#she’s also plotting ways to murder them or run away

[khaleesimaka]

Reading ACOTAR knowing what’s gonna happen and the plot is funny because Tamlin is literally trying to make an effort to be alone with Feyre and she’s just like “I’d rather be alone :)”

#she’s also plotting ways to murder them or run away #and I’m just like Feyre darling you’re dumb #these are scary high fae who can outrun you #like you do not have the muscle to take them on #please stop collecting knives #also this is probably my least favorite in the series #cause it is soooo slow #and there’s so many annoying descriptions! #like we get it she likes art #but I don’t think an artist describes the world like that #buttery light… she sounds so pretentious

[wonysugar]

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable. 

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however, 

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect. 

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face. 

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again. 

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing. 

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her. 

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip. 

plus, her panties were wet. 

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down. 

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger. 

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her. 

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation. 

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment. 

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair. 

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?” 

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?” 

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing. 

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?” 

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

#smut #kpop gg #hanni pham newjeans #hanni newjeans #newjeans smut #hanni pham #hanni pham x female reader #hanni x reader #hanni x fem reader #hanni pham x fem reader #hanni smut #newjeans hanni #female reader #kpop gg smut #kpop girlgroups

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

maaan it'd be so EASY for chaggie to end up with an adopted cannibal kid after the battle with heaven, tho

with Vaggie's past (and that being a Thing she can Charlie can talk about now), her having her big WAIT THIS IS EVIL IM BEING EVIL moment over a cannibal child she couldn't bring herself to kill....

add to that Charlie, who is now the DIRECT reason quite a few cannibals are Extra Super Dead, thanks to her inspiring them into battle with her song-

"Have you ever felt like you're willing to die-"

very rousing, maybe less fun for her to remember after some of them DID die-

oh hush y'all eat ppl im sure dying isn't the most shocking outcome of a night out that you can imagine

Charlie legit pitched facing final death as a "chance to travel" and "see more of hell" and she did it with a jolly song and dance and GOOD ON HER for getting a fighting force to protect the dream of sinners someday being redeemed! ....but yeah. kinda heavy for her to remember later on, i'd think

and Cannibal Town residents are so tight knit with each other that it's a literal PLOT POINT Charlie has to face off against- no way they don't have families, no way there weren't families broken up by the battle at the Hazbin Hotel- at Charlie's hotel

No way Charlie wouldn't feel guilty about and responsible as FUCK for any little cannibal kid who ended up orphaned as a result....

ahem

(is that kid wearing like frisbee on their head?? whatever. it looks kinda like a halo don't it. kinda ironic. isn't it)

Rosie would even have to SUGGEST anything! She's got a good read on Charlie now and she's 100% on board with Alastor's plans to "guide" Charlie (cough manipulate and use cough cough)

and what would make a better leverage point than introducing a little cannibal kid for Charlie to worry and feel guilty over? an ORPHANED cannibal kid. Orphaned by the same fight Charlie led the cannibals into. Orphaned when the kid's parents DIED fighting for Charlie

(great way for Charlie to always keep Cannibal Town in mind anyway. Good way to make sure she's protective of it)

but oh the irony if Rosie didn't even MEAN for chaggie to end up with the kid!

if Rosie DIDN'T fully understand- just how much Charlie would want to give a loving family and childhood to someone, when she herself had one and is now dealing (trying to deal) with all that crumbling away as an adult-

ALSO THO. IF. Hypothetically. the orphan was the same kid Vaggie spared. Like how many sinner kids are there in hell. Not too many running around. If it was the same kid. if Vaggie saw that

....if the kid saw her- or, no, even better- if when she tried talking quietly with them, and when they heard her voice like that they looked up at her suddenly like

cannibal kid: "...Go."

Vaggie: (instantly standing up) "Right, sorry- I'll go get Charlie, or- would you rather Rosie-" (stops) (looks down)

Vaggie: "...?"

cannibal kid: (is holding onto the end of her hair ribbon)

cannibal kid: (whispering) "Run."

cannibal kid: (hopefully) "Now...?"

Vaggie: "...you, remember?"

cannibal kid: (nods)

Vaggie: (slowly sits back down)

Vaggie: "Yeah, hey. That was... that was a thing, wasn't it. It's, been a while. Three years... didn't think you'd recognize me."

cannibal kid: "Didn't. Look different."

Vaggie: "The long hair, missing eye and missing wings is a lot of change, huh?"

cannibal kid: (shrugs) "You're happy." (sniffles) "It's different."

Vaggie: ".....well, Charlie's the one who did all that. She's, pretty great at that stuff. And she'd like make things different for you too now. If you want."

cannibal kid: "........if I stay at the hotel... can I play with Razzle every day? Not, not just when princess Charlie brings him over?"

Vaggie: "Kinda looks like your stuck with him either way to me. Maybe check he's getting enough air, stuffed down into your coat front like that?"

cannibal kid: (unbuttoning an air hole for Razzle) "But he belongs at the hotel, where Dazzle's murmur- marble- um- murder dial-"

Vaggie: "Memorial..?"

cannibal kid: "Where Dazzle's memorial is."

Vaggie: "If you're okay leaving Cannibal Town, you can belong there too."

cannibal kid: "I'm okay leaving town."

cannibal kid: (beat)

cannibal kid: "It's boring."

Vaggie: "Yeah well, the hotel is definitely not gonna be boring."

cannibal kid: "Does it get blown up EVERY week, or just on special occasions?"

Vaggie: "It sure felt like every week but we're trying to cut back."

cannibal kid: "Dang."

please imagine tho, Charlie seeing this sad orphan kid who won't talk to anyone, maybe even "hasn't so much as had a nibble on anyone, the poor little biter" according to Rosie, since being orphaned-

and the next time Charlie visits she brings RAZZLE

and she introduce the two of them, then stands back and watches her childhood plushy turned demon win over this kid SO FAST, disappearing into their tiny but fierce little hugs, getting them to share a donut with him, showing them how to do a little song and dance routine (one him, Charlie, and Dazzle used to do) bringing a bit of normalcy back to a kid who's parents are dead because of her-

Charlie thinking to herself, that the least she can do, really, is give this kid as many of the best parts of HER own childhood as she can

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #rosie hazbin hotel #silly au #orphaned cannibal kid adoption shenanigans #i can give chaggie kids in so many silly ways that don't involve the normal one #but this one #could ALMOST work within canon??? #XD

[zooone]

as above, so below

╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.

one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.

all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please &lt;3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing

she had a lot of questions about wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"

all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.

to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.

unless he had something to do about it.

-

he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.

"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"

"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.

"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.

her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.

she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.

"why not, wilbur?"

he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.

"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.

he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.

"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"

they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.

he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.

"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.

he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.

but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.

the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.

"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.

"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.

yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.

he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.

he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.

that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.

"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.

"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.

"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.

he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.

"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."

"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."

quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."

wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.

it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.

"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"

he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.

"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.

"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"

"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.

wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.

he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.

he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.

he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.

and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.

the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.

"wilbur!"

and his routine was ruined.

"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"

"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."

wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.

"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.

and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."

wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.

instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.

"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."

wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."

he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"

wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.

he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".

he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.

he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.

he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.

as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.

from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-

"wilbur! there you are!"

he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"

he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.

"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"

before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.

she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"

"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."

she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."

"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.

she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.

what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.

"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.

she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."

wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.

she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.

"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.

"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."

"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.

he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.

"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"

"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.

"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"

he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."

"right now."

as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.

there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.

"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.

"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."

he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"

she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."

he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.

"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.

she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."

the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."

"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"

"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.

he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.

she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."

"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.

"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"

he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.

"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"

why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.

"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"

he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.

"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"

wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.

"it's.. it's fine."

he definitely blundered.

he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.

she leaned forward. "how is it?"

it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.

"it's.. okay, i guess."

"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"

he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.

"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.

"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."

she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.

there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.

he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.

"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"

at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.

he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.

he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.

he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.

wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.

he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.

he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.

he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.

it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.

he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.

he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.

he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.

wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.

he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.

tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.

"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."

wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.

"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"

wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.

that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."

"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.

"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."

wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.

"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."

he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.

wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.

there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.

shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.

"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"

wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.

"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"

he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."

she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?

"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."

wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"

"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"

"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."

he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.

in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.

the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"

"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.

as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.

it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.

that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?

but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.

it was her flower crown and gummy worms.

wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.

he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.

he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.

but, she still cared about him.

wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.

he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.

he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.

he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.

sure enough, it was from her.

"dear wilbur!

hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.

i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.

it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!

ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"

he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.

it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.

as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.

"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."

"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"

oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?

tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"

"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."

"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"

"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.

"do you have a date?"

wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."

"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"

wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"

"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"

wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.

"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."

tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.

"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"

wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.

he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.

wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.

he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.

he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.

he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.

it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.

he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.

still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.

he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.

his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?

although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.

wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.

"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"

tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."

quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”

“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”

they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.

he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.

“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”

tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”

tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.

quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.

“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”

“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”

“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."

"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."

as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.

“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”

wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.

when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”

“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”

“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”

“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”

“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.

“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”

“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”

“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.

“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”

the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.

“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.

“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”

wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.

his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.

uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.

his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-

"do you have a favorite flavor?"

it all snapped away.

"uh- um, well, um-"

how was she able to do that?

"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."

unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."

"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.

shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.

"do.. do i bite-"

"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.

god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.

he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.

and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.

he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."

"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.

as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."

"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."

his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.

it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.

and the worst part? she noticed.

"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.

"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."

she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.

wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.

she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.

in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.

"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.

"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"

"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.

his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”

he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.

she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”

wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.

he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.

he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.

she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”

her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”

“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”

his heart was wrapped in thorns.

it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.

“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”

her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.

“except for you.”

she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.

“me?” he whispered softly.

immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.

“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”

she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.

“it was all i wanted in that moment.”

his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.

“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.

in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-

“but you always hated me.”

she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.

and the worst part; she was unphased.

wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”

“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.

a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”

“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"

what?

"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”

his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.

she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.

“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.

why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-

oh.

oh.

it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.

the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.

his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.

"hello? wilbur?"

"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.

"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.

"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.

his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.

"wilbur-"

"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"

and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.

his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.

he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.

tommy's keycard.

-

he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.

he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.

he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.

to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.

"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"

"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.

with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"

"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.

she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.

as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.

"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"

his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"

"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."

"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"

she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.

"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"

"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"

at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.

and he almost didn't catch her.

tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.

"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.

"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"

he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.

did he not remember? or did he choose not to?

when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.

"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"

"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"

"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."

"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.

a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.

"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.

and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.

her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.

but what if it really was a trick?

her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.

she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.

she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.

as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.

quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."

his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.

but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.

and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.

-

wilbur's day went on horribly.

he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.

his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.

work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.

he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.

but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.

"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"

was it?

"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"

it couldn't be.

"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"

he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.

he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.

worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.

-

she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"

and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.

one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.

unless he's got the courage to do something about it.

11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin

thank you so much for your read, i appreciate all of the support <33 a part two is indeed coming soon!! stay tuned

#gr!wilbur #wilbur #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp wilbur #wilbur dsmp #dsmp wilbur soot #wilbur soot dsmp #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #mcyt wilbur #mcyt wilbur soot #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #minecraft youtubers #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp fanfic #wilbur soot fanfiction

[xob1tchs]

going quietly - ethan landry

a/n; she’s here!!! thanks for waiting, i love u 🫶🏻 also there’s def bound to be spelling errors, and grammar or punctuation mistakes even after reading it a billion times- I wrote on my phone this time 😭

pairing; e2l nongf!ethanxfem!reader

warnings; smut! mentions of stabbing, blood, violence, mentions of killing/death, bickering, stabbing, brief panicked hospital, ghost face attack, smut, kissing, making out, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (do not try this irl), cream pie, sub ethan undertones

taglist; @elinanova @fanboyluvr @ghswlz @bajadotcom @oscarisdaddy69 @nuhteyam @certifiedpussyeater @lunaoieoie @hotweeb @beautyb1ade @vivianbay @doingurmomma @multishippinghoe @luvmara @lilluna @jaysarchiv3 @iovemoonyy @shaylaaaaa16 @nini123 @bloodyv7mp @inlovewmikewh33ler @karacaroldanvers @nishinoyastoes @zxvcq @luv-4-jj @sluttt444slashersss @fuaq

music

Big round puppy dog eyes are staring down at you, a sense of faux innocence masking the curly headed boy you swear you hate right now. You can’t stand him, really. In all his good boy, golden retriever, dork glory. You don’t believe it for a second.

So why do you have this feeling in your stomach, a warm heat that sparks when he’s this close. When you can smell the cologne on him, and the musky sweat from running all over New York. The dark bags forming beneath his shiny eyes that make him look almost dead, the purple and red bruise on his cheek bone, the dark blue long sleeve that’s far too form fitting. Why do you stare at his biceps, watching the way his long thick fingers run down the side of his pretty face.

He could be a murderer. He could be plotting to kill you at this very moment. Maybe he looks at you that way because he wants to make it hurt. Why do you want him to make it hurt? Why does the thought of him behind a mask you’ve come to hate have heat pooling between your legs? Maybe the lack of sleep, and the inability to escape this killer has finally gotten to your head. Maybe you’re actually going insane.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Sam draws you out of your thoughts. Your eyes land on her, suddenly a pounding in your head, and a pain from your side that has you grimacing. You mutter a ‘what?’ pressing your palm into the stab wound, blood seeping from your side, through the material of your black tank top, running down the cracks of your fingers down your wrist.

She frowns at you, eyes looking at Ethan before they land on you again, as if she’s already regretting what she’s about to say “Ethan should take you to the hospital- you’ll bleed out” she does regret it. Knows that if Ethan is the killer that he’ll leave you to die in alley somewhere, but if he isn’t and he doesn’t take you to the hospital, you could die after getting away a third time. Knows you’d haunt her if she let that happen.

You glare up at Ethan through your lashes, can feel the tears gathering at your lash line, but reach up to grab his shoulder anyway “if you kill me and survive, I’ll haunt you for the remainder of your sad life Jack ass” you threaten, and he hums, slipping his arm round your waist, placing his hand just above yours.

You limp down from the apartment, loosing strength by the minute, forced to lean more into Ethan as he tried for a cab. When one finally pulls to the side you slide in, ethan sliding in a little too close next to you.

“When I save your life, I better get the greatest thanks known to mankind” he mumbles, lifting your shirt a little to asses the damage, “I hope that hurts” he tacks on, whispering it bitterly into your ear.

‧ ⨯ . ⁺ +. ✦ ⸝⸝ ✧ 𓂂 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🪩 ﹅ ੭

When you walk through the ER doors, you’re bombarded with a flock of nurses, ushering you to the nearest bed. Ethan trails behind, lost like a puppy, stumbling after the nurses as they scurry around, asking them what they’re doing or how long it’ll take. You roll your eyes, scoffing at his idiocy. The boy has clearly never even scraped his knee falling off a bike, much less been in an ER with someone who’s been stabbed. It makes you anxious.

“Ethan! Just sit!” You whisper yell, whipping his head as you call his name, his features falling as you scold him. He slumps into the leather chair not far from the bed you’re sat on, cradling his cheek in his palm. He just watches you, eyes fleeting from your wound, to your face, clearly trying to decipher what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling.

You roll your eyes again “Quit staring creep” you press your lips into a flat line, trying not to laugh as the nurse coming closer side eyes him hearing your words, your spin straightens, a hiss escaping your lips as she begins rattling on about what’s going to happen.

You already know of course, the scar on the back of your left shoulder a reminder, you’ll need sedated, an iv drip, stitches, blah blah blah. This time you’ll have to leave earlier, no way you can afford to stay for 48 hours, don’t care how much blood you’ve lost or how weak you are. Ethan can see it in your eyes as the lay you back, what you’re plotting, the way you don’t even flinch when they stick your side with whatever, or when they stitch you up. You do look at him when they cut your shirt off, and he doesn’t look away for once.

When they’re done, eleven stitches later, and you’re laying back in the bed with an IV in your arm the small secluded area becomes flooded with an awkward silence.

“We need to leave” you sigh, eyes glancing to the clock, you’ve only been gone two hours max. Unfortunately you know well enough a lot can happen in two hours.

Ethan sits up stripping in his chair, shaking his head with drawn brows “If something happens we’ll know” he stands, coming to the edge of your bed “you need this though” his fingers thrum against the needle in your arm, the small touch has your skin breaking out in goosebumps, fingers tightening their grip on the sheet beneath you.

“Why are you being so fucking sweet to me” you grimace, face forming a scowl. You sit up just enough so that your eyes are closer to his, but he’s obviously taller than you, leaving you forced to glare up at him. His brows draw together and he crosses his arms over his chest, the muscle of his biceps bulging beneath the dark blue shirt, from the angle he looks less boyish. Dark eyes staring you down, jaw clenched in clear aggravation, lips forming a hard line instead of a cute pout.

“Why are you always such a bitch to me?” He shoots back, voice low so that nobody hears, but loud enough that you can tell he’s clearly angry.

“Maybe I’m just a bitch” you shrug.

“Maybe you’re just a liar” he cocks a brow, shrugging back.

Before you can jest back, the fire alarm rings through the hospital, water spraying down from above, lights dimming down so that the flash from the alarms is evident.

You’re ripping the iv from your arm and slipping on Ethan’s jacket, zipping it up, and yanking him quickly towards the exit before a nurse can even reach you. As you make your way through the panicked crowd, your fingers lace together, tightly wound so you don’t get separated.

The ER of a New York City hospital is hard enough to get in and out as is, fire alarm only added stress and the halls flood and become to crowded to even see the nearest exit. Bodies are pushing against and in between the both of you, shouting and babies crying, water blurring your vision as you try and tunnel a way out.

“Ethan, we need to get out now! There are no coincidences in our movie!” You warn, hoping he gets the message, your spine going rigid when your fingers are forced apart and the start of a reply is muffled as your bodies are pushed apart. You spin on your heel, pushing through bodies, wincing in pain when someone elbows your stitches. A shoe catches your boot, loosing balance you stumble to your feet, people don’t bother helping you up as they pass.

You crawl, the rips in your jeans leaving skin visible to bruise against the wet hard floor, someone steps on your fingers and you yelp out, forcing yourself to your feet with your hand cradled to your chest. Your fingers ache, unbendable, your curse under your breath, squinting as people push past you, trying your best to find Ethan’s face in the crowd.

You fail to see him, ready to give up and call out for him, when you see it. The white mouth, faux mouth smiling menacingly, looking directly at you. They tilt their head, knife waving in the air in front of them, teasing you with a fake stab motion the their chest. You frown, looking to your left and then right, and when you look back they’re gone. Panic sets in, and you bolt to the door on your right, shaky hands twisting and pulling at the knob. Locked. You curse under your breath, looking over your shoulder, before you fall to a squat, walking along the edge of the wall.

Your eyes are frantic, watching the feet you pass for the end of a black cloak, heart wild in your chest. Your palms are sweating, fingers and hands shaking, knees aching as you creep around a corner, escaping the crowd. You slump against the wall, knees pulled tightly to your chest, erratic breathing. The sprinklers have stopped now, but the water makes your mascara run, eyes aching, body now cold, your side aching. You’re alone, Ethan had to have gotten out, but the ghost face is here and you’re alone.

What if the ghost face got to Ethan first? The thought has your stomach twisting, nausea crawling up your throat, you slump forward onto your palms, breakfast spilling all over the floor. Tears have now crept past your lash line, falling down your cheeks to the ground, legs shaking as you stand. You press your palm to your wound, blood seeping through Ethan’s jacket, staining your skin. A stitch must’ve broken.

You peek around the corner, the last of crowd escaping through the exits, and then look the opposite way. Deciding that the ghost face couldn’t have gotten far, you begin jogging towards the exit you’d originally intended leaving out, foot steps heavy against the damp ground.

Before you can even get half way there, a scream echoes through the halls, a guy clearly. The thought of it being Ethan has you stopping in your tracks, spinning around to see where it could’ve come from.

“Ethan! Ethan where are you!” You shout, greeted by the screech of sneakers on the ground, you flinch, head whipping around in the direction of the sound. The bed you’d been at, curtains pulled closed, a figure looming in the distance “shit” you grumble, rolling your eyes as you run in the direction of the figure.

Your hands are shaking, fingers hesitant as you reach to yank the curtains back, and when you do large hand wrap around your shoulders, sending you tumbling backwards. You scream in protest, staring up into the eyes of the mask, one of your hands meets the side of their face, knocking them in the jaw, rolling of of you with a grunt. You scurry to your feet, eyes searching for the knife, failing to see as they stand up far too quickly, gripping the hair at the base of your neck, yanking you backwards into their chest.

You protest “let me go you motherfucker!” you shout, elbowing them, lurching across the bed falling flat onto your face into Ethan’s chest. You gasp, palms flat against his chest, straddling him as his eyes struggle to stay open. Blood touches your fingertips, his shirt open revealing a stab to his shoulder, and then you notice the blood pooling his curly head.

You’re about to say something when his arms wrap around you, your bodies rolling to the right, you look to the left- ghost face mere feet away. You and Ethan are now quick to your feet, him still slowly moving behind you as you start down the hallway, getting closer and closer to a room that hopefully has a lock.

You usher him inside first, slamming the door just as the ghost face spots you, locking it hurriedly, moving the filing cabinet closest to block it.

You look at you me surroundings, assessing the windows, a way out. Then you remember Ethan.

He’s sat slumped against the front of the desk, palm pressed to his wound, grimacing. You fall to your knees, fitting yourself between his, carefully moving his hand away. He flinches when your fingers dance along the wound, unable to tell how deep it is, you grip the tear already made by the knife, pulling with all your strength to rip the shirt off him.

He stays silent, watching as you use the fabric to wrap across his chest and shoulder, hoping it can suffice enough for you to get out of the window and to your apartment.

“We need to leave now.”

‧ ⨯ . ⁺ +. ✦ ⸝⸝ ✧ 𓂂 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🪩 ﹅ ੭

It had taken you longer than expected to reach your apartment m, several weird stares and concerned police officers later, you’re now sat with Ethan on your couch as you dress his wound. Finishing off you lean away with a sigh, tossing your first aid kit onto the coffee table, cradling your head in your palms.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” You mutter, looking at him through the cracks in your fingers, frowning when he quietly nods. His knee knocks against yours, and his fingers wrap around your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face gently.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice quiet and raspy, wavering a little. Your chest stutters, stomach doing that stupid thing, finger tips twitching in his palms. His hair has dried, but it sticks to his face because of sweat, sweat that makes his face glow, lips parted and swollen from biting them. His eyes are wide, a little red from irritation, searching your face, dropping to your mouth, then looking away when he realizes you’re staring back.

It’s slow, silent, as your faces inch closer. You can feel his warm breath on your upper lip, the stubble on his jaw when your fingers slip up his face into his hair, the heat from his hands that are now on your hips like an open flame, searing the feeling of his skin on yours into your body like muscle memory.

Then you’re kissing, lips moving in sync, tongues brushing. It’s messy and inexperience, your teeth even clashing, breathing becoming hurried. He tastes like watermelon chewing gum, and also blood, the coppery taste bitter but no unwelcome at all.

You crawl onto his lap, straddling his thighs, sighing into his mouth as his hands travel up your spine, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs very slightly, just enough for you to feel it, making your core ache. You start grinding down against his bulge subconsciously, desperate for friction between your legs, your mouth falling open against his when you get it.

“Oh fuck ethan” you whine, brows drawing together as you press down harder, he presses his forehead to your temple. Panting out against your cheek, his hand creeps around your body, down your stomach and to the button of your jeans.

When his fingers slip into your panties, very quickly finding your clit, your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers make circles on the bud, whispering into your ear as he plays with your pussy “Does it feel good?” he asks, and when you can’t seem to respond he worried he’s doing it wrong “Please I want to make you feel good baby” he mutters, switching techniques, flicking your clit side to side.

You squirm, hands digging into the skin of his hips as you pull away to look him in the eyes “I’m gonna cum” you whine, and your jaw goes slack when his fingers suddenly plunge into your heat, stretching you out deliciously.

“You’re so tight, and fucking wet” he coos, fingers thrusting in and out of you quickly, while his thumb abuses your clit. You rock into his touch, open mouth panting against his jaw, eyes rolling back as your orgasm creeps up “You look so pretty, so so pretty cumming on my fingers, Jesus fuck” mumbling the words into your hair has your thighs shaking, cumming dramatically, cursing under your breath. You clench around his fingers, grinding into his touch, wetness ruining your underwear, even soaking through the crotch of your jeans onto his.

“Can you give me another one? Wanna feel you on my cock please?” He whines, slipping his hand out of your pants, bucking his hips up into your core, stiff cock pressing to your core through the layers.

“I don’t know Ethan” you pout, nose knocking against his, a blush covering your cheeks when he pecks your lips. When you look at him, face flushed and sweaty, eyes begging silently, you feel heat between your legs once again, sighing in defeat “Has to be fast, need to get back to sams” you mumble into his mouth, and he nods in agreement.

He’s quickly, almost ripping your pants off, panties as well. When his cock is free, you think you’re actually salivating. He’s big, as to be expected, long and girthy, tip slapping against his belly button; angry and red, leaking with pearly beads of precum. A vein runs up the underside, prominent. You’re staring at his cock, like you’re ready to eat him alive.

“Is something wrong?” He interrupts your gaze.

Your quick to cradle his face in your palms, shaking your head quickly, pressing your mouth against his. You hover above his tip, grabbing him by the base, letting the head gently protrude at your entrance, shuddering at the stretch that already begins to burn as you slowly sink down. He moans into your mouth, and you accidentally bite down on his lip too hard, breaking the soft skin. Once he’s fully inside you find it hard to breathe, completely stuffed full of cock. Full of Ethan’s cock, feeling it twitch and pulsate inside of you, clearly begging you to move.

“So fucking tight” he practically growls, shoulders shuddering when you rise up again, ass slapping against his thighs when you fall back down. He wraps a stepping arm around your waist, carefully avoiding your wound, then begins fucking up into you a a gentle pace.

“Feels so good, love it so fucking much” he whines, eyes wide open as he looks between your bodies, speeding up with no warning “never want to leave, live in this pussy” his babbling has your heart fluttering, a drunk smile taking over your face as you moan out, nodding at his every praise.

He reaches so deep, deeper than any guy before, you’re almost sure he’s in your cervix, literally rearranging your guts. You chuckle at that, recalling threats from six months ago over the phone. When you laugh slightly, you clench around him, and that has him moaning out, head falling against the back of the couch.

The noises he makes are pretty, whiney and shameless, a contrast to the dirty words he’s letting out; and to how he looks, tall and muscular, drilling into you at an inhumane pace.

“I’m gonna cum again baby” you let out, slumping into his chest, spent, letting him fuck into you as he pleases. Your thighs are burning, sweaty everywhere, eyes barely open. The cord in your stomach is winding so tight your cunt aches, seeping wetness around the base of his cock, making obscene wet noises every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass.

He hums “yeah, yeah I’m close” he mumbles into the top of your head, fingers digging into the skin of yours hips so hard you know it’ll bruise “want you to cum on me, but- but can I cum inside?” he babbles, whiney, bordering on begging.

You nods frantically into his chest, heaving out a breathy string of ‘yesyesyesyes’ until you’re cumming around him, your body stilling, clenching around him as he cums as well. It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced, white hot burning through your veins, your eyes rolling so far back you can see your skull, nails digging into his biceps so harshly you make him bleed. The way he pulses, twitching, loading you completely full of himself. It almost feels like it’ll never stop, creaming out around the base of his cock, covering your raw puffy lips in a mix of his seed and your wetness.

As if on cue, pounding comes from your door, making the both of you jump, heads whipping to it in panic “We’ve got serial killers to kill!” Tara’s voice shouts, and the both of you face each other in surprise, bursting out into a fit of laughter.

rebloggers are the best <3

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #scream iv #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry x you #scream smut #fanfic #fanfic smut #ghost face #ghostface

[lillylvjy]

Be my (be my baby)

notes; hey! So this is long over due- was supposed to be part of Halloween but never got to it. Also this fic is a bit fucked up but, recently I’ve been doing research over horror movies and how they’re created and written. I’ve also done some analyzation over serial killers and criminals in college so I used all my knowledge to write this and- I hope you like it! And I know there is some plot holes and details missed, if people like this I’ll do another fic like this, it was super fun to write and yeah! Yes this is very inspired by Carrie and scream. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!!! If it’s not for you, don’t read it.

warnings; DEAD DOVE: do not eat!, murder, massacre?, blood, bleeding out, choking on blood, insanity, feeling good about killing someone, Simpbur low key manipulates reader a bit, someone tied up, reader stabs someone but doesn’t kill anyone, simp kills a shit ton of people, simp and you go insane at the end ngl, kissing, cheating?, bets, trying to sleep with someone, suggestive, and if I missed anything please tell me! This fic is already fucked up as it is so please tell me!

ALSO!!! I suggest 16+ for this! But I don’t control what you guys read so read with caution. And please for god sake, READ THE WARNINGS!

wc; 2.5k

who; Simpbur x reader

edited: yes. (As much as I could)

It all happened in a blur. One second you were laughing and dancing, and the next you were screaming and crying as random people started dropping to the floor, blood slowly seeping out of them.

Soon random people became almost the whole student body that attended. People scurrying to get out, none made it, the doors were locked.

Quickly running to the next close exit, you tried to push it open. And again. And one more time.

Locked.

You quickly looked around to see more people on the floor, gasping for air as the blood painted the gym floor, walls, bleachers. Looking across the gym from you, another exit, leading to the hallways. You quickly took off your shoes and ran like hell.

‘Why didn’t they come after you yet? What was this for?!’ Your mind screamed over the loud music still playing on the speakers. Of course the dance had to be Oldies but Goodies themed, with various fifty and sixty love and dance songs playing.

Running at the door with full impact, taking notice that you were the only one left really alive, busting the door open and looking both ways, one leading to the cafeteria and one leading to the back of the school. You took your chances.

You took a right to the back of the school, thinking it’d be an easier way out and hiding from whoever the fuck was doing this. As you ran, the music transferred to the speakers all over the school.

Be my baby by The Ronettes blasted as you heard an ear piercing scream be cut short by gasping and gurgling a couple feet away. Halting your run, panting but being as silent as you can, you slowly turn around and see a girl lying limp on the ground, blood pooling all around her as she stared blankly at the ceiling , life seeping out of her every second.

You placed a hand over your mouth to hold back sobs as you lean down and closed her eyelids, not wanting to look into the plain eyes anymore. The music felt like it got louder as your head pounded at everything going on. Where were the teachers? Where was all the trusted adults you were supposed to have? Or did they-

No. You needed to stop thinking and start running and finding an exit. Quickly getting up you, turned around and started jogging before turning right again and running into something, or someone.

You screamed as you hide yourself, getting ready for the sharp impact of a knife or something.

“Y/n? Oh my god-“ you heard the person say and arms engulf you into a hug. You quickly opened your eyes and pushed the person away so you could see them.

Wilbur.

Pulling him back into you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face in his neck, wanting to hide from whatever the fuck was happening.

Wil has been your best friend since you were babies, both of your moms being best friends as well and wanting to have you both grow up with each other. That worked out as to see you both were inseparable since day 1, him being a couple months older than you. Now you didn’t know whether this would be your last time holding him or not.

“Wil, what’s happening?” You asked the tall man in front of you as he cupped your face.

“I don’t know but we better start going if we want to get out alive, I have a place we can go and hide, trust me?” Wil held his hand out for you to take as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“Always.” You placed your hand in his as he nodded and started to run with you, side by side, desperately trying to get out of any situation that’d lead to be face to face with the person doing this.

As you ran, you saw each teacher attending the dance in their classroom, lying limp on their desk or sitting in their desk chairs with blood soaking their clothes and eyes still open. A shiver tan down your spine as you placed a hand over your mouth, holding back a sob.

Wilbur took a quick left turn up the stairs and dragged you to the last classroom in the hallway. The science lab.

As he turned and got into the classroom, he quickly stopped. You followed in shortly looking at him questionably.

“Wil what- oh my god, Luke!” You quickly rushed over once you saw him in the chair, a rag towel in his mouth and rope binding him to the chair. Luke was the guy you were going out with as to recent and the lead quarterback of the football team. Nothing romantic yet just some dates here and there to get to know each other more. He was your date to homecoming that you thought ditched you for some cheerleader but apparently he’d been kidnapped by god knows who.

You quickly pulled the towel out of his mouth and cupped his cheek as he slowly came too. “Luke? Luke, hey can you hear me? Wil I need help! Luke who did this to you?” You asked as he slowly opened his eyes and looked relieved to see you.

“I don’t know, I think I blacked out.” He said, his voice hoarse and gone. You quickly sighed as you examined the ties in the rope.

“Ok, Wil can I please get som- Wil?” Your voice lowered as you saw Wil looking at the two of you, eyes full of dread, anger and revenge. You quickly stood up as you slowly walked towards him but stopped once he slowly started laughing and a smile appeared on his once blank face.

Wilbur reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a knife, one that was still ridden with blood. He looked at it before point it at you. “You know, this all happened because of you darling. You did this. You decided to ignore all my affections and admirations for this prick who doesn’t even care about you! I care! Not him! I did this for you.” Wil got close enough to you that you could feel his breath against your face. He brought the knife closer to your face and gently ran it down your cheek one as you stood there stone faced. “And you’re going to finish it, isn’t that right darling?”

Your cold, unfazed face quickly turned into one of excitement and joy as a smile adorned your face and you bit your bottom lip to contain it. You quickly grabbed his tie and pulled him down to your level and pushed your lips onto his, not minding the gasp they both heard from the unwanted guest.

You quickly reached into Wil’s jacket and pulled out the extra knife you placed in there earlier that night as you tugged him closer to you, one arm around your waist and one hand around your neck.

Wil pushed you away slightly. “Hmm not now, we still have business to take care of love.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to do this in front of him? Make him suffer even more?” You asked the man in front of you as you fixed his tie. Wilbur smirked as he looked down at you, amused at your sudden demeanor change. He loved it.

“Yes I did, but let’s do it after we deal with this fucking cunt.” Wil whispered in your ear as he pecked your neck and turned you around. “Now darling, what do we do with people who think they can just come in here and expect us to just forget all the shit they’ve put us through with their charm?” Wil asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder.

You pretended to think as you brought the knife up to your lips and tapped lightly. “Um… oh! You make their life a living hell.”

“Exactly, good job darling! So, wanna do the honors?” Wil asked as he placed his hands on your hips and stepped away from you.

“Can I say something to him quickly?” You asked your partner as he hummed, agreeing with what you wanted. He let go of your waist as you started walking forward.

“Don’t you dare come near me.” Luke hissed out as you walked up to him. You smiled at him as you meant down, face to face with him as you tapped his cheek with the blunt side of the knife.

“Oh but I thought you wanted me near you all the time? That’s why you started going on dates with me yeah?” Luke looked away from your eyes as you brought the knife to his forehead and moves pieces of his hair back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I heard what you did. Made a little bet with your friends to see if you could get in my pants? Think I’m worth it now? After everything you did to me and called me? Think I would just accept something like that from you so quickly?!” You started to tear up as thoughts ran through your head. Frustration and sadness ran through your whole body. He didn’t understand that what he did still had an effect on you. It will always have an effect on you. He humiliated you throughout he school years and thinks he can just come in here and get some? Hell no.

Wil came up with this plan after you came to him crying about the whole situation. You knew the second he asked you out something was up, and your suspicions were right when you over heard the stupid cheerleaders making a fuzz about it in the back of class. Making fun of how small you were and how you were “easier”.

Wil was just as, maybe even more, angry than you were. That was when Wil told you he liked you and begged you not to say yes. You weren’t going to in the first place and after all that happened, you definitely weren’t. After that Wil came up with the idea for you to go out with him, play with him and drag it out as much as you could. Wil didn’t like hearing you shared a kiss with the bastard once or twice on the dates, but he let it slide when he saw you after and rid of the scent of his nasty cologne and disgusting kiss on your lips.

But after Wil over heard Luke in class with his gang of idiot, taking in the information, he was fuming. Texting you immediately after, telling you to meet him at his car immediately. He told you all of it. Luke’s plan to finally get some and leave you after. It disgusted him knowing that he wanted to do that to you. His darling. He told you to avoid all forms of contact at all cost, not to let him to close but close enough not to be suspicious.

The plan was working. Get him to tired so he leaves you alone. But Wil wanted more, something else.

Revenge. For all of it. So he sat you down and told you the plan he had, and to say that you were terrified at first was an understatement. You were scared of Wilbur. But after you continued hearing things and going on dates and hearing all the stupid lies coming out of his mouth, you started to understand the plan. The reason behind it. So after Luke asked you to go with him to homecoming, you immediately went to Wil after a couple days of no contact or conversation and told him you were in. And to say that he was happy was an understatement. He was ecstatic. He had his partner in crime back.

Which leads you here, in this moment on the verge of seeing red and snapping this mans neck.

“You ruined my years in school since I was a kid because you convinced everyone that I should be a loner and i deserved it, since my dad never loved me and my moms a drunk. I was the weird kid yeah? Remember those words? I do. They’re engraved in my fucking mind because of you!” You screamed in his face as he flinch back. You quickly stood up and looked down at him with a flat expression. “And I believed it. Until I met Wil. He actually cared enough to get to know me. He cared enough to be my friend. And that’s more than I could ask for. But you, you can’t get enough of seeing me suffer yeah? Seeing me crumple into a little ball and ruining my life. Well buddy boy-“ you lightly pat his face as Wilbur comes behind you and smiles at the boy. “That’s exactly what we’re going to be doing to you but in a more… painful way.”

You finished off as you plunged your knife into his stomach, feeling a rush adrenaline run through you. You didn’t want to do this, but he deserved it, for all the pain he put you through. And you guys already did enough damages so why not a little more.

You took the knife out as you heard him gasp and hiss in pain and uncomfortable.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Luke said as curled in on himself, trying to stop the pain at any cost.

Wil scoffed as he pulled the man’s head back by his hair and leant down close to him. “Go to hell.” He hissed in his face as he shoved the knife into the blondes chest and stepped back as he yelled and the gasping started.

The scene wasn’t pretty. The boy had blood running out of his mouth and down his tux, not that it wasn’t already ruined by the wounds he sported. Yet the adrenaline kept rushing through you like a wave that never stopped. It almost brought you joy to see him like this . To see him slowly dying as all the tension and heartache from the past years slowly drain out of you.

You didn’t know you were crying until Wil cupped your face and cooed at you, wiping your tears away as he put your head in his chest, running his hands through your hair.

“We did the right thing love. These people were not kind to us. They deserved it. You’ll realize that soon, I promise. But now we have to leave, ok? We can get food and crash at my house and talk about this all. Ok? Trust me?” Wil told you as the music over the speakers continued but you weren’t focused on them. Only on the man in front of you and what he was saying. You trusted him with your whole life and if you had to do whatever he said, you would. Always.

You took his hands and pulled him out of the room, making sure everything that you guys brought and used was in hand. “Always. Now where are we eating?”

Wil smiled as tightened his grip on your hand and walked in line with you. “What about burgers?”

“Yeah, I could go for a burger.” You said with a smile on your face.

A smile that had nothing but pure joy and insanity as you tucked the knife away in Wil’s coat.

lowkey forgot who was on my taglist; if you wanna be added feel free to ask or dm me!

#lilly writes #wilbur soot x reader #simpbur #simpbur x reader #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #please read warnings!!!!! #wilbur x reader

[megoomy]

got a request for my vesperia berseria au designs and i do have character sheets for them so: everyone is free to draw these if they want! credit is nice but, well, these all heavily reference official tales designs so i dont want to take too much credit for them lol. you can also write about the au and take any amount of what we've come up with, i really don't care, it's all for fun.

UNDER THE CUT: a vague summary of the concept. warning for Profound Self Indulgence and Somewhat Half-Assed Worldbuilding (world...changing? world editing? whatever)

okay basically flynn and yuri met as kids in a village that basically serves as the lower quarter of the au, but after spending a few years together daemons attack the village and nearly everyone dies. yuri survives, but in the process he’s become a daemon. flynn also survives, but is deeply traumatized and gets picked up by the exorcists (conveniently too late to save anyone in typical form). neither knows the other survived. to make matters worse, flynns trauma causes some memory loss…he still definitely remembers that time in the village but its very fuzzy now and as he gets older that only gets worse. and like he thinks all those people died so hes not really trying to remember them.

flynn becomes an exorcist (some flavor of legate) and is going around eradicating daemons when he runs into yuri. he doesnt recognize yuri but yuri is pretty sure he recognizes flynn. but yuri isnt about to say that when flynn is trying to kill him LOL. the general arc is that yuri keeps slipping away and flynn keeps seeing more about him in his efforts to hunt him down, realizing that this strikingly handsome strangely familiar daemon is actually...very kind? takes care of children? helps people for no gain? and this calls into question everything that he thought he understood about the world which is quite troubling.

you can think of them as similar to velvet and eleanor. but I think when flynn joins yuri it's by choice, not because yuri's forced him to be a vessel or because flynn's a spy or anything like that. or at least, he's been thrown out by the abbey for one reason or another and joins yuri instead. (we've tossed around quite a few versions of this. we love playing in the space.)

we've bounced around ideas about the rest of the cast but i only have a sheet for estelle, who is a malak controlled by the abbey ala phi. assigned to flynn, ends up with yuri one way or another. i think rita sees that malaks are people and while she wants to coordinate with them to use their strength she doesn't like how they're treated as tools (the way she feels about blastia more or less).

if you're curious about why flynn and yuri have different fates, like, in terms of lore compliance. i think yuri seeing the thing he holds most dear, the community that cared for him, destroyed in an instant, would probably fill him with malevolence no matter what, especially depending on the circumstances. (like, if the abbey was manipulating things to create daemons or therions) yuri's like...a deeply conflicted character full of self loathing, so, being a daemon really suits him. i think that malevolence would only grow as he sees the world and the abbey for what it really is. unlike someone like rose, yuri NEVER feels unconflicted about Doing Murders.

flynn in canon is pretty conflicted himself of course but i see him as similar to eleanor who can sometimes produce malevolence but has a certain purity of heart that keeps them as pretty good vessel material. nowhere near someone like sorey or rose, and definitely wouldn't have had enough resonance pre-artorius' plot to see anything. also i think the brain trauma and being picked up by the abbey leads to him having very clear purpose and a black and white view for some time, so that helps. (look, let me be real with you, half of the impetus for this au was "it would be funny if flynn had like, religious trauma")

design notes not on the sheets: - yuri's daemonblighted skin is cooler to the touch than his regular skin. but he's a guy with cold hands regardless - i've got purple highlights in his eyes but i think of them as glinting purple in the light. like an animal i guess? - yuri's outfit is mostly inspired by his spirit gear in rays, aside from his normal game canon outfit. - estelle is pulling from a lot of different abbey associated characters but mostly her own design...i didn't want to give her something weird like A FUCKING COLLAR especially bc she's not given to A WEIRDO EXORCIST but i wanted some kind of symbol of captivity so i went instead for a golden mask. pulling from the common malak's gold mask/helmets and seres' mask. in canon a lot of estelle's arc is about being sheltered so i feel like covering her eyes feels, appropriate? idk. - i think yuri still gives estelle her nickname but she wouldn't start out as estellise so its more like yuri gives her a name - you may notice she has the flame of purification (does that have a different proper name? blanking on it) which kind of implies that she's connected to innominat. please don't ask me to elaborate on that point because i literally don't know yet. i think if i were to make her a normal elementally aligned malak she'd be water like her spirit gear in rays, but it feels like she should be Special just like how she's a child of the full moon in canon. we just, haven't really figured out, does the berseria cast still exist, are we replacing them, what would that look like, etc. sorry that stuff should be more important to the concept but we are simply playing with the dolls. teehee

#tales of vesperia #tales of berseria #yuri lowell #flynn scifo #estellise sidos heurassein #tovb au

[fandoms--fluff]

Stormed

Part 4 

Salvatore little sister x Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore

Warnings: Swearing, death/murder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Jeremy opened the door a bunch of hybrids came crashing through the house, starting to attack everyone.

Damon, enraged started to rip all the hybrids that are attacking him, hearts out, then throwing them right next to the limp bodies. Katherine and Elena coincidentally fighting next to each other made all the hybrids confused as which one of them were Elena.

“Which one of you is Elen-” one of the hybrids started but Jeremy attacked him and decapitated him before he could say the rest of his sentence. 

“That was quite rude, I have a way better personality and better looking than her” Katherine said before slamming one of the hybrids into the railing. Elena just glared at her before moving to an opposite spot of the room.

While they were fighting off the last few hybrids you had no idea what was going on downstairs since Tyler and Caroline’s room was on the other side of the house and the door was closed. That was until a hybrid got past all of them and followed the sound of your voice to the room. He crashed into the room and you screamed, frightened and backed away until you hit the headboard of the bed.

You still had your light brown teddy bear tight in your grasp and hugged up to your chin. The guy vampire sped towards you and stabbed a shot full of vervain on your shoulder. You fell slump against the headboard and he picked you up, speeding out of the house without anyone seeing or hearing anything.  

By the time all the hybrids were dead, some of the furniture was flipped over. Immediately Damon sped upstairs and searched all the rooms that you could’ve been in, including tearing apart the fort you built and tripped on one of the blankets. 

“Fuck!” He swore and got back up then went downstairs to everyone else. “y/n’s gone” He informed. 

“One of Klaus’s hybrids must of gone upstairs and taken her while we weren’t paying any attention. 

“Well we would have heard her screaming right?” Caroline asked, worried. 

Damon clenched his fists, trying to push back his anger. “She was in your guys’ room” Damon said, motioning towards Caroline and Tyler.

“How do you know she was in there?” Elena questioned.

“I saw three of her stuffed animals scattered on their bed and the sheets were scattered as if she were trying to back away from someone coming towards her.”

“So what are we going to do? How are we supposed to get her back without Klaus killing all of us, cause he will with no hesitation. And that’s coming from someone that’s been running from him for hundreds of years” Katherine said, pouring herself a drink then downed it. 

“What about Elijah, would he know where Klaus might be?” Jeremy asked.

“I’ll see if there’s anything that he knows” Elena said getting her phone that was laying on the ground, phoning Elijah. 

After the first three rings he picked up, “Why does he always pick up when you phone but never when I phone him” Damon complained, not noticing Elena put her phone on speaker. 

‘Because every single time you phoned me it was always something stupid or just to piss me off’ Elijah said, making Damon freeze.

“Fair enough” Damon shrugged then put on a serious facial expression.

“So your brother’s hybrids came and attacked us we killed them all obviously then plot twist one of them got away, went upstairs and kidnapped y/n” Katherine said, trying to imitate Elena.

‘I know that was you speaking Katerina, your vocabulary is very different from Elena’s. Oh and also who is y/n?’ He asked, confused.

“She’s our four-year-old sister - well older but, you know- whatever” Stefan said, panicking about where you were. 

‘I’ll see what I can do, I’ll make sure to contact you as soon as I find out anything’ Elijah sighed.

“Okay, thank you so much, bye” Elena said. “Alright, bye” he hanged up and he looked towards his brother.

“What did you do Niklaus?” Elijah said, rage laced in his voice.

#damon salvatore #Stefan Salvatore #damon x kid reader #stefan x kid reader #salvatore sister #salvatore little sister #caroline forbes #bonnie bennett #katherine pierce #jeremy gilbert #tyler lockwood #elijah mikaelson #elena gilbert #klaus mikaelson #alaric saltzman

[shiro-s2e2-erukinzu]

Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 94... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

This was an absolutely delightful little chapter!! AND I LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT...!! 👌😆

Today's chapter did one of my most favorite genres in fiction in the MOST Spy × Family way possible...!! 👏😌 So let's talk about it, shall we? 👌😎

This chapter begins with Anya and Bond watching an episode of Bondman, where he is skiing away from the bad guys and Anya asks her papa Loid if they could swoosh too...!! 😆 Loid basically tells Anya no, but then she starts to get really upset, so...:

ANYA GOT WHAT SHE WANTED!! 👏😆 (Loid is such a softie for his girls...!🤭)

Then, the Forger family partake in some skiing shenanigans...!! 🤭

Poor Yor...!! 🤣 Plus, I also love seeing the WISE logo on Loid's sleeve and skis...!! 😖 It always makes me laugh whenever I find them on Twilight or on his stuff!!! 😆

After some more skiing (and even some sledding), a blizzard comes swooshing in...(Sidenote: Twilight and Yor look SUPER CUTE in the picture below!! 👇😆)

BUT NO ONE CAN LEAVE!! 😱

And when that happened, 2 thoughts went through my mind...: One, The Forgers were gonna run into the Desmonds at the ski lodge now that every member of the Desmonds have been introduced; or two, We were gonna partake in...

...A good old fashioned Murder Mystery...!!! 🕵

Now, I wasn't sure yet which of my thoughts were gonna come into fruition... But, the moment I saw all the people at the lodge and saw that there was an urban legend...:

...I KNEW that this was gonna be a Murder Mystery!! 👀 And I LOVE me a good MURDER MYSTERY...!!! 👏😆

But, you what I love more than a murder mystery...? 🤔

THESE TWO MOMENTS OF YOR FREAKING OUT FOR BEING IN THE SAME ROOM AS TWILIGHT!! 💗😍💗

My love for any TwiYor moments or crumbs will triumph over all!! 😤 (And plus, I'd probably freak out too if I had to share a room with Twilight...! 😅)

Moving on, as everyone gets comfortable, we get a glimpse at the killer and their first victim...:

Luckily, since Twilight is... Well, Twilight... He tends to the wounded man (who is still alive) and deduces that one of them must be the culprit (obviously)...!! Then, the people start to accuse Yor since she ran outside during the stabbing and THIS HAPPENED...:

KYAAAAAAAAAAA!! 😍

TWILIGHT PROTECTING YOR IS EVERYTHING TO ME!!! 💗😍💗

Though, we all know that Yor can protect herself, it always makes my melt when Twilight goes out of his way to defend his woman...!!! 💗🤗💗

Anyway, normally it would take a while before the culprit would be found out, but...:

...There is a child that can read minds and a dog that see into the future trapped in there with everyone as well, SOOO...:

AND THUS THE MYSTERY WAS SOLVED!! 👏🤣 AND ANYA HAD A BLAST...!! 😆

And that was Mission 94, AND OF COURSE I LOVED IT!! 😆 This was such a fun chapter and would have never thought that a murder mystery plot would ever happen in Spy × Family, but here we are...!! 😁

I swear, the moment I figured out that this was a murder mystery, I was like: "How the hell is this going work...?! 🤷" But, it did not disappoint!! 👏😄 This type of plot couldn't have gone in any other way in Spy × Family in my honest opinion, so I think that Endo did a great job with it!! 😁

Anyway, I had fun with this chapter and would've loved to talk about it a lot sooner... But hey, stuff happens...!! 🤷 So until the next Mission... Take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! SEE YA!! 👋😄

#spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #spy x family manga #sxf manga #spyxfamily manga #Mission 94 #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond forger #A MURDER MYSTERY!? IN SPY X FAMILY?! I'll gladly accept...!! 👌😌 #If I had a nickel for everytime a favorite manga of mine did a murder mystery plot... I would have 2 nickels...! #...Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice...!! 🤔 #I hope that y'all enjoyed that Phineas and Ferb refenence because I'm gonna continue to do them!! 😆 #manga spoilers #spyxfamily spoilers #sxf spoilers #spy x family spoilers #And to those who are curious... #Black Butler is the other manga that I love that had a murder mystery in it...!! 😄 #forger family

[odinsblog]

“Yeah, I mean, in 2018 was the first Shakespeare and race festival that I curated at the Globe. And at that time, there was less vitriol, but it was more like, why are we talking about Shakespeare and race? Shakespeare's got nothing to do with race.

So that led me to thinking about writing this book. But it was in 2020, when I launched the anti-racist Shakespeare webinars, that there was a horrible backlash, very racist backlash. And my own ethnic origins were brought into the conversation.

Oh, she's a woman of color. That's why she's talking about race. And actually, I had been at the Globe for 17 years by that point, you know?

And so that backlash is about ownership. It's about people feeling that something is being taken away from them.

And after the Black Lives movement, Black Lives Matter movement went global, and organizations like museums and galleries and theaters started to take it seriously, that's when you started to see a really racist backlash against any kind of progressive movement, whether it's in a theater or a museum. And I certainly had to face that in 2020.

I was a little bit worried about it, probably more so in the UK, because I think in the UK there's a special sense of ownership of Shakespeare in the way that there isn't in the US. So I'm American, but I'm also a Pakistani. And so I think it was really, it's a double whammy for the British.

Whereas in America, I feel like I was less worried because Americans don't mind other Americans talking about Shakespeare. So I was in the UK, concerned about that. But I think it obviously didn't stop me because what I'm trying to do is keep Shakespeare around.

And I'm explicitly not advocating canceling Shakespeare. And I think that's what they all thought I was doing when I was running those webinars.

So Shakespeare sets Othello in 16th century Venice, which was a very multicultural society because Venice was a sort of trading giant in this time period. So it was really financially lucrative for them to have people from all backgrounds working and living in Venice. And so it's about a Black African, known as a Moor in that time period, who was the captain of the Venetian army.

And it starts with another member of the army sort of screaming and shouting outside the door or window of a fellow's now father-in-law saying that, basically shouting a lot of racist epithets about how his daughter, his white daughter, has married a Black man. And she's done so without her father's consent. So it starts with this idea of there's been some sort of violation.

A Black man has married a white woman, and this is a problem.

So it ends up at the court of the Duke who is dealing with other issues because the Turks are now circling around their outpost in Cyprus, and they need Othello to do some work for them and to fight off the Turks. So the Duke says, oh, look, it's okay. It's fine. You know, Othello is a great guy. We've all worked with him. We know him really well.

And that's when the line comes out: He is far more fair than Black.

And what he's saying there is that essentially, look, he doesn't act Black. He acts white. He acts like us. So let's just be okay with this.

And so what you have there is a situation in which somebody who has kind of violated a kind of racial code in Venetian society is given a pass because he's very useful to that society. What happens in the rest of the play is that lago works on him and tries to convince him that his wife is having an affair with his lieutenant.

And unfortunately, Othello believes him, and they plot to murder Desdemona, and they do. He does. And it's a heartbreaking, heart-wrenching play.

And what's difficult about it is that it seems to fulfill stereotypes about Black men and Black masculinity. So it's always been a bit of a problem to stage. So yeah, it's a fantastic play, though.

It's a real sort of exploration of interracial relationships in a white-dominant society.

Yeah, I think it's harder in classrooms. And that's something that I actually been thinking about how to address a colleague of mine, and I've been discussing it. Because a lot of teachers, especially white teachers, aren't necessarily equipped to have a conversation about race that isn't going to make all the students in the room feel objectified or uncomfortable.

And so what I'm trying to, what I also get at the book is about discomfort, being able to lean into the discomfort of having conversations. And Shakespeare, for him, he was an advocate of discomfort. You were not comfortable when you went to see a Shakespearean tragedy.

He didn't want you to be.

And so we should try and be comfortable in the classroom. And there are productions who have tried very hard to lean into the racial tension and angst in the play.

But often it can be unsuccessful, particularly if it's a white director that sees too much optimism in the play. And says, oh, this play really, it's not about race. It's about redemption of characters who've been singled out for some reason.

I'm like, well, the reason is race.

My goal was always to show how it rears its head, even in the moments that are the most unexpected or that seems innocuous.

But what is interesting is that in a lot of his comedies, he's using anti-Black racism as a source of humor. And, you know, that would have made people laugh, some of the comments that you hear in some of his most delightful comedies. And because the racism isn't the undercurrent of the play, that it's easy to miss it.

So you'll just get all of a sudden a comment like Much Ado About Nothing, where the character Benedict is talking with his friend Claudio about a woman that Claudio has a crush on. And he says, oh, she's too brown for a fair praise. And that would have made people laugh.

What he's saying is that she's not attractive enough to praise her, and fair in that time was a very elite form of whiteness. It meant beautiful and virtuous and white with a luster or a shine, and that shine is the virtue of a woman. And no woman of color could ever achieve that, because she's not white enough.

So he's saying that this woman is too brown, even if she's not brown, but he's using brown as a way of denigrating people of color.

But I think Shakespeare is still valuable for us because of the contemporary nature of some of the issues that he raises in his plays.

I mean, there's a great speech in Midsummer Night's Dream where he talks about the destruction of the planet because of the way people are behaving towards each other. And the powerful resonance of that today just is unmissable. So Shakespeare is able to articulate or help you to think about questions that are so urgent in your own moment.

I think other writers need to be brought into dialogue with Shakespeare. If you teach Othello, teach Toni Morrison's Desdemona, right?

It's incredibly lucrative intellectually and emotionally to keep Shakespeare in the curriculum.”

—Farah Karim Cooper: Director of Education at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, and author of The Great White Bard, How to Love Shakespeare While Talking About Race

#shakespeare #farah karim cooper #othello #racism #ingrained racism #casual racism #writing #much ado about nothing #colorism #the merchant of venice #anti blackness #desdemona #blacklivesmatter #theatre

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

Here’s the thing about the kids.

Mike can be downright squirrely when he wants to be.

The guy is all long-limbs and ever-changing moods, and the second he spots Steve he vanishes around the corner and leaves no trace of himself behind.

Dustin, similarly, is catty.

The kid’s not fast, but when cornered, he has a tendency to do the most insane, ridiculous things.

Currently Steve is ninety percent sure he just saw him jump out a window, and the only reason it’s not one hundred is because his eyesight isn’t the greatest these days, and it’s entirely possible Dustin found something to put that stupid Weird Al shirt on and threw that out the window instead,

It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

Knowing this, Steve automatically goes for the easiest target: Lucas.

See, Lucas is, of course, the most athletic and the only one likely to give Steve a run for his money should he too, decide to bolt.

He also was the most likely to stop and actually talk to Steve, because unlike his friends, he possessed some emotional maturity.

Or just maturity in general.

“Come on Luc, what’s going on?” Steve calls out, the second he rounds the corner and spots the kids. “You’re freaking me out.”

That makes Lucas stop and come to him, while the other two dipshits bolt.

Steve leans against a wall, eyebrow raised as Lucas slinks forward, but knows instantly from the grin the kid’s trying to hide that whatever’s going on right now, is their usual kind of bullshit.

(An internal part of him, the part that has to deal with the unusual bullshit every six months or so, sighs in relief.)

“Okay, you have to swear not to be mad.” Lucas starts, which is never a good sign, but at least it’s coming from Steve’s second most trustworthy kid.

(Will still holds first place, after the time he ratted out Mike for dumping nail polish all over Max’s jacket.

“She was super rude, but she didn’t deserve that.” Will had said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Steve had ruffled his hair and together they had plotted a way to get revenge on Mike without letting Max outright murder him.)

“We uh, might have heard that you were being auctioned off tonight.”

Which was not at all where Steve thought this was going to go.

“Okay?” He hedges, waiting to see where Lucas spills the part that makes Steve worry.

“So you played D&D with Erica and Dustin, and neither of them will stop bragging about it.” Lucas says, a slight pink coloring his cheeks, “--and Mike won’t say it, but I know it bothers him too so we thought we could, uh, buy you. For the day.”

Lucas sends out his gigawatt grin, the one he uses when he’s trying to be his most charming. “To make you play D&D with us.”

Something warm and soft blooms in Steve’s heart. A kind of love he’d never had before hauling the little shits out of the line of fire the first time.

These kids were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“If you ever tell the others I said this I will deny it ” Steve says, pulling out his wallet and forking out a handful of twenties. “But I would be happy to play your dungeons and dipshits game with you.”

Lucas doesn’t even correct him as he accepts the money with a grin--a real one this time. “Really?” He says, and it's so stupidly hopefully it makes Steve’s heart squeeze.

He reaches out, pulling the kid in for a hug for a second. Claps him on the back a few times before pushing fondly at his head.

“Over being taken on a date by some middle aged woman? Absolutely. But like I said,” He playfully shoves Lucas away, “You tell anyone and I will deny, deny, deny.”

“Sure Steve, whatever.” Lucas says, before running off to go find his friends.

Steve watches him go for a moment, smile on his face, before turning back to the gym.

He’d rather play D&D with the kids any day over dealing with this farce.

(The shocking thing, he finds himself thinking as he wanders over to where the other dates are situated, is that he means it. Even if a hot, beautiful girl bid on him--he’d rather spend the day with the kids.

Doesn’t that just say something about his life these days?)

xXx Eddie xXx

His club was going to kill him.

Normally, missing a game would be downright heresy. Betrayal of the highest order, particularly considering he’s the damn dungeon master. Sure, other people can DM, but not for the current ongoing campaign, which means Eddie landing his sorry ass in detention disrespected the sanctity of both his club and his people.

A fact he will need to beg on hands and knees to makeup for.

The siren song of the microphone, nevermind the idea of having an honest to god stage to prowl around on at lunch was simply too much for Eddie to resist, particularly when it came to his anti-Valentines Day speech.

Not that he was the type of guy to roll his eyes at all the lovey-dovey crap floating around, but more that people could be so stupid about it.

…and maybe he was a little bit jealous.

Eddie convinces himself it’s fine. He plans to have a session for the missed game on Sunday, when he knows his friends had planned to hang out at his place anyway.

Still feels bad about it as he walks down the halls of Hawkin’s high, annoyed that detention took as long as it did.

There’s people milling around, in the kind of stupid dressed up clothes that wasn’t formal, but could be described by evil words like “business casual.” The best skirts and knitted tops, slacks for the men paired with button up shirts or polos.

Like a fucking swarm of Steve Harrington’s--without any of the guys charm.

Not that he had any charm.

Definitely not.

Eddie gives an overactive shudder to clear his head, making his way out of the school as fast as he can.

Because life, the universe and everything in it hates him, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie! Oh thank god, look guys it’s Eddie!”

For the briefest of seconds after hearing Henderson’s voice, Eddie’s worried no one thought to tell the kids that Hellfire had been canceled.

Or, considering Eddie’s over the top response to the first time one of them had tried to miss a campaign night, they might be worried he’s dying (rather than simply an “unbearable idiot” as Jeff had called him earlier.)

His freshman lambs quickly swarm him, three pairs of eyes staring with weird amounts of hope (Sinclair, Henderson) and awkward embarrassment (Wheeler.)

“Eddie! Eddie, they're only letting Juniors and Seniors place the actual bets!” Dustin sounds frantic, practically vibrating in place before him. “They won’t let any of us bid on Steve!”

Any fondness Eddie felt evaporates in a puff of vexed smoke.

“That sounds like a you problem.” He challenges, raising an eyebrow.

For once, the freshmen don’t cringe back.

Instead he’s treated to steel sliding across Henderon’s face, Sinclair right behind him and Mike, who refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes, but stands with his friends anyway.

“Come on, think of all the chaos it’ll cause!” Dustin is pleading, his hands waving in the air in a way that reminds Eddie of himself. “Isn’t that like, you’re whole thing? Going against ‘the Man’!?”

Yes, because publicly buying Harrington for a date in front of Hawkin’s self-proclaimed elite was a great way to stick it to ‘the Man’, instead of, say, painting yet another target on his back.

“I don’t think getting into a bidding war over taking Steve Harrington on a date is going to go over well.” He deadpans.

Dustin throws his hands in the air. “It doesn’t have to be a date! ”

“Jennifer’s mom’s friends bid on her. For a girls night.” Mike adds so quietly it takes a minute for the words to process.

“Just saying!” He adds frantically, as though Eddie is going to call him out for this betrayal.

Considering the downright fearful look he’s wearing, Eddie might just do it for shits and giggles in his next campaign.

“We’re begging you, don’t you want to see Steve play D&D? We promise you can even watch the whole thing and embarrass him or whatever!” Dustin continues, hands clasped together in front of him.

“There you idiots are.” A judgey, annoyed voice calls, cutting into the conversation.

Eddie has never met Sinclair Jr. but immediately assumes the girl walking towards them with her arms firmly on her hips must be her “Steve’s up next, idiots. I know you know how auctions work, so I shouldn't have to remind you about having to physically be in the room to bid on him.”

She stops, cocking her head challengingly. “Unless one of you is going to call in from a payphone?”

Cheeky.

Eddie loves cheeky.

Even if she is eleven.

Muted calls ring out again from the gym. Apparently Hawkin’s middle aged women have started their fight for a day spent with one of the “young, local heroes”.

The very thought of Steve, all scraped up in the stupid Scoop’s Ahoy sailor uniform, guiding kid’s out of the mallfire with his broad chest and buff arms and--

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, bouncing frantically in place.

‘Head out of the gutter, Munson!’ He thinks, annoyed at himself (and perhaps, a little bit more understanding of the ladies shouting out numbers in the gym).

“Do you still only have five dollars?” He says, and it's not defeat, not yet, but he can see the hope reignite in their eyes.

This was stupid. A stupid, stupid, stupid idea!

“We have a hundred now.” Lucas says firmly, which is at least a lot more than five.

The calls from the gym are playful but there’s a catty undertone now. Those women really want that date with Steve, and Eddie knows walking in there, bidding on Harrington is a death sentence.

Dustin’s done something to his eyes. They’re wide, shined over like he’s about to cry. Like this fucking matters to him.

It drills into Eddie in a way he hates. How the three of them, (even Mike who is still trying his best not to act like he wants this) are handing him all their dreams. He’s someone they look up to, someone who can make things happen, and he’s always liked that feeling--but this?

This was asking a lot.

“Eddie man, please. You’re our only hope.” Dustin says it softly, and goddamn him, it’s like he knows Eddie is weak for this shit. That under all his leather and chains that he cares.

About them.

He just wishes what they didn’t care about was fucking Steve Harrington.

He knows they think the guy hung the moon. Just as he knows he'll need more than money to fend off the competition and actually win Steve: he'll need a plan.

Knows, even, just how he’ll do it.

“Baby Sinclair, a word?” He crooks a finger, walking a few paces backwards as a plan rapidly forms.

She flicks her eyes over to him, and with an appraisal that says she had already judged him and found him lacking. “It’s Erica.”

Eddie bows low to her, arm brushing the floor. “My deepest apologies, Lady Erica.”

She rolls her eyes but comes over anyway and lets Eddie whisper in her ear.

xXx

If there's one thing Eddie is good at, it's presentation.

The gym doors are already open so there’s nothing he can throw or kick dramatically to announce his presence. Instead, Eddie settles for wading through the crowded tables until he’s dead center to the stage.

Steve stands upon it, a smile in place that reads fake as hell--but considering the sheer amount of wine glasses on all the tables Eddie doesn’t think anyone else clocks it. At least, not anyone who can legally drink anyway.

Erica, bless her, manages to swipe an auction paddle and hand it to Eddie. With a cocked hip, he holds it straight into the air..

"One-fifty!" He calls, causing a wave of heads to twist his way.

“What the hell.” Jason hisses, launching to his feet. Chrissy pulls at his elbow, but he throws her off with a quick jerk, staring furiously from his spot with the other “dates.”

"This is a charity event, Munson. This isn’t time for one of your pranks!” He speaks in the kind of loud, surefire way that screams authority and draws eyes from around the room.

Eddie was prepared for it.

“Jason,” he gasps, paddle going over his heart in mock outrage, “this isn’t a prank! I’m here on behalf of the children.”

The stare he gets would have fit better on an enraged bull.

(The bull, Eddie reasons, would have been smarter.)

“What children!?” Jason spits and Eddie couldn’t have planned a better entrance if he’d paid the moron to say all the shit he just had.

Erica, playing her part like the champion she was, steps out from behind Eddie and waves.

"Steve helped me escape during the mallfire.” She announces, loud enough to be heard throughout the gym.

She takes another step forward, all eyes on her and makes herself look smaller somehow.

Younger.

“I just--" she cuts herself off, eyes welling with unshed tears as she bites her lip. "I just would love it if Steve played some club games with us. Please?"

Her voice breaks on the word ‘games’ and Eddie has to hand it to her--girl’s a rising star.

"Are you shitting me?!" Jason protests, but is shushed loudly by the mother at the table nearest to him. Chrissy finally succeeds in getting her boyfriend to sit back down, his face a glorious shade of red.

If Eddie had known he was going to get to embarrass Carver out of this, he would have agreed a lot sooner.

“One-fifty going once!” The auctioneer calls, and Erica takes a hesitant step forward.

“One-fifty going twice!” He calls again, and there’s a hush in the gym everyone collectively holding their breath.

“Sold!” He calls out, after a too long pause.

Erica lets out a loud sob (slightly over-acted but Eddie will give it to her) and runs up the stairs of the stage, leaping at Steve.

He catches her in a crushing hug, applause and whistles following what has to be every mother in the damn place letting out an “awww.”

Eddie manages not to gag, but only because he still has his showman smile in place.

Steve descends the stairs, Erica holding his hand until the next “date” is called to the stage. She leans in to whisper something to him and Eddie gets to watch Steve smother bark of laughter with a cough as Erica casually skips off.

"How much did Erica charge you for that little show?" Steve asks quietly as he comes up to Eddie, the two of them heading to the cashier.

“She wants me to paint her a bunch of signs for her girl scout troop. Then swear to buy ten boxes of cookies.”

Steve shakes his head, a soft smile on his face. "Consider yourself lucky. She nailed me with free ice cream for life once."

"Damn." Eddie whistles.

"I know the kids probably put you up to this, but I appreciate it." Steve continues, sounding outright relieved as they stand in line together to pay.

Eddie gives him a look. "You're happy that I won." He says.

It’s not a question.

“Absolutely I am a man, did you see some of the women bidding on me?” Steve shudders, making a horrified face that Eddie can’t not laugh at.

"What if I really did want to go on a date, Stevie?" He teases, knocking his shoulder into the former jock’s. “And the whole thing with Mini Sinclair was just a way to do it?”

Steve goes with the movement, clearly taken aback. Eddie begins to grin, clasping his hands under his chin and batting his eyelashes. Waits for the negative reaction he knew was coming.

He doesn’t get it.

Instead, Steve's face melted into something downright sinful.

“Then I’d still be coming out ahead, Munson.” Steve’s voice drops low, leaning in a bit to make his words private. “It’d be fun to use the ol’ Harrington charm on you.”

Eddie swallows once, twice.

His throat bops as he tries to make it work, before finally managing to spit out "For the record, I am immune to any and all charms.”

“That’s what they all say.” Steve says, then winks.

Fucking.

Winks.

At him!

“Whatever.” He scoffs. Steps up to pay, because it’s finally his turn, and listens as the woman behind the counter explains that as part of the rules of the auction: all dates must be redeemed by the end of the weekend.

Is followed by Harrington, who turns a smile onto the women behind the table.

“Not a problem.” Steve tells her, and while it doesn’t seem like he's using that “Harrington Charm” that totally had not made Eddie blush scarlet, the cashier is clearly enamored anyway.

“Thank you for bidding on him for those kids.” She tells Eddie, as Steve leans a hip against the table.

“Eddie here is a true gentleman.” Steve says, turning his grin back towards him and thank god his hair covers his ears because Eddie knows they’re fucking bright red too. “The kids adore him just as much as me.”

“I bet that little girl is just thrilled that he won.” The cashier continues, and Eddie would bet all his teeth that Erica would rather fight a bear than be referred to as a “little girl.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie manages, voices several octaves higher than normal.

Looks away, as he’s handed the receipt so he doesn't have to face the fact that he paid for a date with Steve Harrington.

That he'd made just as much of a show as Eddie had and fucking flirted with him after.

It didn't matter that they'd both done this for the kids.

This shit was gonna be the hottest gossip topic for all those annoying church ladies, he just knew it.

(“The little shits even talked me into DMing the game!” He howls into the phone to Gareth, after Eddie had gone home, screamed into his pillow, and then frantically called his best friend.

"At least you can make date related jokes." Gareth replies, and he keeps swearing he’s not laughing, but he is, the traitor.

“That makes things worse, not better, Gare!”)

#steddie #Eddie gets the full Harrington Experience #dating #flirten #gay panik #poor eddie #he doesnt know whats gonna hit him #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #valentines day fic #the full things on AO3 #its just long af

[lilmisssona]

𓍢ִ໋🀦 CHAPTER 1: An Intruder 𓍢ִ໋🀦

𓍢ִ໋🀦 PAIRING: Vampire! Hyunjin × Witch! Fem Reader

𓍢ִ໋🀦 GENRE: Supernatural AU, SMAU, Enemies To Lovers, Murder Mystery AU

𓍢ִ໋🀦 PLOT: You're accepted to The University Of Magicks" You thought it was just a fun prank, a spam ad even. But when you get actually accepted, things start to get real....You move across the country to start your new life, only to get on the nerves of a certain vampire.... Join on this magical journey as you navigate through life, friendships , love and maybe even an ancient curse ??!! Will you be able to thrive or will this be a battle to survive ?

𓍢ִ໋🀦 WORD COUNT: 2K

𓍢ִ໋🀦 A/N: Someone's here. Except they are not someone you know... Is there an intruder ?

Let Me know what you think! New chapters every week!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 WARNINGS: Cussing, Painful memories of yn, platonic fluff

𓍢ִ໋🀦PREVIOUS|𓍢ִ໋🀦MASTERLIST|𓍢ִ໋🀦NEXT

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙��𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" And, the last bag is packed" You heaved a sigh of relief when you finished packing the last bag.

It was the dawn of 19th, you have to reach your destination by 21st evening.

Scanning your room, you made sure that everything is packed and tucked away.

As you won't be available for atleast an year or two. As that's what the curriculum says.

Seeking some well deserved rest, after the exhaustion of packing everything, you plop on your bed.

Sleep taking over your body quickly as your eyes grow heavy....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Weird sounds from your window, woke you up. It was already dusk when you opened your eyes.

You groaned in frustration as you heard the scratching sound again. Squinting your eyes and looking around, you spotted something dark at the window.

You gasped as you noticed there was something glowing outside. Fear engulfed your body, as you shivered looking at the mysterious figure.

Slowly, you approached your window, carrying your pepper spray and the bat you kept around for self defense.

With one swift motion, you opened the window and were about to scare it with the pepper spray, when you looked at the black blob.

It was not something... moreover someone. A cat. A black one at that with beautiful glowing eyes.

You smiled at your cute intruder as it looked at you with its huge eyes.

" Who are you missy ? " you petted her head.

Welcomed by your warm gesture, your new guest invited herself in the house.

" I didn't say you're welcomed in! "

She purred and shuffled around your feet.

" Are you the neighbours cat love ?"

" Did you run away from home "

The kitten meowed at her, as if answering " yes " to the last question.

You smiled at her and crouched down to her level,

" Where do you even belong to kitty ? "

There was no answer from her side.

" Well, I don't see any name tag on you "

" So you're a stray kitten ? " The kitten meowed shyly.

"Well that makes the two of us honey."

"But.."

You patted her slightly on the head.

" I don't have any food on me love " you sighed.

" I am moving far far away honey and I have tucked away all of my cookware in the cupboard. "

" But..." you suddenly remembered smiling,

" I do think I have a can of tuna in the fridge "

" Will that be enough for you love ?"

The kitten meowed a lot in reponse while rubbing her body against you.

" Ok, I'll bring it "

You went up to the kitchen and she followed you.

Opening and pouring the can of tuna in a small plate you handed it to her,

" Here you go missy "

The kitten chewed it hungrily.

" Hungry are we ? Eat well love! "

You smiled at the kitten eating well. A single tear dropped from your eye.

You always wanted a pet of your own. But never had the courage or time to adopt them and take care of them.

This one right here, is the kitten of your dreams.

Inviting herself in, she already made herself at home and also creeped your way so soon into your heart.

" I can't take you with me baby. " You sniffled.

" They won't allow any kind of pets "

" You have to go after finishing this ok honey ? " you fought back tears....

As if on cue. A message popped up again on your laptop.

You wiped your tears and walked towards your bed.

It was another email from the said University you're leaving for, on the 21st.

This is to inform, that all novice witches, necromancers and elves/fairies, are equired to bring one familiar with them.

They can be any animal and shouldn't be harmful to other students.

Example include - Cats, Dogs, Birds, Butterflies, badgers to name a few.

We are looking forward to your visit on the 21st!"

A bright smile formed on your lips as you closed the laptop and looked at your self invited guest.

You patted your head as you spoke to her

" Looks like you're coming along with me! "

The kitten meowed in response.

"You do require some stuff though" You told her as you scanned the room.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" Hmm, a blanket, a carrier, some pillows, cat food, litter box, some treats, toys to play, and most importantly a name tag. "

You searched and found a list of cat supplies online.

" How does the name Miss Tuna sound like ?" You asked the kitten who was sitting on yout lap now, comfortably.

" Meow ?" She half meowed in a quizzical way

" Miss Tuna is cute right ?" She purred in response, as if in affirmation.

Soon she fell asleep in your lap as you softly petted her head...

You ordered everything online and it was at your door in the morning.

Thankful for the quick deliveries in Korea, you opened the packages and made everything ready.

Slowly, you scooped Miss Tuna from your bed where was sleeping comfortably and placed her in her new bed.

Clad with soft mini pillows and a warm blanket. Her eyes shot open as soon as she felt unfamiliar grounds.

She meowed a little in response.

" This is your new bed baby. You booped her tiny nose.

" Sleep for tonight we have to leave early tomorrow alright ? You scratched her head a little.

Ms. Tuna, purred and instantly became comfortable at your touch, beckoning you with her tiny paws to scratch her more.

" You need more petting love ?"

" Meow " A soft but eager voice escaped her mouth.

" Alright baby but only a few minutes more ok ? "

" I am gonna have to work a little after that mhm ?" She didn't say anything.

Just looked at you with her big shining eyes as if nodding in agreement.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Hours turned into minutes, minutes into seconds and now its already the morning of the 21st.

You woke up early to pack everything left for the last minute.

Aka the plates, glasses, bathroom supplies to name a few.

Lastly you got ready and got Ms. Tuna, comfortable in her carrier.

She was a little grumpy this morning. But its obviously due to the sudden change.

So you made her carrier as comfortable as you can and placed her in.

Now it's already time for your cab to arrive, so you looked around for any last minute things left.

After making sure everything is ok, you grabbed your suitcases. There were three in total.

All your life packed in three suitcases and one new carrier for your newest member.

You still were unsure of keeping Ms. Tuna with you. But since childhood you were affectionate of animals.

As they are the only ones who didn't judge you....

They just silently listened to all your woes without looking at you with a sense of pity or shock.

You remembered the time, when your adoptive mum and dad had a cute beagle Cooper.

You adored him to death and did your best to play with him and take care of him.

You told him stories and he just silently listened. Sometimes even nudged you for cuddles.

When they gave you away for adoption, your heart broke...

Cooper tried his best to block the door so that you can't leave.

Poor dog loved you to death as well. You were crying at his efforts.

But he was a mere small beagle and nothing your adoptive dad's hands can't hold.

He picked him up and sedated him for a couple of hours, as your mum forcefully left with you, to hand over to the social workers.

That was the end of your relationships with animals. Until now....

You tucked your last suitcase in the trunk of the cab and grabbed the carrier to sit with in the backseat.

Taking one last content look at the apartment that has been your home since a year, you instructer the driver your location and drove off…

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

The wind was crisp as it blew in your face....

The train ride to Namsuhara was really peaceful in a way.

No one to talk to. No one judging you. Only the curiosities about your new life.

Beautiful view on top of that.

And the company of your new familiar, Ms. Tuna, who was comfortably sleeping on your lap now.

A part of you wanted to preserve this moment forever.

This was much needed you believed....

A new beginning.

Not that you didn't like your freelance job or your achievements.

But this was a Something else altogether.

A beginning of a "new you".

A "you", no one will make fun of, or be terrified in a way they saw a ghost.

A "you" who'll be the on the same level as her peers.

A "you" who'll hopefully make new friends.

And lastly a "you" who won't be.... your thoughts, trailed off.

A blush creeped on your cheeks as you thought of the dark haired boy you stalked on instagram.

"Hyunjin"

Something or everything was so ethereal about him, that you don't even beleive he's real.

His gaze intense, yet his smile ? enough to make your heart flutter.

Thinking about all of this, you relaxed in your seat and waited to reach your destination.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

The sun was setting as it coloured the sky different hues of pinks, yellows, oranges and purple.

You got down from the train at your final destination- Namsuhara.

The station was quaint and peaceful and you can spot distant mountains everywhere.

It was really refreshing to see such a beautiful place in real life.

As you've only seen it in videos and travelogues online.

You looked around to find someone who was from the University as they told you, they'll pick you up from the station.

But there was no one....

Only passengers who are either walking away with their families, or people who are waiting for the next train or just chilling around...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

You put your head down and were about to contact on the number provided to you when you heard a scream!!

" You're here!! Yess! I'm so excited!"

Someone ran towards you and you were so scared they might bump into you and Ms. Tuna, you just quickly ducked.

You ducked down and squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Yet there was nothing but deafening silence....

So you opened your eyes and saw two girls staring at you. You noticed their features, so distinct...

One was wearing a beautiful sage dress with little flower petals printed on it.

She was looking like a fairy to be honest. The second wore a black crop with blue denims and a leather jacket.

Both had such different aesthetics yet they looked comfortable in each other's company.

" If you're done checking us out, move your ass and get up ? We're actually getting late!"

The girl wearing a leather jacket spoke.

" Hey, she's overwhelmed hun don't speak to her like that."

" I am sorry she's moody like that sometimes...

" The girl wearing the sage dress spoke after defending you.

" Are you guys from the University ?" you asked them curious.

" Oh yeah we forgot to introduce ourselves, am I right ? I'm Yunjin and that's my friend"

" Karina, you can call me Rina or short. "

" Nice to meet you two." You sheepishly replied to them as you shook their hand.

" Let's get going then ? Our carriage is here" Yunjin smiled at you.

" Carriage ?" You asked surprised.

" Yeah it's on top of the mountains remember ?" Karina replied to you, half annoyed.

" Yeah, I'm sorry I forgot" you smiled at her as you three exited the station and walked towards a different path.

Yunjin grabbed your hand whispered,

" Don't mind her, she tends to get a little overwhelmed around new people."

" Its, ok I understand that. I have social anxiety as well" you whispered back.

" I love your familiar btw, very witch esque." She smiled at you as she glanced a look at Ms. Tuna.

" Thank you Yunjin, '' you replied.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" You're a fairy ? No way!" You gasped as you looked at Yunjin.

" Yes, a garden fairy hun" she replied smiling.

" And you're a Necromancer?" you smiled at Karina.

" Yes and I am also learning sword fighting. So if anyone bothers you let me know" Karina winked at you.

"This is an interesting start," you thought as the carriage moved away to the rockier higher terrains of the Enchanted peaks….

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

𓍢ִ໋🀦 OUR ETERNAL ALLIES: @atinyniki @kailee08 @writingforstraykids

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(Taglist is closed!!)

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

𓍢ִ໋🀦 ENDNOTE: Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids.

Make sure to like, reblog, follow and turn your notifications on to get updated whenever I upload a new chapter!!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#stray kids #skz stay #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz imagines #hyunjin smau #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin au #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz as your bf #skz fantasy au #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz fluff #fypシ #fyp #tumblr fyp #miss sona updates #skz #karina aespa #yunjin le sserafim

[cain-speaks]

🍭 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃 🍭 || Macaque x Reader Oneshot

» sweet tooth (cavetown) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader uses she/her and is a cat demon, so she has cat-like features/behaviors! ➤ Described the clothes but tried to keep it simple/vague so ppl could add more details if they'd like! ➤ BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M SORRY. I kinda lost the plot a few times I think,, and I got super into the shadow story,, hope this is good!! Also sorry if I switched tenses at some point, it happens rip. Also also if the kiss scene is bad I'm so sorry, I'm awkward asf LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, a little bit of angst, referenced toxicity, and referenced murder. ➤ Word count: 3,494

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ A sweet tooth for you, I'm wide awake .❞

Your tail vibrates excitedly as the timer goes off, alerting you that the mango pudding is done chilling. Grinning widely, you almost run to your fridge, throwing open the door and crouching to pull the cool dessert out. You take a deep whiff as you wander back to the counter, shutting the fridge door with a bump of your hip. It smells heavily, and an experimental shake of the pan leads you to believe the sweet treat has successfully set.

You set down the mango pudding and turn to the dishes, rinsing them in the sink and leaving them in the basin to be thoroughly cleaned later. As you scratch a particularly stubborn splash of dried pudding from the whisk, you look over at your oven, squinting to read the numbers displayed.

5:47.

"Oh, cow-milk," you hiss under your breath, finishing up with the whisk and nearly tossing it into the basin.

I'm going to be late! you fret as you pull off your apron, throwing it upon the counter as you rush to your bedroom to pull on your outfit: a simple white turtleneck under a soft long-sleeve and high-waisted plaid pants, complemented with long socks and short, buckled heels. Once you finish with your outfit and additional accessories, you grab a basket on your way out of your room and quickly fill it with cutlery, cubed mangoes, sugar, and of course, the pudding.

You pause for a second, ears flicking about as you try to make sure you haven't forgotten anything. Your time is cut short as another alarm sings on your phone, titled Get The Fudge to Mac's!

You squeak, shoving your phone into your pocket and spinning on your heel as you race out of your home, narrowly keeping the basket from slapping against your side.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You're fairly certain the only reason Macaque doesn't snap at you slamming the dojo doors is because he heard you coming.

He's curled up on his couch, a hefty book in his lap—probably about something medicinal or floral if you had to guess. Your eyes flicker to his face, scowling as you see his signature smirk, golden-brown eyes scanning your hunched-over figure in amusement.

"Look what the cat dragged in," purrs the demon.

"You—hah—think you're soooo funny," you grit out, shuffling to the couch with a glare.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Macaque asks.

The monkey slaps his tail across your face before you can recite the "a" portion of your alphabetized list.

"How come you're so late today?" he teases. "Normally you're here before I am."

You roll your eyes and give a half-hearted bite to the demon's tail, barely grazing the fur, but he pulls it away with a narrowed gaze anyway. You give him a dramatically sweet face, fluttering your lashes as you set your basket on the table.

You make a lazy gesture at it. "I made something for us."

"Oh?" Macaque asks, cocking an eyebrow. "How romantic, starlight."

For a split second, you consider letting your embarrassment at the implication get to you. But then you decide if Macaque wants to be a little evil, you may as well join him.

"Only the best for you, moonflower," you coo back, revelling in the way the black-furred monkey's face heats up around his spiked mask. You immediately laugh at his blush, far more elated at your ability to fluster the stoic demon than you think is normal, adoring the way his ears wiggle as though trying to hide his face.

"Laugh it up, kitty," he grumbles, reaching out for the basket.

You lunge forward and smack his hand before his claw tips so much as brush the handles. "Nu-uh! That's for after dinner, loser."

Macaque frowns and squints at you, shaking his hand and blowing on it in classic dramatic theater kid fashion. "What are you, five?"

"Out of five~!" You sing-song, scooping up the basket as you jump to your feet. "Now get cooking, Macaroni."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

When Macaque announces the food's almost done, you decide to raid his wardrobe for pajamas.

You zoom up the stairs before he can say a word, but to your surprise, he doesn't make so much as a sigh as your thundering footsteps fade into his room.

It's weird. Normally Macaque always whines about you snagging his clothes, complaining about the pastry stains or endless amounts of cat hair that ends up on them—which is a small price to pay when you're constantly making him yummy treats! But tonight he's oddly quiet.

Come to think of it... he's been acting off for a while.

You noticed it last month. Your time spent with the monkey had turned more physical—training, teaching you how to make certain foods, dancing, cuddling. And amongst his standard sarcasm and snark, he was complimenting you a lot more, too. You'd even started finding little trinkets around your house! So unless some other purple-coded weirdo was breaking into your house to leave you jewelry and pretty flowers, it had to be Macaque.

But on the other hand, Macaque seemed to be... distancing himself. A canceled plan here and there, an excuse to leave the room every now and then, a strange new sense of secrecy within the demon, as though he was guarding something from you. As if he was afraid of you coming too close all over again.

It was so confusing. If you allowed yourself to consider that the demon had fallen for you of all people, what were you supposed to make of his behavior? That he hated the idea of loving you so much that he was deciding between making a game of it or completely pushing you away?

The thought strikes you right in the chest, your bottom lip falling victim to your sharp teeth.

Just recently you'd come to terms with just how much you really like the monkey—how much you love the sound of his voice and the way he drags you into trouble and his devotedness to you as a friend. It'd been an earth-shattering realization, really, one that left you tossing and turning in bed and damn near ripping your fur out.

How could you be blamed? Macaque was hardened like stone in the aftermath of his past, resulting in a closed-off and apathetic creature, a lone wolf in spite of his nature. It'd taken so, so much time and patience to get to where you two were now, laughing and poking fun at each other in his dojo, his safespace.

The last thing you want is to lose everything because your silly heart loves tragedies.

"Starlight!" Macaque's sharp call comes from downstairs, making you jump. "The hell are you doing? I said dinner's done!"

"Ack—I'm coming, just a minute!"

You quickly throw on a loose shirt and shorts, struggling a bit with the hole for your tail before finally settling the limb and bounding out of the room. Immediately, an aroma of deliciousness hits your nose. You almost stumble down the stairs due to the distraction, righting yourself with an embarrassed flush (boy, are you glad Macaque didn't see that) and carefully making your way into the kitchen.

Your eyes widen at what you see. A large bowl of chǎofàn sits at the table, neighbored by a plate of tángcù lǐjǐ and another of xiǎolóngbāo. The scent is divine, and you would call the meal a gift from Buddha if it weren't for the smirking demon leaning against the counter.

"Like what you see?" he asks cockily, tail sweeping against the ground in a lazy sway.

"No way you just made all of this!" you exclaim, grinning.

"Maybe I'm just that good," replies the black-furred monkey with a wink, fetching two plates and some silverware out of various cupboards and drawers.

"Not that good," you snort, grabbing your basket from the fridge. "Come on, what's the trick this time, moonflower?"

The demon falls strangely silent at your question. You raise an eyebrow at his back, waiting for a response. Finally, in an uncharacteristically small voice, Macaque says, "I've been preparing."

There's more to it. There's definitely more to it, but you won't push.

You set the basket down on the floor and take the plate held out to you, happily filling it up before moving to your seat. Macaque joins you on the opposite side, silent save for the short scraping sound of silverware against glass. The uncomfortable silence threatens to spoil your appetite, and you spend a few quiet minutes praying that the demon across from you will say something.

"Is it good?"

Thank Buddha, you think, immediately put at ease to hear his voice.

"Duh," you say, swallowing another forkful of delicious food. "Your cooking is some of the best I've ever had."

"Oh really?" Macaque leans forward on his elbows, hands laced under his chin, and you feel your face warm ever-so-slightly. "Then where do I rank, starlight?"

"Top ten at least," you tease, reaching for more chǎofàn. Macaque unlaces a hand to pick up the bowl and pass it to you.

"At least," he chuckles. "Well, eat up. I have a play to put on."

"A play?" You repeat, cheeks round with rice.

Macaque nods. "Yes." Quickly, he adds, "for you."

You very nearly make a quip about the romance of dinner and a show, but seeing his tail tense and thud against the floor makes you reconsider.

Instead, you smile. "I'll be there."

The monkey snorts. "Better be. If you stand me up for rice and chicken, I'll never make it again."

You fake an angry grumble. "Don't you have to go prepare, smart guy?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

"Oh," he says, simply at first. Then his eyes widen. "Oh, yes! I have to—there are things I have to—I'm going now." Macaque cuts his rambling short and just barely avoids sprinting out of the kitchen like his tail is on fire.

"Don't—" you cringe at the sound of something falling, followed by a quiet yelp. "—hurt yourself on the way out..."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You sit amongst soft blankets and pillows, tails curled around your knees as you wait for the play to start. The light of Macaque's lantern bathes the dojo in a violet hue, shadows dancing with the sway of the lantern as Macaque gets into position. The monkey's innate shadow powers and connection to the lantern make it easy to manipulate it and the dark for his purposes, so part of you is confused that Macaque settles himself so far away from you. You reason that maybe the demon's just feeling extra dramatic for this story.

Or maybe this is it, you think.

Even if you don't know what that means.

"Welcome viewer, to a shadow play the likes of which have never been seen."

You smile at the signature opening line, a soft purr rumbling in your throat as you listen closely, ears perked in Macaque's direction.

"Here we follow another tale about the tragic Warrior." Macaque's voice reverberates around you, and you watch as a simplified silhouette of hi—ahem, "the warrior" manifests from the shadows. "Though this story is unlike the others—for instead of our Warrior bearing yet another arduous chapter of life, perhaps he has found his happy end.

"Everyone knows the tale of how the Sun came to betray the Moon. But what very few have to come to learn is that it was the moon that brought on such a tragedy. You see, many centuries ago, the Moon could only see their dark side—blemished, indecipherable, and lacking in light. So often the moon thought of their dark side and wept, believing that if it was all they saw, it was all anyone could see. And then the Moon realized something. They were the Sun's only companion, their only friend, so surely, surely, the Sun would give their light to them.

"And at first, the Sun did everything they could to show the Moon just how bright they could be. The Sun taught the Moon everything they knew, and the Moon took that knowledge and taught it to others, becoming a beloved warrior. And when the Moon became the Warrior, they changed the Sun into a Hero—a well-shaped, perfect vessel of holiness and goodness.

"The Sun allowed for this because they loved the Warrior, so they locked themselves within the Hero. And while the Warrior loved the Hero very much, they were so blinded by the love of their light that they didn't see what they were doing to their beloved Sun.

"Years passed and the Warrior had taken almost every bit of sunlight. Only their heart and a small sliver remained, which the Sun branded on to the Hero's golden cudgel and hid beneath stone so the Warrior could not find it. This angered the Warrior, who still could not see what they'd done to the Sun, for they were so hidden within the Hero. He said, "my hero! Why do you hide your light from me? Is it not mine, too? Have I not helped you shine?"

"The Hero replied, "I hide nothing from you, my Warrior, certainly not our light. I simply have no more to give you."

"The Warrior was displeased, and this displeasure, coupled with the dimming Sun, poisoned their light until nothing remained but a thin halo around the two of them.

"This terrified the Warrior—to see that they were so close to becoming the Moon again, so close to being consumed by their dark side, that they demanded the Hero give them their heart. Only this time, the Hero refused.

""You are not a hero," spat the Warrior. "And you are no longer a warrior," whispered the Hero. The Warrior was so angry, so enraged, that they attempted to swallow the Sun itself. They peeled away the Hero's stone body to reveal the blazing heart beneath, fully intent to rob them of every last bit of light they had, even if it meant they'd never shine again.

"The Sun broke free of the Hero's perfect body, and, using the light on the golden cudgel, banished the Warrior to a place of no light. No stars. No song. Only darkness.

"A place where the Warrior and the Moon would blend in perfectly."

While you've never heard the story portrayed this way, you find it heartbreakingly easy to tell he's talking about his death and descent into Diyu. You fiddle with your hands, pressing on the paw pads as you stare, watching the Warrior turn into wisps as a glowing mass of shadows (the Sun?) forms into a tendril and strikes them.

It's almost too much to watch, your brain caught up in what preceded Macaque's death. Is this why he's been so nervous? It would make sense—the version of the tale makes him vulnerable to say the least, and it's oozing with painful, regretful honesty. Macaque may not be a liar, but the truth has never been easy for him.

The scene changes, shifting in a quick montage.

"For centuries, the Warrior rotted in their anger and sorrow. So angry were they that they allowed themselves to be hung from strings like a simple puppet, used as a weapon to harm undeserving victims."

Flashes of burned and otherwise destroyed villages wrap around the dojo, all with a chained Macaque hovering above, eyes burning. The last image you recognize as the Monkie Kid and his group. A shadowy tendril wraps around the kid's limbs, attached to him in a similar way to Macaque's chains. Your stomach twists.

"Even when the Warrior finally forgoed their wrath and reconciled with the Sun, they still could not find it in them to shine. They'd ruined the Moon many years ago, and now the Warrior was ruined, too.

"...or so they thought. One day, the Warrior came across a maiden. She was gentle and wild, comforting and unapologetic, unwavering and bold. She was a river, a storm, a mountain who stood unblinking before the weight of the Warrior's darkness.

"The Warrior thought they were doomed to break her, as they so often did to strong things. But then the Maiden produced a mooncake from her robes, split it in half, and said, "Would you share this treat with me, O' weary Warrior?""

A feminine silhouette appears before the Warrior, dressed in a flowing hanfu and flowers. Most interestingly, the Maiden has tufted ears and a long, fluffy tail just like—

Your face erupts in a shocked blush as understanding dawns on you. The first time you met Macaque, you'd been out selling mooncakes. It'd been a good day, and by the end you had a single treat left, which you fully intended to scarf down while watching the sun set. But then you'd seen Macaque, leaning against a bridge and watching the reflection of the sun in the river, and he just looked so sad, you thought a mooncake would add a little brightness to his face.

A pity cake it might have been, but you think it was one of the best pity cakes you've ever had.

"The Warrior took the Maiden's gift. Together, the two ate at their cakes until they were naught but crumbs and the sun had long set. Before they parted, the Maiden smiled at the Warrior.

"And the Warrior glowed.

"The Warrior glowed so bright that moonlight shown through the cracks in their skin, that stars came down to twinkle in their fur and they could hear the sweetest dreams whispering in their ears, and all they said was "Mooncake Maiden" over and over again, for the Warrior had finally found someone to glow for, not because of."

You almost bust out laughing, a mix of adoration, shock, and amusement bubbling in your chest. "Mooncake Maiden", huh? Maybe you should start a business.

"For weeks, the Warrior and the Maiden continued to meet. The Warrior continued to glow, feeling more and more like the great warrior they once were. They even began to think of themselves as the moon again, not as an imperfect surface, but as a new vast and complicated world, one they wanted to explore by the side of the Maiden. All they had to do was ask her."

The shadows merge into a single ball, gliding towards you and settling before you. The ball reforms, revealing Macaque kneeling in front of you, your hands held gently in his. But what really catches your eye is his glamor—or lack thereof. His six ears, the reason for his namesake, unfurl from his head like flower petals, glowing shades of blue, pink, and purple that illuminate both of your faces. His fangs elongate past his bottom lip and a white halo of fur surrounds his face, shimmering in the gentle light.

His eye, blind though it may be, is milky and spotted like the bright side of the moon and you can't help but think it's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"And now to discover how this story ends," he says softly.

"Macaque—" you begin, only to fall silent when he squeezes your hands.

"I know I'm not a hero," Macaque says. "I think I might always be a little evil—a trickster, a bit of a thief, a bully every now and then; a shadow of something good. But you make me feel... real. Like I can be something more, something people can love and adore without getting hurt, and I haven't felt that in a long, long time, starlight."

You blink, feeling something wet tease the corner of your eyes. Your heart thumps in your chest, tail unfurling from your knees and reaching out. Macaque meets it halfway and they curl around each other like ribbons.

"I love you," whispers the Six-Eared Macaque. Louder, he says it again, and you shiver when he says your name. "I love you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours for eternity."

Your mouth feels dry, your body nearly numb with—what, shock? Excitement? Happiness? Exhaustion because you're feeling all the things? Probably.

But still, your heart swells at the confession and your hands slip from his to cradle his face and you say, "I love you too, Macaque."

Macaque grins, eyes shining wetly. His hands go to your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes. His ears flap against your hands for a second, and then he whispers, "can I kiss you?"

Your heart nearly explodes. But you give nothing away as you utter a soft, "yes."

You're not quite sure what to expect when his lips meet yours. Fireworks, or maybe like a puzzle piece is shifting into place. You think you can safely say you feel neither, but you do feel both of your growing smiles, until you're pulling away to laugh and Macaque follows suit.

When your giggles die down, you pet the demon's ears again. "You wanna have dessert now?"

The black-furred monkey huffs, leaning into your touch. "In a minute," he murmurs, and then he's bringing you back to his lips.

❝ I like you—say it back .❞

#cain speaks #[ 🧨 ] #cain writes #[ 🩸 ] #lmk liu er mihou #lmk six eared macaque #six eared macaque x reader #lmk macaque #macaque x reader #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x y/n #monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

Reasons I want to hate Freddie Lounds:

- She's shamless

- She's invasive

- She has little-to-no respect for other people's privacy or property

- She thinks she's better than everyone else

Reasons I can't hate Freddie Lounds:

- Queen of self-confidence and getting what she wants no matter what

- She was one of like 2 people (the other being Chilton) who figured out early on that Will was actually a killer at heart and also that he had some weird psychosexual thing going on with Hannibal

- For all that I think she's really rude, she does show that she has a heart in moments like when she tried to warn Jack away from the observatory where Beverly's body was

- She's made a living out of following Will Graham around with a camera and I'm kind of jealous

- *Squidward voice* OH NO (S)HE'S HOT

- I really can't fault her for "targeting" Abigail the way she did in Season 1, like yeah the profiting off her misery is not great, but if I saw a young girl get out of a horrible situation with a psychopathic serial killer of a male guardian that was being dragged into some new form of custody with not one but TWO psychopathic serial killer male guardians (even though Will wasn't a serial killer yet), I'd also do what Freddie did and try to get her out of that situation

- Let's be real she may be a little bit of a bitch sometimes but honestly she's a bad bitch for all she puts up with and gets away with

- She never fell into the victim role and what I mean by that is you have characters like Alana and Bedelia and Jack who are so caught up in what Hannibal did to them and can't move on (even though Hannibal did do pretty bad stuff to all of them and I can't really blame them for holding a grudge) whereas Freddie is like "Yeah Will Graham threatened me several times and literally attacked me once and dragged me out of my car screaming and used my likeness in his fake murder plot to catch his murder husband which is so sad except I can profit off of it and I wasn't actually hurt in the long run so who cares? Oh my viewers do? I mean, 'boohoo Will Graham is so mean to me and should be locked up send tweet'"

#thinking about freddie saying 'send tweet' makes me laugh so hard #she would though i think #freddie lounds #lara jean chorostecki #hannibal #pros and cons

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 4

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN LESS THAN A WEEK. BRING ON THE GRINDDDDDD. I will warn that my motiviation for each of my fics comes in waves, so you'll probably get chapters in random chunks ngl. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

PART 1: Chapter 4

Unconditional Violence.

Bambsquabbled (Definition): A 19th Century American slang word essentially meaning stupefied or confounded. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 18th December, 1929.

You had expected the additional Tuesday Mr LeBlanc had given you off to prepare yourself for the radio company to consist of you sleeping in until 11am. But dreams are short lived when you have an aunt who insists the ass-crack of dawn is prime time for everything.

You guessed it was fun to climb onto the roof of your relative’s vast home to collect the crystals you had both put out under the full moon, before the energy given to them was whisked away by the rays of the early golden hour. But when nerves settle in like the green spirals of nausea the night before, sleep takes the hand of another, leaving you to lay there with your over-active mind as it drags you through every possibility and event that could end up with you looking like an idiot in front of your new colleagues, or worse. Can’t think of much worse. But the universe will find a way.

It always does.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, it was barely 6am and you already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Your cousins had found you curled up on the bench swing, having dragged your duvet outside as you balled yourself up like a worm, sipping on the iced tea Agnes had bought you the day before in an attempt to settle your nerves. It did. A little.

And now here you were, the first half of your new workday having gone as smoothly as your awkward self could do.

Ethel, who’s desk was closest to yours, had dubbed you the quiet one after spending an hour running her mouth at you with barely a break for you to chime in. You had also already created quite a commotion on the third floor, a few people intrigued by the new ‘foreigner’. Well – as foreign as you can get when you’re from another English-speaking country, in the biggest cultural melting pot of a city had ever seen in your rural life. But they found you interesting enough.

The oddest thing you had experienced that day, however, was a strange request from your new boss – Mr Durham himself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pull off a local accent?” he had asked when showing you the phone on your desk.

All you could do was blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured to the phone. “Since you’re my assistant, you’re gonna be filtering through the calls I get before passing them onto me. Now, there might be an issue if someone calls expecting to hear me, but instead find themselves speaking to a British girl on the other end. Some can be impatient and might end up putting the phone down before you explain.”

Memories of that one very unpleasant phone call flooded your mind. “Even if I answer: ‘Hello W.A.D Radio, this is Mr Durham’s assistant speaking’??” you replied monotonously.

“You’d be surprised.” He sighed. “But do you know how to anyway?”

Frowning, you recalled your time in the cities further in the North. “I guess..? A girl I rented a room from in New York insisted on teaching me for when we went into town, but I struggle to see how it’s important?”

The man put his hands together, pointing them at you in a prayer motion. “Just.. try it out? Talk like your colleagues when you see them, to see if you can get a hang of it – I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Please?”

You gave him a wavering look, but sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, but they can’t make fun of me.”

He beamed, patting you on the back in satisfaction. “I’m sure they won’t! I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

And with that, you sat in your new chair, trying to pointedly ignore the sign at the other end of the room that pointed you to the fifth floor, and began your attempt to settle in.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 8th January, 1930.

There wasn’t much to celebrate when the new decade rolled around. Gone were the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’, when you would join your parents at the parties and balls they were invited to – when it was acceptable, of course; those higher up in the class hierarchy still grasped to the dwindling standard that children should be seen, not heard. The year you turned eighteen ended up being quite interesting, when the older women who had turned snooty at the sight of your teenage self wandering around their stately homes, tried to attempt a 180°, as they congratulated you reaching adulthood with strained smiles. But you paid them no mind, too busy staring at the paintings or statues that lined their corridors – a stark contrast to the more barren and plain wallpaper that coated the walls you grew up in.

But now that was far behind you, the English garden parties in the spring and summer that you adored so much were now a mere echo in the distances of your mind. The noises of tiny forks clinking on fine china as the little birds twittered in the trees now replaced by the sputtering and groaning of automobiles as you gripped the pole of the tram, your arms tight against your chest as you tried your best to not let the swaying of the vehicle toss you about into the crowd of packed bodies around you.

Making sure the scarf was tucked safely around your neck, you grasped the small briefcase in your hand – mentally preparing yourself for you first day back at the radio station after the new year. Unfortunately for Mr Durham, a small hurricane had passed over during the holiday, and radio stations across the city were temporarily silenced as their mechanics desperately attempted to repair the damaged towers. And also unfortunately for you, only the hosts were offered a couple days off as things got back up and running, though some still showed to prepare for their shows; you, on the other hand, were still expected to show up like any other day.

So here you were, pushing open the (now familiar) double doors, giving a small wave to the receptionist, who’s name turned out to be Diana, and the woman barely raised her hand in response as she continued to tiredly shift through the concerningly large stack of papers on her desk.

You were just about to climb the wide staircase when you heard her call your name (something you were very surprised she knew, considering her tendency to ‘accidentally’ throw paperwork in the bin on the daily), and your wedge heels clacked against the tile flooring as you stumbled slightly, turning to face her as her nasally voice echoed around the large lobby.

“It’s best you stay in the shadows today.” She warned cryptically. “Trouble’s in, and the mechanic’s not happy about the damages – Durham’s getting the brunt of it, but you’ll end up in the crossfire unless you hide out during breaktimes.”

All you could do for a moment was stand and stare, a million thoughts running through your mind. Mostly about who ‘Trouble’ was, and why Diana thought you couldn’t handle the guy and the other mechanic. You did handle the radio man at the repair shop after all, and speaking of the radio, you were quite proud to say you had finished the it in time for Christmas, and had shipped it off with a very passive-aggressive note that hinted for the man to basically never return. Luckily, Mr Boudreaux hadn’t replied to any of your letters since you had begrudgingly accepted the object, but you had suspected he had called the shop once or twice, and you had left Mr LeBlanc to deal with it, mostly because he was quite terrified you would call another customer every name under the sun the second they tried to give you trouble.

Glancing back and forth between Diana and the stairs, you mumbled a slow “Oookay…” before nodding your head and turning on your heel to hurry up the steps. Reaching the third floor, you didn’t stop in your path as you neared your desk, instead dropping your briefcase onto the wooden surface as you dashed by, striding towards the door that had the golden plaque engraved with ‘Mr B. Durham’ onto it. Grasping the handle, you turned the knob, swinging the door open, only to stop in your tracks as you were met with a very empty office.

You frowned. It must be really bad if your boss was no where to be seen. Whipping around, you scanned the main room for him, but only saw a few of your colleagues, the rest still yet to arrive – you were normally expected to be in early to handle Durham’s work as soon as he began.

Throwing your coat and scarf on your chair, you strode back towards the stairs, readjusting the suspenders of your wide-legged trousers as you practically jogged up the steps, and ended up rolling the sleeves of your loose blouse to your elbows as you tried to catch your breath.

On the fourth floor, you spent a couple minutes checking all of your boss’s usual haunts or hiding places, even going as far as interrogating a couple of the workers there for his whereabouts. It wasn’t until some blonde guy that came wandering down the steps from the fifth floor that you got your answer, the man looking up to take in your slightly dishevelled and feral appearance with wide eyes as he stammered out that he was in one of the radio booths. To his further horror, you patted him on the cheek with a thanks as you rounded him, ready to take another flight of stairs to reach your – apparently – floundering boss.

Ignoring the embarrassed sputtering of the man behind you, you eye the sign nailed to the wall, the painted hand pointing upwards with a very bold ‘FIFTH FLOOR’ next to it.

“Don’t go up there until I say you’re ready, okay?” Mr Durham’s words echoed through your mind.

Buuuuut, he did say he wanted to discuss the stuff you brought in your briefcase ASAP.

Yea that’ll be your excuse. You can deal with his complaining later.

Reaching your heel-clad foot out, you took the first step, almost like you were expecting an axe to come swing down and impale your forehead. But when nothing happened, you shrugged, and simply continued up.

Recalling the path your boss had taken you on during the initial tour, you managed to find the dreaded corridor that supposedly housed your greatest nightmare.

Extroverted people.

Yeesh.

At that thought, you did consider turning around, but your urge to drag your boss’s arse back downstairs drowned that thought out, and you carried on.

Surprisingly, it was quiet, but at the same time not so much when you remembered that most of them were plating their somewhat wealthy behinds on their armchairs at home as the rest tried to fix the issues of the storm.

Reaching one of the lit rooms, you heard raised voices.

“–really expect me to know? –” “– supposed to be on in an hour! How is that –”

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to try and witness the potential fiasco. And what a fiasco it was.

Wires, cables, and any other random parts that were used for radio technology were strewn across desks, tables and even the floor. Amongst these were two men, and there was only one you recognised.

Just like you had seen him every day for the past month, Mr Durham was stood in his washed-out blue suit and concerningly shiny shoes, and at this point one hand was on his hip, whilst the other rubbed tiredly at his face as whom you assume was the mechanic, was blabbering the poor man’s ear off as he ranted on and on about random parts and problems and he gestured frantically at said random parts and problems. Wait – nevermind, you recognised one and a half.

The man from across the street was here, with his back to you. Again. For fuck’s sake.

This time he was back in the seat you first saw him in, this time with a few strands of dark-brown hair out of place, curling slightly as if to rebel against the intense styling he had put it through. Peeking your head out slightly further, you managed to get a good look at him.

Well for one, he was a triangle. Stupidly broad shoulders that narrowed into a stupidly small waist (triangle), with lanky legs long enough that you could probably chop them off and fashion them into skis. Despite his face not revealed, you could see the semi-light tan on his hands, that were busy turning knobs and dials as he listened in to whatever was coming through the headphones on his head. He was dressed to impress, to say the least, in smart, dark-grey trousers, who’s ironed out edges looked as if they could slice through skin. His high collared cream shirt was tucked away under a relatively tight looking reddish-tan waistcoat, and to top it all off, you could see the back of the black ribbon that was most likely tied in a stupidly even bow.

You didn’t want this guy to sense your staring, so you opted to look back at the other two men who were still chuntering on about god knows what. Stepping into the light that flooded through the glass, you wave slightly to try and get your boss’s attention. A couple seconds passed, and you watched as the mechanic kept glancing at you and Mr Durham, until eventually he nudged the other man on the shoulder, pointing you out.

Turning his head, Mr Durham’s eyes met with yours, and you raised your hand with a questionable thumbs up to see if all was good, only to watch in slight confusion as his eyes widened, and he whipped his head rapidly between you and the faceless man sat at his desk, before marching over to the door and pulling it open a crack, sticking his head out.

“Hey uh,” he half-whispered, surprisingly nervous at your presence. “what’re you doing here?”

You lowered your voice to match his. “You said to come find you as soon as possible this morning, you know, to go over those statistics from that other station?”

Realisation dawned on the man’s face, and he reached up to drag his hand down the side of it. “Shit I forgot,” he cursed, and glanced over his shoulder before facing you again. “I’ll – uh… I’ll be down as soon as I get this sorted. Marty’s givin’ me a run for his money right now and the second Al takes his headphones off I’m gonna feel like I’m entering an early grave.”

Surprised, you eyed the man sat at the desk, who looked far too calm to be threatening anyone right now. “Ok… I guess it can wait. I’ll bring you some coffee up!” you chirped, and Durham went to call out that it wasn’t necessary, but faltered with a frown as he realised you were already halfway down the corridor.

--

Balancing the tray of cups and steaming jug the best you could, you reached the final step, retracing your route to the radio booth that your boss was probably getting murdered in. Walking up, you waited patiently until Mr Durham noticed you, and watched as he reluctantly trudged over to open the door.

Taking your first step in, you were hit with the very potent smell of strong black coffee, as if someone had some brewing every day, and you figured you had made the right call of fetching the same beverage as you placed the tray down on one of the tables.

The mechanic was still going off on one, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as you slowly began pouring the coffee into the cups, listening to the greasy-looking man speak.

“– there’s literally no reason that I can find that’s causing the local outage!” he spouted at your frowning boss. “The boys have already fixed the aerial, and David’s currently on-air and that’s working perfectly fine, so it has to be something in this room!”

During the man’s tirade, you noticed the rustling of papers, and looked over to see the faceless man again, still at his desk, but his hands were fiddling with no purpose, and his head was turned to the left slightly, showing his high cheekbone and the edge of his thin circular glasses.

Looked like someone else was listening in too.

Biting your smile down, you turned back towards the cups in your hand, only to have a glint of light pierce the corner of your eye, and you looked in the opposite direction to a large wooden box, with one of the panels removed, displaying the endless wires and springs that coiled and wound in every direction. But you weren’t looking at that, you were instead looking at the screwdriver that was very prominently glinting in the shine of the ceiling light. This must be the painstakingly obvious problem that the mechanic had painstakingly missed.

Giving a quick glance over at the men, you waited until they faced away, scrapping about the wire pile on the floor, and you reached for the wooden teaspoon on your tray, and inched towards the box. Knowing wood doesn’t normally conduct electricity, you raised your hand, testing it anyway against the hanging wires to see if they were live. Seemingly not, you stuck your hand further in, and began nudging at the tool, slowly loosening the wires around it as you dragged it along the bottom of the box.

When they had deemed your silence as suspicious, the mechanic and Durham turned round, only to see you elbow deep in some very expensive equipment.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” the mechanic cried as he rushed over. ��The hell are you doin’??”

Instead of jerking your arm back out and apologising to the man who was slowly turning purple, you gave the screwdriver one last flick, and the three of you watched as it dropped over the edge and fell to the floor with a clatter. Moments of silence passed as you all stared at it, until you decided to explain.

“It was tangled in the wires, which would’ve prevented the electricity flow,” you said plainly. “Plus, if you had tried to power it all up, it could’ve set the place on fire.”

All the mechanic could do was stare down at the tool, but Mr Durham had decided to approach, and bent down to pick up the tool.

“Nice one.” He complimented, turning the object in his hands. Though the warm smile he had put on for you quickly vanished, as his eyes set upon the name engraved on the wooden handle. He pointed at it. “This has your name on it Marty.” He said lowly, his blue eyes turning dark as he regarded the paling man with a look of thunder.

Seeing the outcome, you gestured nervously to the beverages on the table. “Coffee’s there, Mr Durham, I’ll see you downstairs.”

Just as you walked around him, he called your name. “Take ten minutes to yourself and grab some tea, whilst I deal with Marty here.”

Nodding, you curtly took your leave, swinging the door open as you power-walked out, failing to see the sharp pair of eyes following you from where they were sat at the desk.

--

You found the break room housed several curiosities that you were yet to explore in America. Apart from the atrocious fact that the tea station lacked the Yorkshire brand, you found yourself poking at what they called a teabag. Yes, surprise, surprise, the Americans invented something tea related before England or even China did, but you had to admit it was rather useful in helping you not gag at the slimy tea leaves that sat at the bottom of most of your beloved brews.

With the table to your right, you leant your hip against it, your back against the door as you rather noisily mixed the spoon around your large mug, making sure the sugar was dissolved properly before you went to strain the teabag. Lifting it carefully out of the boiling water, you gingerly held your other hand out below it to catch any stray drips from hitting the floor, scanning the room in front of you for a bin that you could chuck it into.

What you foolishly had failed to do however, was hear the footsteps that grew in volume from behind, and you hadn’t realised anything until a very uncomfortable prickle hit the side of your neck, as a very unwanted presence loomed over you. Though, that didn’t last long, as the presence decided to deafen you instead.

“So YOU’RE the new assistant!”

A banshee screech raised from your throat, the teabag flying through the air and onto the floor by your feet as you basically jumped three feet up. Instinctively, however, you didn’t realise what was happening until one elbow flew upwards, slamming into the nose of the man behind you, the other flying round to collide with his ribs. Teaspoon armed in hand, you spun around to face your assailant, only to step on the soggy teabag that was still on the floor, and you cried out again as you slipped and slammed into a very firm chest. Eyes screwed shut, you felt the two of you fall, though quickly broken by the table behind you.

Relieved that you were no longer falling, you swiftly blinked your eyes open, your dark brown ones meeting a pair of equally matching brown. Moments passed as you took in the scene in front of you, and you realised you finally had a face to put to the lanky man from earlier.

Said man was groaning as he rubbed at his nose, his lips twisted into a grimace as he checked for blood. What you noticed however, was the several poignant glances the man took to your right, and you followed, only to see you hand raised, teaspoon in hand, pointing down at him as if you had a machete, ready to stab the lights out of him.

A small gasp left your throat at the realisation, and you quickly pushed yourself off, pointedly ignoring the grunt the man let out as you knocked at his ribs. Taking several steps back, you distanced yourself from him. He had gotten close before, he wasn’t about to do so again.

You watched as he pushed himself up on his elbows, using the table as a support as he stood. To a disturbingly tall height might you add. Looks like you did just reach his nose after all.

“I’m uh,” you started as you eyed him, teaspoon machete still in hand, strangely, you instinctively used the southern accent you learnt – it was the one you used with strangers. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that.” Reaching over, you snatched up a napkin, offering it to him. “Y’haven’t got anything…?”

Dark eyes flitting between you and the outstretched napkin offering, you watched as something seemed to switch in his demeanour, and a natural smile fell across his tan face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He assured, and you blinked at his prominent transatlantic accent. “I figured that wasn’t the best way to say hello to a stranger!” he laughed as he smoothed down his crumpled waistcoat. Reaching his lanky arm out whilst tucking the other behind him, he offered his hand out in greeting. “The name’s Alastor, my dear. And who do I have the most entertaining pleasure to be speaking to?”

You stared at his hand, then flicked your eyes up to him, scanning his grinning face with vigour.

Where, oh where, had you heard that voice before?

Your silence seemed to confuse this Alastor guy, however, and his eyes darted around in confusion as you continued to stare. From what you could see, he had come to a very wrong conclusion about your silence, and leaned over at you slightly, bringing his face level with yours.

“Cat got your tongue, my darling?” His growing cheshire grin reminding you of two very similar people. “You clearly must find me that dashing if your this speechless, haha!” he chortled, the condescension rolling off him in waves.

Oh, you knew exactly where this guy was from.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinised him as you quietly muttered out a single word.

“Boudreaux.”

Alastor blinked, eyes darting around your face, before raising a hand to cup at his ear. “I hate to say but I didn’t quite catch that!” he exclaimed rather loudly.

You felt your brows begin to furrow, so you raise your voice slightly. “I said, Boudreaux.”

Oh you did it now. Sparkles seemed to glitter behind his chocolate eyes as he perked up with glee, straightening up to his full height. “So you do know me after all! I was starting to think you simply had nothing going on in that head of yours!”  he simpered as he tilted his head to look down at you.

Despite his clear mocking, you remained quiet for a moment longer, until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“…You work in a radio station.” You stated flatly.

Alastor looked around, acting as if he had just realised as such. “Yes I am quite aware!” he affirmed in an obvious tone. “Did you want an award for that observation?”

You had to refrain from gaping at this man’s audacity. “… Couldn’t you have just fixed it yourself?”

The man blinked at you. “Fixed what now?”

Oh, this was it. Stepping forward, you didn’t stop until you face was a hand-lengths away from his, and you watched with satisfaction as he shifted at your invasion of his space – talk about a hypocrite as someone who clearly loved to invade the space of others. Staring at the man dead in the eye, you fully dropped the southern accent, your Yorkshire one coming back through full force.

“Your mum’s radio.” You stated simply, raising your brows to regard him with a condescending look that matched his.

You had expected him to brush it off, laughing when he realised who you were. What you hadn’t expected for his pupils to blow wide, his eyes darkening as they narrowed, scrutinising your gaze with his own, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Oh,” he said lowly. “It’s you.”

Keeping your gaze levelled, you gripped the spoon harder in your hands. That is, until your name was called.

The two of you straightened up, you leaning to look around Alastor as he spun on the spot, the both of you facing Mr Durham, who was looking between the two of you rather nervously. He called your name again.

“C’mon.” he said, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. “Let’s go over those papers you brought.”

Without a second thought, you darted for your mug of tea, grabbing it along with an almost empty bottle of milk to put in it as you strode around Alastor, feeling the hand of your boss as he put his arm around your shoulder as he quickly led you away, and the back of your head prickled, definitely feeling the sharp eyes on your retreating back this time around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALASTOR'S HERE RAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Watch me disappear from the face of the earth for a week cuz of my executive dysfunction lmao (Blame my adhd not me she's a seperate entity at this point.)

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 5!!

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#are you proud that i'm bringing on the grind for everything except my uni work? #they gave me 5 assignments again :/ #also having a crisis that high school musical is turning 20 in the next two years #making me feel ancient #but not as ancient as lucifer #he's giving prehistoric #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

i think we're all in agreement that larian fumbled wyll's storyline but what i cannot drop after finishing my playthrough is how fucking strange his relationship to the flaming fists is???

like if you take him to kill the fists at the foundry he disapproves? these are the people who are actively torturing and enslaving the gondians to make massive police brutality robots. you can literally go to the foundry and WITNESS the steel watchers brutalizing children via tadpole but in the final battle ravengard's "help" is a bunch of fists whose job it was to protect the steel watchers? Literally all the flaming fists do is get in your way, try to arrest you for stopping murders, and run away from danger and Wyll is just endlessly supportive of it- he doesn't see why that's fucked up!

I get that they're his dad's guard and his inability to criticize his father for anything could have (should have) been a plot point, but instead it's just there! uncritically!! And i can kind of get it when it has to do with him being exiled bc parent child relationships are complicated, but there is literally no reason for him to be dickriding the flaming fists so much. Absolutely zero reason.

They set Wyll up as being this unfailingly moral character who would gladly become a devil before killing an innocent person, even when killing that innocent person is in the "rules" he's supposed to follow. He's not just uncritically obedient of Mizora even though she tells him that what he's doing is right, but when it comes to the flaming fists who are purposefully incompetant at best, and actively murderous at worst, and whom we have watched the entire game actively enable slavery and state violence he just doesn't care????

These are the flaming fists who were completely fine sending Florick to the gallows for trying to fight against their corruption and save ravengard. Devella is the ONLY person in the fists who's doing anything to address the bhaal killings and her colleagues actively get in her way/try to stop her from investigating them. If I were Wyll and I learned that my dad was fucking brainwormed bc the guard that was supposedly "unfailingly loyal" to him sold him out and actively stopped a rescue attempt, i would never want to see another fucking flaming fist in my life.

But instead at the epilogue party if he's the blade of avernus hes just like "my dad pardoned all the fists and made them pinky promise to do better :) isnt he great?" Be for real!

It's making me mad bc it's not the hypocrisy itself that's the problem, it's that they don't even attempt to say or do anything about it! It's a golden opportunity for Wyll to have to do some self reflection and grow as a character, like every other character who also has clear moments of hypocrisy like this. It's right there! And the game just totally chickens out. Like I know that not every country has the same relationship to police that Americans do, but it's literally IN THE GAME that the flaming fists are a corrupt organization who operate exactly like the american cops do. Larian please give Wyll a backbone to begin with, or make him reckon with the fact that he doesn't have one. Do fucking SOMETHING!!

#im not even getting into how fucked up it is that the only black companion is the one with this problem #you can't avoid the subtext you literally wrote into the game! if you dont wanna deal w it don't put it in! #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll