly awful, she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t do it, she could only let that face of despair haunt her. Just like every other thing that had passed here.

The space next to her that Holly filled fuzzed with something that sounded an awful lot like static. Static she didn’t want to listen to lest it start chanting her name between sobs, offering apologies and excuses she couldn’t to hear. She didn’t trust herself not to accept them.

So, she moved. Just like Riley had suggested earlier. She wasn’t even aware of how she did it, apart from the easy answer of 'one foot in front of the other.’ She left her desk behind, instead approaching the marine biologist who was left standing next to a dearly departed. Her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth when she quietly asked, trying not to disrupt the flow of the trial,

“Can I sit here?”

Can I be so disrespectful? Can I dare to take this spot beside you? She didn’t dare offer Wakaru her hand, not yet – so stuffed one hand into her other for now, her fingers locking around each other, looking towards the door of the trial room, finding some emotional sanctity in a false way out. Her nerves lit up like bulbs on a Christmas tree, her face hot under some perceived scrutiny. She had collapsed so early in the morning, and then with the body discovery announcement, she hadn’t gotten to do her hair, any sort of make-up – it felt so wrong. She hated being seen outside her terms. Don’t look at her when she was like this, just like –

'Mom, please, I don’t know what to do.’

And finally, she addressed the court room as a whole.

“I didn’t see Ryou the entire night, either,” she finally spoke at last, her voice stiff. Last night, I was in my tent until 2:00 A.M. After that, I only saw three people all night, so I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Naganuma at 2:35 A.M. at the Kitchen and Canteen, Yamashita going towards the Staff Lounge at around 3:05, and Wa…Seyanagi-san in the canteen at around 3:25 in the morning. As I think a couple of others have already stated, I was… Occupied, trying to get that infirmary mannequin off my trail. That was for about an hour and twenty-five minutes until Seyanagi-san helped me out.” Why he started actually running after her in the first place, though, she didn’t elaborate on. She wanted to keep her testimony as brief as possible.

“If it proves anything about my story, I was the one who left the bandages out. I was bandaging my finger after I picked at a hangnail, but, ugh…The mannequin kinda interrupted, so I didn’t have time to put it away properly.”

She paused for a brief moment, tugging on the ring around her neck. It felt like the weight of the world was swinging from the chain on her neck.

'I don’t know what to do, Mom.’

“I want to believe in Misaki’s account for Koune as well. Misaki had reliably cleared her before, and I see no reason as to why he wouldn’t again, though I can understand the…Misgivings.” She still didn’t think of him as the type to obstruct a trial with lies or deceit, however.

But left very, very few people whose stories could not be validated and cleared by others. She didn’t bother naming any names just yet, however – though a sinking feeling in her chest starts to yawn open, threatening to overtake her.

She didn’t dare say it. Nobody would listen. Nobody would listen to her over another. She had to wait. Be careful. Don’t say ANYTHING. Not yet. Not until you know –

'Mom, I don’t know what to do.’

#kanna #chapter 3 #trial 3 #submission

[bratkook]

not yet. jjk

not yet, almost, right now pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, some angst, pg-13 word count. 4.1k warnings. mentions of infidelity, some feelings come to light, unrequited pining, spur of the moment kissing, light grinding on the dance floor, jungkook pops a boner and wants to cry</3 summary. jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship note. this is based off a request sent a while back for numbers #43 and #67 from this prompt list! (i think this might turn into a small drabble series...mayhaps)

Jungkook can spot your discomfort easily, the occasional colorful light bouncing off your face showing him the flash of anger in your eyes. The only reason he’s not currently running for the hills, knowing very well how mean you can get when angry, is because your glare isn’t being sent at him. Not yet at least. 

Because of this, he allows himself to enjoy the cute way your nose scrunches up, lips twisting in displeasure as you stare at the crowd of people, eyes locked onto an unlucky bystander. Honestly, he wishes he could hear your thoughts, wanting to know exactly what has your panties in a bunch, ruining your mood instead of letting you enjoy the expensive fruity drink he had just bought you as payment for allowing him to drag you out of the house. Jungkook isn’t a mind reader though, so he decides on his next best option. 

“Who’s got you looking all sour?” he sighs, resting his elbow on the counter of the bar as he inches closer to you, head at your level in an attempt to match your line of sight. 

“Him,” you seethe, brows pinching together, showing those light wrinkles in between them, a product of how expressive you were and definitely something Jungkook always teases you about. 

Jungkook can only hum in question, eyes squinting in the low light as he attempts to find the him you’re talking about. With a slight turn of your head, you’re inches from Jungkook’s cheek, the obvious look of confusion etched onto his soft features letting you know he was absolutely lost. With a soft huff your fingers are gripping his cheeks and moving his face in the right direction, free hand pointing as discreetly as you could to the man in question. 

You know he spots him, you can feel his jaw tense underneath your grip. What you don’t feel is the sudden guilt that fills him up, sloshing in his stomach and mixing with the liquor he just drank until he feels a little queasy. Jungkook instantly regrets coaxing you out of your little dungeon with the promise of cheering you up. If he had known the spawn of satan–dubbed your ex boyfriend and also the reason why you were in a downward spiral–would be here, he would have just let you rot in your bed like you originally wanted. 

“Do you wanna go?” he mutters out, cheeks still squished by your slowly tightening grip, and he begins to accept the fact that you might just break his jaw right now. It’s fine, he thinks, he deserves it. 

“No,” you grunt stubbornly, fingers finally releasing him as you turn back around and choose to face the endless amount of bottles behind the bar. He may be the reason you were currently on a never ending cycle of watching sad, heartbreaking chick-flicks from the early 2000’s, dumping you with the lame excuse that you two were on different paths and he just wasn’t ready for commitment. It’s something you accepted, albeit jaw tense and eye twitching as you did so, but you figured you would eventually find your way back to each other. 

Your mind was warped, believing you were meant to be, that this was just a mere bump in the road that you would laugh at together in the future. 

That is, until he blocked you on all social media, and you had to hear from your best friend that he had moved on days later and was now with some blonde-haired, fresh faced, supermodel-esque woman that you could not get yourself to hate. Instead you took to endlessly scrolling through her instagram while you stuffed your face with milk chocolate and questioned why you had ever convinced yourself that you had a future with him. 

“Good, he’s a dick and you shouldn’t let him ruin your night.” Jungkook grumbles, slinging his arm around you as you hold your forgotten drink by your lips. He had seen your relationship with Hajoon play out from the very beginning, knowing slightly more intimate details than he would like considering you were next door neighbors and happened to share a wall between your bedrooms. 

The friendship you had with Jungkook blossomed right after you moved in four years ago, friendly neighborly talks morphing into actual conversations, and eventually inviting each other into your apartments where you would attempt to beat him at any game you had in your Nintendo switch. It was a great dynamic, providing the two of you with a sense of relief after your busy days at work. 

Unfortunately, the second you got with Hajoon was the end of any of those playful matches, your ex’s jealousy making you distance yourself in an attempt to keep your relationship at bay. 

Jungkook can’t say he didn’t see it coming, having heard the way you’d cry anytime you had an argument and your ex would leave, slamming the door behind him so hard Jungkook’s walls would rattle. It had become such a common occurence it was a shock he hadn’t marched out of his house, met Hajoon in the hall, and gave him a clean right hook in your honor. 

He was secretly hoping you’d break up with the jerk for your own good–and maybe for his own personal reasons too. Your ex was right in being wary of Jungkook, knowing the way a boy's mind worked, sensing Jungkook’s feelings for you in a way you were too blind to see. Jungkook wasn’t a dick though, he could tell you wanted your relationship to work so he kept his distance. 

When weeks went by without the sight of him he began to think you finally did it, a call for celebration that made him want to go over to your place to challenge you for a friendly match of Mario Kart like you used to. 

Until he ran into you in the hall and took note of what a mess you were, his smile falling from his face when he saw how defeated you looked. 

Your shameful confirmation that you had been royally dumped made his heart twist for you, his selfless tendencies urging him to help you feel better in any way he could. You were thankful for it, grateful that he was keeping you company while you moped around, providing you with just the right amount of distraction to allow you to breathe and slowly heal. 

Honestly, today would have been just another day if it wasn’t what was supposed to be your two year anniversary. The second Jungkook heard the telltale sounds of The Notebook starting up in your bedroom—something he hadn’t heard through the drywall separating your rooms in weeks—is when he knew something was up. 

Jump to: now. 

With Jungkook looking sheepish and wishing he had chosen another bar, and you gripping the cup so hard it was a shock it hadn’t shattered in your grasp. 

“He’s with her,” you whisper out harshly, head downcast, swirling the liquid around in your glass as you force yourself not to look back at them. The vision of them coddled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around his while she laughed at whatever he whispered in her ear had stung enough the first time, you weren’t jealous but the pain still lingered inside of you.. 

“Just try to ignore him. Don’t let it bother you,” he attempts to reassure you, the bass of the music muffling the way you try to deny the fact that you’re clearly upset, his attention now elsewhere. 

Jungkook takes a chance and looks back once more, eyes narrowed as he searches for Hajoon in the crowd. He spots him with more ease the second time, seeing the way he lazily drinks from his glass while the blonde rests her head on his shoulder, lips moving as she tells him something that makes him smile. 

“Oh shit,” Jungkook chokes, eyes widening slightly in shock when Hajoon meets his gaze. He’s been caught, too late for him to avert his eyes and pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring. He can only give him a tight-lipped smile that he hopes doesn’t come across as an invitation to come say hello. 

“What?” you question, turning to stare at Jungkook and seeing the look on his face, doe eyes swirling with a mix of emotions. 

“He saw me,” he speaks through clenched teeth, lips barely moving as he does so, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

“What?” you repeat harshly, setting the drink back down as your palms grow clammy, finger tugging at your shirt’s neckline when the air becomes thick and stuffy. 

“Oh fuck, he’s coming.” Jungkook throws back the remainder of his drink, grimacing at the burn lingering in the back of his throat before placing the cup down. “Just follow along,” he whispers into your ear, standing tall as Hajoon approaches the two of you. 

He’s ballsy, Jungkook will give him that, more so when he completely ignores Jungkook in favor of calling out your name. 

“Y/N, oh my god is that you?”

Jungkook can’t stop the way he glares at the bastard, not even the small jab to his side that you deliver with your elbow is enough to wipe the look off his face. Still, you pause to breathe, shutting your eyes briefly before plastering a look of surprise on your features as you turn around to face him. 

“Hajoon, what are you doing here?” Your voice has risen a few octaves, pitch surpassing the normal customer service voice and entering unhinged and borderline crazed territory. Hajoon doesn’t notice though, and neither does the girl strapped to his side, the two of them smiling at you and not giving Jungkook a glance. 

“Oh, we’re just celebrating our four month anniversary.” The girl finally speaks up, giving Hajoon a kiss to the cheek and completely missing the way your face instantly falls. Her innocent statement has you coming to the sudden realization that this son of a bitch had been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship. 

Jungkoon spots it easily though, can sense the way your body tenses up beside him, no doubt will the rage flare up in the form of hot tears spilling over and onto your cheeks soon. One look at Hajoon’s pleased face is enough to not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the way he affects you. 

“Young love,” Jungkook sighs, long arm pulling you into his side obnoxiously, seeing the way Hajoon eyes the two of you carefully. “I can relate. We’ve been together for...what is it again babe, five months?”

Hajoon doesn’t even attempt to be discreet, eyes bulging out and fist curling at his side. He had hated Jungkook the second he met him, intimidated by his physique and the way he made you laugh with ease, threatened by him in every sense. It was the reason he told you to cut ties with him, his fragile ego not trusting your neighbor, fully convinced all Jungkook would have to do was beckon you over for you to leave him. 

Any man would feel threatened by him, just looking at him now with his long hair framing his face, the challenging glimmer in his eyes as he gauges the other’s reaction. Hajoon follows Jungkook’s arm, seeing how it snakes around your body and settles with his palms curling around your waist, fingers gently squeezing your skin. 

Jungkook chuckles when Hajoon meets his gaze once more, free hand adjusting the yellow tinted sunglasses perched on his head—something that should make him look like an A class douchebag, because who the hell brings shades to a fucking club. But like all things, Jungkook makes it work. 

All of this tied in with that small, white lie, makes Hajoon’s head spin in a jealous whirlwind. It was fine and dandy if he cheated on you but how dare you give him the same treatment, with your neighbor of all people. 

“Five months?” He bites first, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of you. 

The insecurity is written all over his face, it almost makes him shrink in size and for some reason it fills you with confidence. You stand taller now, sliding your own arm around Jungkook’s side as you nuzzle into him. 

“Almost six.” Those two words are the nails into his coffin of insecurity, probably increasing his trust issues for years to come, but considering it was no longer your problem, you don’t care. 

“Wow, almost half a year. That’s so cute, isn’t it?” His girlfriend coos, perfectly manicured hand placed over her chest, totally missing the way Hajoon looks like a kicked puppy. 

Now that he doesn’t have the one up, he’s no longer interested in sticking around, the gross green monster perched on his shoulder laughing at his misfortune. 

“Adorable,” he grunts out. “We should get back to our table. It was nice seeing you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before walking away, his girlfriend giving you a small wave before following behind him. The growing distance between you makes your muscles relax, sagging in relief as you release Jungkook’s side and hunch over the sticky bar. 

“I think I'm gonna puke,” you groan out, eyes going crossed when you feel Jungkook rest two fingers against your lips, sending him a questionable stare. 

“Please don’t, that drink was expensive. You’re only allowed to hurl as the grand finale of the night, and we’re just getting started.”

Jungkook smiles when you shut your eyes and groan, your mood was already down in the dumps, and despite the small rush you got from putting Hajoon in his place, you were still craving the comfort of your bed. “Can we go?”

The bartender proceeds to place a glass of water in front of you, assuming your slumped state was due to intoxication and not the gross remnants of running into an ex-boyfriend. You grab the glass regardless, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid and sighing when it helps calm you down. 

“If you really want to go we can, but at least try to loosen up.” His smile is genuine, cheeks pushed out as he looks down at you with kind eyes. “We’ll stay on the opposite side, and if you’d still rather watch the Notebook for the millionth time, we can do that.”

With a half-hearted groan you nod, allowing Jungkook to order another round of drinks for you to enjoy before eventually dragging you out onto the dance floor. He knows how to keep the atmosphere up, goofy smile on his lips as he bobs his head along to the loud beat, hands clasped with yours and wiggling in time to the music. 

“You love this song,” he manages to say through the noise, pulling you closer as he settles into a spot on the decently packed floor. You couldn’t even deny it, he heard just how often you played it through the paper thin walls. That playlist full of hit 2000’s songs was your guilty pleasure, and it was the main reason he had decided to bring you to this club on their themed night. 

Jungkook was attentive, he knew so much about you and played it off casually, always listening to things you say you enjoy, storing them into a folder labeled under your name and shoved into a very important part of his brain. 

You knew he was trying his best to get you to enjoy yourself, so you give in, beginning to sing along to the lyrics of an old song that brought back a flood of memories that made you smile back at him. Jungkook feels the first burst of success bloom inside him, joining in with your singing, raising up your clasped hands as you begin dancing. 

The smile doesn’t leave his face as he stares down at you, the few drinks you’ve had loosening you up and allowing you to push the earlier thoughts away. He feels mesmerized, eyes locked onto you, the flash of colors painting your skin, illuminating you in alternating shades of purple and blue. His heart does that annoying thing where it skips and stutters in his chest, mouth drying up as you drop your head back and sway your hips, slowly loosening the grip in your hands and turning around until your back is dangerously close to his chest.

Jungkook’s hands hover in the air for a moment, panic over taking his brain as he tries to remain calm. He could do this—he has done this before—the two of you would go clubbing before you got with your ex, and dancing definitely played a big part of it. So why was his brain short circuiting?

Sure your ass was brushing up against his crotch with each sway of your hips, but you were dancing, so his mind and his dick could fuck right off. He shakes his head to clear any dirty thoughts as his hands loosely grip your hips, testing the water, and when you smile and look back at him he feels less wary and sways his hips in time with yours. 

You can feel his chest brush against your back, breath fanning along your skin from his close proximity, only getting closer when you lift an arm back and hold his shoulder to pull him tighter against you. The heat sticks to your skin, thin shirt dampening with sweat from the warmth of the bodies around you, everyone in their own state of drunkenness as the bass flowed through their chests. 

Going out like this had been something you missed, used to frequenting the bars and clubs by your apartment with your friends and Jungkook, something that came to a halt because your ex claimed he hated that kind of scene. Something that was clearly a lie considering he was here now, enjoying himself as him and his new girlfriend danced along. 

You didn’t realize when he made his way onto the dance floor, enough distance separating you, but now that you had spotted him you feel like he’s way too close for comfort. In a similar position to you and Jungkook, Hajoon is free to look around while his girlfriend dances on him, eyes locked onto you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. 

Jungkook is too lost in the music to notice where your attention has gone, earlier effects of the alcohol settling into his bloodstream, warming him up in that familiar way he welcomes. When the song changes, flowing into the next bass heavy anthem, you turn around in his grasp, giving him a brief glance before your hands are gripping his cheeks and bringing him down into a messy kiss. 

This is definitely something he’s never done with you before.

A muffled sound of confusion is swallowed by you as he quickly falls into the motion, large palms gripping your hips, slowly sliding up your back before lightly tangling into your hair to deepen the kiss. Jungkook can taste the liquor on your tongue, mixing with his own as your tongue slips between his lips. He has no idea what came over you but his racing heart and buried crush don’t let him question it, soft lips smacking with yours, not heard between the thrumming music. 

Your fingers feel the warmth of his cheeks, how he blushes into the kiss but you attribute it to the alcohol pumping through him. Harsh breaths fan across your face as he groans, lightly pulling back for a gasp of air but you don’t allow it. “No, don’t pull away. Not yet.”

And who is he to argue with that, blindly letting you bring your lips back together in a messy kiss. Your small pleas for him to continue has all the blood rushing to his cock, the ache felt in his jeans when it starts to harden, pressing into the denim uncomfortably and only getting worse when you gently bite down onto his lip before inching back. 

“Is he still looking?” you question, breath jagged as you peer up at Jungkook’s dazed expression. 

“What?” he dumbly replies, lips swollen and shiny, eyes still focused on your own as he makes an attempt to reconnect your lips. But then your question dawns on him, like a bucket of ice cold water, it sobers him up instantly. Is he still looking?

This was all for show. 

“He’s on the far right.” You motion your head in the direction and observe his face when his eyes move over to check if Hajoon was in fact still there. He does spot him heading out in a hurry though, girlfriend trailing behind him as he exits the club entirely

“No, just saw him leave.” Jungkook clears his throat, fingers slipping out of your hair and settling down over your back just like before. He hopes his solemn expression isn’t amplified by the lights flashing across his face, trying his best to act unaffected, as if he didn’t just pop a boner on the dance floor over a revenge make-out session. 

Luckily you don’t spot his fallen expression, a wide smile spreading across your face in victory, happy that you had successfully put him in his place. 

“I’m so sorry for kissing you.” You gasp in realization, unknowingly pouring salt in the wound when you act as if kissing him was something you would never do if it wasn’t in an attempt to piss off your ex. 

“No, it’s okay,” he waves off and smiles, eyes glancing over to the bar once more. Jungkook needed a drink, maybe five—actually he wouldn’t mind going home and watching The Notebook now, that would surely give him a reason to cry with no questions asked. 

He starts to walk back to the bar with you by his side, the sad look you had earlier entirely gone, replaced with a giddy smile and a pep in your step, so he can’t say he's too upset. 

“God, you should’ve seen how mad he looked when he saw us dancing together,” you giggle, standing inches from him as he orders another drink. Before he can respond, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for a hug. 

A hug, really?

Still, Jungkook sighs and wraps his own arms around your waist, a defeated smile on his face that he hides as he lets his chin rest over your head. The dip in his head makes the yellow tinted frames fall over his eyes and when he pulls back you snort at the visual, finger gently poking the bridge of them. 

“You look good in those.”

His drink gets placed in front of him then, giving him a good excuse to avoid stumbling over his words from your compliment, choosing to take a gulp of the hard liquor, wincing when it burns his throat. “Thank you,” he rasps out, grimacing at the taste and it just makes you giggle. 

“I should be thanking you. You need to be my fake boyfriend more often.”

Even more salt poured into his wound, topped with a dash of lemon juice in the form of your playful smile and nudge to his ribs, it stings. His heart ache in his chest, more so when he realizes his stupid boner was still going strong. Thankfully the dark lights prevent you from seeing it, the last thing he needed was further embarrassment. 

The yellow frames are placed back over his head as he takes another sip, nodding along to your statement with what he hopes comes across as a genuine smile on his lips once he sets his cup down. “Anytime you want Y/N.”

“I know this night didn’t end with the grand finale of me puking, but do you wanna go home and watch movies? No sappy romance ones, I'm not in the mood for crying anymore.”

He finishes his drink with ease, quickly closing his tab as he agrees. “Yeah, just let me go to the bathroom real quick.” 

You might not be in the mood for crying but he definitely was; he also needed to handle the situation in his jeans, and what better night to stoop this low than tonight. His own version of a grand finale coming in the form of jerking off in the dirty bar bathroom while maybe shedding a tear or two. 

“Okay! I’ll call an uber,” you announce cheerfully, allowing him to walk away as you settle onto one of the sticky bar stools. 

Jungkook’s chest feels heavy as he walks to the bathroom, slipping into the small room and locking the door behind him. His forehead rests against the dirty door, eyes falling shut with a groan. He wishes he had the guts to confess to his crush, needing to push the fear of ruining the friendship away from his mind, wanting to gather possible clues that could indicate that you might feel the same. 

One day, but not yet. 

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btsghostie #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #new

[munsnz]

TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢. — 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Overview: Will Byers, a close friend of Y/N herself, although in high school, was missing, setting a sense of concern for him, wondering what could’ve happened as being interviewed by the police themselves. We continue to dive deeper into the girl’s life to the connections of some familiar boys.

Navigation — Mixtape

Doodles, words, and weird figures were being scribbled in the sturdy notebook, with the thin pencil marking the surface of the lined paper. Class was even more boring now that Y/N couldn’t bother to pay attention to her U.S. History class, vividly in her daydreams of where one of her close friends, Jonathan Byers could be since he never showed up that morning, the teacher decided to speak up, snapping her out of her thoughts.

”Miss Hopper, would you like to elaborate with what Tammy said?” He cleared his throat, standing next to the girl’s desk all eyes on her. Y/N frantically narrowed her vision to the board, feeling a sense of unease when everyone watched her intently. Her E/C colored eyes shifted from right to left, feeling a ridiculous amount of pressure starting to well on her chest. Breathing in and out, she squinted at the chalkboard, focusing on the big letter written on the board, The Holocaust. An eerie silence grew into place, maybe a silent cough held in the background. Y/N’s palms became clammy, scrambling through her unopened textbook and unwritten notebook. Stumbling through her words in the awkwardness, the door of the classroom swung open to find the principal of the school, in a fine suit.

The class’ eyes shifted from Y/N’s mess to the lady, standing by the doorway, “Can I have Y/N Hopper?” Now her heart dropped to her stomach, was she into deep shit now? Maybe someone had caught her smoking this time. Was this going to be another accusation someone had made? If her dad heard about this, she was definitely going to be toast.

The eyes were now back on Y/N, worrisome, she rapidly crumpled her sheets of paper along with the textbook into her plain backpack. She slung it onto her shoulder, keeping her head low and meeting contact with the principal who guided her out of the classroom as she closed the door behind them before walking by the empty hallway.

“Am I in trouble?” The girl nervously bit her lip, looking down at the squeaky floor, the principal moved her glance to see Y/N looking so timid.

The principal shook her head, putting a reassuring hand onto the girl’s shoulder, “No, you’re not. Hopper, one of the most intellectual students we’ve had here in Hawkins High. In fact we need your help.”

Without asking any questions, Y/N’s eyes widened, a smile forming on her lips. The walk to the principal’s office was a bit uncomfortable, as none of them spoke along the trail. Finally getting to the office’s door, they opened it to find her dad along with his handy dandy partner, Phil Callahan, whom Y/N had been very close with since the beginning of her life when Hopper first got his job as chief of police. Giving a little wave for politeness,  the principal directed the girl to sit down in the chair in front of her.

”I really regret to inform you but, Will Byers went missing the other night,” The principal’s eyes saddened, turning them up to the two police officers, “And from what your father had said, you saw him that night.”

Oh god.

Will Byers was missing. No, not will. Not will. Why Will? Will was just a friendly kid who loved to play D&D with his friends Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and Dustin Henderson under their basement for neverlasting hours. The wizard, the position he played, the shy, bubbly and nerdy kid who trusted her no matter what. Will, Will Byers was missing.

“Steve’s a twat!” A middle schooler climbed down the stairs in the Wheeler’s residence, to find four slightly younger boys sitting on a couch, having a board in front of them. Curious, she kneeled beside Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother, Michael, “What are you guys doing? Some magic trick or what?”

Mike looked beside him, to find one of Nancy’s friends observing the board with the tiny figurines placed on top. Without precaution, the curly haired boy that was sat in front of him spoke up, “It’s Dungeons and Dragons!”

“Wow, that’s cool, I don’t know what that is,” She brought her knees to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. The boys’ eyes fell onto the girl. What was she doing here? Shouldn’t she be with Nancy?

“My sister is upstairs by the way,” Mike cringed a bit, to find the girl being ever so intrigued by what the boys were up to on a Wednesday night.

Y/N turned over to the younger brother, then to the other three boys, sitting in silence, “I know, but I’m sick of her talking about her boyfriend Steve. I wanted to see what you were doing.” Quietness began while glances were exchanged, the girl leaned closer and directed the boys to do so as well, she hushed, “Don’t tell Nancy, but sometimes she’s boring.”

Lucas and Will both looked at each fondly, as the rest nodded their heads in agreement when Mike spoke up, “Finally! Someone notices for once!”

Dustin shakes his head in disagreement, the boy gave an obnoxious smile, “No, Nancy’s awesome!”

The group of laughter, turned to Dustin who was smiling like a freak. Lucas snapped jokingly, “DUSTIN LIKES NANCY OOOOOO!”

“What? No I don’t!” Dustin’s face turned beat red while Lucas chased Dustin around, imitating a few kisses with the weird noises. Mike got up to stop the two from hitting each other and creating a racket in the living room, the three seemed to have began a rumble, while the quiet one cheered them on with laughter arousing him.

Y/N nudges the quiet boy, smiling towards his direction, “They’re a lot to handle huh?” The boy nods a little bit, after hearing the “Dustin I love you” and “Kiss me Dustin!” mimicks from Lucas, giving smoochy faces. “Aren’t you Jonathan’s younger brother?”

The brunette boy with the bowl cut nods again, trying to shout in between the shouting induced by the three boys fighting in from of them, “I’m Will!”

”Oh! That’s good! Your brother is in Mr. Clark’s class with me!” Y/N laughed, seeing Lucas and Mike stack on top of tiny Dustin squirming below them. Will and Y/N signaled to join the stack, feeling Dustin start to giggle hysterically while Y/N began to tickle his stomach. All of them burst into laughter in the stack until Nancy came downstairs to ruin the fun.

”MIKE WHAT THE HECK?!” Nancy shouted, pulling giggly Y/N out of the bunch of first graders tumbled on the rug, “Leave my friends alone for the hundredth time!”

After seeing her being pulled away, Y/N wiggled out of Nancy’s grip, stepping away from her and seeing the boys suddenly become so serious, “Nancy, I was already hanging out with them. They’re cool.”

”What?” She felt frazzled at the remark, then heard Mrs. and Mr. Wheeler coming in after a night out. Both looked satisfied in finally having a night out together due to taking care of their children and working.

“We didn’t know Y/N came over! We hate to have the boys alone here sometimes,” Karen Wheeler sat on the couch as the boys broke apart and sat in their own space in the living room, Y/N standing along with Nancy.

”Maybe you should get them a babysitter!” The H/C colored girl suggested, putting her hands on her waist, “They’re lots of fun to be with!”

”Be our babysitter!” Dustin stumbled to get up, jumping up and down, exclaiming. The others chimed in as well.

Lucas nods along, ”Yeah that would be great!”

”You would be the best babysitter in Hawkins!” Will chants, earning Mike’s agreement too.

Mrs. Wheeler laughed at the excited boys surrounded tween Y/N who seemed heartfelt to have people that want to be around her, “It seems like a great idea, I’ll talk to their moms and see what they think. I’ll let your dad know tomorrow.”

Squeals from the seven-year olds filled the living room, when Karen had considered the request, it had already been late and their moms would be at the Wheeler’s to pick the boys up back home. While Lucas slipped on his sweater, he shouted, “At least my babysitter doesn’t have to be the old hag Mrs. Wilson!”

“TRUE!” Dustin laughs along with him, while Will follows behind to find Mrs. Sinclair waving from the sidewalk standing beside her car with three year old Erica Sinclair, wanting to throw a tantrum to be let go from her mother’s grip. As Lucas, Dustin, and Will left they all chanted in unison, “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” To plaster a cheeky smile on the girl’s face.

Never in her entire life has this girl felt so.... accepted, liked, included for once. Something the bratty kids of Hawkins Middle School had felt towards the girl. This felt like something new, something new with a long trail of friendship. Totes to the new babysitter of these boys, whom they enjoyed being around with, no matter what

.

#Steve Harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x reader fanfiction #Stranger things fanfic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve Harrington angst #Stranger things x reader #Tricks of life #Lydinous #Steve Harrington x you

[numptypylon]

Drabble for @emmagency and @acronymking4tdp who both requested some rayllum meet-cute Rayla pov. Set during the first chapter of Homeward Bound but can be read independently

Rayla had stalled, her hand on the doorknob of the cottage.

This Callum guy seemed nice, if a bit… in his own way.

The right hair.

Grooming-level was important, in a housemate. Clean, so they wouldn’t smell up the place, but not so fussy she’d have to fight for a turn in the shared bathroom.

Callum’s product-free and accidentally-perfect hair pulled free from where it had been trapped by his scarf, when his head turned.

He smiled, still a bit nervously.

She didn’t get why. Surely, the pressure was on her? She was the one asking him to hand over his money every month for the dubious privilege of getting to shack up with her?

But it seemed like he was nervous.

And she had dawdled too long, like she usually did when entering her parents’ cottage.

She had always hesitated when she shouldn’t.

The cottage… it felt foreign. It was technically her childhood home, but the memories that came to her walking through it were just-

Just irrelevantright now, when she had an inexplicably nervous prospective renter to get to loosen up and some annoyingly persistent angsty-past to pound into the dirt where it belonged or-

She smirked at Callum, nodding at the door. “Careful. You don’t want to spook them.”

“The ferrets?” he snickered.

“Nah, it’s orgie-o’-clock for the ferrets, they’re well occupied. I meant the loo-poltergeists. Always stealing that last roll of toilet paper you were sure you had.” She knocked three times, loudly.

Just… reassurance, although not from poltergeists.

She had texted Josie from the pub, telling her to get going and to make the bed before she did, and the cottage was hopefully empty now, clean-ish and fuck-buddy-free.

“Ah, I can work with a few ghosts. I’m not in a hurry. Besides, it’s nice out here.” Callum gestured at the neighborhood, the old pear tree and weeds and struggling climbing roses in the somewhat neglected front yard. “Cottage-y. Cozy. Makes me feel like I should be wearing more knitwear and learn to make fruit preserves, you know?”

Rayla couldn’t help smiling, looking back at him. She definitely didn’t recognize that urge, but it was sure one of the more wholesome urges she had heard someone express.

She shook her head and pushed open the door to urge him inside; he hadn’t even seen the room yet, she could at least put off liking the guy until she knew if she would ever see him again.

He hung up his coat, pulling curiously at her resistance-training elastic bands, dangling from a wire hanger.

“Let me guess, this is… sex dungeon paraphernalia, and there’s an underground cave network spanning the whole village and any tenant has to-“ Callum cut himself off, looking needlessly mortified, considering she had casually brought up ferret orgies less than a minute ago.

She’d clearly just have to make an even filthier joke before he left, let him know that way that he was fine.

That was how well-adjusted people communicated, right?

“Just physical-therapist paraphernalia,” she grinned, because she could tell he had been genuinely curious. “Those two only overlap on the night of the full moon.”

“Oh, are you… that’s really nice. Helping people get back to themselves, after they’ve been hurt? I can see how you’d be good at that.”

What-

Where had that come from?

She shook her head against the rising heat. He didn’t even know her.

Yet.

Damnit.

#rayllum #rayla #the dragon prince #tdp #callum #numpty fic tag #cottage cuddles au #homeward bound #homeward bound rayla pov extras

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Aftermath: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: fluff, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, mention of child rape

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“Gary Heidnick in Philadelphia,” you and Spencer say at the same time. You blush and motion for him to explain. “He kept women in a dungeon prisoner for years with the hopes of impregnating them.”

“Heidnick was a sexual sadist, though,” you continue. “He tortured the women and even ended up eating one of them. That is a power reassurance rapist.”

“So, in this guy's twisted mind, these are love stories?”

“Of course, they are. He's starting families.”

You’re not going to get any answers at the police station, so you, Maggie, Hotch, and Derek head over to the clinic that these women have been going to in order to get more answers about your unsub. The doctor on call, Dr. Wagner is more than happy to talk to you and your team. He was shocked, to say the least, when he heard what’s been happening.

“I'm sorry, but whoever's committing these crimes couldn't work at this clinic. I'm the only man here.”

“But that doesn't mean there isn't a connection. We need your help to figure out what it might be.”

A woman approaches the counter, and Dr. Wagner puts this conversation on hold while he hands her a form to fill out. You barely have a peek at it before the woman takes it away back to her seat.

“Look, what's happening is just horrible, but the margins on the clinic like this are incredibly slim. If word gets out there's a connection to this rapist, my practice would be ruined,” he sighs.

“To be honest I don't care about your practice,” Maggie sasses. “Three women were raped after coming here. That's not a coincidence. It's a pattern.”

“If you're implying that I could be a suspect, I should let you know that I had a vasectomy twenty-five years ago.”

“We just want to know if there's anyone in and out of this clinic who fits the profile,” you sigh. “He’s quiet, lives alone, and awkward with women, yet hangs around the office a little too long just to be near them.”

“No, it's just a small clinic. I only hire women. My patients are just much more comfortable around them.”

“What about elsewhere--computer support, janitor?”

“My daughter handles all of the technical business and I have a cleaning crew of two women. Sorry.”

The woman comes back and hands over the form that she filled out, and this time, you can clearly see the contents of the paper. Favorite alcoholic drink, favorite vacation place, favorite song, and many other favorites that fit in with the rape victims.

“What is that, doctor?” you ask.

“It's just a questionnaire we hand out to learn more about our client base.”

“This is everything the unsub knew about the victims,” you reveal.

“Who else sees these?”

“I don't compromise the medical privacy of my patients.”

“Those aren’t medical questions, and you didn't answer her,” you cross your arms.

“Well, I sell the forms to a direct marketing company called First Hand Media. They just target buying habits. No medical information changes hands. It's not illegal.”

“Yeah, but the margins on a place like this… word gets out… your practice would be ruined,” Maggie smirks.

“I’ll call Garcia,” Derek offers.

He steps off to the side where some women are chatting with each other, and you follow closely behind. Hotch and Maggie can handle the doctor on their own, so you decide to listen in on his conversation with Penelope.

“I'd like to make a request,” Derek grins when he gets her on the phone. “Alright, listen, it's a marketing firm by the name of First Hand Media. I want you to see if they have any connection to the colleges from the first set of victims… That's a beautiful thing. One last favor. Look up the words sexy and brilliant in that computer of yours and tell me what you come up with.” The women who were chatting nearby pause when they hear his words, and you just smirk to yourself. “You are a goddess woman. Ciao.” Derek hangs up and finally notices the women staring at him. “It was a... It was a work call.”

“So,” you slink up to his side as you two head back to Hotch and Maggie, “do you have the hots for Ms. Penelope Garcia?”

“Shut up,” Derek groans playfully.

“What? I’m serious,” you giggle.

“Oh, like how you’re in love with Spencer and won’t tell him?”

“W-what?” you stutter. “I don’t love him. We barely started dating.”

“Your body language says differently,” Derek grins. “It doesn’t take a psychic to see that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still trying to figure out my feelings for him. I do like him a lot, though. Speaking of body language, yours seem to suggest you have feelings for Pen.”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he chuckles.

“We found First Hand Media’s home base,” you say to Hotch when you get back to them.

“Let’s go.”

You four meet the rest of the team there because you might need a lot of back up if this man is going to be at First Hand Media. Craig, the manager, is very upset you think one of his guys is a serial rapist.

“You really think this rapist is one of my guys?” Craig asks in disbelief.

“Well, he's used to being in strangers' homes and is always on the phone. That's how he's confident. Thanks to your research, he feels like he knows these women,” Gideon says.

“We’re going to need a list of any employees you have that worked in a fertility clinic and university questionnaires,” you state seriously.

“I give every employee complete access to all of our materials. It helps keep them fresh if they can alternate between types of calls.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I fill out my intimate personal information, and then you just share it with everyone you have working here for minimum wage?” you ask with a bit of an attitude.

“I sense an attitude.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right you do,” you snap.

“We need copies of every single questionnaire that you got from the clinic,” Elle steps in. “We can get a warrant here in about an hour if you prefer.”

“If you think about it, all I'm doing is profiling, just like you guys.”

“Let's not think about it.”

Craig sighs and gets the files you need, and you are shocked that it’s so many. There are so many that it will take at least four members of your team to carry the boxes.

“All these?” Spencer gasps.

“We cover the entire Great Lakes region.”

“Let's narrow it down. The guy we're looking for is a white male between the ages of twenty and forty, socially awkward and unable to make connections easily,” Spencer tries to narrow it down.

“I have two hundred and fifty employees. Most of those are men, and every single one of them matches the description you just gave me.”

“Right, well, thanks for your time. Keep being an upstanding member of society,” you say sarcastically and grab two boxes.

The rest of the teams confiscate the boxes and head back to the police station to try and figure out what the hell kind of person is capable of this… and why. You never figured out why those men did what they did, and if you can help these women figure that out, then maybe it might make you feel better.

“Elle, it might be worth going back to the victims. It's a long shot, but maybe somebody remembers the first name from a telemarketing call,” Hotch suggests.

You can feel resentment coming off her, but she doesn’t show it.

“Yeah, the unsub feels a connection with them so he wouldn't lie or use an alias.”

Elle gets up and leaves the room to do what she was told.

“We know this guy's DNA is not in the system, but I'll cross-check employment records against sexual misdemeanors--peeping, exposure, etc,” Derek offers.

He, too, leaves the room.

“I separated Dayton forms from the rest of the region,” Spencer says proudly.

He took every single file First Hand Media gave you and isolated the Dayton ones from the rest.

“So, what do we know from the latest set of victims?”

“They're all single and all over thirty-five,” JJ puts out there.

“Each of them also indicated recently buying books on babies and childbearing,” Spencer adds.

“They all want children, and are willing to do whatever it takes to get one,” you say. “So, he knows they're committed to having children, which means they're much less likely to abort, even in the cases of rape.”

“Get this, each of the victims also checked the ‘yes’ box when asked if it would be okay to contact them on special deals on pediatric items,” JJ informs the group.

“In the unsub's mind, they've consented. He thinks he's doing them a service,” you sigh.

“Check those forms for each of those elements. If we can narrow it down to a potential list of victims, we can be waiting for him,” Hotch orders.

You, Spencer, and JJ all look through the files to see if you can come up with women who might be in danger. JJ isn’t doing too well on her end, you’re using your abilities to help you eliminate, and Spencer speeds his way through the files. Only until everyone is done do you share.

“Any hits?” Hotch asks.

“Got one,” JJ shrugs.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, and Spencer agrees with you.

“It’s the only one?”

“It's a small city. There can't be very many single women in their late 30s going to the exact same fertility clinic.”

“So, we know who he's going after next.”

You knew who the unsub was going after, but no matter how many times the Dayton police officers went to the house, she wouldn’t answer the door. They had no probable cause to enter the house, so they left a detailed message and left. Turns out, the rapist was already inside. He raped her soon after the police officers left. By the time you heard about the attack, it was too late.

You don’t think you’ve seen Elle this angry before.

You get to the crime scene where Maggie and her officers are already at, and Elle is marching over to give Maggie a piece of her mind. This isn’t going to end well.

“There was no forced entry. We're still not sure how he got in,” Maggie sighs.

“Is the MO the same?” you wonder.

“No.”

“I’m going to take a look inside,” Hotch says and heads inside the house.

“What the hell are your men doing?” Elle exclaims in anger, glaring at Maggie.

“Excuse me?”

“You can have men outside the door, but a woman can still get raped inside!”

“They knocked, there was no answer, so there was no legal cause to enter.”

“So, they just walked away?”

“No, they left messages that it was urgent, that she contacts the police.”

“Which must be on the machine right after that creep left a message saying he was going to rape her,” Elle shouts.

“They did everything in their power.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” she growls.

Elle storms away, and you are shocked that she is acting this way. She may have suppressed her emotions in the beginning, but they are starting to come out in the worse possible ways.

“Elle!” you and Derek exclaim, but she doesn’t listen.

The house ended up being a bust because there was no evidence left over by the guy at all… except for the traumatized woman he left behind. She is still too scared and terrified to even talk, so there is nothing left for your team to do. The Dayton police can talk to her whenever she is ready to do so. For now, all you can do is go back to the hotel and wait for something to come up. You’re kind of frustrated about all of this, but clearly not as much as Elle. You could go talk to her, but you think that’s only going to make things worse.

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#aftermath #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #cm #season 2 episode 5 #s2e05