#&Juliet fanfiction

[fuckmeyer]

if smeyer wasn't a coward vamp!Bella would have immediately eaten her daughter Rensesmem whole-hog like Saturn Devouring His Son

#twilight #twilight renaissance #bella swan #the twilight saga #breaking dawn #smeyer wanted to model all her books off of classic literature: romeo & juliet - wuthering heights - pride & prejudice #AMATEUR HOUR #HEY SMEYER I GOT A FUCKIN STORY TO MODEL YOUR TWILIGHT FANFICTION AFTER #BREAKING DAWN BOOK ONE: Bella fucks Edward for his power & breaks his stone dick in the process - & lo! Ravioli is born in the carnage! #Bella becomes a vamp. she takes over the Cullen coven AND the Volturi bc honestly fuck everyone here only Bella is Cool and Right #oh and vamp hybrids are now legal so vamps start gettin it on. hybrids everywhere. humans who? welcome to the Golden Age baybeeee #BD BOOK 2: Alice comes to Queen Bella with a vision: 'lmao bestie the prophecy says ur getting ur shit smacked' #oh_fuck.avi #Bella begins DEVOURING ALL THE CULLENS INCLUDING RAVIOLI so they can't fulfill the prophecy #vampire fluid contains 11 secret herbs & spices so it's lip-smackin finger-lickin good #omg but ONE vampire was hidden away........ gasp #surprise bitch! it's Ravioli! #turns out Bella mistook Ravioli for LITERAL Ravioli (Chef Boyardee Beefaroni to be exact) #Raviolo comes back and makes Bella throw up! bleh! the Cullens (& Beefaroni) are freed! #together with Benjamin Ravioli now rules over the Cullens and the vamp world #Bella is imprisoned #FUCK Bella #FUCK this story #still a better one than BD tho #the end

[bellarkeselection]

Knew Better But Still Picked You pt 2

Gif belongs to @miyagiverse

Part One Part three

Jackie has some rules set for the reader and Cole that might be hard for them to follow.

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

Cole shrugged some jeans up his legs while I tossed one of his tea shirts over my head. Tying my hair up in a messy braid. Jackie had stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs clearly frustrated. “So how bad do you think she’s going to be about…us?”

“I have no clue. I’ve never seen her this concerned for me before since we’ve been friends forever.” I responded by slipping some socks on my feet sitting down on his bed.

Cole throws a blue tea shirt on coming over to me wrapping his arms around my waist tugging me to his embrace. “We could just stay upstairs for the day. To avoid my parents' possible wrath on both of us. What do you say?”

“Cole..” I warned him by draping my arms over his shoulders.

He leans down since he was taller than me, kissing me slowly. “How about now?”

“We can’t hide away.” I attempted to say while he kissed me again a little more passionately as if that would convince me and I hate to admit that it might be working.

The older Walter boy in front of me cupped my face in his hands. “The way you’re reacting says otherwise….jump.” I leaned into his embrace, moving my arms around his neck threading my fingers through his honey hair. He moaned when I did so and he moved his hands down where I jumped wrapping my legs around his waist but that’s as far as we got.

“Cole. Y/n, can you come downstairs now!” His father hollered where we broke the kiss.

Cole sighed and I could feel his muscles tense up. “Oh boy. Are you sure we can’t just sneak out the back door and go to the riverside?”

“Unless your parents don’t know about that place and Jackie’s phone has terrible cell service she’ll find us no problem. We have to go, Cole.” I explained to him running my right hand through his hair getting some of it out of his bright green eyes.

He lowered me to the wooden floor and planted a kiss on my forehead. We still held hands coming down the stairs until we reached the third to last step. His parents and my best friend were standing in the kitchen with angry looks on their faces. “You wanted to talk with us?” Cole stated calmly.

“Do you want to explain to us why Jackie is saying she wants us to forbid you two to be together?” His mother Catherine scowled hands on her hips.

Cole pretended to play like he was clueless. “I have no idea.”

“Me either.” I shrugged my shoulders following along with him.

Cole's father glared at his son. “Cole, don't joke around about this. We know Jackie isn't a liar. So I'd suggest you tell us the truth.”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” I replied.

Jackie stomped up, ending up in between us and the Walter parents. “Come on, you two. I know that you're lying to them. I saw you two laying in his bed this morning!”

“Okay, fine. Yes we were sleeping together in his bed. But not in the way that you think I swear.” Holding my hands up I figured it would be safer if we only lied about the horse riding and kissing last night between us.

His father glanced at his son, leaning against the fridge. “Cole, just tell us exactly what happened and your punishment won't be as bad since we already learned about you sneaking girls out of the house without our knowledge.”

“Which will never be acceptable in this house ever.” Catherine waved her index finger at him.

Cole dropped his gaze to the wooden floor and I felt him reach for my hand. I wanted to support whatever he was about to say but I still drew back keeping my hands clasped together in front of me. “Look you guys, I am not hooking up with Y/n. I just hung out with her last night and she didn’t want to wake New York up so she slept in my room with me.”

“Fine, if that’s all you're going to tell me then let's get onto the part that I came up with.” Jackie turned on her feet to the Walter parents. “Are you still open to the ideas that I came up with for going behind my back?”

Catherine shifted her gaze between us. “Jackie is very upset that you two lied to her about this. So we have decided that you two are grounded here for the evening.”

“What-” I gasped, never being grounded before in my life.

Mr. Walter leaned his palms on the island. “And if you don’t get all the chores done then you can't go to the homecoming prep rally.”

“I didn't want to go anyway. “ Cole shrugged his shoulders not fazed.

Turning my head in his direction I admit weakly. “I want to go. I've never been at anything like that in the city.”

“Oh…” Cole replied giving me a guilty expression.

Jackie moved forward grabbing my arm and dragged me out onto the porch so we could talk alone about this. “Jackie, this is ridiculous. We didn't sleep together.”

“But you did do something with him. I can see it in your eyes, Y/n. You're closer to him than you were a few days ago. He reached for your hand I saw it.” She throws her arms away from her sides.

Dragging my hands down my face I groaned at her. This was getting ridiculous that she is so concerned for my heart. “Jackie, I don't want to be having this conversation with you. You also had no right to involve his parents in this.” I appreciate it the support. But I haven't had a boyfriend yet so how was I supposed if he would be bad or good for me.

“If you just tell me what happened last night I'll go inside and tell them I overreacted. You just have to tell me the truth.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Shoving my hands in my pockets I huffed. “I shouldn't have to tell my whole life story. You're supposed to just trust me since I'm your best friend and you consider me to be your sister.”

“If I consider you like family then there's no problem in telling me.” She pressed onward.

Stomping my boots into the gravel drive I snapped at her not being able to handle it anymore. “Urgh! You wanna know what happened between Cole and me…we kissed. We kissed after he took me horse riding to see the stars. That's what happened between us!”

“You freaking kissed him!” Jackie raised hee voice at the same time the front door opened and Cole walked past us seeing her death glare as he went straight for the barn.

Whipping my head around I ran toward the barn leaving my best friend ending our conversation with her. “Cole!” Leaning in the doorway with my hands on either side of the stall with his horse, he avoided my gaze brushing his horse.

“Hey Y/n.” He mumbled.

I opened the door coming to stand closer to him so he'd possibly look me in the eye. “Cole, please look at me. I didn't want to tell anything about last night. Last night was something that I wanted to be my own thing that no one could take away from me. But now she's made me put it out in the open.”

“It doesn’t matter that she knows about the kiss last night. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore we have chores to do.” He grumbled walking out of the stall and gently pushing me out of the way so he could lock the stall.

Spinning around in my boots I snapped back at him. “If you’re bring an ass to make my best friend right I don't like it. I already told you that I chose you when everyone else tells me I should stay away.”

“I'm not trying to make her happy. I am trying to stay away from you. But I can't avoid being around you.” Cole spun around on his feet getting close to me where there was almost no space between us.

I parted my lips eyeing the side of his jacket pocket where I knew he had slipped his keys inside before we went downstairs and clearly his parents didn't know. “Then let's run away somewhere they don't know about. Like Romeo and Juliet but obviously not dying.”

“Are you sure you're not a little afraid of any danger, Y/n?” He questioned me, focusing his green eyes.

Closing the gap I wrapped my arms around his neck pressing up against him as much as I could. “I'm choosing to be with you aren’t I Cole Walter. Danger can be my new middle name. So let’s run away for the night.”

“Running away isn't showing them I'm a good influence on you…But I don't want to be apart from you now.’ He declared looping my hand through his and he peaked around seeing that the lights in the house had been shut off meaning everyone was asleep. He led me to his truck and I climbed in hearing him Starr the engine racing away from the ranch.

Pulling out my phone I turned my location off knowing Jackie would track me. Leaning back in the seat I put my hand over his freehand. “You are honestly more fun then I'd thought you'd be, Cole.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you, Y/n.” He intertwined our fingers together and the rest of the drive through the night was comfortable silence with both our hearts racing with adrenaline and fear.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#cole x reader #cole walter #colewalteredit #cole walter x reader #requests open #noah lalonde #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #jackie howard #horse ranch #forbidden romance #star crossed lovers #romeo and juliet

[thespiritssaidso]

Him? Really?

Juliet was filling out paperwork from their last case when Shawn had grabbed her and lead her to the conference room, which was conveniently empty. Before she could get a word in, Shawn blurted out “I need to confess something.”

Still a little perturbed, but also curious, she asked “Okay? What is it?”

“Well. I’m kind of, for lack of a better word, crushing on someone here-”

Any anger she might have had leftover immediately melted away. “Oh my gosh, Shawn that’s great! Who is it?”

He winces a little and says “-You’re really not gonna like who I say.”

“Oh, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t know Jules…”

“It’s okay. Just- just rip it off. Like a bandaid.”

“Alright then.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s Lassie.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then-

“Put the bandaid back on.”

“Jules, what the heck?!”

“I’m sorry, that was completely uncalled for-”

“Yeah! It kind of was!”

“But… Carlton?”

“Yes, ‘Carlton’. Who else?”

“I don’t know. Literally anyone?”

“Oh my god.” He collapsed into one of the chairs, letting his head fall into his hands.

“What’s going on?”

They both startle, looking at the door of the conference room, which was now blocked by the head detective himself.

Juliet stumbled for an excuse. “Carlton! We were- Uhhmm- well- we were just- just talking aboutttt-”

“About…?”

“-abouttt that new taco place that just opened up!” Shawn helped.

She nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yes! We were planning on going there later.”

Lassiter raised an eyebrow, not looking thoroughly convinced.

“Well, I gotta, uhh, head out, Gus just called and there’s a client that needs… spiritual… help… Bye.” Shawn lightly pushed past Lassiter and quickly headed out.

He looked at Juliet, still confused, and asked “What was that all about?”

She tried — and only moderately failed — to act casual. “Oh, just Shawn being Shawn, I guess.”

—————————

Based on this prompt from @aut189

#I haven’t written anything in a while #but this was fun #I actually feel proud of myself for this one #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #juliet o'hara #shassie #🔮🔫 #psych #psych 2006 #psych usa #psych tv #psych tv show #psych show #psych fanfic #psych fanfiction #psych fic #toast tries to write #I wrote this with ‘More Than a Feeling’ by Boston stuck in my head

[user637363]

R&J

—pairing: jj maybank x reader, ex!rafe cameron x reader

—synopsis: you and jj maybank, star crossed lovers. you both knew it wouldn’t work out.

—warnings: DARK!, major character death, gun violence, falling from high elevation, angst, hurt, please read at your own risk.

“Where are you taking me?” You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet of the bell tower as JJ guided her up the stairs. They had just escaped Midsummers, the distant sounds of music and chatter fading behind them.

You was a kook, through and through—a fact that had shaped much of her life. Your parents’ business partnership with the Camerons had not only placed her in the inner circle of the wealthy elite but had also woven her life tightly with Rafe Cameron’s for over three years.

From the outside, their relationship seemed like a fairy tale—the kook princess and the kook prince of the island—but beneath the surface laid an ocean conflicts.

Three weeks ago, you made a heart-wrenching decision—to walk away from the person you loved, Rafe. Their relationship had reached a breaking point. You felt yourself slipping further down his list of priorities, you constantly felt like a second choice to his drugs and you just couldn’t handle that.

Rafe Cameron had fallen hard and fast for you, his love for you burning brighter than any flame. From your days as childhood friends to the years of your relationship, Rafe had been completely infatuated with you.

When you ended things, Rafe was lost. He had never imagined a life without you, you two’s bond seemingly unbreakable. The pain of your absence was like a physical ache.

When Rafe first noticed your presence among the Pogues, a surge of fury rippled through him. The mere thought of you associating with them, especially JJ Maybank, sparked a fire of jealousy within him.

Three days after your painful breakup with Rafe, you found herself reluctantly agreeing to meet Sarah’s new boyfriend, John B, and his group of friends. You weren’t wasn’t sure what to expect, your heart still raw from the end of your relationship, but Sarah had been insistent, promising that a day at the beach with the Pogues would be just the distraction youneeded.

As you guys arrived at the beach, your eyes landed on JJ, a member of John B’s group.

From the moment you laid eyes on JJ, you felt a shift deep within you—a stirring of emotions unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It wasn’t just a fleeting attraction, no, it was a deep, soul-stirring connection.

“Can’t you see, Y/n?” JJ chuckled, his warm hand enveloping yours as he tugged you along. “We’re going up the bell tower.”

You giggled, the sound echoing in the stairwell, your white silk strapless dress billowing behind you as you climbed the stairs.

“There.” JJ smiled as he showed her the place they were anticipating for.

It was at the top of the bell tower and it was covered in roses and candles with a picnic sitting on the edge.

“Oh my god…” You started. “It’s beautiful.”

With a smile that lit up your face, you approached JJ and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

As you pulled back slightly, Y/n cupped JJ’s face in her hands, her eyes locked on his. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the roses and candles, lost in each other’s gaze.

Unbeknownst to you and JJ, Barry stood at the bottom of the bell tower, his gaze fixed on the stairs, a sinister smile playing on his lips. He had been waiting for this moment, watching from afar as you and JJ ascended the tower, oblivious to his presence.

Earlier that week, JJ found himself in a desperate situation, needing money for his father's bail. The situation had driven him to seek solace in the last place he ever thought he would—Barry's house.

As he stood in Barry's dimly lit living room, the smell of weed heavy in the air, JJ knew that this was not where he wanted to be. But the stress and worry over his father had clouded his judgment, leading him to make a decision he would soon regret.

JJ had refused to burden you with his troubles, knowing that you were already dealing with her own challenges. He had wanted to protect you from the harsh realities of his life, so he had kept his struggles to himself, choosing to face them alone. Resorting to buying weed from Barry’s house.

JJ sat on Barry’s couch as he waited for Barry to return with the weed.

“Wait here for like 10 minutes,” Barry spoke to JJ, his voice tinged with annoyance as he answered a call. “I’ll be back, so don’t try any smart shit, got it?”

JJ nodded, not intending to do anything. Three or so minutes passed and JJ got up just to stretch but as he got up a floorboard creeped then dropped opened.

And in it? Stacks of cash. Had to be at least 20k to 25k.

JJ really didn’t want to do it but he had too, for his dad.

JJ’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, ensuring no one was watching. With a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder, he reached down and grabbed the stacks of cash from the hidden compartment, his hands trembling as he collected every single dollar.

He quickly stuffed the money deep into his backpack, his heart racing. With a practiced hand, he carefully replaced the floorboard, ensuring it looked undisturbed, as if nothing had happened.

Barry returned just five minutes later, handing JJ the weed as promised and setting him free. JJ breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be leaving Barry’s house without incident.

However, little did JJ know, this decision would come back to haunt him in ways he never imagined.

“Fuck this.” Barry whispered to himself and started to march up the bell tower. He knew that JJ took the money and wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily.

At the top of the tower, you gave JJ one last kiss before opening the picnic basket.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” JJ spoke. He wasn’t lying, in that moment you looked absolutely breathtaking. Your hair cascaded down in loose curls, framing your face perfectly, and the silk white strapless dress you wore accentuated your beauty, making you look truly majestic in the moonlight.

“Thank you.” You blushed.

JJ smiled at you. Just as he was about to take a bite out of his sandwich you guys heard a yell which made you two jump.

“JJ fucking Maybank!”

JJ recognized the voice and knew he was truly fucked. “Y/n?” he whispered urgently, his eyes wide with fear. “Just cooperate with me right now, okay? Don’t say anything.”

You took a shaky breath, your eyes locked with JJ’s as you nodded in response.

“Barry.” JJ spoke as he saw the man reach the top where there little set-up was.

“Well this is nice, ain’t it?” Barry darkly chuckled. “I checked out that little Kook party they was having. You wasn’t there.”

“Barry, please, not right now.” JJ pleaded.

“I want my damn money!” Barry yelled which startled you, making you gasp.

“Oh look what we have here.” Barry raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Rafe get tired of you?”

“Leave her out of this.” JJ’s jaw ticked in fury. “I’ll give you back the money. Can we have this conversation another day.”

Barry scoffed, reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a gun.

“No!” You let out a choked sob, desperation lacing your voice. “Tell me how much money he owes you. I’ll give it to you!”

"Y/n, I said stay out of this," JJ demanded, his tone harsh and commanding. He knew that you were only trying to help, but he also knew that involving you further would only make things worse. He needed to handle this situation on his own, no matter the cost.

Barry, his gaze fixed on JJ, kept the gun pointed at him. "Mrs. Country Club ain't going to help you here," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Barry, ignoring your pleading sobs, kept inching closer to JJ, who in turn kept inching backwards. A standoff between predator and prey.

“Sad it has to end like this, huh?” Barry seethed, his voice dripping with malice.

“JJ!” You screamed, your voice filled with terror as JJ took one last step back, teetering on the edge of the tower.

It all happened so fast. Barry didn’t pull the trigger, but in that moment, he might as well have.

You watched in horror as the love of your life took his final step, teetering on the edge of the bell tower before falling into the abyss below. Time seemed to slow as you stood frozen, unable to comprehend what was unfolding before your eyes.

The world around you blurred as tears filled your eyes, your heart shattering into a million pieces. The sound of his body hitting the ground echoed in your ears.

“J!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

You turned back, expecting to see Barry, but he was nowhere to be found. That bastard had escaped, leaving behind only his gun.

You quickly bent down, grabbing the gun before running down the steps of the bell tower. The echoes of your screams and sobs were loud.

Each step felt like an eternity as you raced down the stairs, the weight of the gun heavy in your hand. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care.

Once you reached the bottom you you him.

You saw JJ lying motionless on the ground, blood seeping out of the back of his head.

Kneeling down beside him, you reached out a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back from his face.

You sobbed as you took JJ into your arms, the torn fabric of your white dress clutched tightly in your hand. With trembling hands, you pressed the fabric against the back of his head, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

But it was useless.

“Y/n/n…” JJ’s voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make your heart ache with longing. Another sob escaped your lips as you looked down at him, his smile so gentle and full of love.

“JJ… you’re going to be okay. Just please stay with me.”

JJ’s slowly nodded eyes as his gradually opened and closed.

“Keep your eyes opened, please.” Your voice croaked. “Don’t give up on me… stay.”

“I love you.” He spoke gently.

As his eyes met yours, he offered a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle nod, he conveyed his understanding, his acceptance of what was to come.

“I love you too, JJ. We can tell eachother that everyday if you just stay.”

But deep down, you knew it was too late. JJ was slipping away, his grip on life growing weaker with each passing moment. You wanted nothing more than for him to stay, to hold you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay.

JJ nodded again. But it wasn’t convincing.

You continued to press the torn fabric into the back of JJ’s head, your hands shaking with grief and desperation. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you tried to stem the flow of blood.

Then it happened.

He closed his eyes.

“JJ?” You choked out, your voice trembling with fear and sorrow. You shook him gently, hoping against hope for some sign of life. You checked his pulse to feel anything.

Nothing.

“Help! Someone!” You screamed, your sobs taking over. “Help!”

You were screaming, the sound raw. Tears streamed down your face, your body racked with sobs as you collapsed beside JJ’s lifeless body.

The love of your life just died in your arms.

It didn’t matter to you if you had only known each other for 3 weeks. The love you shared with JJ was unlike anything you had ever experienced. In those 3 weeks, you had shared more moments of joy, laughter, and love than some people experience in a lifetime.

You just couldn’t picture a life without him.

As you were sobbing, your eyes fell upon it.

Barry’s gun.

You could almost hear the voices of your friends and family.

You’ve only known him for three weeks.

You spent the last 16 years without him, he’s not important.

But you didn’t care. The pain of losing JJ was too much to bear, and the thought of facing another day without him was unbearable. The love you felt for him consumed you, driving you to make a decision that you knew was final.

With a steady hand, you pressed the gun to the bottom of your chin, your heart heavy with sorrow but you were adamant in your decision.

Memories of JJ Maybank started swarming your mind.

Their first memory to their last. Everything.

You locked the gun.

“I love you, JJ Maybank.”

Then everything went black.

#rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #romeo and juliet #ex!Rafe Cameron x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank obx #rafe cameron obx #Sarah Cameron #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

"Why are you reading Shakespeare fanfic"

Maybe i'm just sad ok. Maybe i like the idea of Othello not having to deal with Iago's shit. Maybe i like watching Hamlet be a college student. Maybe i like Romeo dying painfully while Juliet lives happily. Maybe i like the idea of Lady Macbeth fucking me. Let me live.

#shakespeare #william shakespere #hamlet #romeo and juliet #macbeth #othello #shakespearean tragedy #lady macbeth #romeo montague #juliet capulet #desdemona #tragedies #tragedy #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 fic #plays #my post

[katiek101]

Graystripe and Silverstream are two very selfish cats and I can’t wait to explore that in my one-shot (two-shot?).

#they’re literally the cat versions of Romeo and Juliet #they’re the epitome of young and in love #thinking that love is enough to conquer all #they don’t consider the consequences #they jump in head first and reckless #and in the end that love is what kills Silverstream #I’m obsessed w them tbh #y’all aren’t ready for that Gray/Silver renaissance #Graystripe #Silverstream #FAB #warrior cats #fanfiction #warriors

[margowritesthings]

ROMEO AND JULIET: II

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧.

series masterpost part I

pairing: low honour!Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll!reader (f) word count: 5107 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, low honour Arthur, rough sex, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), blood play, knife play, gun play, touch of cnc, dirty talk, degradation, enemies while lovers, violence, murder, choking, low honour Arthur being sexy af (yes it needs its own warning) authors note: okay, it's been a whiiiile for these two crazies, but part 2 is finally here!! i gave this one my all, i hope y'all enjoy <3 i have a plan for this series that's mostly built on requests ive received, so if y'all have any suggestions please feel free to drop them in my asks!!<3 as always thank you to my darling Bea for being my cheerleader throughout getting back to writing. couldn't do it without ya <3beta read by @cowboydisaster

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola

Thanks to Arthur, and your own terrible decisions, it is far from the easiest ride back to camp, your bare, sticky skin uncomfortably grinding against your saddle with each movement your steed makes. Also thanks to Arthur, ironically, it isn’t the roughest ride you’ve ever had. You’d actually be hard pressed to find a harder ride than the one you experienced just minutes ago. It infuriates you, how unbelievably satisfied you feel despite everything. It’s bone deep and unlike anything you’ve felt with any of the other men you’ve been with. It even dopes your mind up enough to allow you to reach the bridge out of Saint Denis before the real regret sets in like a gypsies fuckin’ curse. 

You urge Tybalt, your snow white Arabian, faster, almost frantically squeezing your calves and verbally ordering his gallop. The saddle burn is searing, but it’s not nearly as bad as the ice water that feels as though it’s being dumped over your head when you realise what you’ve done. 

Arthur Morgan.

Arthur Fucking Morgan.

Fucking Arthur Fucking Morgan.

You don’t even really remember how it happened. It’s a complete blur of pleasure and pain and the smell of Arthur’s smoky breath and the feel of his calloused hands against your softest, most sensual parts. One minute, you’re gathering information, planning just how you’re going to loot the bastard, the next you’re bleeding for him, burning for him as he takes you under the orange glow of the streetlights.

The wind whips at your cheeks painfully, the skin of your thighs ripping against the hard leather of the saddle. The faster you ride, the more it hurts, but you’re grateful for it. It's the perfect punishment for what you’ve done, a painful distraction from the thoughts plaguing your mind of you fucking someone who considers your father’s killer a father to him. To add insult to all the injury, you have to go back to camp empty handed. You didn’t even think about the job Morgan is probably off finishing right now after finishing you, which is probably exactly what he wanted.

“God fucking dammit!” you scream out into the swamps of Lemoyne, scattering a few birds from the trees into the inky night sky. 

Tybalt carries you home, but in your current state you simply cannot face your family and the other gang members. It's 4am before all the lanterns are distinguished and you can finally hitch up and bring yourself to enter camp, tying Arthur’s jacket tighter around your waist and walking as quietly as you can back to your tent. You don’t sleep, despite longing for nothing but your cot the whole time you were waiting. 

Your jeans burn faster than expected. 

If only you could burn the rest of the night to ashes just as quickly.

═══════☆═══════

It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen Arthur Morgan. Actually seen Arthur Morgan, that is. Three weeks of good old Uncle Colm handing you the shittiest jobs as punishment for your failings. Three weeks of trying so damn hard not to bring yourself back to that night every time you’re alone in your tent, but finding it near impossible. It takes 9 days for the bruises on your thighs to fade and 14 for the cuts on your neck, though the constant reminder of your sins lies just on your inner thigh, where Arthur’s knife ripped your skin as you came undone in his arms. The scar shines in the candlelight, only seen in the dead of night when you’re alone, shamefully tracing the same lines Arthur did with your fingers over and over, chasing that rush you know deep down you won’t find without him. He haunts you, and yet you’re infuriated each and every time his cocky goddamn smirk somehow shows up in your deepest fantasies. 

It’s not your fault. You can’t even get yourself off without brushing against the mark he left on you. Hell, he may as well have branded his name into your leg. Bastard.

These are the grievances you grumble to yourself near nightly, the battle you fight with your subconscious even now, as the lock to the gunsmith’s clicks open in your nimble hands. The old door screams out the tale of years without oil for its hinges when you push it open, stepping inside into the dark, empty room. You’re far too focused on everything you shouldn’t be focused on right now to check over your shoulder before slipping inside, but in your years as an outlaw that mistake is yet to cause an issue.

The moonlight streams through the windows, the panes casting shadows of crosses on the shelves and the weapons adorning them. Your tired eyes scan your surroundings, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lip at the sight of those beautiful weapons, all yours for the taking.

The owner of the store almost certainly lives upstairs, so when the weight of your boots on the wooden floorboards makes them creak underneath you, you wince. Yes, you’re more than prepared for any disturbances, but you’d rather not have to deal with the hassle of shooting some guy in the face. A quick job, in and out, and you can get back to camp victorious and not think about Arthur Morgan.

You start with the ammo, loading the leather bag up with all the little boxes. The shells and bullets make such beautiful music to your ears as they clatter around their cardboard boxes, a song of abundance and a successful loot that you could listen to all night. When all the side pockets are full, you turn on your heel, spurs scraping against the wood as you begin to survey the shelves upon shelves of weapons. They appear to be organised well, the rifles in one corner, repeaters next to them, there’s an entire wall of pistols, some glinting in the moonlight that breaks through the dusty window, with all the other types delegated to an area of the shop each. It’s a beautiful sight for an outlaw, especially when you see the cabinet of knives and start to imagine all the different places you could shove them into Arthur’s ridiculously muscular body…

You’re getting off topic. 

The floorboards groan under your weight again the moment you start pacing the shop to grab at least two of each kind of gun. For each that goes in the bag for camp, you grab another, ever so slightly better one for yourself. You’ll carry them out separately and tie them up to Tybalt once you’re out of this place. That’s the plan, at least. 

It takes you the longest to pick out the knives, each one possessing a captivating reason to be your favourite. The carvings on all of the different handles are stunning, each blade almost glowing right to their pointed tips. Guns are great, but you’ve always been fond of the art form of blades. You reach for one, an ornate dagger that seems to shine brighter than the others, its handle carved into a beautiful, twisted scene. There’s a woman in the middle, flames wrapping around her legs and waist as the Grim Reaper holds her from behind. The detail is incredible, each bony finger of Death himself gripping into the woman’s hip. It almost takes your breath away, but something beats it to it. Someone beats it to it. 

“Aw, shucks, I caught another stray!” Arthur exclaims, all sarcasm and bravado as your gasp gets stuck in your throat. How the hell did he sneak up on you? You can’t even breathe without the wooden floorboards threatening loudly to collapse in on you. 

You set your jaw, grinding your molars and letting out a long sigh through your nose. You don’t turn around to face him, not wanting to look at him for fear everything will come racing back again.

“Fuck off, Morgan. This job’s mine. You’re too late.” 

He takes two long strides forward until he’s right behind you, which you only know thanks to the buzzing of energy tickling your back. How you can feel him without actually touching him, you may never know. But you do, and it clouds your mind something awful. 

“Now now, little stray. Don’t we share jobs? I seem to recall you tryna’ claim some of my takin’s a few weeks back.” 

Your grip on the ornate handle of the knife gets tight enough to turn your knuckles white, but you still refuse to face him, telling yourself it’s so you don’t have to look at his stupid face and absolutely no other reason. 

“And if you’ll recall, I took nothin’ from you.”

“Not for lack’a tryin’, princess. I think we both remember just what I had to do to you to stop ya’...” he taunts, low and gravelly. It vibrates against your back.

Even with your back to him, you can picture so clearly exactly what shit eating smirk he wears right now, as Arthur reaches up to the nape of your neck, running his knuckles so softly down each vertebrae of your spine, melting your very bones. For some reason, you allow yourself a moment- just a moment- to indulge in it, to let that tingling feeling spread like ripples in a pond crafted by his hand, before the immense effort you have to put in to not moan audibly slams you back into reality. You spin to face Arthur, braid whipping the air around you from the speed of it as your new weapon is pushed against Arthur’s throat, the tip threatening to slice open his jugular.

“Now you listen here, Morgan, and you listen good. That night never happened. You had a knife to my goddamn throat, you took whatever you damn well wanted from me and I’ll be damned if you take one more single fucking thing. Now get out of my fucking sight and let me do my job.”

Despite your white hot rage, despite the sharp metal nearly being forced through his windpipe, Arthur is still smirking, and by god if that doesn’t throw more fuel onto your burning fury. He scoffs a laugh out, swallowing hard enough for his Adam's apple to push back into the blade, making a point that he isn’t in the slightest bit scared of you. When he leans in, your arm follows, your resolve to slice his throat open dissipates into the thick air. Arthur reaches up, wrapping thick fingers around your wrist to pull it down away from him. For some reason, a reason you’ll spend an eternity searching for, you let him, you chest rising and falling as you attempt to merely exist without the growing tension cutting you apart limb by limb. His breath tickles your nose, and his lips are so close to yours you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, but he stops no more than half an inch away from you.

“You know I took nothin’ from you that you didn’t freely give me, little stray.”

The insinuation shatters that lie you keep telling yourself, the version of events where Arthur forced himself upon you and none of this is your fault. You know he’s right, but admitting that to yourself would break you, does break you. But you can’t break in front of him, can’t allow the slightest crack for him to prise open and reveal your true self. You hate him so much, that much is the truth, but there’s so much hiding behind that veracity that you can never allow to see the light of day nor the glow of the moon. 

You grit your teeth, jaw painfully twitching from the strain of working the muscle so hard since Arthur’s presence has begun to drown you. The fire in your eyes burns threateningly, but it’s taking more and more to keep it aflame the closer Arthur’s wandering hand gets to cupping your cheek. Without breaking the stare tethering you together, you reach up with cat-like reflexes to grip his wrist, stopping him just before contact is made.

“Get out, or I’ll scream and everyone will know you’re here.”

You’re at an impasse yet again, Arthur clutching your wrist with a near bruising force, you gripping his with his hand suspended in the air. It’s silent, save for the deafening buzzing of electricity cracking between you. Arthur chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest and reaching the depths of you.

“You think that’s a threat, woman? Scream in fear of me, scream for me while I take that pretty little cunt of yours again, it don’t matter. Ain’t nobody gonna come runnin’ to save you.”

He lets go first, because he knows your threats are empty. He knows you’re clenching down tight on your molars because it’s the only sensation distracting you from the heat pooling between your legs and he knows you want him just as much now as you did that night in the alleyway. Arthur Morgan always gets his way, it would seem. And you’re no different. 

You don’t expect him to release you, so the silence between you fragments and slices you when you drop your blade to the ground with a loud clatter. Anybody upstairs definitely would have heard that, and you’re infuriated that Arthur is ruining the first decent job you’ve been given in weeks, as much as your anger is overshadowed by… other sensations.

“We’re… we’re trespassing. They’ll call the law, ain’t you a wanted man, Morgan?” There’s no integrity to your words, no more fire, only an apprehension that you pray to god he can’t detect. 

He sneers, “And you’re here to what? Clean this bastard’s floors? C’mon, O’Driscoll…” At that, Arthur kneels down, picking up your discarded weapon. He drags the blade lightly up your inner thigh, making it all that much harder to suppress the little moan building from the sensation. He spins the dagger so that the blade is in his hand, offering it back to you. You look down at him while you take it, enjoying the sight of the notorious Arthur Morgan kneeling before you like this more than you could ever admit to yourself. “You know we’re just as wanted as each other.” 

His words strike a chord. A lonely chord, in a lonely song of two lonely souls who can never let anybody else in. In your line of work, closeness is danger, it’s risk and it’s not worth it. Nobody outside could ever understand… except him. You know the stories of the Van der Linde gang, of Arthur and his son and suddenly it all makes sense, why he’s chasing you like a hungry cat after a mouse. It’s the same reason you didn’t stop him the first time, the same reason you haven’t screamed like you’d threatened to, the same reason why you’re going to let him do this all over again. That closeness… you need it, even if it is with a man you can’t bring yourself to stand. You’re just as wanted as each other… just not by anybody who matters.

He watches in real-time as you realise all this, as you figure out that the man you hate most in the world is the only one you could possibly let in. It’s maddening, infuriating, and now you need a distraction. And you’re going to take it. 

You meet each other's eye, spotting the challenge hanging between you to see who will be the first to break. You feel the tension infiltrating your body, stealing the breath from your lungs and setting your skin aflame and you know the only way to stop it isn’t through extinguishing the flames but fuelling them. You need to burn with Arthur until there’s nothing left but ash and soot. 

You spark, while your oxygen gets ever closer. Arthur takes a few slow steps forward, and it’s only when his smoky breath infiltrates your senses do you realise that despite everything, you have never kissed him. He backs you up against the display case until there is nowhere for you to escape, your lips so close you can nearly taste the whiskey on him. Your heart hitches in your throat, convinced he’s about to break the barrier you didn’t cross before. 

Arthur doesn’t kiss you, instead growling deep in his chest as he sniffs, trailing his nose from your collarbone to your jaw. You shudder, your shirt suddenly feeling much too tight on your form.

“W-What are you-”

“Exactly what you want me to, little stray.” He whispers, “Or should I-”

“No. D-Don’t stop, I-” 

He doesn’t let you finish your request, knowing exactly what it is before the words can leave your lips and you’re grateful, it means you can hold full deniability after the storm just like you did last time. Arthur grasps your collar in each hand, tearing your shirt apart and scattering your buttons across the floorboards. Your nipples feel the cool night air only for a moment before one is taken in Arthur’s mouth, the other pinched between his calloused fingers. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you feel the heat and moisture pool in your underwear at the very thought of what's to come. You need more. Now.

Your nails dig into Arthur’s shoulders, pushing him to his knees before you with a force enough to bruise him. It is an addicting view, Arthur kneeling for you, and it’s not one you’re about to pass up again. His hands are quickly on your belt, unbuckling it to access your buttons and zipper to slide your jeans and panties down your legs. Clothes discarded, he grips into your thighs and spreads them, diving into your heat like it’s a source of oxygen. There’s no teasing, no featherlight touches nor gentle licks… no, he takes your clit in between his teeth, the sharpness shooting everywhere as he begins to suck. It catapults you. To where, you have no idea, but it’s incredible, otherworldly, and enough to make you instantly forget where you are. You mewl, tugging at Arthur’s locks as he begins to lap your juices up like a man starved. Say what you will about Arthur Morgan- and you do, often- but by god does he know exactly how to make you feel good. 

You’ve never had a man take you like this, with you standing above him while he bows to you, and it takes near everything you have to not let your legs buckle beneath you. Somehow, you know Arthur would catch you, but you’d rather not find that out right now. 

“Fuck…” you breathe out amongst moans and whimpers, hips bucking against Arthur’s face. His stubble burns against your thigh beautifully, each and every sensation of the moment working harmoniously to send you to dizzying levels of pleasure. You ride Arthur’s face, bare feet pointed on your tiptoes to allow him better access as you climb closer to nirvana. Your nails scratch hard against his scalp, wordlessly letting him know just how close you are, silently demanding he doesn’t dare stop. Arthur sucks hard on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, his teeth catching it every so often in the sweetest pain you’ve felt in… well, about 3 weeks. It hurtles you over the precipice you’ve been dangled over, and you have to bite down on your lip so hard you draw blood. A coppery taste blooms over your tongue, your only sign that you’re still human despite the unearthly, ethereal sensations burning every inch of your body inside and out. 

When you reach what you assume to be the peak, the very edge of what you’re sure a human body can handle, the strength of your bite becomes no match for the need to moan out. It echoes around the room, a positively obscene sound that you can’t even really hear over the rushing of your own blood in your ears. 

“Quiet, goddammit.” Arthur grumbles, all but slapping his palm against your open, quivering mouth. Just as you think you’re about to come down from this immeasurable high, you feel two of Arthur’s thick fingers run over the part of your soaked slit that isn’t consumed in between his teeth. It’s the only warning you get before he plunges them deep inside you, curling to find that swollen spot he seems to have a map to. No barrier on this Earth or otherwise could stop the scream derived from pure ecstasy escaping your lips. The combination of the delicious suction Arthur has on your clit and the curved pumping of his fingers is a completely new level of euphoria. You feel so full before Arthur’s cock has even broken free from its denim confides and you’re not sure how much more of this relentless orgasm you can take without collapsing into him. 

You reach a crest higher than you thought possible, crashing back down into this realm as if your body is nothing but seafoam. Your chest swells with each laboured breath you’re finally allowed to take once Arthur removes his hand from your mouth, though you still can’t really see straight. Your mind is fuzzy, still trying to wrap itself around the concept that anyone could make you feel that good, so Arthur already has his zipper undone and is reaching to pull his cock out before you’ve even registered that he has stood.

After three weeks of Arthur only existing in your mind, you’d convinced yourself that your memory couldn’t possibly be accurate, that over a few lustful nights alone in the dark you’ve managed to exaggerate… but no. Arthur is, as much as you loathe to admit it, magnificent. Just as thick as you remember, with veins that wrap around his shaft like ivy throbbing with pure need. He’s almost too big, your overstimulated cunt seems to think, widening your eyes in awe to watch when Arthur begins to palm his leaking cock.

“I-I don’t think I can-“

“Oh yeah you fuckin’ can,” He grits, giving you no time to catch up with your own racing heart as he grips your thighs, lifting you up to perch on the glass counter of weapons and spreading you wide. Arthur surges up, spearing into you. He wastes no time, he needs not warm you up; after such a blinding orgasm, you’re already soaking for him. He feels your arousal, mixed with his own residual spit, coating his cock as he slides in up to the hilt. He groans viscerally, leaning right into the crook of your neck so his breath burns your skin. He takes your flesh between his teeth in a sharp, pinching bite and you yelp between mewls. Tears form in the corners of your eyes from the pure stretch and invasion of Arthur filling you so wholly, but you’re too far gone into this cloud of sensation to care if they fall. 

“See how much you need me, little stray… how much you fuckin’ need this cock, huh? Actin’ like you hate the big bad wolf, but I feel how your cunt weeps for me, how it wraps around me while I fuck you senseless.”

Your inner thigh is left with a burning red handprint when Arthur releases it to reach and rub hard circles on your clit. It makes it so hard to meet his eye without your own rolling to the back of your head in bliss, makes it near impossible to argue back when you can already feel another orgasm approaching, but your stubbornness persists enough to let you try and struggle out an argument.

“I can enjoy your cock and still hate you, wolfie.” 

Your less than affectionate nickname earns you a harsh slap against your clit, the pain bouncing through your every inch in the sweetest pain you could imagine. You cry out again, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth as Arthur continues to relentlessly pound into you. You’re sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, or ride for at least a week, but it’s a small price to pay for something so fucking good.

Neither of you are holding back, moaning into eachothers mouths, inhaling eachothers breaths, growling for each other and just barely avoiding your lips touching. You don’t hear the ceiling creak, nor the stairs groan under the weight of the gunsmith on his way to see who or what is making such grotesque noises in his humble little shop. All there is in this moment is you, Arthur, and his glorious cock fucking you insensible. Your ass burns from the friction of rubbing up against the glass display case, even more so when Arthur releases your other thigh to reach for something at his hip and the case is left to hold your entire weight. You see nothing but your big bad wolf, grunting and growling deep as you climb ever higher with him.

“What in the-”

BANG 

A gasp is ripped from your throat with the gunshot ringing in your ears. Your heart couldn’t pound any harder without breaking free of your ribcage, but a swift look to your left shows that you’re in no danger at all. Arthur’s arm is outstretched, smoking pistol pointed to the air above the now dead gunsmith. He doesn’t even look away from your face, contorted in such bliss as he continues to dangle you over the edge. He killed a man while buried so deep inside you, his victim’s blood now splattered across both your faces like crimson freckles. 

There’s no time to mourn, or even acknowledge, as grasps your jaw hard between his thumb and forefinger and forces your eyes back to him. The blood sprayed on his features suits him, you think, but that makes sense for the big bad wolf. The way he takes a life with such ease… it terrifies and enthrals you all the same. Your pussy squeezes around his shaft involuntarily at the thought of watching him kill again and again just to fuck you just that bit longer, at the idea that those measly mortal lives pale in comparison for his need to be inside you. 

“Oh, fuck, Arthur I’m gonna-” 

You’re cut off by a sharp slap to your cheek, and it burns so beautifully. The blood on Arthur’s hands smears across your skin, tainting you, body and soul. His hand quickly returns to its bruising grip on your cheeks, and you feel the heat of the pistol in his other hand pressing into your stomach. His finger isn’t near the trigger, and somehow you don’t think he would hurt you with it, but you suddenly realise the danger you could be in right now. You and Arthur hold a long-standing feud, your respective gangs have been fighting for even longer than that. The outlaw just executed a man ruthlessly for simply being in the wrong place, his own property, at the wrong time, and now he holds your life in his hands, literally. There is nothing stopping him from widening those jaws and consuming his little stray right here and now…

And what a way to go it would be.

You can’t bring yourself to care, can’t let the fear serve any other purpose than to pump the adrenaline around your veins and carry you back to the climax you’re searching for.

“Gonna cum, little stray? Come apart for me all over again? Hate me all you want, you n’ I know what you do for me when we’re all alone. Cum, little stray. Now.”

And you do. You come apart not with a fizzle but a bang. A blinding, screaming bang, where your limbs tighten around Arthur and your skin fizzles at any contact. He never stops his thrusts, each one seeming to renew the sensations spreading around your whole body like waves lapping and crashing against you. The gun presses into your flesh, serving as a reminder of the danger Arthur is capable of inflicting, yet it only heightens everything. You moan into his ear, your tongue running across his lobe not by design but because you have completely lost control of yourself. In this moment, you’re Arthur’s. And you feel too fucking good to even worry about it. 

The fear that he could snap your neck with so little effort, or pull the trigger of his gun and blast you to bits, lingers, spurring on your frantic movements while you grind needily against his own thrusts. Part of you wishes he would, so the both of you could find some twisted hellish realm where this union makes sense and you can rule it, together. The big bad wolf and his little stray. It’s an alarming thought to have, but who could blame you? If the devil himself could make you feel this good you’d bow to him too, weapons or none.

Arthur’s movements become sloppier, less controlled, and his grip on your cheeks tightens. He’s close, while you’re still riding your high. There’s a sharp aching where the gun presses hard into your ribcage, giving your future self the perfect excuse as to why you didn’t make Arthur pull out. He curses loudly, though it comes out more a growl, before biting hard into your neck. He surely draws blood with the force of his teeth against your skin, but it’s difficult to find it in you to care. He’s pounding you so hard into the glass you’re worried it’ll smash beneath you, but being shredded by broken glass seems an easy punishment for the sins you’ve committed again with this man.

You both come down together, glistening with blood and sweat and tears. Arthur remains in the crook of your neck, exhaling hot breaths over your skin. There’s a few seconds of a silence only broken with exasperated gasps, and then a wince when Arthur slides out of your drenched cunt. Now you can actually think straight, your hand shoots to your swollen lips at the sight of the deceased gunsmith beside you. Arthur is covered in blood, and you’re no better, but by God does it suit him. 

Having not gotten fully undressed, save for resting his jeans below his hips, Arthur takes no time at all to right himself, holstering his gun and pulling his jacket over the bloodstained shirt. He looks over to you, the harsh shadows cast by the moon only exaggerating his smirk. It takes everything you have not to flinch when he reaches for you, though the panic quells when he runs his thumb gently over your jaw, leaving a scarlet trail in his wake.

“See you on the next job, little stray.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #low honour arthur morgan #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption #romeo and juliet

[aut189]

Your prompt:

Shawn, texting Juliet : Juliet ! Help I’m being kidnapped

Lassiter: Where are you?

Shawn: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help.

Juliet : I’ll call Lassiter.

Lassiter, answering their cell: Y’ello?

Juliet : Where’s Shawn? They texted me that they were being kidnapped.

Lassiter: Shawn? Whaddya mean, they're right next to me-

Lassiter:

Lassiter: I’ll call you back. *hangs up*

Lassiter: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD!

Shawn: WHO ARE YOU?!

#juliet o'hara #shawn spencer #psych fanfiction #psych #fanart #carlton lassiter #vid edit #my writing #psychedit #escape room #flash warning #inccorect quotes #inncorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #instead of sleeping #incorrect psych quotes #shassie

[ao3-shenanigans]

Fanfic Game

I spun the wheel :3

This fic title makes for such a funny image

Fic: Gay People <3 by thetisming

Recommend by: @thetisming

Fandom: & Juliet

Chapters: 2/2

Word count: 1,330

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50526724/chapters/127642882

I have never heard of & Juliet before so I’m excited to see what this is :D

#feel free to read/play along #this feels a bit like a book club lol #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 shenanigans fanfic game #ao3 shenanigans #fanfic #fanfiction #& juliet #reading

[corvuschronicles]

finally gonna make a post better explaining my real fake psychic shawn spencer au so this might be a long one bc in the past it was mostly rambles as i came up with ideas and trying to make them fit together

i am in the process of actually writing a fic for this and it’s looking like it may be the first part of a 3 part series, below the cut are a lot more details to give context to my au

okay! couple of important things for the overarching universe:

the supernatural exists! though the population is not as prominent as it once was, so the supernatural world learned to adapt and stay hidden, basically for every 20 claims of something supernatural only one is real, and obviously some cities have higher populations compared to others

because of the dwindling population of the supernatural and the growing population of the mundane, it is expected that both would intermingle, so it is actually a lot more common than you’d expect for people to have supernatural bloodlines, though it is often insignificant enough that it doesn’t matter. sometimes that is not the case. sometimes people are born into still active bloodlines so they grow up in that world and sometimes people never know that they even had supernatural blood, let alone that the supernatural exists. sometimes, even though someone’s bloodline may be dormant (and they are or are not aware of the supernatural) unforeseen circumstances can sort of jumpstart said bloodline

with or without knowing it, people with supernatural abilities or bloodlines tend to gravitate to each other

there are few rules that the supernatural community follows, the most important being to not expose themselves to the mundane

within the supernatural community there are different categories; creatures/those with creature blood (vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters), those with abilities (psychics, druids, witches), sentries (those tasked with keeping the supernatural hidden, and hunters (mundanes who became aware and choose to fight it)

explaining the name, real fake psychic:

when he first started working for the SBPD shawn faked being a psychic to avoid arrest

after season 4, shawn has an encounter with the supernatural that essentially gives him real psychic abilities

he keeps up his fake psychic charade because he can’t really say ‘hey guys i was faking it before but guess what? it’s real now!’

now i will go a little into some of the changes/headcanon/general facts of some characters in my au, starting with the main man

shawn:

he’s mexican! this is not central to the story really but it’s my headcanon so i will work it in because i can

somewhere down the line there is maybe some kind of long forgotten supernatural family member, meaning shawn has supernatural blood

the combination of his childhood and eidetic memory and genius is all him but it definitely gets a small push from his possible bloodline, especially in how he visualizes

after The Incident™️ shawn gets real psychic abilities, at first it’s vague and he doesn’t know what’s happening, but then things get too weird and even he can’t ignore it

true psychics are rare, a lot of people only have some aspects (like divination, clairaudience, etc) but of course, shawn ends up with more than the usual

his abilities, especially at the beginning and when they develop more, are rather painful because he is receiving so much more input now, leading to headaches at least

shawn getting real powers is the catalyst to those around him awakening as well, and now that he and the others are aware of the supernatural, it seems to be more present than they realized

gus:

he’s an amplifier

his ability is kind of a paradox, on its own it doesn’t do much because it is mostly dormant outside giving him the supersniffer, but once shawn awakens it causes a ripple effect, they are now in the supernatural world and as a result gus in turn awakens as well

he can amplify his and other’s abilities; this helps shawn because gus can help him focus on certain visions or to make sense of some things he sees, this makes shawn claim that his is now literally magic head

it is a paradox because without shawn’s powers gus’ wouldn’t have come through and gotten stronger, but he also helps shawn’s get stronger, it’s a loop

gus gets the dormant bloodline from both his parents

shawn is not the only one gus helps

juliet:

she is an empath

she is naturally an empathetic person but once she awakens it gives her more of an understanding that she never had before

juliet gets her bloodline from her mother’s side

once they all figure it out, juliet can also help shawn in a different way, as she can now feel the emotions coming through his visions

gus is able to help juliet develop her abilities more, and she develops a type of danger sense, which comes in handy in their job

her bloodline is weaker so she’s not the strongest empath, and her prolonged exposure to a shield made it harder for her abilities to develop as well

carlton

he is a nullifier

lassie’s ability is that he is essentially immune to the supernatural to a point, things like curses, jinxes, telepathy, etc do not work at all or barely affect him, most physical attacks would still work because he is still human (like poisons or tactile telepathy)

however, this also affects positive things such as blessings or good luck charms

his ability is like an aura around him, meaning that those close around him may be affected as well, such as o’hara who, as his partner, is often exposed and it put a hamper on her own abilities

shawn is also affected, but in a good way; the constant bombarding of psychic readings stop when he touches lassiter, and even just being around him can ease the headaches

this is eventual shassie

unlike the others, lassie is an anomaly, he has no actual supernatural bloodline, he is the first in his (recent) line

henry

he is a non-believing, non-aware, mundane person

he notices shawn acting stranger than usual, he also avoids coming to the house more than usual

he has his own Incident™️ in which he witnesses something that shows shawn is now telling the truth when he says he’s psychic

madeleine

is a whitexican; not exactly relevant other than the fact if goes with my mexican shawn headcanon

it is her side that had the supernatural bloodline

just like her son, if she were to awaken she would probably develop some minor abilities, most likely clairaudience

SBPD

for the most part, unaware of the supernatural

anyone born into or active in the supernatural community stays away from the police as they tend to live outside mundane laws and prefer to police their own

few key players in charge of or above the police may be aware or are a part of the community

the fact that a psychic and friends with abilities work for the police becomes controversial

chief vick is unaware but someone close to her is not

if anyone wants to add anything or simply ask questions or talk about feel free to do so! i love talking about real psychic shawn <3

#psych #psych usa #psych tv #real fake psychic au #fake real psychic au #real psychic shawn spencer au #real psychic shawn spencer #shawn spencer #burton guster #carlton lassiter #juliet o'hara #shassie #henry spencer #madeleine spencer #supernatural au #psych fanfiction #shassie fanfiction #my writing #crow talks

[iustf0rlife]

writing a completely unhinged gossip girl / saltburn / the secret history / romeo and juliet jegulus fanfiction and fuck i'm excited

#marauders #jegulus #unhinged regulus black #theyre all unginged tbf #saltburn #gossip girl #the secret history #romeo and juliet #chaos #fanfiction

[c0mbatchameleon]

Hiii how y’all doing just here to drop a random snippet

The midnight lighting sweeps over James’ skin, casting soft shadows. Specks of glitter along his eyelids—no doubt Dorcas’ doing, damn her—twinkle like individual stars. A night sky painted over this sculpture of a face, of a boy. Eyes crinkled in laughter, cheeks blossoming.

The music is muffled, as if they really are underwater, at the bottom of some sea, and Regulus is swimming in it. The beat pierces through the waves, resonating in the floor beneath him and straight through to his chest. Or maybe that’s just his heartbeat. Or James’. Maybe the room is just one big heartbeat.

Regulus is so lost in it all he doesn’t notice when neither of them are laughing anymore.

James’ eyes, gold and glittering, sweep over Regulus’ face in interest. “Who did your makeup?”

His mouth feels dry as he replies, “Pandora.”

James raises a hand gently and hesitantly, holds his fingers out by the younger boy’s face, like the iridescent lines sloped across it have some sort of pull. “Can I?”

Regulus holds his breath. And nods.

He watches the pure wonder strewn across James’ expression as he softly traces the lines—beneath his eyes, across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, above his eyebrows and then below. It’s a ghost of a touch and it’s leaving trails of white-hot flame. Regulus keeps himself as still as possible, breaths shallow, like the slightest movement might scare him and his touch away.

“So pretty,” James murmurs, so softly it’s not clear if he knows he said it out loud.

“Uh- yeah,” Regulus stutters, “she’s good at makeup.”

The tracing continues dangerously close to Regulus’ lips as James speaks in almost a whisper. “Oh. Yeah, the makeup too.”

#from a Halloween chapter in which James is dressed as the 90s leo dicaprio Romeo #there is no Juliet. just Sirius as drag queen Mercurio #mercutio** #I j feel like that’s important information #anyways so much to do so little time as always #counting down the days until I graduate….. #unnamed physics fic #writing stuff and things #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus fic #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fanfiction

[godsmenusuperbowl]

Romeo's Sun ~ *Lee Minho*

Summary: You were the sun and he was your moon. It was a star-crossed love affair. However, your families are determined to pull the two of you apart, no matter how much you love each other...

Pairing: Lee Minho X Fem!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2346

Warning: mentions death, star-crossed lovers, triggering topics, s*icide ideation, hurt no comfort, slight character death

Masterlist

Taglist: @plutonieve @mxnsxngie @maeleelee @kpop-will-kill-me

A/N: I absolutely love this story, you have no idea.

To him, she was the sun. 

As cliché as it sounded, Minho had never met someone who was as vibrant and as lovely like the sun as her. There was never a dull moment between the two of them and she was never without a smile. To him, she was everything and more, and he was determined to stop at nothing to be with her forever.

It was the rumors that made his blood boil; the itching, prickly, unceasing thorns in his side. Ever since he was a child, Minho has heard about her family and what filthy, good-for-nothing lowlifes they were. Despite their considerable rank in society, they were always looked down on others with scorn and contempt. He just couldn’t understand. How could someone as vivacious and dazzling as Y/n be from such a terrible family? Despite all of the nasty rumors, she never let them dampen her sparkle, which she wore proudly for everyone to see. Nevertheless, no one bothered to give her so much as a glance.

Which is why Minho was so confused when he saw her in the royal ballroom on his twenty-fifth birthday. He knew his parents would never invite her family to such an important party, so why was she here? It was because of this question, he knew he had to speak with her immediately.

“Your Highness.” She dipped a polite curtsy as he approached, a small smile still on her lips.

He gave her a bow, a bit less formal. Offering out his hand, he said, “May I please have this dance? I’d like to speak with you.”

It perplexed him even more when she accepted so readily. Most women would play coy, and tease or flirt. But not her. She agreed as if it was her right to dance with him, though many would disagree with that sentiment.

Before he could even open his mouth, she spoke, “I know what you came to talk to me about. You’re right, I shouldn’t be here. You’re also correct in the fact that my parents, well really my father, is a no-good, rotten, scoundrel. A forged invitation, that’s how I got in here. The outfit is a stolen dress and some questionable costume jewelry, as my parents are bankrupt and one coup away from being run off their land. Is that all you were wondering about or do you have more you’d like to discuss?”

At first, he couldn’t find the words, not after she so candidly answered the questions he didn't get the chance to ask. His jaw flapped open and closed several times, which wasn't very princely of him. Nevertheless, he managed to choke out, “Why did you tell me all of that?”

Her smile only brightened. “I do so hate rumors, don’t you? I thought I might as well clear the air, since you seemed so adamant to speak to me.”

“I see.”

“So, do you still wish to speak with me? Or have I lost my mysterious charm?” It was remarkable how quickly her sincere smile shifted into a cheeky grin.

It took a brief pause before he nodded. “Yes, I would like to talk to you. Not only has your story captivated me, but you appear to be an excellent dancer as well.”

Her laugh mixed with the music of the ballroom in perfect harmony, making his smile grow. “Why thank you. You’re quite light on your feet yourself.” After a particularly robust turn that settled back into gentle swaying, she added, “But I suppose you say that to all the ladies to charm them, yes?”

His smile turned fond, before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “No, only you.”

Not only was he pleasantly surprised, but slightly cocky in the fact he could make her blush so prettily as he did.

Minho didn’t think she would leave such a lasting impression on him. Yet, he was already desperate to see her the very next day.

From there, their relationship blossomed. Before either of them realized it, they had slipped into a courtship. However, neither of them seemed to mind. If anything, they were happy with how easily they got along.

Until one fateful day…

“And what was so urgent you needed to meet with me right away?” She asked, her angelic smile glowing despite the setting sun.

He rolled his eyes, his hands covering her eyes. “It’s a surprise! Just be a little patient please.”

She chuckled. “Well, judging by the tone of your voice, I think it might be a good surprise. So, I won’t have to murder the crown prince.”

“I’m not sure if I should be relieved or offended.” He chuckled.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see if the surprise is worth it or not.” She mused, her smile still cheerful.

“Alright.” He finally stopped. “I’m going to remove my hands, but keep your eyes closed!”

As he gently lowered his hands, her eyes remained shut. He took a step back before taking a deep breath. It was a vain attempt to try and calm his nerves.

“Okay, open them.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped, a hand rising to her mouth. Before her, she could see the sun sinking behind the mountains, a beautiful waterfall tumbling from their rocky cliffs and feeding into the river before her. She marveled at the fireflies that danced between the willow branches overhead that also dipped down to brush between the wildflowers at her feet. It was truly a magical sight to behold.

“Oh, Minho. It’s like a patch of heaven on Earth.” She breathed, her voice delicate with emotion.

“Perhaps you should turn around then.”

“How could I do-” Her words caught in her throat.

He was so thankful his proposal turned out the way he planned it. The perfect setting for the perfect person. It took months to plan all of this out, but for his sunshine, all of his work was worth it to see her expression shining down on him, just like the sun she was.

“Y/n, you make me the happiest man in the world. Title or not, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else in the entire world. Will you do me the honor of marrying me, so that I may make you happy for the rest of your life?”

“Oh, Minho, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Tears flooded her eyes like diamonds before she too knelt down to kiss him. And they stayed there all night, together in blissful harmony.

But the sun cannot always shine so brightly forever. Dark clouds of trouble were brewing a storm neither of them were prepared for.

On the day he was to announce the day of their engagement, Minho's parents forbade the union and refused their son access to the outside world, so that he may see her again. Nevertheless, he resisted. He snuck out as often as he could and wrote letters even more often. He hated being away from his sunshine like this and he made sure to tell her so.

“I’ll come for you.” He vowed to her one night by the willow tree where he proposed. “As soon as I am King, I will come for you and we shall be married that very day.”

“Oh Minho.” She breathed, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she embraced him tightly. “I love you so very much, moonlight.”

“And I love you so very much, sunshine.”

As the days continued to drag on, the more and more anxious he got. He knew he couldn’t keep her waiting forever. Even though she swore loyalty to him, he knew her parents or his for that matter would do something drastic to split them apart for good. He was terrified of the plans that he did not know about. He couldn’t let anything happen to them, no matter what.

But fate had other plans. 

There was a visitor in his study.

Never in his life did he expect to see the sun so dull and lifeless like he saw that day. And yet there she was, staring out the window, a blank expression on her face.

“Y/n.” His voice was no more than a gasp. “Sunshine, you’re here! How, why-”

“Your Highness.” Her voice was emotionless and precise. She only called him his title once, when they first met. She was never this formal with him, ever. “I have to give you something.”

“What-”

The ring hit the table, echoing in his mind forever, his heart shattering along with it like glass. It just couldn’t be the truth. She couldn’t mean it. It wasn’t possible.

“Sunshine, I-I don’t understand.” He breathed, barely moving as she stood.

“I’m afraid I can’t marry you. I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but it’s better this way.”

“NO!” For the first time ever, he raised his voice at her, making her flinch slightly at his tone. “No! It’s not better this way! Y/n, we can fix this, please! I know we can! Please don’t give up on us. I don't want to give up on you. I don’t want this to be the end, please. Sunshine.”

She sighed, looking away. “Goodbye, Minho.”

As she was almost to the door, he whirled around to speak to her once more. “Just tell me one thing before you go. Through this whole thing, from the first moment we saw each other to the day I put that ring on your finger, did you love me? Even just a little bit? For even the briefest of seconds, did you ever love me?”

He could just barely hear her gasp before she shook her head. “No. I never loved you.”

And with that, she was gone. His sun had disappeared behind dark storm clouds. He fell to the ground and sobbed for a very long time.

It was well past midnight when the anger hit him. No, he knew for a fact that she loved him. All of that time they spent together, there was no way she could fake it for that long. Either his or her parents put her up to this and he was not going to stand for it. He made up his mind to go find her and get married just like they planned before all of this happened. 

And no one was going to stop him this time.

He raced to her house as fast as he could. He didn’t care about the valet who was trying to stop him. He needed to find her as soon as possible and then they would be gone without a trace.

However, he found something else entirely. Her father and someone who looked to be a royal guard were drinking in his study. They both appeared to already be drunk.

“…Apparently the wedding is canceled, which doesn’t do me any good.” Her father grumbled.

“And why is that?” The guard asked. “With the Prince out of the picture, her reputation is ruined and she’ll be penniless, alone, and miserable forever, just like you wanted.”

“Well I had concocted a new plan.” He growled, “When that nosy little Prince got engaged to her, I planned to reveal her true identity at the reception. You know she’s nothing but a bastard child.”

“No! Really?”

“Yes. Some whore from a brothel in some nameless town is her real mother. I didn’t intend to keep her but I assumed she’d be useful sooner or later.”

The guard nodded. “Very wise of you.”

Her father gave a smug smile. “It is, isn’t it? After that, I assumed the King and Queen would disown their son due to the scandal and the shame he’d bring. Of course, it’s no skin off my nose if the two of them killed themselves afterwards from the ostracization they’d receive, which I had planned out as well. With no heirs, the kingdom goes to the next in line, and I’ll be damned if that isn’t me. I’ll see to it that every adversary coming after my throne is quickly eliminated.”

Minho gasped. Her father truly was the heartless monster in all of the rumors he heard about her family. To him, it didn’t matter that his sunshine wasn’t a legitimate child. He still loved her with all of his heart and soul, no matter what. But to see that her father planned to kill both of them was truly despicable. He really had no time to waste, causing him to dash down the hall, missing the last bit of their conversation.

“Right now, she’s in her room asleep. I had her chloroformed since she wouldn’t stop crying about her precious moon or whatever it was. I plan on dumping her in an abbey or a river tomorrow.”

Her bedroom door swung open, yet she didn’t stir. He was too late. The deed was done.

He choked on his sobs as he stumbled to her bed. He couldn’t believe it. She was dead. Really dead. His sun snuffed out for all eternity, leaving nothing but tears in his eyes that sparkled just like her eyes in the sun. He couldn’t believe it, but after what he overheard from her father, he wouldn’t put it past him.

What could he do now? Where does he go from here? Why didn’t he come find her sooner?

Minho couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. A cold numbness overtook him and silent, overwhelming sadness made him tremble. Now what could he do?

There, next to his hand, the answer sat. A bottle with a dark, forbidding elixir called out to him. It would be so easy. Quick uncork the bottle, down the whole thing, and then the sun would return. It would be too easy.

Taking it in his hand, he whispered a promise into the cold night air:

“I would much rather die in hatred than live without your love. I wish we could become flowers when we meet again. I will not become the fool who was sacrificed by destiny again. Even if destiny separates us.”

The cap came off.

A gasp.

“Wait.”

#Stray Kids #Stray Kids Fanfiction #Stray Kids Oneshot #KPop #KPop Fanfiction #KPop Oneshot #Stay #Lee Minho #Lee Minho X Reader #Lee Minho Fanfiction #Lee Minho Oneshot #Lee Minho Angst #Lee Know #Lee Know X Reader #Lee Know Fanfiction #Lee Know Oneshot #Lee Know Angst #Romeo and Juliet #Romeo and Juliet AU #Royalty #Royalty AU #Oneshot #Angst #Fluff

[thespiritssaidso]

Psych fanfic requirements:

At least one pineapple

“I’ve heard it both ways”

“Gus, don’t be-”

“You know that’s right”

Maybe a pineapple smoothie

“Come on, son”

Gus and Shawn bickering

Shawn and Lassiter bickering

Just bickering between all of them in general

This list is in no way complete. Add on as you see fit.

#psych #psych tv #psych show #psych tv show #psych 2006 #shawn spencer #burton guster #carlton lassiter #juliet o'hara #psych fanfic #psych fanfiction

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: percy finds a new favorite song

word count: 415 words

a/n: "hey juliet" by tufts beelzebubs has been on my percabeth playlist and lives rent free in my mind, so i decided to write a tiny little thing about percy with this song, set probably somewhere in between the second and fourth book. ideally, you could even listen to the song while you read the fic.

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @jedi-nurse {if you’d like to be added to my percabeth/pjo taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Hey Juliet

 Percy didn't usually listen to this kind of music, but this song in particular caught his attention.

 That's a huge deal, actually, at least for Percy. Not a lot of things could reliably catch or hold his attention. Usually he'd start listening to a song, and then his mind would wander, and then he'd find himself seven tracks ahead of where he was without having even noticed a thing about the songs he missed.

 But Hey Juliet by Tufts Beelzebubs was apparently an exception.

 He wouldn't go telling any of his friends that he liked a capella music now. At that point, just tell your friends you sing Broadway hits with your mom and watch opera on the weekends; you'll spare yourself some embarrassment.

 But this a capella song was a bit different. It was fast. It had a good beat. The audio had multiple parts to listen to— several people singing or making background noises at once, and the fact that there were multiple things to focus on held Percy's attention. He'd often throw it into the background on loop when he was doing his homework, giving him something to occupy the back of his brain while the front of his brain focused on his studies.

 But every now and then, he'd stop his work and listen to the words.

 "I just want you to know, I wanna be your Romeo. Hey, Juliet…"

 "I never got the big deal with Romeo and Juliet anyways," Percy mumbled, "some guy wrote a hard-to-read-play about two people who love each other so much that they die? What's the point?"

 But he knew there was a little more to it than that. Something about Romeo and Juliet's parents hating each other, but that those two main characters loved each other anyways, which apparently was interesting to most people.

 Percy Jackson, however, was not like most people.

 "That's actually ridiculous," Percy thought, "that would be like if I fell in love with the kid of one of my dad's rivals, like... like one of Athena's kids… like… oh shoot."

 He winced as one of Athena's kids came to mind: Annabeth Chase.

 "Yeah," he thought, "it would be as ridiculous as me falling in love with Annabeth."

 But ever since that moment, every time Hey Juliet came on, he found himself with another thing to focus on— the thought of Annabeth smiling at him, and the idea that maybe having a Juliet wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #percabeth #hey juliet #tufts beelzebubs #kazzy writes #fic #fanfiction #percabeth fic #kazzy borrows uncle rick's sweater #otp: the rivalry ends here

[polarisbibliotheque]

Dante gets drunk and confesses to his s/o that "everyone I love and who means something to me dies horribly" because he's a Son of Sparda. Next mission he comes back, emotionally drained and just depressed overall. Soon his s/o come over and after pampering with a warm bath, washing his hair, giving him love and the whole nine yards. He asks quietly, why? To which his s/o comments that whoever's gonna try to kill them, has gotta bring an army and tons of reinforcements. (1/2)

So, this one has been sitting on my asks for SO LONG, and now I finally got the time and inspiration to make it happen. This idea is so lovely to me, because I do believe some interesting things would happen with drunk Dante and Vergil - angsty ones and funny ones.

Therefore, this one will be the angsty. But do wait for the funny one, 'cause dear, now you inspired me to write drunk Dante and Vergil antics ;)

Thanks a lot for the ask and the ideas!! I hope you like how it turned out ^^

Dante & Vergil getting angsty drunk and their s/o comforting them

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Drinking could bring either two things to the Spardas: fun or sudden visions that could open the Pandora's box inside their hearts. When that happened, you were the only one able to soothe the fear of losing their loved ones... Again.

WARNING: There's drinking as an unhealthy coping mechanism, the mention of the reader knowing someone who would turn to drinking and become completely different (not detailed) and in both stories, they have visions of their s/o, the reader, lifeless. It's stated exactly like that, but if this is something that bothers you or if you're sensitive to imagining that, I advise not reading this one. Next one will be more chill and upbeat!

Author's notes: I gotta say, I loved writing both of them. I picture their s/o a will powerhouse just like them, so there's a lot of that. Also, I listened to two songs in repeat while writing, I recommend listening to them! Never Fade Away (shdsky remix), by shdsky; and Burn, by The Cure.

They encapsule the heartwrenching feeling they have and I blame the angst and intensity from Vergil's on The Cure

Dante

Saying the Sparda family had no healthy way of expressing their feelings was a huge understatement.

Dante would constantly complain about Vergil – after all, most of their problems came from Vergil being extremely powerful and broken by the trauma of their past. If only he had gone to therapy, a lot would have been avoided – at least, that what Dante would say.

But it seemed like your red devil failed to see he himself needed therapy. You knew he was on a long path of healing – and a lot more healed than Vergil, who had just admitted he needed help and couldn’t be self-sufficient forever – but that didn’t mean Dante had already found a healthy way to cope with his inner demons.

Figuratively and literally.

When things got too bad, Dante drank to forget. But he also enjoyed drinking with you to have fun – he was all about keeping his mind occupied so he wouldn’t let the quietness settle in and let the demons come out from the dark, creeping towards him with their silent fingers and taking a hold of his heart.

That night, it had started for fun. He didn’t keep too much alcohol in the shop, but he always had an emergency bottle of whisky laying in his desk’s drawers.

“Well, well, have I ever told you how beautiful you are…?” His cheeks were flushed, and flirty Dante mode was on. He sat by your side on the couch, keeping one of his arms around your shoulders and his nose a little bit too close to your face.

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at that goof.

“A thousand times, Casanova.” You answered, trying to get a little distance in to look into his beautiful sky-blue eyes. Dante observed you with adoration and a sincere smile on his lips, as if every word you said sounded like the most crystalline and new music note he had ever heard. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are here?” As you asked, you touched his chest, above his heart. Dante’s adoration just seemed to grow, as if you had never touched him in your whole lives. “I love the entirety of you, but your soul… Your soul is brilliant, red devil.”

“Sheesh, babe, if ya keep talkin’ like that, I’ll get all flustered!” Despite his words, Dante leaned on your head, touching your forehead with his. He always got giggly and didn’t quite understand personal space when drunk.

Not that you cared – Vergil, in the other hand, always threatened to stab his inconvenient brother. Used to being around him, it wasn’t a nuisance to you.

“I don’t think you can ever get flustered, big guy!” You laughed back, rubbing your nose on his – that made Dante’s heart only beat faster. “But I mean it. Your soul is the kindest I’ve ever met. I love you endlessly, Dante.”

Your words met his ears in a whisper, still smiling as he kept his forehead leaned on yours. Dante’s heart, though, trembled with a thousand different feelings that, if he was sober, he’d know how to control.

As you left for a quick break to the bathroom, he poured himself another shot of whisky – seeing how the bottle was getting to an end. Dante lost count of how many days he drank bottles and bottles of whisky on his own, trying to forget his past, to let go of all the things that happened to him.

He didn’t see that kindness, that brilliant soul you saw in him.

You talked of him as if he was an angel, but Dante knew he was far from that – a literal half demon, bursting in anger with spiked wings and red fiery horns when he couldn’t restrain that animal inside him any longer. He had learnt to control it – and Dante controlled his demon with all his might, hating that part of himself.

Nevertheless, you saw something else. You saw the human in him, but you also loved the demon. And he couldn’t understand how – he knew it was the same way his mother fell for his father, but… Still. Dante couldn’t see all the beauty you saw.

His whole existence was cursed – a foul curse that ran in his veins, that came from his blood. The blood of Sparda. That was the reason for so much death, so much suffering. His father was a savior to humankind, the one who protected the world from demons and Mundus, but he had paid with cursing his name for eternity – bringing only pain and death to those who associated with it.

Eva died. Nell died. People who had relationships with him in whatever way died. He lost count of how many times he saw Vergil die – or even killed him with his own hands. Dante lost everything, over and over and over again. It was as if that night his house caught on fire and all he knew crumbled in flames and blood repeated itself every time Dante found his heart allowing himself to feel safe and welcomed – to feel a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be cursed until he died.

But then, it would all drown in blood and dust.

As his lips got wet with the bitter taste of whisky, Dante saw something right in front of his eyes – too real, too dangerous.

The Devil May Cry in flames. Him sitting on the floor, blood all over his hands. Corpses of the demons you had slain together lying at his feet. You, laying between his legs, your head cradled on his chest, lifeless.

Once again, tears falling from his eyes as all he had built up until that moment burnt down until there was nothing left.

“Hey, Dante…? Dear, are you crying…?” Your voice snapped him out of it, making Dante shoot his glossy eyes back at you – barely noticing a tear running down his face.

It was the first time you saw him so terrified.

“What happened?” You immediately ran to him, sitting by his side on the couch and taking Dante’s calloused hands in yours. Whenever your mind got hazy with alcohol, you prioritized whatever your heart told you should be put first – and that usually was Dante. Just like him, the alcohol made it easier for your feelings to overflow.

“Hmmm nothin’, I… I just… Damn.” Dante sighed, shaking his head slightly and looking down. He was trying to get those images out of his mind – but the feeling of having you in his arms while both of you were engulfed in flames was too real for him to let go that easy. His hazy thoughts wouldn’t let it go – and his heart… Oh, his heart would scream in pain every time he saw a glimpse of losing you like that. Just like he lost everyone else. “I’m not… Shit…”

“Memories again?” You took one of your hands to lightly brush his face, finding his teary eyes under his white hair. You brushed his fringe away from the sky-blue sea that stared back at you, overflowing even more as your silky touch found the rough texture of his cheek – caressing him so carefully, as if Dante was but a precious, fragile crystal.

If you kept like that, you’d break his heart. Dante wasn’t sure whatever lied in his chest was strong enough to take all that gentleness – it could take violence, but it wasn’t used to such a loving touch.

“Yeah… Old and new, babe…” He allowed himself to rest his head on your hand, as you cradled him with nothing but care. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t think about losing you. All those years, Dante had nothing and now… You were everything. This time, if he lost anyone he loved again, he wouldn’t survive. Dante was sure – it would be impossible for his heart to recover from you.

“New…? From what…?” Your brows furrowed as you kept on caressing his face. It wasn’t the first time you saw Dante like that: anxiety attacks and flashbacks were very common on your relationship and, by now, you knew how to deal with them whenever Dante fell into the abyss. You were the only hand holding him tightly and making sure to pull him back up – the only one to stay there and go through hell alongside him. “Was it that hunt we had the other day…?”

“No, no… I…” Dante sighed again, unable to explain. It was so easy for him to let other feelings out his chest: happiness, anger, complacency… But those? He had no words for it. No matter how much he tried, Dante couldn’t bring himself to let out that horrible scene for you… No matter how much alcohol. “I got… Kinda of a flashback… Of somethin’ that didn’t happen.”

“Hmmm… Was it of something that has happened, but with different people?” You tried, noticing how his sky-blue eyes, adorned with the redness of the tears, shot up at you.

It wasn’t the first time you noticed Dante worried about something happening to you. He had vivid nightmares sometimes and once, before waking him up, Dante was tossing and turning, screaming your name and holding his pillow as tightly as he could. He whispered something along the lines of don’t leave me, and you had an idea of what was going on. As you woke him up, Dante held you close in real life, as if that was going to keep you safe and sound.

“I… Damn, y/n…” Once again, he looked down, sighing heavily and shaking his head. Tears fell on your hands, but you didn’t let go of his. Dante had to understand you would be there, through hell and high water. “Everyone I love, everyone who means something to me, die horribly. It has been like that ever since I was a kid, remember?”

He pointed at the portrait of Eva he kept on his desk. It was a rhetorical question, you knew, but you wanted to say you would never forget. It was part of who Dante was, and, inevitably, it was part of your life too. The day you decided to stay with him, was the day your paths intertwined – and now, they couldn’t be separated, by any power of Heaven or Hell.

You wished he understood that.

“I’m not this knight in shiny armor you say I am, babe.” Dante’s eyes were tortured, and he had a melancholic smile that didn’t fit on his lips. “I’m no angel. I’m a demon who will burn everything on my path, spittin’ anger and blood. I’m no good for anyone… And hell, I don’t wanna lose you. Not you.”

“You won’t, Dante. I’m here. No matter what you saw, I’m here.” You took him into your arms as his tears found no resistance anymore. Crying on your shoulders, Dante held you strongly against him – as if that could keep any harm away from both of you. “And you gotta understand, you’re so much better than you give yourself credit for, dear. There’s no one else I could love in this world the way I love you.”

That would be a long night.

*

With his hair soaked in blood, the red veins flowed down Dante’s face like tears.

It hadn’t been a simple job, but it wasn’t a difficult one either. Dante had worse – but he also had better. He had been better. It seemed like the world had settled on his shoulders and it made his whole body heavier.

Good thing he didn’t have to carry Rebellion on his back anymore – or the walk back to the shop would have been a lot worse than it was.

His feet were practically dragging on the floor – not so much from his body being tired; the problem was his soul. Whenever those demons clutched his heart and mind, there wasn’t much Dante could do apart from going through it. Just like he did in Hell.

He couldn’t get that vision out of his head. The way you had felt in his arms as he cried with the fire engulfing both of you. Dante would have let himself be consumed by the flames – he wouldn’t fight anymore. Without you, he wouldn’t have the strength. Not this time.

Dante had always pushed through in his life – but now… Nero was around. He could protect humans in a much better way than he did. Lady and Trish could live quite well without him – Dante would argue even better than with him around. And Vergil… He had a lot to sort in his own heart. Dante believed without him, Vergil would turn to his demonic nature for good and never be seen again but…

He was tired.

Dante was tired of fighting. He had fought his whole life, tragedy after tragedy. It never seemed to get better, and he had to admit… He could only take so much. After so many years of holding his loved ones dead in his arms, Dante was getting to his limit.

If something happened to you, it would be the last straw. The last of his heart strings, breaking apart alongside with the string of your life.

Opening the door to the Devil May Cry, Dante managed to smile when he saw you sitting on his big chair, feet on the desk, magazine in your hands – just like him. He never thought his heart would grow so warm with something so trivial, but, like Eric Draven himself would say, nothing is trivial.

Losing y/n is just a matter of time.

That dreadful voice in the back of his head made sure to tell him that as you raised your eyes to Dante and smiled with a “hello babe”. Dante always lost everyone he loved. It was just a matter of time.

“Damn, you look like hell.”

“Yeah, those demons weren’t playin’ ‘round today.” Dante sighed back, lowering his head while kicking his boots off, in order to leave them by the door. They were covered in blood and dirt and that was rather annoying to clean – so you both created this rule of leaving shoes by the door.

“You need a shower.” As you left the magazine on the desk, you followed Dante with your smart eyes. He didn’t answer with his usual carefree voice – it was more of a strained tone. The tone of someone spiritually tired.

“Yeah, I know, babe…”

That was certainly out of character.

Without a word, you got up from your place and took Dante’s hand in yours. He stared at you, cluelessly for a while, before walking up the stairs alongside your steps.

He needed your help – and you’d be there for him.

*

“Babe… Don’t you think you spoiled me enough for today…?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dante remained shirtless, his wet hair occasionally dripping on his pants while you kneeled behind him and massaged the tense muscles of his back. His neck felt like a piece of wood, and you noticed how he groaned every time you ran your hands under his shoulder blades.

It felt like Dante didn’t know what relaxing meant for years.

“Hmmm. It’s never enough when it comes to you, Dante.” You had a calm smile on your lips, maintaining a soft tone to get him to relax. As your hands found another sore spot close to his neck, Dante groaned once more, lowering his head.

He couldn’t understand you. Dante would always believe wholeheartedly you could choose whatever wonderful life you wanted to have, but instead, you decided to doom yourself with him. Stuck in the Devil May Cry, until, inevitably, fire and destruction came to take you away.

You knew that. You knew how dangerous it was, how cursed he was. And, instead of running like any other sane human being, you decided to stay.

Not only stay, but shower his human and his devil with love. Dante would always be amazed by that.

“Why…?” Dante’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He wanted to hear from you, but he was also a little scared to know the answer. What if you stayed for reasons other than him?

You stared at his wet white hair for a while, still running your warm hands on his muscly back. Dante seemed to be the most confident man in the whole world, but he wasn’t afraid to show you how insecure he actually was. How scared. Dante had many demons in his head, and it took a while for you to build enough trust until he started to be so open about his darkest feelings.

And you knew what was going on inside his head. How he didn’t let go of the vision he had that day while you were drinking.

“Because my soul chose yours, Dante. It’s that simple.” You shrugged, still massaging his sore, marble back. “I’m not afraid of whatever curse you think is attached to your blood. I’m not afraid of dying from being with you. Whatever comes to threaten me better bring an army and tons of reinforcements, ‘cause I’m not going down that easy. You taught me to always keep fighting, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” With those words, you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your head close to his, feeling how your body seemed so small glued to his towering shape. Dante immediately held your hands close to his heart, tilting his head in your direction. “Those demons better know I’m human. I won’t stand down and I’m going to do everything in my power to live a great life by your side, babe. I am not going to die horribly in the hands of whatever creature who wants to hurt you, and if they attack me, I’m going to bring them all down. I chose to be with you and there’s no power in any world that can take me away from you now. That’s a promise, Dante.”

You couldn’t see how much his lips were smiling or how his eyes were tearing, but you could feel it by the way Dante held your hands as if they were the last lifeline connecting him to the human world. You nuzzled his neck, doing your best to cuddle his body against yours.

“I love you, y/n.” His voice was like a secret, even though the whole world knew that from his heart. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” You hugged him tighter, making him chuckle, even if just a little. “I love you too, Dante. That’s a promise too.”

As he intertwined his fingers with yours, Dante smiled. You weren’t one to break your promises.

Vergil

“Thanks for the ride, Lady. I owe you one.”

Stepping out of the bike, you gave Lady her spare helmet back as she winked in return.

“No worries, y/n! I might just transfer your debt to Dante!” Lady shrugged in a playful manner, making you laugh as you opened the door.

“It’s not like he has enough debts already, huh?” You shot back, provoking a mischievous giggle on her in return.

“It’s not like I don’t have fun with it!” Her answer was in a sing-song tune, as she pointed back at you before finally leaving. “Take care of that, though. You got hurt pretty badly this time, I’m gonna be worried.”

“You don’t need to be. I already got the world’s most protective and worried man right here with me.” It was your turn to wink back at her. “Vergil isn’t going to leave me alone while I’m not 100% recovered.”

“Well, he had to have at least one quality.” She muttered back, adjusting her helmet. “Don’t forget to call me!”

“I won’t! Thanks again, Lady!” You waved as the red motorcycle made its way through the darkness of the night.

While closing the door, you couldn’t help but to smile. Lady was a good friend, and you would always be grateful for the way she cared about the very few people she loved. She wasn’t the mellow type, but, in her own walking arsenal sort of way, you would still consider her sweet.

Your thoughts came to a halt, though, when you found Vergil sitting by his desk with an empty bottle of whisky on it. He was slouching over the table – something he usually didn’t do – with one of his hands entangled on his hair, while the other held an almost empty glass. His eyes were closed, but the way his eyebrows furrowed told you how much his thoughts were troubling him.

“Vergil, love. Is everything alright?”

You question was immediate albeit careful. You knew whenever Vergil’s thoughts weren’t too controlled, he was prone to flashbacks and instinctive self-protection. Startling him could be a death sentence – although, you were more scared of his memories of Hell than being accidentally hurt by his hands.

Vergil slowly opened his silver eyes, resting them on your form for a couple of seconds. You waited until he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes once more.

“I can’t sleep.”

Oh.

It was one of those days.

“For how long?” You left your boots by the door, calmly approaching him. You weren’t careful in your steps – you didn’t need too – but you didn’t want to make sudden movements. He needed peace, not chaos thriving around him.

His whole life had already been chaotic. Vergil needed to learn how to live in a healthy environment.

“Three days.”

You got seriously injured during your job with Lady exactly three days ago. You and Vergil were already used to each other being badly hurt during a hunt, but that didn’t stop you both from worrying about the other.

Sometimes, though, a situation like that could trigger some things Vergil usually buried deep inside his chest and didn’t allow them to come out.

“You need to rest, my love.” You laid your hands on his shoulders, feeling them tense under your fingers for a few seconds before relaxing under your touch. You placed a kiss atop his white hair. “Is that why you’re drinking?”

Vergil didn’t answer, just groaned as a confirmation. You took the glass from his fingers, taking a sip of the bitter liquor, feeling the alcohol burn down your throat.

“What’s the matter, Verge? Why can’t you sleep?”

Vergil just dismissed your question with silence.

He wasn’t used to sharing his worries – he had always seen that as a weakness. Vergil had learnt to be self-sufficient, going by his life on his own and burying whatever insecurities and fears he had inside his chest – smothering them in the hopes of asphyxiating those feelings and never hearing of them again.

But that was just a temporary solution, one he did to survive. He had been a survivor his whole life, watching everything around him burn and die. Vergil cut ties and bridges to people in order to shield his heart from bleeding over and over again, from hurting him so much. He could take only so much and, if he kept being hurt and having his feelings dilacerated in front of him again and again, there would be a day he wouldn’t survive.

This time, your injury provoked a nightmare. While on your job, you got hurt by an Angelo, a creature so similar to what he once was when Mundus made him just a pawn on an endless chessboard.

In his dreams, Vergil saw himself as Nelo Angelo once again. His eyes glowing in red, hands holding a flaming blue sword, towering frame inside his hellish armor. You called him, you screamed his name – he heard you, but his body wouldn’t answer to his commands. The house around you was burning down in flames, demons terrorizing whoever tried to approach you.

With each heavy step of his iron boots, you begged and pleaded for him to listen. You said all the beautiful things your heart had for him, proffered your favorite poems for his ears, but Vergil’s mind was being held hostage in a body that wouldn’t answer.

It was only when your lifeless body was laying on his arms that Vergil snapped out of it.

By his sword. By his hands. He was covered in blood, your blood. Vergil tried to bring you back, but you were long gone. He kneeled on the floor, cradling your body and crying his heart out, screaming desperately for that pain in his chest to let him breathe – just like the day his mother perished in his flaming childhood home, years prior. But this time…

It was his fault.

You were doomed to die, whether by his unconscious hands or hands of demons, since the day your lips touched his. The day you and him decided to allow your hearts to intertwine your paths, was the day you received a death sentence.

No one who came in touch with the blood of Sparda survived. Vergil was aware of that.

With that image haunting his mind every time he closed his eyes, Vergil decided not to sleep. It wasn’t much of a choice, but a defeat: he couldn’t bring himself to dream of something else. He couldn’t convince himself you were safe, and nothing would happen to you – he couldn’t stop desperately cradling your body close to his heart as his eyes closed.

He couldn’t sleep.

“You do know drinking won’t make the nightmares go away. They will be back eventually.”

Vergil groaned again, sliding the glass away from him on the desk. It was a rare sight, but he looked defeated. You’d say you were the only one in all the worlds allowed to see him like that.

“I had someone who would compensate with drinking. Whenever he did, he’d turn worse than all devils I met.” You decided to leave the comment around, pulling a chair to sit close to Vergil. He watched you with attentive eyes, clearly processing in his head what you had just said.

“I hardly believe a human can be worse than me.” His answer was preceded by a defeated sigh while you watched him intently. Vergil referred to his demonic blood – or he wouldn’t have deliberately said the word ‘human’.

“I beg to differ.” Your reply was almost a whisper, leaning on the table just like him, but taking your time to adjust Vergil’s messy hair back to the state he always liked when he was sober. “You are not a mindless aggressive creature when in demon form, even if you’d like me to believe otherwise.”

“But I have been a mindless hellish creature once.”

There. You finally got to the main issue in Vergil’s thoughts – you could see it in the way he took his eyes away from yours, fixating back on the table. He never really told you the things he went through as Nelo Angelo, and you never forced him to tell you. Vergil would say what he was comfortable saying – and he would keep to himself the things he was not yet ready to tell.

But of all the things that crossed his complicated mind, you knew your safety caused the most worry to Vergil – your safety from him.

It wasn’t a secret he believed you both were a love story fated to destruction – just like it happened to his parents.

“Once.” You threaded your fingers carefully through his hair, as not to startle him. You always had to ease him into physical contact – and Vergil would always be starved for it, whenever he finally welcomed your touch. “And even so, you are so strong, you broke out of its dominion over you on your own. Dragging your crumbling body to the only thing that could be your salvation.”

“Dante killed Nelo Angelo. I did not do it on my own.” Vergil’s mutter was bitter as the alcohol on the table, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the way you fondled his hair.

“It was Vergil who broke out of Hell and saved himself, even if in the most extreme way he found to do so.” Your hands were gentle, but your voice was now a bit harsher – mirroring the strength of the Dark Slayer. “He was the one to know what he was doing was probably a road with no way home, but it was the only way to keep himself alive. He kept walking even if his body was tearing itself apart, he grasped the very last sliver of hope he had. Not looking for forgiveness, not looking for absolution, but looking for survival. Not Nelo Angelo, nor Dante or Nero, not even Sparda. Vergil.”

His silvery eyes stared back at you in confusion and glistening with sudden tears as you told him what you thought about all the things he did. You didn’t apologize his many mistakes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to judge – what would you have done if you were in his shoes? Could you make better decisions, could you do the right thing after so many years of suffering, trauma, and torture, after being stuck in survival mode for the most part of your life? The average person would have never done the things he did, but Vergil was never average.

“You did many wrong things in your life, Vergil. But you survived. Your willpower isn’t to be toyed with and the amount of admiration I have for you is endless, love. You have to know that.” With that, you used your thumb to wipe a tear that decided to run over his sharp cheek. Vergil remained still, not really knowing what to do with all that – he was used to be called names, to be berated, humiliated, and even hated. He didn’t know how to react with being admired like you did. He didn’t know what to do. “I don’t think someone with that kind of willpower would accept another they see as weaker – and love, my will is as strong as yours. I have fought, and I have survived as well. All the legions of Hell would have to march against me to take me away from your arms. And I won’t say this is a promise, because those can be broken or changed like the phases of the moon – it is a fact.”

“Love…” Vergil whispered, finally taking your hand in his and running your palm through his face, following the pattern of your fingers with the tip of his nose, until finally placing longing kisses on your fingertips. His silvery eyes opened once again, focusing on you; his lips barely away from your skin. “These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder. The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness.”*

Not knowing how to express his thoughts and feelings – all those he had been trying to kill, asphyxiated in his chest for so long – Vergil recurred to the best way he knew how: poetry. As always, he knew you would understand what he meant… And there was only one way to answer.

“The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death.* I do not fear anyone who might come near me. They should fear me, love, for I will fight as bravely as you have – and there is no power enough to take me from you.” With those words, you pulled Vergil closer to you, looking deeply into his eyes – he would always be mesmerized how you wouldn’t be intimidated by them. Instead, you always welcomed Vergil’s sharp gaze, holding it with your own. “Thus, with a kiss, I die.”

You didn’t give him time to think – suddenly, your lips were on his, sealing your fate over and over again, every time you repeated that kind of affection with Vergil. Cradling your face gently with his hands, he soon retributed the kiss, trying to make you understand how much he admired your human strength and will – something he couldn’t put in words, but could try to express with actions, at least.

Vergil lived his whole life being feared in order to protect himself – whether by his name or reputation. Having you stand by his side not fearing neither, made him believe that maybe – just maybe – your love story wouldn’t go down in blood and flames like he was used to.

Maybe Vergil could finally know some peace… After all, you were strong enough for love.**

*Romeo and Juliet, by Shakespeare

**Ordinary Love, by U2

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #dante x reader #vergil x reader #dante imagine #vergil imagine #dmc dante #dmc vergil #devil may cry fanfiction #dante sparda #vergil sparda #dante x you #vergil x you #and here we go with more Romeo and Juliet for Verge again #please give 'em hugs #they need it