#diamond edge tour

[lesbiancarat]

when junhui dyed his hair purple to be fresh and cool like a grape and when he said if u stare into his eyes for 10 seconds you'll fall in love with him and when he-

#im in my jun loving hours again no one look at me #i legit think about these things all the time like #i just love him so much :(( #ngl that clip of him saying if u stare into his eyes for 10s youll fall in love w him might be my favorite jun clip #idk theres something about it #just realized these are both fron diamond edge era/tour #man that was a good era i wish i stanned them back then #melia.txt

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-eleven

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: for this one, no theories or what ifs. it's all from our owns personal experience which makes it cathartic for us and maybe some of you. MUST LISTEN TO EILEY BY TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH! DURING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. HEADS UP: there will be talks of suicidal thoughts throughout this chapter so please please please, read with caution.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake

READER

My feet took me almost in autopilot mode to the end of the hallway where the door urged me forward while my heart kept screaming at me to turn around; go back. The tears that gathered in my eyes were blinding me and I could barley see as I pushed through the door, quickly ascending the staircase. So many questions filled my brain and nearly knocked me on my ass, I had to grasp at the railing. I gasped for breath, my lungs being crushed by the weight of leaving him. His broken eyes begging me to come back, not to leave. But my own issues kept me from following my heart.

Why did I leave? Why did I fucking leave? Why couldn’t I just talk? Why did I leave him like that?

Those usually bright eyes filled with so much darkness and sadness, it made me stumble over my feet as I neared the door that led out to the roof of the hotel. The wind brushed around me in rapid waves as I came to a sudden halt in the middle of the roof. Even though it was four in the morning, the hustle and bustle of the city noise carried all the way up here.

Why was I so worried about a future I wasn’t even sure I was going to have?

My mind was clouded with images of Noah and how I left him I didn’t realize I was standing at the edge of the roof until my foot slipped. I cursed while steading myself on my feet and stared down at the passing cars. If I was being honest, I wish I didn’t save myself from falling.

As I stood at the ledge, memories of Noah and I played in a loop in my brain as the weight on my chest caved in. Two hearts that beat in sync but they could never be.

When he first stepped off the bus, taking all the breath out of my lungs.

The day at the zoo where he bought me the stuffed wolf; the one Trey tossed out of the bus in his rage.

Our afternoon at the beach where we had a heart to heart conversation, one of many, and it made me realize Noah was someone I could trust. He made me feel so free and alive that day; like the crow.

When he analyzed my lyrics that first night of tour in the green room and how passionate he looked.

A choked sob crawled out of my throat when the memory of the night we lost Keaton slammed into me. Then his funeral and how broken Noah was that entire day. I thought I lost him into the darkness that was grief but no, quite the opposite happened. My lips tingled as I remebered our first kiss, the one we shared that night.

I should have known how fucked I would be for Noah Sebastian from that moment.

“Fuck!” I screamed while falling to my knees, sobs plowing through my entire body.

My chest finally caved in, bones crushing into dust, as that negative voice that buried itself so deep within years ago continued to chastise me for my decision.

You’re a fucking idiot.

How could you leave him like that?

He begged you to come back. He wanted you to stay until the morning.

Did you expect him to be okay with never having a family?

What man doesn’t want a future like that?

I told you he wouldn’t want to stick by all that bullshit.

“Stop it!” I smacked my palms onto my forehead repeatedly to quiet the voices.

It didn’t work; they only got louder and more persistent.

I tried to tell you, babe. Being with him only leads to heartbreak.

“Just get out! Get out of my head! I beg, please, just get out! Get out of my head before I cave in!” I screamed, now digging my palms into my eyes.

I was absolutely exhausted and unbelievably unhappy. I hated myself and was so angry for what I did. Noah and I were so happy and to see him smile that grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling made my heart burn in my throat. The tattoos that covered his toned stomach with slight pudge in the center. Soft skin and a comfortable smell I wanted to be buried in.

A mochi. My mochi.

No, not yours. You walked away.

I ruined it. I possibly, could have, most definitely destroyed the best thing that could have happened to me, besides this band. My hands shook, my body, my knees were weak. I should have stopped by my hotel room to bring some alcohol with me on this venture up here but knew if Chase or Malcolm saw me, they’d want to know what happened.

Shit.

Everyone had to know by now what happened, I’m sure they do.

Oh god, what did I do? To hurt Noah was like walking on broken glass. I never wanted to hurt him.

But you did, you bitch, you did!

“Oh Keaton,” I sobbed on my knees. “I ruined everything. You knew him better than me, what would he have done if I told him the truth and stayed!?”

Besides Chase and Malcolm, Keaton knew about my secrets only because he was there when the pain was unbearable. He helped me through it. So now, in this desperate time of need and confusion, I called out to the one person who couldn’t give me an answer.

CHASE

“Fuck, what do you think happened?” Malcolm wondered while tossing on a sweater.

I quickly stepped into a pair of sweatpants then ran a hand over my buzzed head. “I don’t know. But whatever it was, fucked both of them up.”

His hands shook as he tried to type something out on his phone and knowing Malcolm better than anyone, I knew he was seconds away from his own panic attack.

“Steven,” he wiggled his phone. “He’s wondering if there’s anything they can do to help find her?”

“No,” I said a little too quickly. “Tell them to take care of Noah; we’ll take care of Y/N.”

She was our responsibility; we made that promise to her father years ago when he came to visit. He couldn’t watch after her so he entrusted us to. We failed with Trey; we let him burry his claws so deep into her and now we’re afraid that whatever happened with Noah we wouldn’t be able to get her back.

Malcolm realized that too because his hands shook and breathing became uneven.

“Hey,” I said softly while covering his hands with my own. “We’ll find her, we always do.”

“I know,” he swallowed. “I’m just-worried. She told me earlier that she was going by Noah’s room to hang out. I didn’t think-.”

I cupped his cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Why don’t you stay here in case, she comes back. I think I know where she might be.”

Malcolm eased into my touch, emerald eyes glowing from the moonlight casting in through the window, and if it was any other moment, I’d tell him I love him.

He knew already, but I still liked to remind him.

“I love you,” he breathed a long deep breath.

With a final kiss, I muttered I loved him back against his lips, before pocketing my phone and slipping out of the room. I didn’t bother checking throughout the hotel for her. There’s only one place she’d be.

The roof.

Y/N’s always had this fascination with behind higher than others. She wanted to feel like one of the Gods on Mount Olympus. But I didn’t doubt right now, she felt smaller than a peasant in past Athens.

The door to the roof was open, cold winds blowing down the fire escape stairs as I reached the top, eyes immediately landing on a figure curled up with their knees to their chest, sobs being drowned out by the noise from down below in the streets.

Panic set deep within my stomach as I neared her. “Y/N?”

At first my voice was quiet, so I said her name again, this time deeper; louder as I kneeled in front of her. “Y/N!”

Her eyes struggled to open due to how swollen they were from her crying, mascara running down her cheeks and staining her face.

“Sweets,” I sighed with slumped shoulders.

“Chase?” My name came out raw, a clear sign that her voice had gone horse; from what, I wasn’t sure.

“What are you doing up here?” I questioned while taking off my sweater and wrapping it around her shoulders.

She was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Her lips were blue from the cold of the predawn air and she shivered as I rubbed my hands up and down her arms.

“Oh, gods. What did we do?” Y/N cried while falling into my chest.

For a moment, I didn’t move her although I knew I needed to get her inside to warm up, but I decided another minute wouldn’t hurt. She needed that extra minute to let out all of her pent-up feelings and doubt. Something happened in that room between her and Noah tonight and I didn’t care how long it took, she would tell us what happened.

I hushed her cries with a soothing hand to her back, cradling her, until the cries lessened and her body went limp against me; she must have dozed off again. So lifting her into my arms, I carried her back down the stairs towards our floor and as I turned the corner, our room only two doors down, I stopped mid-step when my eyes landed on Steven and Matt.

Anger filled me for the briefest of moments but I tried to let it go. None of knew what happened so it wouldn’t be right for me to get upset with either of them. They weren’t in the room with Noah and Y/N.

“She okay?” Matt asked.

I nodded. “Found her up on the roof. She’s fucking freezing and I don’t know how long she was up there for.”

Steven sighed while running a hand over his tired face. “I’m glad she’s alright; given the circumstances. We’ll let the others know.”

Not bothering to say anything else, I stepped between the two of them so they could get a good look at how broken Y/N was; blue lips, puffy eyes, and face stained with makeup and tears. Noah wasn’t the only one hurting, she was too.

When I knocked on the hotel room door, I could physically see the relief fall away from Malcolm’s shoulders as he opened the door, letting me step inside.

“Get the blankets,” I motioned towards the bed.

He pulled them away so I could lay Y/N gently into the bed, both of us covering her with the mounds of blankets; and a few from the closet. As I stepped away to let her sleep, cold fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“Chase.”

My name came out broken on her chattering lips and I laid a gentle hand on her face. “Get some rest, sweets. We can talk in the morning.”

She shook her head. “No, I n-nee-need-.”

Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed next to her while I stood behind him. “What do you need?”

“No-Noah,” Y/N forced out through the chills her body continued to attack her with.

“Y/N,” I sighed. “He’s not in a good place right now.”

Her eyes glimmered with tears before they fell from her eyes in groves. “It’s all my fault.”

Malcolm tensed under my touch on his shoulder. “What happened?”

Y/N remained silent as she stared up at the ceiling for a few long beats then she turned over in bed so she could face towards us, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.

Now I kneeled down in front of her so I could look directly into her eyes. “You need to tell us what happened.”

Malcolm wiped away her tears as she let out an unsteady breath. “I asked him a stupid fucking question.”

“What did you ask Noah?”

There was a slight hesitation in her words. “Where he wanted to be in 10 years.”

Malcolm and I shared a look with each other, not sure how that simple question could cause this much damage between them. Y/N could read us like a book, from start to end, so she immediately knew what we were thinking.

“Noah said one day, he wants a family, a dog and cats and a little wooden house,” she explained flatly.

Then it all clicked into place, the puzzle of the night with that simple word; family.

That subject always had been a sore subject with Y/N so we never brought it up. We knew how hard she had to work for things, especially that, so it was understandable why she freaked out the way she did.

“Sweets, it’s alright,” I cooed while brushing the hair away from her face. “He didn’t know.”

Malcolm agreed with a nod while rubbing her back. “I’m sure if you talk to him about it, Noah will understand.”

Suddenly, she was pushing away from us and stumbling out of the bed, both of us watching her pace with worry in our eyes.

“You guys don’t understand the pain. You don’t know how he looked!” Y/N pounded her chest. “It’s like a huge hole has been punched through my chest. This pain is the reminder, he is real.”

“Y/N,” I cautioned while rising to my feet and slowly walked over to her. “Everything will be alright.”

She jerked her hand away from me. “No, it won't! I did what I always do, Chase! I panicked and ran away. I so badly wanted to stay. Fuck, you guys should have seen his face when he asked me to stay- the crinkles, the cheeks, so sweet I just- I can’t believe I did this. I’m so damaged, guys, so damaged.”

I stood there frozen, unsure how to console Y/N because we’d never seen her like this; so broken. Tears fell from her eyes as her chest caved in with each deep, stuttering breath. As Malcolm pulled her into his arms, I took out my phone and typed out a message to Nicholas.

I know what happened.

MALCOLM

“Are you sure you two will be alright?” I asked while adjusting the bag on my shoulder.

Chase nodded while wrapping a protective arm around Y/N’s shoulder; she hasn’t slept since he brought her back into the room just a few hours ago. She was running on fumes, we all were, but I knew the long day she had ahead of her. She needed every ounce of energy she could find.

“We’re mostly going to pick up Salem,” Chase said.

Fuck, the cat.

I cringed at the mention of Y/N’s cat; soul as dark as its fur.

“I swear that cat fucking hates me,” I grumbled while leaning closer into Chase.

He chuckled while leaning up to kiss me, since I was a few inches taller than him. “I would say thats not true but we all know it is.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll do my best to make sure he stays out of your guys’ room.”

I had to admit; it was really good to hear her laugh, even if it was a quiet one.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” I asked.

Her face flinched with my words but she quickly recovered. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

“Last call for flight 3E for Los Angeles. Now boarding.”

The three of us glanced over towards the group of people that were sitting in the same lounge we were. Nicholas was sitting next to Noah, who refused to lift his gaze from the chip nail polish on his fingers. Jolly was talking with Folio and when he felt us staring, Nicholas gave a curt nod to Chase.

Without Y/N noticing, he pulled out his phone to send a text to Nicholas. After we told him we knew what happened, we promised we would tell him everything; about Y/N, her condition, and why she left.

“Do you?” I asked Y/N, nodding towards Bad Omens.

She shook her head, not daring to look any of them in the eye. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” I smiled weakly. “Call me when you guys land, I want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Chase and I shared a kiss before I pulled Y/N into my chest, her arms wrapping around me.

“Thank you,” she muttered into my shirt.

It was hard for me to show affection but for her; I found it easier.

I placed a kiss on top of her head. “Anytime, buttercup.”

With a final wave towards the two people that mean everything to me, I turned my back and fell into line with the large group of others that were flying back to Los Angeles. I stood a few spaces behind Noah, who could barley lift his head up, the weight of what happened last night pressing down on his shoulders. Guilt ate away at my insides knowing that I could fix it but it wasn’t my place too. The part of me that needed to fix the bad with something good was overpowering. Any time something got too tense or awkward, I was always there to smooth it over with my humor; but this wasn’t one of those times.

“Hey.”

Turning on my heels, I gave a small smile towards Jolly. “What’s up, man?”

“You’re not going to Vegas?”

We both took a step forward as the line moved slowly. “No, I’m heading back to LA to get our new place set up.”

“Right,” Jolly nodded. “You’re only a few miles from us now.”

“Yea.”

Silence fell between us and I shifted on my feet, my anxiety about this whole situation suddenly becoming too overbearing. I felt as if my lungs were being crushed from the inside out. Knowing that someone I loved was hurting because of a choice they made killed me. I wanted to fix things. I needed to fix this. It’s what I’d done all my life as the middle child. I was there to fix my younger brothers smile when our dad hit him a little too hard. I was there to fix my mom when my dad took his anger out on her instead. I hated not being able to fix the division that stood between Noah and Y/N.

Breathe, Chase’s voice cooed in my mind. Deep breath in, long breath out.

“They’ll be alright,” Jolly’s voice broke me out of my inducing panic.

We watched Noah’s head lift finally from the ground as the flight for Las Vegas was called. His eyes danced around the room, searching for someone, but it was too late. Y/N and Chase had made it to the other end of the airport, their flight leaving minutes after ours. Defeat and possibly anger radiate off of Noah as he handed his boarding pass to the attendant behind the desk and grumbled his thanks before slipping down the long hallway towards the plane.

“She didn’t mean to break him,” I defended Y/N. “She’s going through something that takes a lot out of her every month. It’s a constant battle between what she wants and what her body needs.”

“I know,” Jolly nodded. “We’re here if any of you guys want to talk.”

I bumped fists with him. “Thanks, man.”

READER

There’s a thousand voices in my head, all saying the same fucking thing, and I hoped they didn’t take a rope around my neck.

Pathetic.

You can’t give him what he wants.

He won’t wait for you. He’ll find it with someone else.

I slammed the pillow over my head to smother the voices away. The darkness that clouded over my room did nothing to help the raging pain that pounded within the confines of my skull. Everything hurt and screamed for release but I did nothing. I’d rather let my body succumb to it than ease it because once the pain was gone, memories of Noah crept back in and I didn’t want to be reminded of what I did.

How beautiful his face looked when he asked me to say until morning.

How broken his face looked when I said no.

And how destroyed his face was when he begged me to come back.

Noah’s face haunted me every single night the last two weeks that I refused to sleep for longer than a few hours because I would eventually wake with a scream, his name echoing off my walls. The guilt of walking away sat heavy on my chest as I sat in bed, scattered pens, papers, and a fully charged laptop at my feet.

Rain pelted hard against the large windows of my bedroom and I sighed, knowing there was another full day of storm's head; figuratively and literally.

Salem’s soft meow broke me from my frozen trace and I picked him up from the floor to set him in my lap. He purred loudly as I scratched his head, letting the softness of his black fur calm my racing heart.

“I know Chase already fed you, stop trying to get second breakfast.”

It had been a few weeks since I moved in with Chase and Malcolm, all of us falling into living together quite fast, until the pandemic hit and forced us inside. I didn’t mind it, being holed up in my room with my writing and Salem, but Chase was going stir crazy. He was the social one out of the three of us, and knowing he couldn’t go out to see friends or even go for a hike was making him bang his head against the wall.

Malcolm, on the other hand, loved staying home. He spent the time writing music on his bass or baking bread. According to Chase, the first few batches weren’t that great, but he didn’t dare tell Malcolm that.

I stayed in my room most of the day, only seeing one of them when they occasionally checked in on me or brought me something to eat; like right now.

A soft knock on my door made me tear my gaze away from the page full of lyrics.

“Hey sweet,” Chase said while leaning against the doorframe. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head.

Salem jumped off of my lap and scurried towards the light that poured in from the hallway, clearly having enough of the dark somber of my bedroom.

“You have to eat something,” Chase sat at the end of my bed.

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them. “I’m not hungry. I’ll come down and eat something for lunch soon.”

“It’s almost six in the evening, Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been up here all day.”

Shit, have I?

Glancing to the clock on my nightstand, I realized he was right.

“Oh,” I shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

Chase pointed to the papers in front of me, a silent way of asking if he could read it so I agreed with a nod.

I wanna feel something. That's not the touch of your breath on my neck. I wanna feel something. That's not the weight of your world in my head. And all the walls are caving in.

“This is really good,” he mused while handing it back to me.

I simply hummed in response, not exactly sure what he wanted me to say.

“Anything else?” I asked after some silence, keeping my eyes trained hard to the rain splashing against the window behind Chase.

His jaw ticked. “You’re killing yourself, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Just call him and explain-.”

My eyes snapped over to Chase. “No, there’s nothing to fucking explain. I walked away from him, I hurt him, Chase. He won’t forgive me.”

“You don’t-.”

“Yes, I do! You don’t see what I see!” I pointed to my head. “Every fucking night his face haunts me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat because it makes me fucking sick.”

I choked on a sob as tears slipped from my eyes down to the scatter of pages on my bed. My cries drowned out the rain as Chase pulled me down to bed, letting me lay against his chest, the wetness of my mistakes staining his shirt.

Memories of Noah will always fucking haunt me; how devastated he looked as I turned my back to him. I tried to force them away by thinking of anything else but truth was is I didn’t think he was going anywhere, soon. I’ve done some things that I can’t speak and I tried to wash Noah away, but he wouldn’t leave. Although, part of me was almost begging him to keep haunting me just, so I had an excuse to see his face.

I think I’m possessed, that was the only explanation. He put a fever inside me and I’ve been cold since I left him in that room weeks ago.

CHASE

I walked passed Y/N’s door again; she needed to eat. She hasn’t eaten anything since dinner last night and that was a small bowl of cereal. It was nearly two in the afternoon and if she continued at this rate, she’d be a mess of skin and bones. I was supposed to be out with Malcolm but felt as if I should stay back. Something was deep-rooted in my gut that I needed to be home with Y/N today.

My knuckles raised to the wood of her door, ready to knock, but stopped when I heard that song play yet again. Y/N’s had it on repeat every day for the last three days, nothing else coming from her room besides Keaton’s voice.

Fuck, why did she have to torture herself like this?

I sighed, knowing this was going to be a whirlwind, and pressed my ear to the door. Her soft, broken, voice singing. Suddenly the music stopped for a few seconds before Y/N replayed it and got louder.

Who was she talking to?

“How can you say this was all part of your plan, start explaining?”

“I knew you wanted me to meet him! I fucking knew it! Well guess what, Keaton?! I did; I fucking did, and now look! Look what happened!”

Keaton.

I ran a hand over my buzzed head and quickly typed out a message to Malcolm, who was out shopping. Since the ban had been lifted a few days ago, we were planning a small vacation just the two of us in a few weeks and he was buying things we needed.

Well, as long as Y/N was in the right headspace, we would leave her. But with what I was hearing on the other side of the door, I was afraid our vacation would have to get pushed back.

She’s blasting Eiley again. But now she’s talking to Keaton, blaming him for her meeting Noah. I don’t know what else to do, Mal.

What sounded like something falling over and breaking made me press my hear against the door again.

“Left with this hole, six feet of dirt I can’t fill,” Y/N’s raw but powerful voice called out into the air.

My phone buzzed with a text from Malcolm.

We need to talk with Nick. There’s not much else we can do, babe.

I sighed, knowing he was right, and quickly sent a text to Nick to see if he was free sometime next week. I remember him saying in our Hollow Omens group chat he was flying back from Virgina on Friday to see everyone.

Of course, neither Noah nor Y/N would ever respond in the chat, not wanting to risk saying something to each other. Maybe if they did, she wouldn’t be talking to the ghost of her best friend.

“Oh god, it hurts,” she wailed and I could picture her clutching her chest. “Why did I do this? Why did you fucking leave us both like this?”

A loud thud had me taking a step away from the door, thinking she was about to come barreling through but realized she was throwing things against the door and walls of her bedroom.

“I’m no better than you! I fucking left him. He wanted me, all of me, and I fucking left!”

“Oh, sweets,” I let out a shaky breath, hands reaching for the doorknob.

“He was mine, he was mine!”

She was mine; she was mine!

I hesitated opening the door at what I heard. Did she? Did Y/N change the lyrics of the song so it was as if she was saying Noah was hers?

Something fell to the floor, glass shattering, and Y/N’s ear piercing screams dug the knife deeper into my heart and I slammed through the door, it slamming against the wall next to me. All the blood drained from my face at the scene in front of me; Y/N was curled up on the floor crying, a framed photo on the floor smashed to pieces. She was clutching a piece of glass in her hand, droplets of blood falling to the wood floor beneath her.

“Fuck, Y/N!” I cursed while sliding on my knee’s in front of her to snatch the piece of glass from her tight grip, slicing my fingers. “Oh, come on sweets, get up! Don’t-don’t do this.”

Fear of what would have happened if I went out with Malcolm dug their nails into me but I refused to acknowledge the pain. Not right now, I can think of the what if’s later. Righ now, Y/N needed me.

Hollow, sunken, and bloodshot eyes stared up at me through the tears that clouded her vision. “I ruined everything, I ruined everything! His face! You didn’t see it! You don’t know!”

Her ramblings had been the same for a month now, never changing.

“Sweets, hey, it’s okay.” I cupped her face. “You didn’t, you’ll figure this out! You’ll talk to him, he’s not gone for good, Y/N. He’s here, he’s here.”

It killed me holding her; she was in agony. She felt like she ended Noah for good. It was almost as if she confused her feelings of grief and heartbreak into two. Noah was alive, his flesh and blood was still awake, he was numbing but he was there. She needed to remember this; she needed to know the feelings she was suffering through had a chance to get better.

“He’ll never see me the same,” Y/N kicked the broken frame away from us but I could see what picture it held; Noah and her at the zoo while they waited for the wolves to come out of hiding.

Unbeknownst to them at the time, I smacked Bryan’s chest so he could take a few pictures of them.

“Just give it time, just give it time.” I said while holding her, rocking her back and forth.

A little kiss on her head. My sister, my friend.

MALCOLM

“Hey sugar baklava,” I knocked on the door frame to Y/N’s room.

She was sitting at the large bay window, sunshine brushing its bright rays across her pale face and dark floors. It's been a few days since Chase found her with the piece of glass in her hand and ever since then, we made it a rule that she had to keep her door open. We didn’t care if she continued to hide away up here but the door needed to be open. It might have been a teenager rule, but we didn’t want to take any chances. We already knew she was hiding things from us so this was the only way.

“Where’s your head at?” I leaned up against the wall while crossing my arms over my chest.

Y/N chuckled at the nickname but I could see there was no light behind those usual bright eyes. She’d been sitting in that same spot for the last day and a half; hair not washed since I can’t remember when, clothes piled up, notebooks out with a variety of lyrics scribbled on every pages and her laptop always had a full charge due to the plug remaining inside it.

Through the pain, she smiled up at me. “Just the usual, contemplating my fucked life and all its wonders.”

I inhaled deeply while stiffing up straight. “I know what you’re going to say, but you are more than welcome to hang out with us at Applebees later. They have dollarRitas.”

“Thank you, maybe,” she smiled weakly.

“I’m worried about you.” I sighed with concern. “We all are.”

Salem clawed his way out from underneath her bed to stretch wide in the one spot on the floor the sun touched. If it wasn’t for that furry little creature that hated my guts, I don’t want to think of where Y/N would be right now.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured while holding up a granola bar. “Bring me back some tacos?”

“Deal,” I smiled.

Turning my back to leave, her voice called after me. “Mind feeding Salem on your way out?”

My eyes cast down to my feet as the black cat sat between them, dark green eyes staring deep into my soul.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your cat wants to kill me,” I shivered at the thought.

She chuckled. “As long as you feed him, you’ll live!”

MALCOLM

The noise of the city faded to a dull buzz as I set down my second empty margarita class and pushed away the rest of my lunch. We were sitting on the patio at Applebee’s, the warm Los Angeles air doing nothing to ease the shake in my bones.

“How’s she doing?”

I nodded towards Nick who sat across from Chase and I. “Depends on the day you ask. But after the other day, we’re watching her like a hawk.”

He raised a brow. “What happened?”

Chase and I shared a look before eventually telling Nick about catching her with a piece of glass in her hand.

“You don’t think-?”

“I don’t know what to think, man,” Chase took a long drink of his beer. “I catch her breaking shit then holding a piece of glass in her hand so tight she cuts herself? Thankfully, she didn’t need stitches but if I wasn’t home, who knows what could have happened. She’s playing with her health and I don’t know what to do to help her.”

“What do you mean?” Nick wondered.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “She hasn’t been taking her medication. There’s at least six more pills than there should be. And two extra vials.”

“What about Noah?” Chase asked, suddenly not wanting to change the subject.

He adjusted the sunglasses that was perched on his nose. “His drinking is getting worse. We want to be stoked because he’s written two really great songs but the alcohol dulls the excitement.”

Chase spun the ice in his drink with the straw and sighed. “Y/N has Eiley on blast until 2 am, hunched over in pain and screaming into her pillows. Writing at random. It’s killing me, to watch her like this.”

“Noah’s been playing Sympathy a lot too, while downing the bottle of whiskey and writing. A fuckin mess, man,” Nick leaned back into the chair.

“Can I tell you something?” Chase asked.

“Shoot,” Nick nodded.

“If fucking hurts to hear this but sometimes, when she plays Eiley, so faintly I can hear her singing. There’s a part in the song where Keaton’s broken as he says she was mine-fuck- I hear Y/N sometimes crying and changes the words-.”

Chase paused, trying to find the right was to convey what he was feeling and Nick tilted his head in wonder.

“He’s mine, he was mine. He was mine,” I finished for Chase, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get the words out.

“She regrets it all, Nick.” Chase rested his arms on the table so he could look directly at Nick. “I think-no I know, she loves him. Y/N fell for him so hard, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive herself for leaving that room.”

“I know,” he sighed. “That’s why I’m on her side for this as well. You told me what she’s going through, it makes sense why she freaked out the way she did.”

I shifted in my seat. “Did you tell Noah?”

“No,” Nick firmly shook his head. “That's something you two or Y/N has to tell him.”

Chase reached for my hand under the table and once our fingers were linked, I gave Nick my best stern gaze. “We have to do something.”

For a long few beats, we were silent, thinking of ways that we could help these two talk again. They weren’t going to do it on their own; the needed help.

“We’ll shoot them both a text,” Nick began. “Same time, telling them to get their heads out of their asses, because let’s be real- they’re stubborn as hell and won’t listen to us directly. They need an outsider to call them both out to wake the hell up.”

“So what? I text Noah while you text Y/N?” Chase wondered.

Nick nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. They need help, they both do, desperately and they need each other. They’re just being ridiculous about it.”

There was a clear hesitation in my expression with Nick's idea. “You know it’s not gonna magically happen over night though right?”

“Of course not, but I have a hunch it’ll work,” Nick assured while throwing some money on the table for his lunch.

“What we need to do is get them to seek help. They have soon many unresolved issues, deep-seeded. They need to get help and get them to at least be friends again. They’re in love with each other. That won’t change, but the circumstances have to.”

READER

The pillows muffled my screams as I clutched my abdomen, the stabbing, sheering pain spreading through my veins like wildfire. Every fiber of my existence was screaming at me to stop the pain, make it all go away, but I ignored it. I needed to feel this; it was the only thing that made me feel anything at all.

Eiley played on a loop through my speakers as I spoke into the air above me.

“Choose me over him, I often wonder why.”

“How can I face him again, Keaton? How? How can I ease the pain, he’s mine. He was mine.”

Rolling over to my other side once the pain stopped for a few moments, I started at the basket on top of my nightstand. 1, 2, 3, 4, bottles, and one syringe. They just stare at me. I counted each bottle, and that syringe repeatedly. A reminder of the work it takes to make myself normal. A reminder of what happens every month like fucking clockwork. A reminder that no man would ever want to stay with me and deal with this alongside me.

“Noah would,” I muttered into the pillow that was stained with my tears.

Yeah? Well you ruined that, sweetie.

I’ve had fans ask me, “how do I keep myself from losing myself entirely?” All I can tell them is that it can’t rain all the time. I hide the pain behind a smile and slip into a parallel universe.

I’m constantly making a series of small holes in a row, mistakes I made in my membrane between here and there until an opening exists. And who can resist an opening?

So do I take the meds? Or do I lay here and rot?

I’ll take them tomorrow. It’s already too late in the day, no need to take them.

It was the same thing I told myself every morning when I would wake up and stare at the medication. The same thing for the last month.

Maybe if I stopped taking them, I would go back to my natural state. I could succumb to the natural order of things, or maybe the pain would be so severe I’d be fine with dying.

Okay.

No. Stop. Stop that!

The voices continued to fight with each other as I dug my palms into my eyes, hoping his haunting face would leave; even for a few seconds.

Maybe I could wait for the dust to settle.

Eiley started playing yet again and I narrowed my eyes up towards the ceiling. “If this is all part of your plan, Keaton then start explaining because this is fucking bullshit. You wanted us together, well fucking give me a sign it’s worth it.”

I stared at those bottles and wondered why any of this mattered when my phone buzzed from underneath my pillow. Groaning, I had every intention of ignoring it, thinking it was the Hollow Omens group chat of Folio saying something he thought was funny; most of the time it was. But today, the pain was so debilitating that I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

Nicholas: Hi.

I sucked in a breath, not expecting a solo text from him. I wanted to leave him on read because there was no reason for him to be texting me. What’s there to say? He's my friend, but Noah is his brother, why would he care about me at all? I hurt his friend.

But.

That one word weighed heavy on my mind as my shaking fingers typed out two letters back.

Hi

The bubbles popped up and stopped, then popped up again, before proceeding to another text.

I hope you’re alright, Y/N. and doing okay. I hear you moved in with the guys, a great idea and I’m glad you’re settled in.

That message I left on read only because I was hunched over my bed now, dry heaving saliva into the bowl that had a permanent spot next to my bed on the floor. The pain was becoming too much; like an animal with razor like claws were digging through my skin to be set free. My stomach was being ripped to shreds.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later once the pain and my screams of agony finally stopped that I had the courage to look at my phone; the text from Nick smacking me in my face.

Y/N, first I just wanna say this: it isn’t my business to step in or to make assumptions I know everything. I had a talk with Chase and Malcolm, and I understand to a degree what you’re feeling right now. I will admit, I was angry at you; you hurt my friend. Noah isn’t doing well right now, but he’s trying. However, I’m trying to remain mutual about this. I see what you both have; I see what you’re both capable of even if you don’t right now. He needs something; he needs someone stable in his life who can give him the comfort he’s been searching for; I thought that could be you; you acted as if it was. Maybe it still is?

Ten minutes in between this text and the next one.

I would never step in and say something like this to anyone, but because of our current friendship and the situation that’s in front of us, I had to. Because I care about you both. Noah deserves better than what you did; he deserves better than walking out with more questions than answers. But you deserve better than the trauma Trey left you with. My friend’s not perfect but he’s not that fucking guy. All I ask is that you dig deep and see that you can really work through this. Not just alone but together. Don’t be a stranger, Y/N. Please don’t. We miss you.

My eyes blinked a few times at the screen, wondering if what I just read actually was there. Everything Nick said was one hundred percent the truth. Especially the part where Noah deserves better than what I did. But so did I. I also deserved better than what Trey left me with.

I gazed back up towards the ceiling, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips. “Thanks, Keaton.”

READER

When I was supposed to be awake, I was asleep. When I was supposed to sleep, I was silent. When a pleasure offered itself to me, I avoided it. I wrote that fucking song repeatedly, a better perspective- a perspective of what I wanted to do that night.

I’ll face my fear of the cold nights

When you leave me behind

I felt your hands in my hair

I felt your breath on my neck

Yeah, I need to feel you again

Just wanted to say good night

Our eyes fighting the light

But I’m not ready to say good night oh

I try and hold on tight ‘cause it’s just not time to say good night

To say good night

One song completed last week and another one just needing the finishing touches. It was all falling into place; well, most things. All I wanted was for Noah to call me when he woke up. I wanted to be in his sweet dreams. But almost three days after Nick texted me, my phone remained silent. Nothing, no texts or calls from Noah. Which at the moment was fine because currently, Malcolm and Chase stood at the foot of my bed with their arms crossed over their broad chests, eyes staring daggers into me.

“The syringe?” Chase asked.

I nodded. “This morning.”

“Pills?” Malcolm then questioned.

Playfully rolling my eyes, I filled my palm with the variety of differnt pills and tossed them into my mouth, swallowing them down with the orange juice they’d brought up minutes ago. I even opened my mouth wide to show them I wasn’t hiding them under my tongue.

Malcolm physically relaxed but Chase wasn’t convinced quite yet.

“Did you call?”

I groaned. “Yes, dad. I have an appointment on Tuesday at ten in the morning. Did you want to drive me there too?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he narrowed his eyes before breaking out into a huge smile. “I’m proud of you, sweets.”

“Me too, buttercup,” Malcolm ruffled my hair.

I playfully smacked his hand away before motioning towards the open door of my room. “Feel free to close it on your way out.”

Salem meowed from his perched on the open window and I realized it was nearing five in the evening. “Oh, dinner time.”

I went to stand from the bed but Malcolm playfully pushed me back down.

“I got it. Let’s go, Salem,” he tapped his thigh a few times, my cat quickly following out of the room.

Chase watched with amazement in his eyes as I let out a lighthearted laugh, one that he hadn’t heard in so long, no doubt.

“What?” I asked, grabbing my phone that buzzed on my bed.

He shrugged before walking out. “Nothing, it’s good to hear that laugh again.”

Smiling, I looked down at my phone but nearly dropped it as I read the message over and over again. Chase noticed my face right before he stepped through the doorway and motioned towards my phone.

“Who is it?”

Mochi 🧋🥟: Hi.

My heart hammered against my chest and it felt like I couldn’t breathe, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering wildly with life I thought would never return.

“Shit, shit.” I muttered while showing Chase the message.

“Well fucking answer him, Y/N.”

“I- what do I say?” I asked as my breathing became erratic.

Fuck, it was like I was a teenager texting her crush for the first time.

“Start with a simple hello. Today’s the first day of you getting your life back in order.” Chase left a kiss to the top of my head before leaving me alone to my own choices.

I stared down at the phone, thumbs hovering over the screen, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.

Do I take Chase’s advice and get my life back in order? Or do I remember all the pain and agony, dark nights where I contemplated ending it all?

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

[drowninginblox]

Here Lies the Boy known as Wilbur Soot

He was the best in the show, an apple of his kind, a diamond in the rough. One that was jagged at the edges and rotten to the core all the same.

He played his part in the only way he knew possible, taking hands outstretched his way with a smile filled with cyanide and eyes filled with graciousness at the humility of others over himself. Truly a sight to behold, what majesty. Such grace. To consider those below him when he had no time to do so with his touring and whatnot. How splendid.

He did all that he could to better himself, relinquishing his woes in song rather than working on himself in private. Not for the better of course, work is for the common after all. No, rather to air out his dirty laundry under the pretense of an act. And what an act it was. Haha, teehee, what a great act to see the incel he could never me. Who me?

Never.

A ship in a bottle, a cat in a castle, a banana peel on a sidewalk. Fragile to fall but nothing out of his control, small in a world far bigger than the one he knows, a punchline waiting its blows.

All of this was him.

At least, not the one he wanted to be. Or the one he wanted us to see. Rather the one he left backstage, in his dressing room, in a tote, under the desk, dead to the world that never knew he existed. Or in a chatroom, behind a door, even in the black mirror as soon as the stream ended. When the show was done, the audience left. There he was, the man disillusioned with the consequences of his actions. A taunt to everyone who wants to see the good in people, even when we know that's not true but we hope for it anyway.

He was the great pretender. He pushed the button, he sang the songs, he had a family, and he lost it all.

We fell for it, and we'll do it again.

But god damn it, there is a reason we mourn. At least the memory of them.

Because in this disappointment, we have community. In this sadness, we once had hope. In his name, we had worlds. We are the ones who will never see buttons the same way. We are the ones that are haunted by the implication of salmon. We are the ones who don't think of hallelujah when we hear that broken melody.

For the oldest of us, we will think of the soot house as a soot home before our lungs give out. And for the youngest, we will see everything that he promised us in his daughter and then some- because she's real. At least to us. and to anyone who dares to wonder who Wilbur Soot was, we will say "no one that matters." because he doesn't. It's what we take from him that dose.

I don't know about you, but L'manburg was made by Tommyinit as a safe space for his friends and his discs, Talulah was born not for a white man but out of hope, and soot house, that's a month-long coughing fit that gave me momentary highs in the suffocation.

Wilbur Soot is a name that has as much power as we give it, and I'm not giving it the satisfaction of my quarantine.

Here lies Wilbur Soot, a man that's grave is gonna be pissed on by those who remember it.

Thanks for reading. This is my way of getting my emotions out. Take it as seriously as you want. We're all going through it right now. Take care of yourselves.

#mcyt #wilbur soot #wilbur fanart #qsmp wilbur #minecraft #rot scum

[asnowfern]

Weightless

A/N: A little drabble for @elucienweekofficial, day seven prompt AU!

Inspiration: Weightless by Layla

"You're expected at the reception in thirty minutes, Lady Nolan," the unassuming housekeeper informed Elain.

Elain bit her tongue to resist the urge to lash out. Don't call me that, I'm not Lady Nolan. The words beckoned to her, mewled at her cloyingly.

No, she would not be Elain Nolan for another hour. So no matter how trivial or childish it seemed, she was still Elain Archeron.

Glancing back at her reflection, the stone in her stomach already weighing her down sank to the bottom of the ocean. Dressed in this stuffy white gown here, waiting to walk down the aisle with anyone but him was wrong. It was all wrong.

Not that it mattered to Mrs Archeron who was so pleased with the match that all protests from Elain fell to deaf ears. Afterall, her daughter was marrying a Lord. Everything was going according to plan.

In a spurt of rebellion and frustration, Elain yanked on the chain of diamond circling her neck and broke the cache. She watched with petty satisfaction as the Archeron jewels clanked uselessly against the ground.

"Pity, we could have pawned that."

The words traversed through the space and headed straight for the organ in her chest, popping it like a balloon.

Elain whipped her head around, a lump forming in her throat. He hung from the tree branch right outside her window with casual confidence. Still wearing his military uniform, his auburn hair was pulled back neatly into a tight bun which further accentuated his sharp jawline. His bronze skin had darkened under the hot sun of Central Asia while his left eye was covered under white wrappings edged with deep lacerations.

"Lucien," she whispered, still hardly believing her eyes. She snapped out of the shock when he swung from the tree branch, launching herself into his arms the instant his feet landed on the hardwood floors'. Breathing in the familiar woodsy scent of cinnamon and honey, Elain felt the weight that had been dragging her down the moment Greysen proposed lifted.

"You made it," she sobbed into his chest, fisting the rough and stiff material of his military dress shirt, "Y-you were almost too late."

Lucien's arms tightened around her. Despite the two years separation, her soft form still melted into every muscular plane. They still fit like puzzle pieces.

"I'm sorry, my last tour got… delayed." The apology rumbled through the air.

Elain looked up, her warm brown eyes round with worry and concern. She raised a hand, hovering over his eye, "Your eye…"

Warmth enveloped her hand and lightly pressed it against the chiselled face she missed so dearly. "Got caught by a stray shrapnel. Do you like the one-eyed pirate look?"

Nerves tinged the playful words. Staring deep into russet eyes, she heard his true question - do you still want me broken and incomplete?

Elain stood on tiptoes, her feet strained to bring her lips to the injury, brushing them across the white bandages.

"You came back to me, that's all that matters."

Lucien lets out a shuddering breath as his lips curved into a devastating smile.

"I have the car ready. If we're truly doing this," his eyes dotted down to her dress. A laced vintage piece, passed down through generations by the Nolan's. An objectively beautiful dress that ensnared her like a viper with its cutting corset and heavy history.

"Get me out of here, Lucien." She pleaded.

They made quick work of the dress, unlaced and tossed aside on the bed. She shrugged on her simple yellow gingham dress and scribbled a note to her family.

Lucien deftly climbed back out to stand on the thick tree branch and held one arm out to her. With a lightened heart, she took it and stepped out into her freedom.

They sped down the highway, hair blown back messily by the wind which whistled in their ears. Elain turned to look at her true fiance, her true love match, her heart pounding appreciatively at how the golden sunlight illuminated his skin and cast gentle shadows on the sculpted contours. A quirk of the edge of his mouth told her that he'd spotted her staring.

Unable to resist, she twisted over and kissed the edge of his mouth. A large calloused hand covered hers, his thumb running sensual circles in promise for more to come.

"We will have the rest of our lives for this," he promised.

Her hand closed around his, squeezing it in response.

"Together," she swore.

"Together," he agreed.

Because together, they're weightless. Together, they're invincible.

#elucienweek2023 #elucien #elucien drabble

[sisterspooky1013]

Parallel, Chapter 4/6

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Mulder bobs his head along to the radio as they fly down a sparsely populated highway. When she’s not admiring the ostentatiously large diamond that now adorns her left ring finger, Scully takes notice of a myriad of incremental ways in which this world is different from her own. The music on the radio is unfamiliar and has an edge to it. The backs of all the street signs are painted hunter green, and the speedometer in Mulder’s car—which is a make and model she’s never heard of—reads in kilometers instead of miles per hour. It all feels like a store brand version of her favorite childhood cereal: close enough to pass, but not quite the same. She’s a bundle of nervous energy, tapping her foot against the floorboard and chewing her well-manicured thumbnails to shreds. Mulder gives her a few sideways glances, but gratefully doesn’t ask why an impending lunch date with her sister has her so out of sorts.

She’s gathered that they live in Malibu, which surprises her; she never imagined herself to be that brand of Californian. As they travel south towards L.A. she keeps expecting them to hit heavier traffic, but it never comes. Perhaps Los Angeles doesn’t have the same appeal here.

“So what do you say? Are we finally gonna hit that ghost tour on the way back?”

She looks over at him and is momentarily surprised not to see a suit clad, clean cut man in the driver’s seat beside her—not that she takes any issue with his snug jeans and fitted white tee shirt.

“Ghost tour? Does that sound like something I’d be interested in?”

Her tone allows the question to strike as either genuine or rhetorical, given that she’s not sure where his version of her stands on the subject. Mulder shakes his head with a wry smile.

“Maybe if you took more interest in it, you’d agree that a high percentage of recorded paranormal activity can’t be otherwise explained. I know you think there’s some simple answer like air in the pipes or a lens flare, but you’ve never actually given it enough consideration to have an informed opinion.”

Scully scoffs.

“It’s difficult to have an informed opinion on something that has absolutely no scientific basis. What am I to read or study? Are there peer reviewed resources on the existence of ghosts, Mulder?”

He gives her an odd look, and she worries that she’s offended him. Perhaps he is more sensitive than her Mulder.

“Why do you keep calling me Mulder?” he asks with a curious glance. “I think that’s the third time today.”

She gapes at him for a moment, unsure what to say.

“Sorry, force of habit,” she mumbles. Which is true, but also doesn’t answer his question.

“Well, no offense to your colleagues, but I find it a bit impersonal,” he says as he checks his blind spot and changes lanes. “And to answer your question, probably not. But a lack of peer reviewed resources doesn’t mean that there’s no validity to the field of study, it just means that people are too afraid of damaging their reputation to risk putting their name to it.”

She considers him for a beat. Her Mulder has never been afraid to risk his reputation. Sometimes she wonders what his life could have looked like if he had been. Maybe she’s looking at it right now.

“Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials, M–Fox?” she asks, clearing her throat to mask her slip up.

He looks back and forth between her and the road with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Honey,” he says with mock sincerity, reaching across the console to give her thigh a squeeze. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The conversation that follows feels so comfortingly familiar that it distracts her from what lies ahead, and it’s only when he pulls into a pay-to-park lot and kills the engine that she’s overcome with excitement and nervousness. She exits the car and smooths out her dress, and Mulder steers her towards a sprawling outdoor restaurant with a hand pressed to her lower back.

They approach a podium just outside the restaurant entrance, and Scully allows Mulder to take the lead. A tall, stoic man in a suit gives them a cursory glance before grumbling, “POC, please.”

“Mulder digs his wallet out of his back pocket and flips it open to show something to the man. The man nods, and then turns to look at Scully. “POC, ma’am,” he says sternly.

“I’m sorry?” she asks, looking to Mulder for help.

“I need to see your POC, ma’am, or I’m unable to grant you entry,” the man repeats.

“Did you forget your POC?” Mulder asks quietly, looking mildly alarmed.

“Um, I don’t know,” she says, reaching into the purse that she found hanging by the door back at the apartment.

She pulls out a small wallet and Mulder takes it from her, then flips it open and shows something to the man.

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Mulder, go ahead,” the man says, then resumes a statue-like posture, staring straight ahead.

Scully takes the wallet from Mulder, and as she follows him inside she looks at what he had shown to the man. It’s clearly identification, but she’s so confused by what she sees that she stops in her tracks.

Proof of Citizenship

Territory of California

Dominion of Canada

“Dana,” Mulder calls from half a dozen paces ahead of her. “Something wrong?”

“Um, no,” she says, stuffing the wallet back in her purse and walking quickly to catch up to him at the host stand. “Sorry.”

“We have a reservation,” he tells the hostess as Scully stares vacantly, her mind racing. “Mulder, party of three.”

“Yes, I see you right here. Your other party is already seated. Right this way, please.”

As soon as they round a corner into the dining room, Scully sees her. Her hair is longer and pulled into a low ponytail, and when she stands to greet them Scully recognizes the flowing skirt and linen top that she would expect her sister to be wearing. Her face is slightly fuller, slightly more marked by the passing of time, but it’s undeniably Missy. Grief and relief collide in her throat, forming a lump that brings tears to her eyes before she’s close enough to open her arms wide. A flash of confusion passes over Missy’s face and she glances quickly at Mulder before she accepts Scully’s hug, patting her back comfortingly as the tears spill over and wet her linen top.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Scully whispers harshly, clinging to her like she’s wanted to do so many times in the years since her untimely death.

When she finally pulls away, both Missy and Mulder are looking at her like she’s sprouted a second head.

“Are you okay, Dana?” Missy asks very sincerely, her eyebrows knit with concern.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve just…I’ve really been looking forward to seeing you,” Scully says, swiping the tears away from her cheeks.

They sit down and Scully scoots her chair as close to Missy’s as possible without drawing more attention to her odd behavior, and she tries not to stare. They order their meals and Scully peppers Missy with innocuous questions that allow her to gather bits and pieces of information. Missy lives in Vermont. She does some kind of alternative healing work. She appears to be unmarried. Shortly after their entrees arrive, Mulder gets a phone call and excuses himself from the table.

“Okay, spill it,” Missy says, throwing her napkin down on top of her plate and crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” Scully asks innocently, even as she feels her cheeks get hot and her heart begins to race.

“You’re acting completely bizarre, Dana,” Missy says resolutely. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Fox, but something is obviously up with you. So what is it?” Scully freezes, and for a moment she debates just telling her the truth. Missy, of anyone, might actually believe her, second only to the Mulder of her dimension. “Are you having doubts about the baby?” Missy finally asks, and Scully sighs with relief.

“Maybe, just a little,” she says, playing along. “The baby, but also…” She looks at her sister, who is listening raptly with an intensity in her eyes that has always reminded Scully of Ahab. So many times in the years since her death Scully has wished that she could call her for advice and guidance, especially when it comes to her relationship with Mulder. And now she’s here, for probably the last time ever. “Do you think Fox and I are good together?” she asks.

Missy is so taken aback by the question that her eyes go wide and she cocks her head back.

“You’re questioning that?” she asks, leaning in. “Are you having problems?”

“No, not necessarily,” she answers honestly. “I mean, we have our conflicts as anyone does, but nothing in particular.”

“So what would make you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” Scully huffs, frustrated with herself. “We’re so completely different, Missy. Sometimes I wonder what he even sees in me. All I do is shoot down his ideas, and all he does is irritate the absolute shit out of me.”

Missy laughs, and Scully frowns at her. She didn’t mean for the comment to be funny.

“That’s why you’re good together, Dana,” Missy says with a sympathetic smile. “You’re like night and day in many ways, yes, but you can’t have one without the other. You balance each other out. I mean my god, think about how completely uptight you were before you met him. On your wedding day I thanked him for finally pulling that stick out of your ass.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in surprise and then curls into a smile.

“You did not,” she says, slapping Missy’s arm playfully.

“I absolutely did,” Missy teases back. “You need him, Dana. He’s your counterweight. And he’s so in love with you it’s disgusting.”

Scully sits back in her chair, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Missy checks her watch and the realization that they have a limited amount of time left makes Scully scramble for anything else she might like to ask.

“Can I see your POC?” she asks, and Missy quirks her head but hands it over.

Proof of Citizenship

Territory of Vermont

Dominion of Canada

Mulder reappears at the table and asks their server for the check, and shortly thereafter the three of them are back in the car en route to LAX. As they follow the signs directing them to departures, Scully’s chest starts to ache, and she wishes that she could slow time down. For the first time she thinks it might not be so bad if she never leaves this place. Staying in a world where Mulder is her doting husband and her sister is still earthside is hardly a downgrade.

“Call me soon,” Missy says, wrapping her up in a tight hug on the sidewalk outside the terminal. “And don’t do anything stupid,” she whispers.

Scully nods, pulling away just slightly so she can see Missy’s face.

“I love you, Missy. You’re a great big sister,” she says sincerely, blinking away the tears in her eyes.

Missy touches her cheek, then gives her a long look. Scully has the distinct impression that she’s seeing something that she hadn’t noticed at the restaurant.

“You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Dana,” she says softly. “It’s okay to make the wrong choice now and then, just to see what happens.”

Scully nods emphatically, then hugs Missy again. She doesn’t want to let go.

“She has to go, Dana,” Mulder says gently, rubbing her back.

Scully steps away, and Mulder pulls her close as they watch Missy walk into the terminal. When she disappears into the crowd, they get back into the car and drive in silence for a handful of miles. Scully feels shell-shocked and empty, and when Mulder reaches across the console and grabs her hand, tears begin to fall quietly down her cheeks.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods.

“I just really miss her,” she chokes out, and he squeezes her hand.

“We’ll see her soon, Dana. She’s going to be at your parents’ house for Christmas.”

It takes a few seconds for her to register what he said. She turns her head toward him slowly.

“My parents’?” she repeats. Plural. Two.

“Yeah, your dad offered to pay for her ticket,” he adds casually.

Ahab. Of course he’s alive. Why else would she have his number in her cell phone? She has to find a way to be here for Christmas. She has to find a way to stay forever.

As soon as the thought enters her mind, she dismisses it. This isn’t her life. This isn’t her Mulder. He’s still somewhere out there, replete with scars and traumas and baggage beyond this tan, carefree Mulder’s wildest imagination. And she still loves him in a way that she’s only beginning to understand.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #txf #xfiles

[cillpiines]

DeVoid of Reason

Zedweek day 3: Hermitcraft 7-8/Animal companions

Synopsis: Zedaph explores the Void beneath the Cave of Contraptions.

read on ao3 or beneath the cut!

“Wagh!”

Red blankets bunch and ultimately slip from the side of the bed as Zedaph respawns, bolting up even as bones continue to reform and sinew stitches itself together again. Slowing down to pull the covers back up would be a waste of time as she flings her body off the side, legs trembling with just-respawned fuzziness and not quite catching his crash. The grass and dirt that smear on his clothes remain as she scrabbles up again and dashes off like she’s hopped up on swiftness. Hooves scrape and slide on stone as he races back to his place of death.

Not to retrieve any lost items, of course. There’s more important work at hand.

He scratches his legs sliding onto the edge of the world, the sharp stone digging into his palms and soft yellow wool. “Incredible!” Zedaph yells into the Void, hands and knees braced on the craggy bedrock. The sound, disappointingly, doesn’t echo, instead being swallowed up by the—whatever the Void is!

Zed tacks on an apology to Yoyo for bursting his eardrums as an afterthought, already moving to snatch up the notebook wedged into the stone. It’s important to take notes on experimental design and results. A few strokes of his quill add in observations from the most recent fall; that is, diamonds disintegrate into code faster than Players do. Ink smudges from Zed’s fingers to her face as she ponders the new data. While diamonds are smaller, he’s certainly squishier than the mineral. This is going to take at least several more jumps into the Void to understand!

Sure, she could just ask Xisuma about the plane beneath the bedrock, but where’s the fun in that? A discussion over tea will never match the thrilling joy of discovery, will never send her hair fluttering in crisp freefall. It might still produce a data sheet, but there’s not even a guarantee of that!

No, the Void is for Zedaph to figure out herself right now.

Maybe there was one Voidwalker he would have enjoyed finding answers from…

Nevermind.

The real treat is solving the mysteries and gathering information! Zedaph doesn’t need anybody else to do that, just his brain and a hole in the bedrock! The Void escapades themselves are even more pleasant than originally expected of a dark endless plane that disintegrates everything it drags within its depths. It’s nice! The atmosphere when Zed dangles in it is chilly without quite being cold, and nothing his cardigan can’t handle. If he really gets shivery, he can grab the jacket he stole from Tango last season. When he lets go and plunges into the abyss, he is falling, but if she closes her eyes and focuses, the air resistance is strong enough to feel almost like the space itself is cradling her.

Oh…that could be an idea….

---------

The Cave of Contraptions is a modern marvel, each meter of space crammed with innovation and ideas that no one in their right mind has ever considered before. Visiting and taking in the new mechanical monstrosities is always a treat for Impulse, with the added bonus of getting to see his friend. Passing the threshold of the plain iron door in a plainer mountainside enters him into a magnificent hodge podge of creativity and often an immediate tour on every new idea.

The rest of the time, Zedaph is hidden somewhere amongst the mess of peculiar contraptions.

“Zedaph?” Impulse calls out, peering around the side of the plinko board, groans of the undead nearly masking his own voice. He heads back toward the Magic Puddle for better acoustics and another peek around that wing of the cave. “Zed!”

“Impulse!” A distant but unmistakable voice chirps. “Down here!”

Impulse pads over to crouch over the lowered storage area and glance around. He swears he checked it already, but when it comes to Zedaph, a closer inspection is never a bad idea. “Where down?”

“The Bumless Pit!”

Of course, there down.

“Coming!” Impulse is plenty familiar with the descent to the hole in the bedrock beneath Zed’s base, having made the trip a few times already during the construction process. He knows the shape of the cavern and the placement of the sharpest hunks of bedrock, knows the sad pig Zed has doomed to a lifetime of dangling. What Impulse doesn’t actually expect to see was another set of fenceposts in the room, the ends of a sheet tied around each.

“Zed?” The space is full of surprises today apparently, also lacking any Zedaph.

“Impulse!”

He’s feeling a little stupid spinning around looking for something, thinking Zed must have rigged up another contraption in this same space, when something in the small cavern shifts.

“Whoa!” Impulse exclaims and steps back because there’s an arm and a head of blonde curls popping up from the hole in the bedrock. The hole that opens up into the Void. Which Zed is now presently lifting himself out of-

Actually, why is he even surprised anymore? It’s Zedaph.

“Zedaph,” he greets. She hums in acknowledgement of his name, struggling to swing her leg up over the bedrock. Impulse reaches out for her arm to help her back to solid ground. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a nap,” Zed answers casually. “What are you doing?”

“A nap,” Impulse repeats, eyebrows going up. “In the Void?”

“Where else was I supposed to?” Zedaph throws her arms out to the sides. “I can’t very well nap in my bed, now can I? What if I wake up on a different side than I did this morning? Nothing would make any sense!”

“Of course not,” Impulse agrees, choosing to ignore the several other locations for napping and instead leaning over to peer into the hole in the bedrock. The sheet tied to the posts in the room spills into the abyss, the supported ends forming the shape of a— “Is that a hammock?”

“Yup! Wanna try it out?” Zed’s got that almost-manic grin on his face that Impulse can ironically take familiar comfort in. Lava will continue to bubble, the sun will rise again tomorrow, and Zedaph will take joy in morally dubious and dangerous activities.

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” And yet…even as he asks that, Impulse finds his gaze slipping back to the deep darkness of the world below. The Void is difficult to truly focus on in the End, with raiding and battle at the forefront of the mind. The Nether doesn’t have any visible Void, lost beyond the haze and fog of the roof. The bottom of Zed’s cave is a perfect place to stand and…appreciate it. The swirling specks of color dotting through the endless inky black are almost hypnotic, drawing the eye to the next and drawing the eye deeper within. It’s kind of beautiful, kind of entrancing.

“The danger’s the fun part!” Zed’s voice snaps Impulse’s attention back to the Overworld. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little death.”

“I’ve got so much XP, dude,” Impulse smiles down at his friend.

“You can get that back! Don’t you want the value of an experience?” Violet eyes twinkle with mischief and anticipation, nearly reminiscent of the stars embedded within the Void itself.

“What do you think XP stands for?”

“A zombie reporter guy,” Zed waves off. “This is a real experience anyway! How often do you get to dangle? In the Void, no less!”

Impulse spares a glance back down to the pit. Hanging beneath a ledge isn’t too different from Skyblock, really. It’s nothing new for him, just a simple change of environment. Black instead of blue. “How do you get into the hammock?”

Zedaph cheers and describes how to simply let go from the bedrock and drop into it.

Being with Zed is always a bit of a leap of faith; Impulse lets himself fall into the fabric. He quickly tries to adjust the fabric to hold his weight more comfortably. Considerably taller than Zedaph, the existing layout of pillow and blanket within the hammock aren’t quite suited to him. He successfully gets a pillow beneath his head and leans back, each hand gripping the sides to literally hold on for his life. The Void presses in around him, almost breathing down his neck. “How do you sleep like this?”

“It’s really nice once you forget about your inevitable death!” Zedaph assures, leaning her whole upper body over the ledge with a bright smile.

Impulse settles in the hammock and tries to let go of the gnawing anxiety that there’s a hungry abyss beneath him. The sheet strung up to be the hammock is a finely spun wool and very soft, gentle against Impulse’s arms. The atmosphere of the Void is sharp, but simply resting in it instead of hurtling through it allows it to only be sharp like an autumn morning. Impulse’s tee and shorts simply aren’t enough to remain comfortably for long, but there’s a peace in being separate from the hustle of the Overworld. Separate from the work, but not separate from every other thing.

There’s potential here, Impulse has to admit. It could be a really neat hangout spot…well, it’s Zed’s for now. Maybe next season.

---------

The Void makes a fantastic rubbish bin.

Lounging in her hammock, Zedaph tosses another crumpled piece of paper off the edge. It’s commonplace enough at this point that he doesn’t even lean over to watch it dissolve. “Too efficient,” he murmurs to herself instead, scribbling out the beginnings of a new design. Any contraption that enters the Cave should be unique, interesting, something that turns a few heads. They should never, ever be at peak operating compacity. Impulse and Tango must be rubbing off on her, she muses, drawing out squiggly lines to represent kelp on the page. Why walk across the whole cave for an item when the important things could be summoned through an elaborate transport system that takes far longer for results? So, the dispenser launches the items across ice into an upwards water stream and-

All at once, the sheet of the hammock shifts.

Well, obviously Zedaph knows it wasn’t all at once. Repeated instances of bearing weight facilitated a strain that was a long time coming, slowly splintering the wood of the post that was never replaced and loosening the knot that wasn’t tied well enough.

Still, the results occur all at once.

The fabric slips and Zedaph goes with it, a yelp torn from his throat as his grip on his pen and notepad tighten. If only he had reacted faster, she would’ve thrown them back up onto the bedrock and saved all the hard work. He’s sure his arm is good enough to make that shot now. As it stands, the pages of good ideas will end up a snack for the Void as well as the bad.

Oh, and Zed too.

The sheet falls, plunging into the depths of the Void and just as swiftly torn apart into particles.

The last of the fabric slips away from where it clung to Zedaph, falling victim to the hungry Void. Zedaph remains. Hammockless.

He blinks mouth frozen mid shout, suspended in nothing. She glances around, finding only the typical expanse of the Void. He glances beneath him, finding only endless space and the remaining pixels of her hammock.

“...Huh.”

Zedaph tucks the notepad close to her chest, reaching out with her other hand and finding nothing solid against her palm. He pokes at the space right next to his leg, clearly suspended by something, and still feels nothing. With his hand at least. Against her leg and bum, there’s a soft yet stable type of pressure. “Is this…a glitch?” he guesses. The tricky details of the universe such as this are his bread and butter; he’ll have to start planning out another contraption immediately!

She stands on shaky legs, still finding some kind of structurally sound flooring beneath his hooves. First things first, he brings his arm back and throws the notepad back to the bedrock around the pit. Haha! He knew those throwing lessons would pay off!

With that squared away, she experimentally sweeps a leg out into the nothingness, finding the solid ground present wherever her hoof touches. It holds true even when he jumps in place, both legs coming back down on invisible ground. It holds up even when he tries taking a full step forward and glances up at the bedrock ceiling to check that the mouth of the pit is, in fact, farther away.

The limit is finally drawn when she takes a leap forward, pushing all her weight behind it. His hooves fall right past the point he’s come to understand as the “floor,” and it’s only a matter of time before the rest of him is falling. Nothing reaches out to catch him this time, and Zedaph plunges into the endless darkness.

She gasps as he wakes up in bed, the last bit of keratin on his fingertips forming back into place. The chill of the Void still lingers, pricking his skin into goosebumps beneath her cardigan. She bundles the blankets closer. “Brilliant...”

Zedaph allows himself to tumble out of bed, crashing to the floor and dragging the mess of blankets across the netherrack back down to the bottom of the world.

---------

“When you said you needed me in your hole, this is not what I thought you meant.”

Tango and Zedaph stand side by side at the edge of the Bumless Pit, gazing into its mysterious depths. “Tango!” Zed scolds, “Get your head out of the gutter!”

Tango cackles as Zed swats his arm, unbothered by the light smacks. “So, what’s the problem with your hole?”

“My hole is being quite peculiar, Tango,” Zedaph says seriously. “I think you need to check it out. Really get in there.”

Hands resting on his hips, Tango nods just as seriously. “I’ll do a thorough examination of your hole, don’t worry.”

“Great!” Zedaph chirps. “I need you to jump into it.”

The two look back to the opening of the Bumless Pit in perfect unison, Zedaph with a smile and Tango rolling his eyes. “No hammock this time?”

“Nope! We’re running an experiment!”

Tango sighs, dropping down a bedroll to set his spawn. “It’s always something with you,” he remarks, pulling his items out from his plethora of pockets and letting them fall to stable ground. Zed giggles something mad and delighted as his friend shimmies up to the edge of the pit, peering into the darkness.

“Let me know if you land on anything,” Zed instructs.

“Wh- land on—” And there’s hands on his back and the hands are shoving and the next moment he’s falling, falling, falling.

There’s nothing out here to catch him; there’s nothing in the Void but Void, stretching endlessly over the space beneath the world. Tango squints his eyes to peer around for what Zed could have been referring to, but the harsh atmosphere blurs even his Netherian eyes and nothing stands out against the tapestry of ink and pinpricks of distant light.

Then his time is up, the environment itself gnawing his skin, flesh, being away. Becoming part of the sprawl of the inevitable.

Tango wakes up to violet eyes in his face and does not scream. But let the record show that if he did scream, it would be a manly one.

“Stop screaming,” Zed instructs, putting a hand over Tango’s mouth and settling atop Tango’s lap on the bedroll. “Did you hit anything?”

“There’s nothing there, Zed,” Tango spits out, batting the hand away from his face.

“That’s what you think!” Tango only just gets used to the weight on his legs before Zed is jumping up, hands already waving about. “There’s something weird about it!”

And ZedaphPlays loves weird, Tango fills in easily. “So, ask Xisuma.”

“Too easy,” she shoots back, sticking her head into the hole. “And that’s like me asking you about the geology of basalt deltas.”

She’s got him there. “Well, X is actually smart. And has a bagillion things of information.”

“I’m kind of smart!” Zedaph defends, to which Tango scoffs. “I have science!”

“And unfortunately, no brain.” Tango delights in Zed’s resulting expression, cheeks puffed out and reddened.

“I’ll have you know I have several brains!” She jabs her pointer finger up toward another segment of the cave. “I have a highly inefficient farm!”

“Okay, brain boy.” Tango leans forward, Zed sticking her tongue out at him. “Use that brainpower and explain to me what you learned from me jumping to my death.”

Zed shrugs nonchalantly, thick cardigan bunching around her shoulders. “I wanted to see if you’d die. You did.”

“Wh—” Tango sputters. “Obviously I’d die!” Zed’s tricky and a thorn in Tango’s side, but this still doesn’t feel like a Zedaph prank. Pushing someone into the Void for fun is too easy, too simple. That’s not who Zedaph is.

“I didn’t,” Zed tosses out. “Then I did, but first I didn’t. So it can’t be that the Void prefers blondes…”

“Hold up, go back.” Tango holds his hands up. “You didn’t die?” He gets to his feet, joining Zedaph by the hole in the bedrock.

Zedaph shakes his head, curls bouncing. “Nope! You did though.”

“I gotta see this for myself,” he explains, wasting no time in throwing his whole-body weight against his friend, thick clothing colliding and Zedaph losing her balance on the rock.

He blinks and finds Zedaph sprawled out on his back a few feet down in the abyss, slightly beneath the dangling Yoyo. “Replication is good for science!” he calls up. “I’m starting to think it’s not a glitch!”

Tango gapes, watching Zedaph get to her feet upon nothing. “What!” he cries, tangling a hand in his flames. “What are you— what is this!”

“I don’t know yet!” Zedaph grins up at him, cheek squishing up. “I’ve got a 63% success rate!”

“Hang on, stay there.” Tango sits down on the edge of the bedrock, tail swishing behind him. He aims for directly next to his friend and lets himself drop.

And drop. And drop.

He falls right past Zedaph, her fingers only able to graze his arm before he was out of range. He yelps, vaguely registering Zed’s “whoa!” above him.

Tango shivers upon respawn but doesn’t hesitate to march back over and argue with Zedaph, who insists he “try it again!”

The rest of the afternoon passes by in the cavern beneath Zedaph’s base. The final success rate comes out to a sad 0 out of 37 for Tango, 21 out of 31 for Zedaph, and 0 for the couple sheep they tossed in.

---------

“Maybe you just have something wrong in your code,” Tango hypothesizes, attempting to toss a crisp into his mouth and missing.

Impulse nods along to that, tearing a bite of his sandwich and swinging his legs over the edge of the endstone. “You could ask X to check on that.”

“I will,” Zedaph lies, laying a few meters down in the Void, scritching an endermite under the chin. “Hey, what’s a better name: Chancellor Chitin or Gregory?”

“The first one, obviously.” Tango tosses a crisp down at Zedaph’s face and the conversation moves on.

---------

The thin streak of inky black woven through the back of Zed’s fluffy golden curls goes unnoticed.

#hermitcraft #zedaph #zedaphweek2023 #my writing

[embossross]

The Art Collector

Prologue >> Chapter 1 >> Masterlist

✣ Pairing: Mikey x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+ dark explicit content, minors DNI

✣ Series: part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ Chapter CWs: Shion's pov just for this chapter, imprisonment, yandere, violence (not against reader)

✣ Story CWs: yandere, stalking, dubcon, kidnap, sex (ptv, oral), rough sex, and probably more to come

✣Synopsis: Mikey isn't like your typical boyfriends. He isn't an artist. He doesn't sport a messy bun or name drop Heidegger. He's just an antisocial IT guy. Or at least that's what he's told you...You may not know your boyfriend as well as you think you do, and by the time you realize your mistake, it may be too late for him. Or you.

✣ Word Count: ~2.5k and counting

When Mochi drinks, his cheeks look like two plump tomatoes, red and round. In a room stuffed with big personalities, he laughs the loudest of them all. His bellows are followed by well-rehearsed titters by the sluts he keeps glued to his side. The party only started twenty minutes ago, and he’s already wasted, but Shion knows by the end of the hour Benkei will be snorting tequila out of his nose while Sanzu snorts coke into his.

The sight of them all, sprawled around the bar and trading war stories, arrogant as they crow over yet another record-breaking quarter – the kind that promises hefty bonuses and even puts a smile on Kokonoi’s nerve-stricken face – makes Shion burn with rage.

Because he should be one of them.

What happened between the fall of Tenjuku and the rise of Bonten? Often Shion tugs at the strings of fate, trying to figure out how everything got so twisted. How did he end up here? A petty officer in Bonten, while the rest of Tenjuku’s leadership rose to the rank of executive?

A few meters away, Rindou sneezes, and Shion hopes it’s the fucking bird flu, and that it eats away at the lazy shit’s lungs until he croaks. Yeah, he would make a better drug kingpin than Rindou anyway.

Tonight, all of Bonten’s executives and officers are gathered at what they colloquially call “the Compound” to review their quarterly earnings. Everyone was surprised when Mikey first announced he was moving out of the city to a “lodge” in the Amagi Mountains just outside Shimoda.

Seeing it for the first time today, Shion questions who first called it a lodge. The Compound sprawls across 100 acres of land with four principal buildings on the premises: one that houses the sparse staff Mikey requires to maintain the grounds, a pool house, an underground bunker, and the main house, which better resembles a mega-mall. Naturally, there is also a stable for horses and a tennis court.

Shion knew Bonten all but printed cash, but seeing the breadth of Mikey’s share here in this property, Shion salivates. With this kind of money, he would build a much cooler house: gold-plated ceilings, a sculpture fountain in the entrance hall, secret passageways. It would be cool as shit.

Sanzu gave everyone a tour earlier, showing them their rooms in the main house and cautioning them to avoid the west wing, which is kept strictly locked for Mikey’s personal use. Shion figures that’s where Mikey bathes in his rivers of cash every night.

“Mad Dog-kun, you look lonely. Missing your little card games?”

Shion turns to acknowledge Shuji, tongue digging into the jagged edge of one of his chipped teeth as he sizes up the other man. Dressed in a Brunello Cucinelli suit with a platinum Patek Philippe watch screaming for attention at his wrist, and a diamond stud for bragging rights in his ear, Shion estimates that Shuji is wearing at least six million yen on his body. Casually. They are both only officers in Bonten with Shion serving under Ran and his oversight of all “entertainment” in the country and Hanma acting as a member of Kakucho’s attack force, and yet somehow Shuji always has millions of yen to drop in a drunken night of cards. It isn’t fair.

“I’m doing fucking swell,” Shion barks. “You heard Kokonoi read out the numbers. My casinos are up 13% year-over-year. Not bad for some little card games.”

“Really? I wasn’t listening,” Hanma says, digging one finger into his ear. Thick earwax globs on his finger when he removes it, and Hanma rubs it right into the lapel of his designer jacket without a care. The stain settles, wet and sickeningly orange.

Shion gapes.

“Since you were listening so closely earlier, I’m sure you heard that I’m being sent back to Iran to secure our deal with the IRGC. Big responsibility,” Shuji gloats. “It gets tiring travelling around the world to all these beautiful places. I mean, if you’ve seen San Paolo, you’ve seen Johannesburg, but well, I have a sweet girl waiting for me in Tehran, and Mikey did say there’s no better man for the job. You can understand that, can’t you? After all, Ran wouldn’t have trusted you with the critical job of…watching old men play mahjong if he didn’t think you could handle it.”

The tiger at his temple roars as Shion tenses. He hates this. Hates that even as his muscles coil to strike, he’s counting backwards from one hundred. Trying to remember what he watched on YouTube about ‘how to control your temper.’ Because while Hanma may not be an executive, he is valuable. And because Ran is smoking a joint nearby, and because Kakucho could choke the life out of him before he took three steps, and because Koko and Yumi are flirting in the corner and won’t take kindly to an interruption, and because there are more guns in this room than bottles of wine.

Once they called him a Mad Dog and meant it. Now, they order him around like a tamed beast.

Shion stalks away from Hanma and the rest of the party. On autopilot, he retraces his steps until he can no longer hear the shitty techno playlist Rindou chose. Halfway down a too bright hallway, Shion freezes. Every hallway is covered in art, sometimes strange shapes and zig zangs, sometimes shit that looks so real he has to get close to realize it’s not a photograph. Outside his room hangs a painting of two frolicking hounds. Here though, there are no dog paintings in sight. He doesn’t recognize anything. He’s lost.

Fifteen long minutes pass as he searches the labyrinthian Compound for a landmark, checking doors and scratching his scalp raw in frustration. The air grows noticeably warmer as he explores, so he loosens and pockets his tie.

Shion decided he should turn around and try to return from whence he came when he recognizes a painting. Weird shit of a little boy leading a yoga class of similarly dopey children. He remembers wondering who was the biggest quack – the artist or Mikey’s decorator? – during Sanzu’s tour of the house. Sanzu warned them to go no further under any circumstances because beyond that point lay the west wing.

Like a good little soldier, Shion turns to leave, but his eyes glue to the door and he finds himself wondering again what might lay beyond it. Maybe on the other side he would find Mikey’s closet, filled with the expensive clothes he never wears but must own, or jewelry, or a stack of bills just ripe for the taking. Then again, if Sanzu was so insistent they never enter it must be much worse. Maybe something truly incriminating, something that would put Mikey squarely in Shion’s pocket…

No! No! Shion clings to life like a spider monkey, blood rushing to his face as he realizes that he’s contemplating an assisted suicide. Blackmailing Mikey of all people?

Except, it is ridiculous that Mikey doesn’t give him more authority when he trusts freaks like Sanzu with his back. And, Mikey is far too paranoid to leave damning evidence lying around even in his own home. And, the door will be locked anyway, so no harm in jiggling the handle. Right?

The doorknob is ice cold beneath his hand, but what really sends a shiver shimmying up his spine is when he turns the knob and the door clicks open without resistance. They should have named him Mad Cat because curiosity draws his eyes as the door swings open on a mostly innocuous set of rooms.

It looks like a receiving room that leads to a hallway and additional rooms. There are comfy chairs, a dormant fireplace, and the largest portrait of Mikey imaginable occupying the opposite wall. The picture of Mikey brooding in black and white might have drawn a guffaw under other circumstances.

The only strange thing in the room really is the girl. And then only because she is running full tilt in his direction like the hounds of hell are chasing her. And, in her case, they literally are as Sanzu sprints in pursuit behind her.

“Unmf,” Shion grunts as the strange woman barrels by him, clipping his shoulder in the process.

“What are you fucking thinking? Grab her!” Sanzu screams.

Shion’s brain catches up slowly, but his body moves to subdue you on instinct. He hooks one arm around your stomach, relying on your own momentum to topple you over. The impact of his stoney arm winds you, so you put up no resistance when the other hand winds around a chunk of hair to drag you back, sock-clad feet lifting off the ground. You claw at his forearm where it holds you hostage with ineffective hisses.

As far as thieves go – and what else can you be but someone who had the same bright idea he did? – Shion thinks you’re quite the cutie. Somehow during your heist you lost your pants. Your body presses against his in nothing but an oversized tee-shirt and knee-high socks. There are no visible injuries, so you must have gotten the jump on Sanzu, which is hilarious given how weak you feel in his arms. Shion wonders if he might get a reward for capturing you. It would be all the sweeter if Sanzu failed where he succeeded.

“Do you know who you’re messing with, bitch?” Shion threatens, glee dancing in his voice.

You twist your head back to glare, and he gets a good view of a woman in her late twenties with pretty, vibrant eyes before your jaw hinges wide like a snake and blunt, human teeth latch right onto his cheek and tear.

“Holy fuck, shit. Get off me, you raving fucking bitch!” Shion screams, but you cling to him with all the strength in your terrible jaw, not yielding when he shoves at your body.

Pushing you away only makes that awful tearing sound worse as his flesh rips apart. Speaking makes it worse, too. His cheek feels hot, and somewhere, he faintly registers a sharp pain. Sanzu must be almost upon you as nearly ten seconds have passed since he first saw you, but panic rips through his brain, and he can’t wait for the reinforcement.

Shion doesn’t struggle against your bite instead unleashing a full power punch aimed directly at your undefended kidney. Hard enough that when it connects, your kidney will rupture and drop you screaming to the floor.

Only everything goes black, and all Shion can do is gargle around a breath that just won’t come just like his intended punch.

Everything hurts.

Seconds later and the pain dims just enough that Shion can breathe normally again excepting the sharp pain in his chest whenever he inhales. He blinks rapidly to shepherd away the black spots that disorient his vision.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. She hid in the laundry basket. And, I tried to stop her, but Madarame had the door wide fucking open. Don’t know what he was thinking!”

Shion knows those voices. He knows their faces too when he finds the strength to lift his neck from its strange angle on the floor and look.

The feral hellcat he mistook for a woman remains captured. This time she hangs limp in the embrace of Mikey’s unassailable arms. Mikey holds you not like a prisoner but a newborn infant, gently and like you demand his absolute focus. Mikey’s eyes don’t stray from your face as Sanzu spews out apologies from the other room. With one hand, Mikey brushes the messy hair away from your face, and with the other he holds your hand in a lover’s grip.

Through the disorientation, Shion knows that he’s discovered the mystery behind the west wing. He just doesn’t know what any of it means.

“Somebody fucked up today, Sanzu. Find out who and make them take responsibility,” Mikey says, and there’s more emotion in his voice than Shion has heard from him in the last half decade.

“Yes, sir. I’ll give you my left hand if I’m at fault,” Sanzu vows.

“It was his fault. All his fault,” you pipe up eagerly, pointing a finger at Sanzu.

Sanzu scowls, opens his mouth as if to argue, and then closes it. Mikey for his part just sighs.

“Look into it. Now,” Mikey orders.

“Yes, sir!”

No one appears to remember Shion as he huddles on the floor, so he tries to keep quiet as he moves. Planting his feet, he shifts backwards onto his butt. The stabbing pain in his chest greets him again, but so long as he breathes shallowly, he can remain conscious. A few ribs are definitely cracked.

Shion longs for the party as he braces himself to scoot himself down the hall, away from Mikey and Sanzu, away from the forbidden west wing. Sweat streams down his cheeks to his lips. It tastes like iron. Shion remembers then that his cheek is a gaping wound, momentarily forgotten thanks to the pain in his liver, but now he feels the swelling heat there, too. Sweat and blood mix in a dark cocktail that flows freely down his face. Unable to withstand the next burst of pain, Shion whimpers.

Mikey is there in an instant. One foot plants on Shion’s chest, right where his ribs shriek, and Shion whites out from the agony. He regains consciousness almost immediately to find himself semi-vertical as Mikey has dragged him up by the hair, foreheads touching. He has never been this close to Mikey before. He can’t see the other man’s unforgiving stare, can’t focus his own eyes well enough to connect. He can smell Mikey’s breath though, feel the heat pelt against his face as his instincts tremble.

They tell him that he is going to die.

“You didn’t see anything here tonight. You got drunk, picked a fight with Sanzu, and lost. Then, you stumbled back to your room and slept it off,” Mikey whispers, and the pain in his chest is nothing compared to the chill in Mikey’s voice.

“Ye-ye-yeah…”

“Shion, convince me. You didn’t see anyone tonight.”

“That’s right, Mikey. That’s right. Hanma pissed me off, and I was drunk, so I decided to act tough with Sanzu, but he put me right back in my place. He sure did. See, my cheek? That guy fights dirty, huh? But, that’s all. I didn’t see anything else. Nothing. Nothing.”

“You should know better than to pick a fight with Sanzu,” Mikey hums.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a fucking idiot! I need to quit drinking. Makes me stupid.”

“Stupider,” Sanzu says.

They must be living in a backwards universe because somehow Sanzu’s interjection makes Shion feel relatively safer. The first time ever the deranged freak has soothed someone.

Mikey unceremoniously releases his grip on Shion’s hair, sending him tumbling into a pathetic pile on the floor. His ears ring as his head bounces off the cement.

“Get him back to his room,” Mikey orders Sanzu.

The other man shows no courtesy or mercy as he drags Shion up. His chest aches like it means to explode, like he should be gurgling on blood. He needs a doctor, but the most he gets from Sanzu is a shoulder to lean on as they set off down the hall.

It is masochistic, maybe even suicidal, but Shion can’t resist. He turns back and looks.

“I was thinking ramen for dinner, but we have a feast downstairs. Anything you want. Just say the word. It’s your turn to choose,” Mikey says as he guides you back into the suite of rooms.

His voice is warm and easy as he continues to list off dinner items you might enjoy. Strangest of all, Mikey smiles as he speaks to you. Mikey doesn’t smile. Not in all the years Shion has known him.

You aren’t smiling as you follow Mikey’s guiding hand.

No, you the strange woman in the west wing hang your head as he leads you back into your cage. You don’t look back once.

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #mikey smut #mikey sano #manjiro sano #mikey x reader #mikey x reader smut

[ali-annals]

it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G | Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ao3 | WC: 2.3k | TW: -

A/N: This is part of a series called The Eras Tour (Jasonette’s Version), a collection of Jasonette-centric fics I wrote for the Maribat discord server Maribat? Get In!’s 2024 Civil War event. Not beta’d.

Marinette schemes her way into becoming Jason Todd's girlfriend. He loves her more for it.

The crisp October breeze caressed the curls around the girl’s head, softly brushing them across her face with a cool kiss. She tucked them behind her ear, pinning them out of her eyes so she could better appreciate the night sky sparkling with diamond-like stars. 

The fresh air of the balcony was a paradise to Marinette, who had been in the stifling ballroom of Wayne Manor far too long. It was full of people, socialites from Gotham and celebrities from New York all wanting to schmooze with the Waynes and other more-influential-than-they 1-percenters.

The noise of the live music and clinking of crystal and boisterous conversation eventually drove Marinette to the relative peace of the muted balcony.

She gave one last lingering look at the stars before patting her hair and dress down, drawing in a deep breath as she put her hand on the knob of the balcony door.

The noise that had been muffled on the balcony was a shock to her ears and she immediately began making her plans to escape ASAP. She’d talked to everyone she wanted and needed to, had thanked her host and his butler, and had eaten her fill in appetizers. All her evening’s boxes had been checked.

Sliding into the shadows of the edges of the room, she began making her way to the grand doors of the exit all the way across the room when her vigilant gaze caught on someone.

He was in conversation with a small group of young men around his age, at the side of the room, his face shadowed. She could only make out his profile, but what she saw made her pause in her escape, trailing her eyes down his body. He wore a red dress shirt under a tailored black suit, the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows. She appreciated people who rolled their sleeves instead of just shoving the fabric up, especially on knits.

He laughed at something the redhead said, bringing his glass up to his mouth with a grin. Even from across the room, his laugh sent shivers through her; it was nice and warm, something she heard, focused as she was on his person.

His gaze turned slightly and met hers, then flicked back to his conversation partners.

A tiny bit piqued that he hadn’t even taken a second to appreciate how well her dress fit–which was her talking point for the night and something she was immensely proud of–she reminded herself that he may have a girlfriend or wife or boyfriend for all she knew.

With one last glance at him, memorizing his features in case she came across him at a future event, she continued on her path to the door. 

She had some research to do, and it was better done in the comfort of her fuzzy jammies and a glass of wine than on her phone in the shadows of a billionaire’s ballroom.

~~~

A night of research later, Marinette had filled a page of her notebook with what she knew about her new target, formatted as her usual client information sheet. The next three pages were filled with half-drawn-up plans and scribbled over strategies to get to know him better.

Name: Jason Todd

Age: 28

Birthday: 16/08/1996

Primary Residence: Gotham, NJ

Features: Black hair [white forelock]; light eyes [specifics?]; tan skin, warm undertone; 1.83 m/6’0”; trapezoidal body type; warm undertones & colours best suited to skin tone.

Contact Information: -

Social Circles: Martha Wayne Foundation 20th Annual Fundraising Gala…

Relation(s): Wayne Family of Gotham; Head Family of Metropolis.

Marinette loaded her photo software. She often sent her assistant to the events when possible if she was unable to attend, having her assistant photograph the event so she could later analyze the fashions. The camera focus was on the clothing, not the faces, but she still scanned through her files in case Jason had been caught in the background somewhere.

The results surprised her. He’d appeared more often than she expected, though always in the shadows or on the sideline, and only at events that were either Wayne-business related or were for fundraising or charity. Any simply-social events showed not a trace of him.

She opened her carefully colour-blocked and organized planner. How many events had she been invited to that she’d not yet RSVP’d?

~~~

The gala was in full swing by the time Marinette arrived, having rushed to it after finishing her commission at the last minute. It was a fundraising gala in New York for the branch of the Martha Wayne Foundation’s Family Founders mission there, and she hoped that she’d calculated correctly that Jason would be there.

The little research she’d been able to dig up on him had made it clear that he was very much the black sheep and wild child of the Wayne family, with no one ever entirely sure if and when he’d show up in places.

She was dying from curiosity about what he could be doing in between public appearances.  Whatever it was, she knew it would be fascinating.

She skimmed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and headed deeper into the crowd, approaching Chloe. If she was in the middle of the room with her old friend, she could scour all the corners at once to see if her prey had arrived.

“Marinette, you look gorgeous!”

“Thanks, so do you,” grinned Mari, taking in the shimmering green dress she’d made for her friend. “Have you been here long?”

“Only since the start of the party,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Perks of being the head coordinator–you get to be there hours before and after the party happens.”

“Head coordinator?” Marinette looked at her friend in shock. “You didn’t tell me you got promoted!”

“I had to tell you in person, didn’t I?” asked Chloe, gesturing to her sparkling presence as if to say, “Look at me”. “Tina retired, so I was promoted last week. It’s a good thing I was already working so hard on this event, so I was prepared for everything.”

“Lucky you,” said Marinette, giggling a little at the inside joke. 

Chloe rolled her eyes fondly. “Are you ever going to get over making those stupid puns?”

“Not as long as you keep reacting so humorously to them,” she replied, turning a little to scan the room.

“Looking for someone?” asked Chloe, catching her wandering gaze.

“Just…can you see who RSVP’d?”

“Yes…”

“Do you know if Jason Todd said he’d be here tonight?”

Chloe looked at her admiringly, whistling lowly under her breath. “Dang, girl, you’ve got taste! I believe the Waynes simply RSVP’d for four. I don’t know who.”

Marinette wasn’t expecting it to be easy, but when had she ever liked easy? She’d been a magical superhero while she was still in lycee, for kwami’s sake! The thrill of the chase was something she relished, planning out her moves and organizing her target’s schedule and pickpocketing phones to delete texts-

-okay, when she puts it that way, she sounds a little unhinged and obsessive and stalkery, but she really wasn’t that bad! If they didn’t like it, she backed off and respected their ‘no’, and she (usually) only got her information from publicly available sources that didn’t even realize the help they’d given her. 

She just didn’t know how to initiate anything by any other way, having grown up scheming her way into friendships and relationships as easily as she breathed. A cleverly-worded plea here, a subtle cue she’d Pavlov’d into a friend there, and she was golden. Her lucky targets never even knew they’d just been played.

It had been so easy to out Lila, the little wannabe-manipulator. She couldn’t even research a believable untruth, or wait until her ‘friends’ had been lulled into trusting her fully before she overplayed her hand too fast, too much, too soon. It was always better to use little by little–it was more believable if they didn’t realise you’d been doing it for ages, like that frog-cooking analogy.

Marinette sighed faux-sadly into her champagne as she thought of her ex-classmate, whom she hadn’t seen or heard of in almost a decade. Knowing people was definitely the key to life.

Chloe nudged her arm. “The Waynes have arrived for their appearance. I think I see Todd among them.”

Marinette hummed an acknowledgement and drained her champagne, feeling like the bubbles were flowing through her blood as the thrill of the game began anew. Time to go on the hunt.

~~~

Jason Todd was indeed among the Wayne party of four, looking particularly edible in a well-fitted black suit layered over a black shirt. Marinette preferred to add colour and pattern to men’s suits when she could–why were they all so boring; that’s why she liked Jagged so much–but she had to admit the black-on-black really worked for Jason, upping the mysterious aura about him.

Making her way slowly through casual greeting, Marinette eventually arrived at a small circle of socialites chatting just beside Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, and Cassandra Cain, who were mingling with donors.

Bruce glanced over just as Marinette brushed her long hair over her shoulder, leaning in to hear a socialite’s joke. Her laugh was interrupted by her name being called.

“Marinette! I thought that was you! Looking stunning tonight, although you always are, what with having a personal connection to designers, eh?” winked Brucie. 

“Bruce! Lovely to see you again. I see you’ve been cheating on me with Audrey,” she looked his suit up and down.

“When in Rome?” he laughed nervously. “Or I guess, New York. Oh! My children! You must meet them!” Collaring his three children attempting to make a stealthy escape, he introduced her to the man she wanted to meet. “Mari, these are my second- and third-oldest sons, Jason Todd-Wayne and Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter, Cassandra Cain-Wayne. Kids, this is Marinette; she’s the designer that made me that suit I love–the one from that Times photoshoot the other year?”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” She shook their hands, letting her fingers rest a little longer on Jason’s than the others. “Your dad is one of my favourite customers.”

“Why’s that?” Timothy tilted his head like a bird.

“He lets me use the fun designs I’m dying to try–all the colourful or ‘different’ ideas. His suits aren’t just a suit off-the-rack or hand-tailored, they’re a challenge and a pleasure to work on.”

“So you don’t like a plain black suit then?” Jason raised his eyebrow, a small smile on the edges of his lips.

“I didn’t say that,” she assured him hastily over his siblings’ snickers. “You pull it off very well.” I’d like to pull it off you, she thought. “Not everyone can wear black-on-black without looking like they’ve still not left their emo stage.”

Several glances were exchanged among the family. 

“Did you have an emo stage?” wondered Bruce. “I wonder what a fashion designer’s emo phase would look like.”

Marinette shivered. “We don’t talk about Emonette in my atelier. Anyways, it’s lovely to meet you all. Please ask your dad for my information if you’d like to step out of your shadowy comfort zone,” she winked playfully at Jason. “Well, I see Audrey waving me over, and now I have a bone to pick with her, Bruce. Ciao!”

With a wave, she left them, taking great pleasure in the feeling of eyes on her as she went.

~~~

“Marinette, why are you still up?”

She looked up from the embroidery she’d occupied her hands with while she waited for Jason to get home. “I decided there’s something you need to know.”

“Okay…” He settled onto the sofa beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “What’s up, Pixie?”

“It’s about the start of our relationship…”

“Okay?”

“The whole thing was a ruse. I saw you at a party and you intrigued me, so I stalked you and planned out everything, every time we met at parties after that, what we talked about, even when you approached me it was because I’d planned for you to. I don’t know how to actually express interest in a normal, non-stalkery way. It’s only because I’ve planned it out and prepared for it that I act like I do. I manipulated you into liking me and being my boyfriend, but I can’t live with this secret anymore.”

Jason was silent for a few minutes, breathing deeply. Marinette didn’t dare to look at him, too nervous to find out if it was because he was trying to keep his temper in check.

“Mari, look at me.”

She glanced up, catching a smirk on his lips. She took a second, longer look. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Mari, my innocent Pixie, I know.”

“What?”

“You know I do vigilante work, and I appreciate you waiting for me to tell you about it. Well, I’m the Red Hood. I was trained by Batman and the League of Assassins. My adoptive mother is the master manipulator of the League, and she taught me how to use it and recognize it. I’ve known from the first glance we shared at that party.

“You are absolutely a clever manipulator, Pix, and that’s honestly one of the things I like most about you, maybe because it’s familiar. You may have laid the groundwork for the beginning of our relationship, but you didn’t manipulate me into loving you. Know how I know? Because I love even the things you don’t, even your flaws, things you wouldn’t show me in case it ended your ruse. Well, that won’t work, because I’ve seen them and I love them and I love you, anyways. Good luck getting away from me, my Machiavellian mastermind.”

#jasonette #fic #ali writes #dcxmlb #mgi cw 24

[doll-r-t]

A Free Dinner

Syverson x reader

Inspired by a post I saw. Cannot find it now but if anyone finds it please send me the link so I can tag it!

gif credit to owner

Summary: You are his friend and you want a free dinner when you two go out. A fake proposal should do that but what if you have true feelings?

TW: fluff, really short!

Masterlist

You and Syverson went out for dinner. He had been a friend for a long time and now that he was finished with his last tour you told him you would invite him for a good steak dinner. You went to a steak house ordering far too much food. But who cares it was time for a celebration. You were sitting across from each other, having greasy fingers from the ribs you ate and a bit of sauce smeared across your face. You had ordered fries, ribs, a steak, and some baked potatoes. Not a green leaf in sight but for once you did not care about ‘healthy eating’. Now it was time for dessert. You ordered milkshakes and peach cobbler. It was truly a feast and it would cost far too much. 

    You grinned at each other over your milkshake. Once the waiter was in eyesight Syverson got up. Your hands flew to your face a gasp leaving you. He kneeled down on one knee. “My beloved Y/N,” he began. You started to fan yourself pretending you were about to cry. “I was longing for home ever since I set foot on the helicopter that brought me into a war zone. Yet when I came back I was still missing home. This is when I realized only in your arms is home.” A tear streamed down your face and even though this confession was not real you allowed your heart to grow in size. Pretending that what you had longed for was real. “I now ask you, in front of all these people, please will you be my forever home and marry me?” You had no idea Syverson had such poetry in him. He was always more rough around the edges directly stating what he thought. His hands were even trembling and he was swallowing hard. Since he had started you nodded your head and finally, you breathed out. “YES.” The entire steakhouse erupted into cheers. It should be embarrassing but a girl does a lot for a free meal. Syverson got up pulling you to him, he kissed your forehead and pumped his fist into the air, turning to the crowd and acting victorious. You could not hold your giggles at the circus and how much this caveman-style celebration was Syverson. You buried your head into his chest laughing. Once Syverson let go of you he put a ring on you you both had gotten from a vending machine down the road. It was not a real diamond but no one would notice. 

Once you to sat down grinning at each other the waitress came over. She had a huge smile on her face. “Congratulation you two!” Her cheery voice almost sent you into another giggle fit. “Thank you so much,” Syverson said kissing the hand he was still holding. “Of course, the dinner is on us.” You grinned, yes victory, you thought. The waitress turned to Syverson. “and thank you for your service, Sir.” Syverson just nodded. 

You both left the steakhouse hand in hand as soon as you were outside you high-fived. “Told you it would work,” you said smugly. “Yeah yeah whatever but please don’t make me do this again. I thought I was gonna die of nervousness.” “What the big bad Captain cannot handle public attention?” He looked at you intently. Averting his gaze to the ground he breathed in deeply but then just nodded. You both continued walking down the road to the car. You both were joking and complaining about how full you two were. 

You leaned back in the seat of Syverson’s Truck. You were sure you would fall into a food coma any minute. Closing your eyes you hummed along to Syverson's country music. You had not been overly fond of his music taste but you had come to like it. Even listening to it while he was overseas. Syverson looked over to you curled up in the seat. The street lights illuminated you. He thought you were so beautiful. 

“You know what I said was true right?” He whispered into the silence. Your lips quirked up, but your eyes stayed closed. “I know and you know I love you too.” Syverson shook his head. “No, not like that.” You had often told him that you loved him. You were the kind of person to make sure your friends knew that they were loved and taken care of. You opened your eyes looking at him. His eyebrows were furred slightly, his lips set in a straight line but his eyes looked lost or maybe even sad. “Pull over.” “What?” “I said pull over.” Syverson did as you told him, navigating the street pausing the car, and ultimately turning off the engine. A street light was shining through the window illuminating you. 

Once he rested back into his seat and looked at you, you unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned over. You put your hand on his cheek turning him more to you. Your thumb caressing through his wild beard. His eyes were still averted. “Look at me,” You said softly. His blue eyes spring back up looking directly at you. “I know.” You leaned in and finally kissed the love of your life for the first time. Once you leaned back you buckled your seatbelt again, smiling over at a shocked Syverson. He could not help but smile back, turn on the engine and take your hand, and said: “Let’s go home, my love.”

Taglist:

@identity2212, @lunedelorient, @tumblnewby @irishprincess899 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @sofiebstar @omgkatinka @enchantedbytomandhenry @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirl @pjkimrn @zealoushound, @lunedelorient​, @tragicphoenix13​, @alexa-fangirl-forever​, @vhjlucky13​ @bourbonwithice

#captain syverson #syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #syverson #sand castle (movie) #captain syverson x you #syverson x you #henry cavill #syverson imagine #captain syverson imagine

[alj4890]

Anytime, Anywhere

(Liam x MC) in a Choices The Royal Romance drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge with the prompt: kissing at a crowded party.

Choices May Monthly Challenge: love | engagement | finally putting self first | lust

Rating G for steamy fluff

A/N Taking inspiration for this prompt from Book 3's diamond scene when the MC can tell Liam he doesn't have to hold back anymore from kissing her whenever he wants to.

@gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @twinkleallnight @lodberg  @amandablink @neotericthemis  @mm2305 @sfb123 @tessa-liam @thesvnsins @krsnlove @busywoman @choiceschallenge-may2023 @jerzwriter

Masterlist

She could feel it again.

Riley searched the crowded room for the source of goosebumps going up and down her body. Her dark eyes collided with a pair of hooded blue ones that never failed in making her heart hammer in her chest. That type of heated glance was one she noticed ever since she gave that one little word answer in front of the Statue of Liberty a couple of months earlier.

"Have you given any thoughts to what types of flowers you want for the wedding?" Hana asked, drawing Riley back into the conversation.

She pulled her attention away from Liam's steady gaze and refocused on the group of ladies surrounding her.

"Um, not really. With the unity tour and all, I've been letting Madeleine and Regina make all the wedding plans."

Kiara's eyes widened. "You must trust them a great deal to not even suggest which ones you'd prefer."

"I think for my wedding, I would love to have a bouquet of purple flowers." Penelope added with a dreamy sigh. "I know with my duchy's colors I should have them anyway, but I just adore that color!"

Riley was already tuning them out. Honestly, she could care less about flowers and decorations. All she worried about was finally being united with the man she was hopelessly in love with. They could get married right now in the clothes they were in with no flowers or anything special at all and she'd be thrilled.

She might as well save Regina and Madeleine time and effort to try to get her involved in the wedding planning. Giving them free reign made them happy and saved her from numerous headaches of having to pretend she was interested.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" She asked the group.

They all smiled at her and continued to discuss how their own dream weddings would look.

Riley began to edge her way through the party guests. She'd last seen Liam stuck in conversation with Godfrey and Hakim near one of the bars. She decided to save him and perhaps find somewhere they could be alone.

She inwardly frowned over that. It was odd that she was with a man who could be so passionate in private yet hold back as if they weren't really together in front of others. Yes, he escorted her everywhere, but she was the one to initiate any type of affection in public. She was the one to kiss him without worry of who was looking.

She didn't doubt for a second that Liam wanted her or else she would be back in New York still searching for Mr. Right. Though, would it kill him to show everyone they knew just how much he did?

It wasn't like she expected some epic, make you melt kiss every time they were near one another. She wouldn't mind some sort of affectionate peck or his arm around her instead of just his hand at the small of her back.

She jumped when she felt his hand in that very spot.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked with a tender smile.

"Of course." She replied. "Who doesn't love another good party?"

Liam chuckled in response. "We have been forced to attend a lot of these, haven't we?"

"A little." She grinned at him. "I'll be glad when we begin enjoying evenings alone for a change."

"So will I."

Riley felt heat flash over her as his fingers brushed the cutout at the back of her dress. He seemed to linger on her exposed skin.

"Would you like to slip away for a moment?" He whispered

"For?" Riley teased him.

Liam's smirk caught her attention.

"I think you know the purpose of my wanting to steal you away from here."

"Is it to kiss me?"

"Always." He replied.

"I see."

Liam's eyes narrowed somewhat at the sound of disappointment he could detect.

"What's wrong, my love?"

"Nothing." She lowered her eyes from his. "Where should we go?"

Liam grasped her wrist when she began to pull away from him.

"Riley?"

She grimaced then finally said what was on her mind.

"Liam, you never kiss me in front of others."

"Excuse me?"

She had to fight from rushing to reassure him. If they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, then it was only fair that he understood what she needed.

Perhaps it was because the majority of their relationship was so different from every previous one she'd been in. After all, how many people had to compete the first go around to simply be with someone then turn around and be their secret lover before getting engaged? Weird didn't even begin to cover it.

"I can feel your eyes on me wherever we go." Riley explained. "I know what you want and I want it too."

Liam's brow furrowed as he listened without interruption. His hand loosened and fell away from her wrist.

"We're together now. Really together. We don't have to hide our feelings anymore from the world." She huffed in irritation. "We're getting married in a few weeks!"

When he remained silent, she softly groaned.

"What I'm trying to say is that you can kiss me whenever you want, regardless of who's around."

She forced herself to look up at him to see how he was taking this. Maybe it was some kind of royal protocol that she wasn't aware of yet that kept him from showing affection in public. Or, what if he wasn't into PDA?

Madeleine certainly had been the one to initiate the kisses to the cheek when she was engaged to Liam. Riley guessed that was how it was going to be from now on.

She believed she could live with that as long as he was still affectionate in private. She knew she shouldn't wish for something that probably wasn't that big of a deal.

But...

She needed him to show the world she was his choice. She needed them to know she was the only one he wanted over and over again. She wanted everyone to know the type of love they had for one another.

They weren't getting married because of some archaic law so he could meet the requirements to be king. They were doing so because they were in love and couldn't imagine spending another single moment without the other by their side.

Was it too much to ask for a spontaneous kiss every now and then?

"You wouldn't mind my doing so?" Liam asked.

Her eyes flew to his.

"Kissing me?"

He nodded.

She thought he was heartbreakingly adorable in his uncertainty. Didn't he realize how crazy in love she was with him?

"Liam, you can kiss me anytime, anywhere." Riley nervously gripped her hands together. "I would love it if you kissed me whenever you felt like it."

The slow smile forming on his lips drew her attention.

"You are giving me far too much power, my love."

Chills of delight ran down her spine. His seductive tone slipping out right now was enough to make her launch herself into his arms alone. It took every bit of her willpower to see what he would do next.

He raised one hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed along her bottom lip drawing an involuntary gasp from her. His eyes raised briefly to hers before settling once more upon her mouth.

In the blink of an eye, he had his free hand slide around her waist, drawing her flush to his body. Desire burned in the deep blue depths of his eyes over the feel of her being right where he wanted.

Riley thought she would collapse from the anticipation. Her heart pounded in her ears when he slowly lowered his mouth towards hers.

There was no gentle brush of his lips to check to see if she was truly willing to be kissed. Instead, his mouth covered hers in blatant ownership. His tongue parted her lips while his hand wrapped around her hair, keeping her at the perfect angle for his ravishment.

His arm around her waist locked in place, daring her to even think about moving, as he drew a whimper from her.

Her arms hung loosely at her sides until it hit her that this was truly happening. She wrapped them around his waist and surrendered completely. Her last coherent thought was she hoped everyone was seeing this.

Liam's hand tightened around her hair in response. He continued to devour her, finally giving himself what he'd craved from the first moment he ever saw her.

Perhaps a part of him had still been in disbelief that he could truly win her and her love. But now that he knew she wanted him to touch her as much as he did, that she needed it, it set off a part of his soul he wasn't aware existed.

He could care less who saw them. He didn't mind it for a second. His entire life was paraded before the world. He was more than willing to show them his favorite part of existing.

And it had everything to do with the woman returning his kiss with the power to make his skin deliciously burn with desire.

After one last caress of his tongue, Liam lifted his head to see the effect his kiss had over her.

Riley stared at him in wonder. Her lips were still parted as if ready for another kiss. Her breaths were quick little gasps while her cheeks were rosy from the encounter. Her eyes kept returning to his mouth as if in awe of the power it had over her body.

"Now that," she smiled at him, "was a kiss."

Liam laughed, leaning down to tenderly kiss her.

She hummed her approval of such a response to her observation.

"I like that one too." Riley admitted, her smile growing bigger with each brush of his lips.

"How about this one?" He whispered, gently biting down upon her earlobe.

He felt her hands drift down to grip his rear in response.

"I like it." She breathed, her eyes closing as he dotted slow kisses along her jawline. "I love everything you do to me."

"Good." Liam's voice deepened, his lips hovering over hers once more. "Because I don't intend to ever stop."

#thirty kisses in thirty days #liam x riley #choices the royal romance #choices liam x mc #choices trr #choices fic writers creations #choices the stories you play #choices challenge may 2023

[svtminji]

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ SEVENTEEN TOURS & CONCERTS MASTERLIST

tour. a journey made by performers or an athletic team, in which they perform or play in several different places. concert. a musical performance given in public, typically by several performers or of several separate compositions.

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ 2015 - 2023: CONCERTS

S. KOREA: boys wish. — boys wish encore. — shining diamonds. — follow to seoul. JAPAN: shining diamonds. — say the name #seventeen. ONLINE: in-complete. — power of love.

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ 2016 - 2023: TOURS

WORLD: diamond edge. — ode to you. — be the sun. ASIA: shining diamonds. — ideal cut. — follow to asia. JAPAN: svt. — haru. — follow to japan.

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ 2017 - 2023: FAN-MEETINGS

CARATLAND: 2017. — 2018. — 2019. — 2022. — 2023. CARATLAND ONLINE: 2020. — 2021. JAPAN: carat camp. — carat summer camp. — hana. — hare. — hanabi. — love.

#svtminji #kpop #kpop oc #seventeen 14th member #seventeen oc #seventeen #kpop added member #seventeen added member #seventeen female member #kpop female oc #seventeen concert #seventeen tour #seventeen female addition #seventeen female oc #kpopidol #kpop original character

[arlemangel7]

Gambit xblack fem mutant reader x rogue

Cw: wedding plans, established relationship

Rogue as a bride I think she'd have a really sexy wedding dress for the ceremony, it would have a asymmetric cut out with a slit up to her hip and she have her traditional puffy eighties style hair out, pretty Natural make up nothing to busy just maybe a brownish nude lip, sharp eyeliner and some simple eyeshadow. Tear drop diamond earrings that gambit "got" yall, it was a matching set the he saw between jobs one was pink and one was yellow. So he thought "it would make a lovely wedding present for his fiancees".

You I feel like it would be a sheath style halter floor length hown with an open low back that reached around to the sides of your sides and the edges were decorated with floral applicays, instead of a veil you elected for a cape that extended from the bow tied at the back of your neck and split in two to drag behind you on both sides while leaving the back visible. You wore a high pony tail with ends flipped out and middle parted sweep bangs simple old Hollywood style make up and the pink tear drop earrings matched your bouquet (rogue had a white and yellow bouquet).

Gambit he let his hair grow out a little bit per his wives request he tried something new one year and just let his hair grow to see how long it would get by december and low and behold it got pretty long so long that he started wearing a man Bun during missions to keep it out of the way. You both found him super sexy like this and begged him to keep it long so he made the deal that he'd do it again eventually, secretly he new that meant the wedding. After trying on a few different suits he decided on a white one with silver iridescent lapels to match not only the theme of the day but you guys as well it would he would be wearing a man Bun with the classic bangs in front and his boutonniere was a half bloomed sunflower(yellow and pink).

If it wasn't obvious already it was a spring wedding some time at the end of April so it's alittle warm but not to hot pastel but not eastery and everything was fresh and regrown, and as a side bonus allergy season was almost over so no puffy eyes and little to no sneezing it think it would be outside in a garden not to big but no super small between 20-50 people there would be a small dinner for just close family and the bridal party then the ceremony followed but the biggest reception and then the following day before the honeymoon there'd be a huge southern barbecue complete with all three of yalls cultures in food (for me it'd be southern, southern, and southern) after that yall would go on a tour through a few places out of the country as the honeymoon and come home and get settled back in the house.

As always thoughts are mind characters are not

These three have been my fav for a long time so I love writing about em lookbook come soon cause duhhh lol

Anyway signing off for now 💋💋

#character x fem! reader #black coded reader #female reader #gambit x reader #rogue x reader #x men the animated series

[irlvernon]

DID SOMEONE SAY FAV SVT PERFORMANCES!!!!!! omg hii ok time to buckle in. i have a yt playlist full of my fav performances - svt moments of all time -but unfortunately half the videos have been taken down bc copyright 😭💔 fml truly..

- my life was probably changed forever by their 2021 AAA performance like hello!!! rock ver of rwy!!!!! the anyone outfits!!! THE DANCE BREAK!!!

- 2018 japan arena tour - habit and when i grow up perhaps the best singing ive ever heard…

- im also so fond of hit song - shining diamonds concert the seungkwan vocals oh my goddd hes just a baby And yet the most beautiful heartwrenching noises are escaping him.

- i also do really love highlight from 2019 kcon la performance unit PERFORMED!

- speaking of perf u their diamond edge concert !the theatrics are INSANE, the use of guitar solo instrumentals is gratuitous, and im SO here for it lmao

- this is getting really perf u heavy but bets moonwalker+wave is TOOO good (this specific video’s crowd is so funny 😭😭😭)

- okay okay last ones we of course cannot leave out jbtc fearless+left&right 2021 despite it being an empty crowd their energy was IMMACULATE plus hoshi minghao and dino/vernon dance break What more could u need seriously.

- kbs 2017 festival JUN PIANO! no more needed

stopping myself here before this really becomes a daunting wall of text 😭 a lot of these r classics/well known but u know u can never go wrong with those!!

if u got this far im soo sorry turns out this is a huge can of worms for me (nervous laughter) ! there are honestly hundreds of svt performances icould talk about for dayyyyyys i love love love their performances they are so SO unmatched in that area and even through a screen they are so captivating <3 what i would give to one day attend a svt concert……… alright thanks for letting me ramble maxogie 😭❣️hoping all those links work

OH MY GOD LEO i love this so so much pls know i appreciate u sending all this 😭 its like u read my mind!!!!!!

the 2021 aaa performance is sooo good. i also always watch the behind the scenes of that (that one's in my comfort playlist lolll)

that japan arena tour... im so mad i still havent found a full copy of it i wanna watch it so bad 😭 they all sound immaculate as always but WOW JEONGHAN SOUNDS FUCKING AMAZING

cried a little at the hit song mention. u think they still know this song?

I LOVE A PFU STAGE AHHHH !!!!!! this particular highlight stage was so good to watch bc theyre at the center of the stadium and you can hear the crowd singing>!?!??!?! and im a sucker for a dance break. instant addition to my live perf playlist

be the sun pfu stage is the bane of my existence. thats probably my most watched stage of all time. theres this stage mix of junhui during wave that is top 1 in my live perf playlist and i recommend u watch it

OH MANNN how could i have forgotten jbtc 2021 !!! we need to bring theaterteen back let them be dramatic again PLEASE

kbs 2017 is also woozi drums!!!! i wish there were subs of that video :( i wanna know what theyre yapping about

thank u again for doing this i love talking about seventeen's music so much 😭 i saved that playlist if you dont mind <3

tell me your favorite seventeen live performance

#ask #fav

[polutrope]

Underhanded

for @silmsmutweek Day 6, Prompts: Public sex, Casual sex, and Writer Challenge #6.

Rating: E | No warnings Words: 2.3k Relationship: Celegorm/Finrod Genre: Smut

"Heat crawled over the side of Celegorm’s body where Finrod’s shoulder brushed it, but he smirked. He had no wish to wrest the crown of Nargothrond from his cousin, not yet. Finrod was a competent leader, and beloved. Better to leave the Kingdom in his hands — and for Celegorm to hold Finrod in his."

On AO3

Plates heaped high with colourful offerings filled Nargothrond’s long feast table to its very edges. Burgundy venison with a crust of wild herbs, steaming meat pies bursting with red and yellow roots, garnishes of ripple-edged greens and white radishes, many bowls of pickled beans and olives from the slopes below the Faroth. Attendants topped off crystal goblets with golden wine, flitting among the courtiers pressed nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.

Finrod had been absent on his tour of the villages downriver no more than a season, but Nargothrond loved its king, and his return was heralded with an explosion of light and laughter.

Celegorm lifted his cup to eye-level, observing the play of light in the liquid, the bubbles rising in a constant stream from the base of the glass. But he was more interested in that which he watched through it: Finrod seated at the head of the table on his high-backed chair of dark wood, draped in pearly silks; the fabrics captured the glow of the chandeliers and cast them back in shifting hues. The veneer of gold and glass allowed Celegorm to admire the broad strokes of the King’s beauty, the totality of his grace rather than the singular motions of hand or neck or mouth.

Though those were lovely too, he thought, setting the rim of his glass to his lips and sipping from it. It was cool against the thin layer of skin, awakening a longing for contact of another kind: warm, living, hungry. Such had Finrod’s lips felt against his the night before he set out, when he had relented at last to years of denied desire.

Celegorm had cultivated it from the first months of their coming to Nargothrond, when he had caught the furtive glances Finrod stole of him in councils, or felt eyes raking over him in the training yards, burning too fiercely to be the politic interest of a king in his general. No — Finrod’s desire had been as carnal as Celegorm’s own, but for once Celegorm had waited. Waited for the King to claim him. The prize of Finrod Felagund inspired patience.

But now Celegorm had tasted of him: as supple and sweet as his outward show suggested, but with a centre as hard and bright and sharp as adamant which, once exposed, blazed so hot it might have hurt a lesser man. Not Celegorm. Celegorm received him willingly, eagerly, boldly. His tongue thickened with longing to taste him again.

The evening wore on. Celegorm made no effort to dull the lust blooming between his thighs, rather letting one hand slide beneath the table to tend it. The effort of maintaining the proud yet relaxed set of his shoulders, the innocuous charm of voice and countenance, served only to fuel his desire.

Finrod caught his eyes, and then, for a moment, Celegorm let his mask slip, granting the King a glimpse of the hunger beneath it. But if this brought a blush to Finrod’s cheeks, the rosy dust already brushed over them concealed it. Finrod steepled his arms on the table, his long sleeves gaping to show the soft underside of his arms ringed with bracelets — the right one bearing a tattoo of a snake, shimmering emerald — and knit his fingers together before him with all the elegant pomp of a peacock fanning his tail. He let his golden eyelashes, studded with tiny diamonds, drop heavily to his cheekbones. Only when he’d fully opened them again did he slide his gaze away from Celegorm.

The invitation was clear.

When Edrahil (benign and devoted Edrahil, the companion of his lord’s journeys) rose from his seat beside the King, bidding him goodnight, Celegorm needed no further excuse. He took his place at Finrod’s left; he chose to ignore the angling of Curufin’s head in his direction. Let his brother suspect.

“Clever of you,” Celegorm said, idly slotting the stem of Finrod’s wine glass between his fingers, “to wander.” He swirled the glass, sending the clear liquid sloshing towards the rim.

“Oh?” Finrod reclaimed his glass. The brush of fingers, his mithril-tipped nails, over Celegorm’s own was not subtle. He’d indulged, Celegorm noted by the slight droop of his brows. Good.

“To periodically absent yourself,” Celegorm clarified, “that the people might perceive the gaping space none but yourself can fill.”

Finrod laughed, flashing bright white teeth and the soft skin of his throat as he tipped his chin back. “On the contrary!” he said, loud enough for those around them to hear. “I ought to be chided for my wanderings. A king should stay among his people.”

The surrounding elves laughed and denied the assertion, but Finrod leaned in now close to Celegorm. “Lest some other win their hearts in his absence,” he whispered, affecting roughness in the honey of his voice.

Heat crawled over the side of Celegorm’s body where Finrod’s shoulder brushed it, but he smirked. He had no wish to wrest the crown of Nargothrond from his cousin, not yet. Finrod was a competent leader, and beloved. Better to leave the Kingdom in his hands — and for Celegorm to hold Finrod in his.

Fortunately, it was no burden at all to do so.

Without further preamble he clutched Finrod’s thigh just above the knee. The muscle flexed beneath his fingers, but nothing on Finrod’s face suggested a change of mood.

“’Twould not be possible to sway any heart from yours,” Celegorm said, as he slid his hand firmly up Finrod’s thigh — ah. “And if one were fool enough to try,” he cast a glance at Curufin, “they would have your fearsome guard to contend with.” He cupped the warm bulge of Finrod’s cock. It jumped in answer.

Finrod’s throat bobbed beneath his easy smile. “Alas, I have not your faith in my guard, who have failed this very night to protect me from a bold advance.”

A growl rose from deep in Celegorm’s throat, barely audible. “I meant myself, king.” He splayed his hand over Finrod’s groin, shaping his fingers around the growing evidence of his arousal.

“Mm,” said Finrod. He sipped his wine, and a dribble gleamed on his red lips. He took his time brushing it away with a long finger. “I see. I was not aware your devotion ran so deep. Do you intend to swear fealty then, cousin?”

“I would not go so far as that.” Celegorm palmed him forcefully.

“Ah!” Finrod diverted his enthusiasm in the direction of a passing lord. “Lord Gelennil, are you retiring already? How do you find your new quarters? I hope the light is adequate — you know, I have just the piece that I believe would fit in the lintels — a glass mosaic, it captures light beautifully — I will have it sent.”

The flighty cadence of Finrod’s speech was nothing unusual. The King often spoke thus when moved to excitement. There was no reason to suspect that Celegorm was stroking him hard beneath the table.

Gelennil thanked him, then looked at Celegorm.

Taking note, Finrod smiled. “Do you know, now I think of it, some of the glass was the work of Fëanor.”

“Oh, king,” said Gelennil, eyes widening and mouth gaping open, “you mustn’t honour me with such a gift.”

Celegorm rolled his thumb over the head of Finrod’s shaft.

“Nonsense,” Finrod said, and fluttered his hands apart, “you are well-deserving of it, and it ought to be displayed.” He turned to Celegorm. His pupils were blown so wide with lust that Celegorm’s breath caught with yearning. “Do you not concur, cousin?”

“Yes,” said Celegorm, and cleared his throat, “it would please me to know my father’s work adorns your quarters, lord.”

“There, you see!” Finrod struck the table with the flat of his palm. No one could have known that the gesture came just as Celegorm unclasped the hook over his waist, and that out of sight Finrod had obligingly spread his legs so that Celegorm could plunge his hand beneath the garment.

“I will have it sent tomorrow, then,” said Finrod, as Celegorm tugged at an unnecessarily elaborate system of laces. Yet the project provided opportunity for dozens of glancing touches, and when Finrod hitched his hips Celegorm deliberately slowed his progress. With the laces loose enough that he might have easily reached beneath and taken him in hand, he instead lingered over the straight, stiff shape of Finrod’s erection, feeling the pulse and heat of it through the fabric.

“You are most generous,” Gelennil said, at the same time as Celegorm’s ministrations pushed the tiniest of squeaks from Finrod’s throat. Celegorm exhaled, only the hint of chuckle behind it.

A minor slip, said Finrod’s thought, it will not happen again, so do not try.

A mistake, opening his mind: Celegorm slipped in, pressing at its corners with the throb and heat of his own arousal. Finrod breathed out sharply, slamming the doors of his thought shut even as his hand flew beneath the table to pull out his own cock for Celegorm to take.

Celegorm let his fingers run over the shape of him, feeling out the veins and ridges as he had not had the luxury of doing during their last hurried coupling. Then he winced: the heel of Finrod’s boot had struck his shin.

Above the table, Finrod extended his hand — the one that had only just emerged from between his thighs, Celegorm noted with amusement — and squeezed Gelennil’s forearm. “You’ll forgive me if I do not rise to bid you good night, the day’s journey and the evening’s festivities have made me feel as though I were composed of iron ore. I envy you your bed.”

Celegorm pumped once, and Finrod bucked, ever so slightly, into his hand. His fingers tightened around the other elf’s arm.

Gelennil smiled. “Surely the King can turn into bed whenever he likes?”

“Yes,” said Celegorm, “surely, a bed would be most commodious.” He quickened the pace of his stroking. Finrod’s chest rose and sank, a silent sigh.

“Commodious, lord?” Gelennil looked puzzled.

“Advantageous,” said Celegorm. Gelennil’s expression remained blank. “Convenient? Useful?” Celegorm huffed, for a moment forgetting his task in his impatience with this up-jumped Sindarin peasant.

Finrod’s elbow rammed his ribs, and the pain caused his hand to tighten around Finrod’s cock — which, by the fluttering of his smile, pleased Finrod greatly. Very well, thought Celegorm: if it was roughness he craved, Celegorm would provide it. With a deft turn of the wrist, he tugged and twisted. He was rewarded with a trickle of liquid leaking from the head of Finrod’s shaft.

“A bed would be most commodious indeed,” Finrod lingered luxuriously around the round vowels and sibilance of the word, as Celegorm spread the slick fluid down the length of him. “But, truth be told, I have a terrible fear of leaving early, lest I miss the climax of the evening,” — Celegorm moved down to knead his sack — “nor is my vanity immune to being stroked—” his thighs clenched around Celegorm’s hand, urging it upwards “—by the love of my people.”

Celegorm jerked insistently, coaxing another spill of fluid from him. His own lips parted, imagining how it might taste. Finrod, for his part, abruptly withdrew his hand from Gelennil’s arm and clutched the edge of the table.

“Good night, then!” he said. Without even a hint of recognition, Lord Gelennil (the witless clod) bowed his head and bid them both a good evening.

Finrod released a sigh, as if in idle contentment, which seemed to be how those nearby took it: they smiled in his direction as he fiddled with his bracelets and knit his fingers back together in front of him. He was furiously kneading his palms.

“A bed would be commodious,” Celegorm said, not letting up on the rhythm of his strokes. Though there was little to show for it on his face, by the steady pulse of blood beneath his firm grip he was sure Finrod was very near to spilling. He was himself scarcely able to resist bucking against the constraint of his breeches, or relenting to the overwhelming urge to plunge his other hand under the table. He was certain he could bring himself off with no more than a few quick strokes.

“It would,” Finrod slanted his eyes to meet him and hells, Celegorm nearly spilled from that alone, “but is it not more stimulating sitting here among friends?” Then he gasped. “Friends!” he cried, and his cock twitched and pulsed and twitched again in Celegorm’s hand. With not a second to spare, Celegorm moved to cover his head, and was immediately coated with a forceful spurt of Finrod’s spend.

Finrod had thrown his arms arm wide, drawing all eyes to him, and smiled, dauntless as he surrendered to waves of pleasure beneath the table.

“I must thank you all for your warm reception!” Cheers, as the last of Finrod’s seed trickled between Celegorm's fingers. “I have already expressed by deepest gratitude to my brother Orodreth for holding the Kingdom in my stead,” he lowered his arms to the table. “However—” he brought a hand to Celegorm’s shoulder, nudging him away from his groin. “I neglected to praise my dear cousins Lords Celegorm and Curufin.”

Another round of cheers. Celegorm held his palm, dripping sticky fluid, beneath the table, and returned his brother’s sidelong glance with an insouciant smile. “Their coming has swelled the strength of Nargothrond. We stand now firmer than ever against our foes. But now,” he pushed himself several inches back from the table, “I am spent from my travels and my bed calls me.” His hands fell to his lap. Celegorm glanced down and watched him tuck himself away and clasp his robes over his softening cock. He rose. “I will leave the conclusion of the evening's festivities in the capable hands of my cousins.”

With a swirl of fabrics and jangle of bracelets, he turned a strode from the hall. Celegorm wiped his hand on the cushion of Finrod’s vacated seat and lifted his glass to the remaining guests.

“Let the revels resume,” he said, and took a leisurely sip of wine.

#my fic #celegorm x finrod #celegorm #finrod #silmsmutweek

[scoupssolo]

Here is a small master list of links to download Seventeen Concerts

f you would like to contribute links please feel free to dm me and I will add more!

Like Shining Diamond 

4GB | 720p | Mp4

Diamond Edge Seoul 

13.5 GB total | 720p | Mp4 [this is in parts between 1-5 gb each]

Diamond Edge Japan 

9GB | 1080P | tp 

Say the Name

10GB | 1080P | tp

Japanese Arena Tour 2018

9GB |1080p | ts

Happy Ending Showcase

3.3GB | 1080p |Mp4

Hana Fanmeet 2019

10.6GB | 1080p | Mp4

Hare Fanmeet 2021

5.5GB | 1080p | Mp4

Note: I am no longer able to fix/upload files. if anything is broken im sorry I dont have access to the account anymore 

#drm.master #Here's a small gift because I'm about to hit 3k and instead of waiting I just wanted to give it out now <333 #i am gonna try to add links to just watch them at some point but not yet asgd #i got a few on my ok.ru but not many yet

[galaxygorl-does-stuff]

ugh this question has been nagging me since that one poll you rebloged but WHY DO YOU HATE PEARL ⁉️⁉️🎤🎤🎤

lmao I have a list

-she (especially in the main series) constantly neglected Steven because she liked Rose (who died 13 years before the series began and who was also in a relationship with Greg for some years before that)

-this includes leaving him dangling off the edge of a floating island thing that one time (he was 14)

-shes packaged as a good person and the only callout to her faults is ONE WORD BY WHITE DIAMOND (which only mentions how she was obsessed with Rose)

-she constantly makes him feel like he should be Rose and takes her emotions about Rose's death on him (idk how to phrase it but she acts mad at Steven for Rose's death sometimes despite it not being his fault)

-she apologizes to him once at the end of SU: Future for all her mistakes and somehow that's enough

-WARP TOUR. THE ENTIRE EPISODE. OMG. why was she so obsessed with being better than a literal 13 year old

(probably forgetting some of the things she did but it's like 8AM as I'm writing this and I woke up like an hour ago lol)

#asks #steven universe #idk the anti/crit tags to use I've never done this before #??????? idk sry if this bypasses some sorting but I added a readmore just in case