#sigh... i miss him (i played his game less than an hour ago) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stariikis · 13 days

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ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey.

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.”

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace…

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge.

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.”

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.”

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on.

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way.

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this.

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.”

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.”

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him.

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence.

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site.

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is.

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..”

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook.

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?”

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

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haddonfieldwhore · 4 months

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i miss you, i’m sorry - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: you go with your bf to a hockey game; he is unaware of your history with one of the players (please read warnings!)

warnings: abusive bf, violence, strong and derogatory language, angst, a few uses of y/n

word count: 3k

you felt like you hadn’t been able to breathe properly in hours, sitting rigid like a stone next to mike, who’s mood has only deteriorated as the night went on. mike was a diehard coyotes fan, and had brought you to the game with him last minute when his friend had cancelled last minute.

“are you sure none of your other friends would want to go? they would probably have more fun than i would,” you had offered, desperately trying to get out of going.

“they’re all busy,” he replied. “i know you hate hockey, but can you try to have a good time, for me?” he asked sweetly, pulling you into his arms. you weren’t fooled by his tone; you would go and you would enjoy it, you didn’t have a choice.

“okay,” you smiled, and he kissed you softly before going to your shared room to get ready. you sighed, trying to figure out how you were going to make it through this game. you didn’t hate hockey - you used to love it actually, but when you started dating mike you chose to keep that part of your life a secret. it seemed silly at face value, but there was a bigger secret you were hiding from him, and you asked the universe why it had to be the panthers that arizona was playing tonight.

a little less than two years ago, you had dated their star player, matthew tkachuk for almost a year, before the travel and hectic schedule got to be too much for you, and you decided to leave; the hardest thing you had ever done. the relationship had been kept pretty quiet thankfully, no traces of it online except for one or two group photos from when you were together still floating around instagram; though you had done all you could to erase any evidence.

if mike found out, you honestly weren’t sure how he would react; but you knew it wouldn’t be good. you had met mike a few months after you and matthew broke up, and he was nice enough, until he wasn’t. he kept up the good guy just long enough for you to move in and become dependant on him, and suddenly you found yourself trapped. things were okay most of the time, but if he got angry, sometimes you got caught in the crossfire. he had only actually hit you once, but he yelled, and would sometimes grab you too hard, leaving you with bruises to cover before he could see them; he had the audacity to say that they made him upset.

he had been in a good mood when you got to the arena, and you were thankful that your seats weren’t too close to the ice, though you shuddered at the possibility of matthew seeing you in the crowd, despite how slim the chance was. you hadn’t seen him since they day you broke up, and as the familiar head of curly hair came out from the tunnel, skating on to the ice as part of the starting line up, your heart felt like it was being twisted in a vice.

you missed him. you missed your friends on the team, having grown pretty close to some of the guys, as well as their girlfriends. you hadn’t heard from any of them since leaving; it was too hard at first, and then it became a safety concern. any connection to your former life meant more risk of mike finding out about matthew, and that couldn’t happen.

“can you at least look like you want to be here?” mike whispered in your ear, and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. you put on a smile, and thankfully it was good enough, as he turned his attention back to the players on the ice.

the game started off a bit slow, however the panthers had a 1-0 lead at the end of the first, and through the second as well. the coyotes were playing pretty rough, getting quite a few penalties for some dirty hits, all while mike cheered them on, booing the refs anytime they called a penalty on arizona. you watched as one of floridas players, nick cousins, ran into one of the coyotes while he was low on the boards, the hit landing on his shoulders or maybe his head, you couldn’t really tell. another coyote skated up and checked nick face first into the boards; hard. he hadn’t been looking that way and had no warning to protect himself, and you watched in distress as he crumbled to the ice, and you were worried he was unconscious.

nick had been one of your closest friends while you were dating matt, and your heart pounded as you watched him struggle to his feet.

“that pussy folded like a piece of paper!” mike laughed, enjoying every second of him getting hit. floridas players jumped on the guy who had laid the hit on nick, defending their fallen teammate as a fight broke out, sending players from each team into the penalty box. mikes mood dropped with each second of the refs deliberating passed, the officials eventually awarding nearly 20 penalty minutes to forsling for florida, as well as enough penalty minutes to arizona to give the panthers a man advantage.

“that’s fucking bullshit!” he screamed, the crowd of arizona fans not happy about the decision either. you said nothing as mike spilled some of his fourth beer on your lap, just thankful it hadn’t got on his spare coyotes jersey that he had insisted you wear. as the players got ready to continue the game, you looked across the ice, locking eyes with the one person you hoped you could avoid more than anything. something flashed in his eyes as he saw you, but his attention was quickly back to the game as the whistle blew, and soon the second period was over and he was gone down the tunnel for intermission.

the coyotes scored in the third to tie the game, but the panthers got the lead back, scoring twice in close succession. matthew looked to you after putting the puck in the net, and it took everything in you to ignore him. mike was livid at this point, the alcohol not helping in the slightest, and you cringed internally as he grabbed your hand, holding it way too tight.

forsling finally came out of the penalty box after serving 17 minutes, and immediately scored an empty netter, solidifying a 4-1 victory for florida. with 2 minutes left in the game, mike dragged you out to the concession area. matthews eyes noticed your empty seats, and his heart dropped, wondering if he had imagined you even being there in the first place.

downstairs, mike pushed you against the brick wall next to the restroom.

“wait here. i gotta piss before we leave,” looking at the long lineup already formed outside the men’s room. the arena was small, and there were limited washrooms, so you had a feeling this was gonna take a while, but you dared not move from your spot against the wall.

you could hear the final buzzer go, and the florida players began walking out from ice level, and you realized that they had to walk through the main area to get to the visitors locker room, and your blood ran cold. most of the panthers paid no mind to you, but you held your breath as you saw matthew approaching, praying that he ignored you like the others had.

he thankfully didn’t say anything, but your eyes locked for the second time that night as he passed by, disappearing down the hall and into the locker room. your foot tapped anxiously on the floor, grinding a small piece of gravel under your shoe as you willed mike to hurry the fuck up.

10 minutes went by, and you exhaled in relief as he finally appeared, not even caring about the death grip he took on your wrist as he literally dragged you behind him towards the exit.

“y/n?” a familiar voice called, and you hoped with all you had that mike would ignore it and keep walking. “wait- y/n.” mike stopped, causing you to bump into his back with how fast you were following behind him. he turned around, and you were sure he was quite confused as to why matthew tkachuk was calling after you.

“what the hell do you want?” mike asked, looking matt up and down before turning to you, still holding you tight. “do you know this asshole?”

“no, let’s go home,” you pleaded, but he wasn’t budging.

“you got the wrong girl.” mike shrugged. “shouldn’t you be circle jerking with the other guys in the locker room right now?” he spat, still bitter about his team losing the game.

“i told them to start without me,” matthew joked dryly, and you could feel his eyes on you, however yours were glued to the floor.

“funny,” mike replied. “let’s go,” he pushed you in front of him to leave.

“wait, y/n - please.”

“i’m sorry, you have the wrong person.”

“yeah, chucky,” mike laughed. “you must be thinking of some other whore. i’m sure there’s a lot of desperate chicks around here that would suck your cock though, so stop talking to mine.”

“you really shouldn’t talk about women like that,” matthew threatened, and while his tone sounded calm, you knew he was furious.

“or what? what, you want to fight or something?” mike asked. you noticed a few people gathering to watch, either out of concern or just to see matthew, but you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“baby, can we please just-“

“shut up!” he shoved you and you fell to the floor, landing hard on your ass, before punching matthew in the face. matthew swung a fist at mikes face, hitting him square in the jaw. your eyes widened in horror as mike swung more drunken punches back at matt, and people backed away from the fight. you looked down the hall to see a familiar face, and you called out to your former friend.

“carter!” his eyes snapped up from his phone and he took out an airpod before he noticed the fight, and he quickly pulled matthew off of mike with the help of security guards that had come to help break up the situation. you stared at the ground in front of you again, feeling like the room was spinning and wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you. security handcuffed mike and escorted him out of the building, while carter and another security officer took matthew back down the hall towards the locker room.

an officer asked you to come with him, and he took you to an empty office room to take a statement about what happened. you just hoped matthew wouldn’t get in too much trouble.

•

when you left the office, there were thankfully little to no fans left in the arena, the hallways eerily empty as you walked towards the door. before you could reach it though, something - or someone - made you pause. you looked back down the hall to the locker room, and with a sigh walked towards it. you knocked on the door, your heart hammering against your ribcage as it opened, one of the team staff looking at you.

“i’m sorry, you can’t be back here-“

“it’s fine. she’s a friend,” carter interrupted her, opening the door to let you in. the room was empty, the team having already left, and you forced yourself to look at carter.

“are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded.

“thank you. i’m sorry-“

“don’t, it’s not your fault.” he opened his arms and you fell into them, hugging him tightly. “chuckys just getting patched up in the medic room. mostly procedure that they have to check him after a fight - usually it only happens during a game though,” he joked, and you found yourself smiling for real for the first time that night.

“is he in a lot of trouble?”

“no more than he normally gets himself into. it’ll be fine, y/n,” he assured you, but you were still worried there might be some legal repercussions. deciding there was nothing you could do about that right now, you managed to push the thought away and sat down on a bench in the locker room.

“you waiting around for him?” verhaeghe asked, and you nodded, eyes on the floor again.

“yeah. i think i’d be a shitty person not to.”

“you could never be a shitty person,” he smiled. “we miss you. chucky especially.” you looked up at him sadly.

“i miss you guys too.”

the medic door opened with a creak, and matthew walked out. you kept your eyes on your feet, counting the laces on your shoes over and over again.

“i’ll see you later,” carter said goodbye to both of you before leaving the room. you didn’t dare look up as matthew walked over slowly and sat down next to you, leaving space between you as his gaze lingered on you.

“you waited,” he said softly.

“yeah��. i don’t think i should have, but i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“you wanted to make sure i was okay?” he laughed softly. “yeah, i’m okay.” he said, and an awkward silence filled the room. “was he always like that?” he asked gently, and you shook your head sadly.

“nope,” you said bitterly, eyes growing wet with tears. “he was perfect at first. until he wasn’t.”

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. it’s not your fault.”

“i still am. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” you didn’t reply, knowing he was right. “y/n, you haven’t even looked at me.” he hand touched yours on the bench next to you, his touch so soft and gentle it was unfamiliar.

you turned your head towards him, and his heart broke at your sad expression. his lip was split open, red and forming a bruise already. you reached for his face without thinking, pulling your hand back before you went too far.

“what do you want me to say?” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. with the carefulness of someone touching glass, he brushed it off your face, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

“do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” he asked, somewhat ignoring your question. he didn’t want you to say anything, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

“i can figure something out,” you said, going through the options in your head; likely a hotel or sleeping in your car.

“please, i would feel a lot better if i knew you were somewhere safe. i have an extra bed in my hotel room-“

“no, matthew. i can’t do this.”

“do what?” he asked.

“this,” you gestured between the two of you. “thank you for protecting me, but i can’t let myself be near you. it’s too hard.”

“please,” his blue eyes looking in yours. the smell of his cologne wafted to your nose, filling you with a sense of safety that only he could ever bring you.

“okay,” you nodded.

•

the drive to the hotel was short and silent, but you felt at ease for the first time all night. the more time you spent with him, the more it felt like no time had passed; like things were back to how they were before. matthew held your hand the whole drive, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of it gently, his touch like a feather.

you got up to the hotel room and he grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase for you.

“you a coyotes fan now?” he teased, and you laughed. matthew hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound, but did he would do anything to hear it again and again.

“not by choice,” you laughed, pulling mikes jersey over your head, putting the t-shirt over your undershirt you had on.

“did he know about -“

“no,” you shook your head, dropping the jersey in the small garbage can, and matthew cracked a smile. “he probably wouldn’t have liked it very much.”

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to -“

“it’s okay. i know. how’s your lip?” you asked, still feeling guilty about it.

“it’s not my first split lip. i’ll live,” he smiled.

“is nick okay?” you asked, remembering the nasty hit during the game.

“he wasn’t feeling too hot after that. i’m not sure yet,” he admitted, and you nodded, before covering your mouth as a yawn slipped past your lips. “come on, sleepyhead, let get you to bed.”

you nodded, dragging your exhausted body into the nearest of the two queen sized beds. matthew tucked you into bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, and you reached for his hand before he could walk away.

“lay with me?” you asked sleepily, knowing it was selfish to use him as a safety net right now; but you felt you would fall apart without him.

“are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded. he crawled into bed next to you, letting you cling to him like a life raft. “you’re safe now. i won’t let anyone hurt you, baby, i promise.”

“i know, matty,” you snuggled into him, everything about him bringing you comfort you hadn’t felt since you left; his scent, his voice, the feeling of his arms around you. “i missed you.”

“god, i missed you to. i don’t want to let you go again.”

“please don’t,” you begged, your eyes wet with tears that fell onto the fabric of his shirt, your fingers gripping it so tight your knuckles hurt. “don’t let me go.”

“i won’t.”

you felt like you were dreaming; what had started as a nightmare turning into the first time you had felt safe in months. you were scared that you would wake up and it hadn’t been real - you would be next to mike in his apartment, the cold draft from the window on your side of the bed would prickle you skin like it always did and you would have to apologize for not having his lunch ready for work.

but instead you would wake up in the arms of someone who actually cared about you, the sun peeking through the cracks of the blinds, casting warmth onto your skin. along with it, matthew brought a light to your life that had been missing for so long, you thought it was lost for good.

matthew pressed another soft kiss to your forehead as you felt yourself falling asleep, knowing you were protected as long as he was next to you.

“thank you matty,” you murmured, barely awake as you nose brushed the side of his jaw, your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“anything for you.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

#nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #real person fiction #nhl players #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matty tkachuk #matthew tkachuk #tkachuk #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey player #hockey #florida #panthers #florida panthers

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eroslove88 · 1 year

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"She only wanted to lie beside him"

Pairing: Yan. Kenma x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Stalking, kidnapping, bondage, noncon touching and noncon implied

Note: WOAH!!! I POST 2 TIMES IN A WEEK. WILD!!! Uhm yeah, this is a guilty pleasure fic.

Turning on your computer you feel a bit... dumb? It feels useless to even message him- but yet here you are. Kenma messaged you, and that's not out of the ordinary. Actually it's pretty normal, it's been normal for like 6-7 months.

You got close to him because he was in a server with a mutual friend. He goes to your high school and growing up the most you said to him was something about project years ago. Senior year- you thought that this would be the year where you'd come out of your shell but that never happened. Anxiety crashed that thought early on. When you got on a daily routine of texting Kenma you thought he'd actually want to befriend you, but that's not what happened. Long late night conversations and not a word said to each other in real life. It doesn't help that you two walk the same way home either...

Maybe you wouldn't have cared so much if you didn't have a small crush on him.

'hey did we hv hw' your computer gets a notification, Kenma. You sigh and type back, 'Yeah, the insert for this lesson.' you see that he's typing but he stops and doesn't respond until about 5 minutes later- despite being online. '👍' you couldn't help but roll your eyes and just sigh.

None the less he was an ok dude, he had offered to gift you things, games & chocolates- all of which you declined. You didn't want to feel materialistic and greedy.

'do you wanna play gungeon' you put your jacket on and replied quickly, 'Sorry, I'm going for a walk. I can play in an hour though!' you patiently waited and he replied quickly. 'k' huffing you closed your laptop, charging it before you left.

During the winter, the sun went down faster than usual. So around 7ish the streets were empty for walkers except for the occasional dog walkers.

The sound of quiet foot steps penetrated your mind. Snapping your head around you're faced with empty streets, probably paranoia you thought. You turned your music up walking down your usual route.

Even with the music playing you couldn't help but hear footsteps everywhere. You weren't so far from the park... just 3 more blocks.

The feeling of being watched burns your neck, you really should've turned around. Pounding footsteps come running towards you but you were too late. Your screams were demoted to tiny whimpers as you weakly try grasping the needle in your neck.

You were freezing, your arms and legs were duct taped together. It was a pretty lazy job, but whatever kind of tape it was was pretty fucking strong. Your vision was blurred with tears and you whimper into your gag and curled into yourself seeming to have missed the boy sitting at the desk across the room.

It wasn't until you heard the creaking of the chair and light footsteps that you felt panic. Your eyes remained closed even when he was right by your face.

The bed dipped down, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you" a small crying noise comes out from your gag as you try to beg him to stay away. He shushed you coming closer but all you could do was shake your head and try to move away, "Hey, it's ok" he spoke to you like a stray kitten as he slowly approached your trembling body, "Sh... It's only me" you knew that. But that didn't stop you from squirming in his arm as you tried pushing him away. He tisked at your pitiful attempt, " 'm really sorry for not approaching you" he mumbles kissing your head. "I knew you were lonely..." he chuckles, "But that honestly made things even easier" he let's you go and stands up. "I've been waiting a while to do this you know" he pulls out a black box. He opened it and paused "I've always been curious to see how your pretty face would look with a full pussy" he pulls out 3 big dildos, "and ass" he smirks pulling out a condom. "2 v. 2?"

#tw yandere #tw kidnapping #yandere #tw noncon #haikyu smut #haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere kenma #yandere kozume #kenma kozume

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autisticlancemcclain · 6 months

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part one

———

Over the next several weeks, Marcela continues to keep an eye on the boy. (Takashi. She knows his name is Takashi, and that he is an adult by legal standards. But she can’t get over how — how young he is. She can’t get over the scars on his face and the straight-backed robotic way he walks and the haunted look in his eyes. She hates America, often, and she hates the world, for letting children — encouraging them — to sign up for something they can never understand. He has been alive for less than one quarter of his lifespan. He is just a boy.)

She’s careful not to overbear him, to keep some distance, but at least once a week she’ll make a plate and send it his way, or have Luis weed his garden as well as theirs. She’ll even kick the football into his yard when she’s playing with Lance and Rachel, just to give them an excuse to go get it, just to give the boy a reason to get up and answer the door. She’s always been a light sleeper, too, and when she hears his car start up in the middle of the night, far too late for any errands, she’ll press a gentle kiss to her sleeping husband’s temple and slide her feet into her slippers, quietly padding over to the kitchen and watching with a mug of tea until the car pulls back into the driveway. (Some days, that takes hours. Some days the sun rises again before she sees the beam of his headlights bleed back onto their streets. Some days, even, he won’t leave the driveway, sitting instead with his hands clutched on the wheels and his eyes staring, unblinking, at the chipping paint of his garage door, for hours. Those are the worst days. On those days, she makes sure to make something sweet and warm and comforting, and leave a heaping plate of it on his doorstep. On those days, she swallows the lump in her throat and hugs her children tightly and they grip the seams of her shirt and say nothing, not even whining or squirming when she pulls them away from their games. On those days she misses her brother so much it aches in her teeth.)

On one particularly hot day, she’s reorganising the kitchen cabinets and only paying half attention. The rest of her is staring out the window above the sink, because the boy walked into his backyard two hours ago and stood ramrod straight in the middle of the clover and has not moved since and worried does not begin to cover it.

“Maaaaaaaaamá,” whines a voice behind her. Marcela jumps, whirling around, pressing her hand to her heaving chest when she sees who it is.

“Leandro,” she scolds, turning back to her half-hearted sorting of their colourful collection of mugs. “You startled me.”

Her baby doesn’t respond to that, choosing instead to flop dramatically over the kitchen table, cheek smushed on the scratched wood and limbs askew.

“I’m so bored,” he laments, brown eyes big and pouted and pleading. “There’s nothing to do. No one to play with. I am alone and despolate.”

“Desolate,” Marcela corrects, grinning. “You’re a mocoso descarado, you know that?”

He beams at her. She sets the final mug away, then walks over to brush his hair from his face and press a kiss to his forehead.

He leans into her touch, sighing. “How come I couldn’t go with everybody? It’s not fair. I’m very mature. I could have watched the scary movie.”

She hums, taking the seat next to him and gathering him into her arms. He goes willingly, elbowing her in the side in his haste to tuck himself into her lap and under her chin. She rests her cheek on the top of his head and strokes her hands gently down his back.

“You’re very mature, mi vida,” she agrees softly, squeezing. “But maybe no scary movies for the chico mono who gets nightmares when he sleeps without a nightlight and cries when he sees a dried out worm, hm?”

He harrumphs, wounded. She hides a smile in his hair and loves him with her whole body.

“‘M not a baby.”

“There’s nothing babyish about having a big heart. I just want to keep it —” she tickles the spot just above his heart, making him giggle — “safe and sound, okay?”

“Okay.”

She pulls back slightly so she has room to clasp her palms to his cheeks, kissing him smack in between the eyes with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise.

“There we go, mijo.”

She settles them back against the chair, rocking them a little. Her baby has grown up so much. It startles her, sometimes, when she checks in on him — on any of her babies — and sees a big, growing kid in a big boy bed, instead of the baby in a crib she’s expecting. Five years is nothing, and five years is hundreds of days worth of knowing and loving him. She hopes her children know how much love bubbles out of her, all for them. How much she treasures every single second she had and has with him.

He squirms, slightly, in her lap, forcing himself still after a couple seconds when he catches himself moving. She glances down to find him fidgeting, twisting his fingers. He’s restless — he’ll get moody soon. He’s been cooped up in the house all day with no one to play with. He’s been an angel, either helping her around the house and entertaining himself, but it’s not fair to him.

Her eyes drift back out the kitchen window, and she gets an idea.

“Lancito,” she starts, straightening out as a plan begins to take form, “you want to play chess?”

He blinks at her.

“You stink at chess,” he says, not unkindly.

It’s true — she does. She understands, objectively, how to play, but she’s never managed to see the board the way Lance or Veronica see it. She doesn’t understand how to play strategically and never has. She can’t picture future moves or anticipate strategy the way chess players can, so she’s always pretty easily beat. Not that it would matter too much if she could play well — Lance has beaten everyone in the house several times over. When he’s allowed to play on the computer, he beats the players there, too. He’s bright, and he has been obsessed with the game since his fingers were big enough to move around the pieces and his Abuela taught him to play.

She helps him to the floor, speeding to the fridge and pulling out some leftovers as Lance watches in confusion.

“There’s someone you haven’t played before, though.”

“Nuh-uh.” He starts listing on his fingers. “I beat you, I beat Papá, I beat Luis, I beat Veronica, I beat Marco, like, a hundred times —”

Marcela finishes setting up a — pointedly and deliberately — balanced plate, wrapped with parchment this time because she’s run out of aluminum foil. She spots Lance’s folded up chessboard and grabs it, placing the plate on top and offering it to Lance, who stares at it with furrowed brows.

“I bet you Takashi is a new challenge,” she says enticingly. “Why don’t you go over and ask him to play?”

Lance, bless his little extrovert heart, brightens immediately.

“Oh yeah!”

She walks him to the door, hand on his head to help guide him around the various tripping hazards in the hallway — her family is messy, and Lancito has never been the most coordinated child. He’ll be fine (probably) when he gets outside.

“Okay, make sure you’re either back in a couple hours or you come let me know that you’re staying,” she says, lingering at the front steps. Lance is already skittering across the driveway, not even bothering to wave.

“‘Kay! Bye!”

She watches as he rushes up Takashi’s steps, careful not to spill the plate. The door is open — it really is hot today — and only the screen is left closed. Marcela crosses her fingers, hoping the boy will come when Lancito knocks, and —

She freezes. Her jaw drops. Lance — didn’t knock. The little dork just…opened the door of a relative stranger’s house and just.

Walked in.

“Dios mio,” she mutters to herself, hustling back to the kitchen to continue spying out the window.

She makes it there just in time, not even bothering with the pretence of reorganizing cup ware as she watches her son stride up to the boy, a particular sort of childlike confidence guiding his bare feet, and plant himself in front of him. The boy, strangely, does not seem to notice him, still staring blankly ahead of him.

Lance considers this for a moment. He steps over to the side and sets down the plate of food, walking back to stand squarely in front of the boy. He pokes him. The boy startles.

Marcela scrambles to open the window.

“I need a chess buddy,” Lance declares.

Takashi blinks at him.

“How,” he says, finally, gesturing at Lance as a whole. “What.”

“Chess is a strategy game played by two people,” Lance explains, missing the meaning of Takashi’s statement entirely. Marcela bites her tongue to keep from laughing. “Sit down, I’ll teach you.” Lance sits. He opens his chessboard and begins meticulously setting up the pieces. “I call dibs on playing black.”

Takashi doesn’t move for a long while. For a moment Marcela worries that he won’t let Lance play; or worse, he’s frozen again, uncomprehending of what’s in front of him.

But, slowly, he sits. And he runs his fingertips over the top of the pawns. He swallows, harshly, several times. Something painful works its way across his face before settling into something pensive, soft.

“I would appreciate that,” he says quietly.

He clearly knows how to play. He lets Lance explain, but he has no trouble keeping up with Lance play for play; eventually cornering Lance’s king. Lance glares at him for several minutes after, which Shiro allows with a stoic look in return, until the frown on Lancito’s face suddenly shifts to one of begrudging respect.

“Rematch,” Lance decides, ever the most competitive child Marcela has ever known.

Shiro cracks a smile. “So I can beat you again?”

Lance huffs. “We’ll see, butthead.”

Satisfied that the boys are fine, for once, relieved at the animation returned to Takashi’s spirit, Marcela turns back to organizing the kitchen in earnest. She puts on her favourite CD and dances around the kitchen as she arranges the plates and bowls in a very particular way she knows will drive her husband insane. She loses herself in the monotony of scrubbing the fridge clean for no reason except that it’s Sunday and she’s bored and she has to time to lose herself in tedium, lucky as she is.

Hours later, long after the rest of her family comes in, Lance stomps his way into the living room where Marcela is braiding Rachel’s hair and helping her run lines for her school play.

“I want to trade Marco for Shiro,” he announces. He explains for their benefits: “That’s what Takashi told me I could call him.”

Marcela hides a smile. “You can still visit next door if you keep your brother, you know.”

“Ugh,” Lance says.

Rachel snorts. She knows as well as everyone else in the house that it will be Marco, tonight, who Lance will turn to to help check his room for monsters or sleep with should he have a nightmare. And Marco will sigh and whine and complain and never entertain the idea of not helping.

“I’m glad you and Takashi have become friends,” Marcela offers.

This brings the smile back to Lance’s face.

“Duh,” he says. “It’s Shiro.”

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wingedjellyfishflight · 14 days

Text

Freedom Calls

Sneaking in here just might be the dumbest thing you have done, but you can't sit idly by and watch this man be tortured and killed by your corrupt organization. You might not have any better options, but you know that he does. He just needs help getting to them. At least you are good with a lockpick and have security access as a guard. Makes it easier that way. Though, your keycard will be traced to you, and you know that means your life is forfeit. They haven't had time to start on him, though, which means that he should be well enough to escape once he is out the door. And the guard on duty tonight is well known for falling asleep at the job, hiding in a closet nearby. So that should mean you don't have to hurt anyone.

The only thing you didn't account for was him. The man himself.

"Why are you here? What do you want? This is a trick, I know it! No, I'm not playing your games." Finally, you resort to ordering him to cuff up and putting a bag over his head. You drag him out, fighting him every step and pretend to anyone you come across that you've been ordered to bring him to interrogation room 15, which no one wants to admit they have no clue where that is, so your confidently bored voice gets you most of the way across the facility without an issue.

You drag him into an empty bathroom and shove him to the handicap stall before dragging the hood off and uncuffing him.

"What-? Where?!" You shove a hand over his mouth.

"Keep your voice down. I'm trying to set you free, you idiot! Out that window about 10 yards is the perimeter fence. It's got a hole at the bottom that you can crawl through, and then it's straight to the woods from there. North of those woods is a main road where your team can pick you up if they are watching. Shouldn't take more than 10 minutes at a flat out, so long as you don't trip. Now, go already before we get caught, and I die for nothing!"

He seems torn for a moment. You think he is unsure if he should believe you, but the truth is almost worse. He grabs you and tosses you out the window before jumping out himself. Wrapping his hands in the straps of your tac vest, he half carries you like a doll, shoving you through the hole in the fence and following quickly. There are no shouts of alarm yet, luckily. He quickly pulls you to your feet and shoves you toward the woods. You start running, knowing if you are caught, then you're both dead.

At the wood's edge, you hear the first shouts. They are focused inside, and you know they have discovered that he is missing. You pick up the pace, guiding the two of you to a deer path that you know from your leisurely walks at lunch in the forest. He follows you, and you signal to follow the path. Surging past, he goes into a flat-out run. You struggle behind him, doing your best to keep up.

You hear a squad moving behind you. If they catch him, it's game over for both of you, but you know if they catch you that you can be a distraction, giving him a chance to escape. So you duck down a side path, barely wide enough for precise steps. It takes you mostly parallel to the road, east instead of north. After a few hundred feet, you begin purposely making extra noise to attract attention. You can hear them changing direction to follow you, slowed down by the heavier brush. The further you go, the more you outpace them and the less purposeful noise you make. Another few hundred meters or so, and you realize they have turned back, likely assuming they have chased wildlife instead of their target.

Breathing a tiny sigh of relief, you continue looking for a fork in the path to take you north again. You find it surprisingly quickly and come out onto the road about a mile away from the main trail. Almost immediately, you are held at gun point by a man who sports an enemy uniform. Well, an hour ago, he was your enemy, but now, you're not sure.

"Has he made it here yet? The trail I sent him on was only a mile south, and he was far ahead of me." Your question seems to put the man off kilter for a long moment. Too long. You brace yourself, waiting for him to kill you. Instead, a masked man comes around the corner of the vehicle.

"That's the one. Handcuff her and put her in the back. Let's go." You flinch as he handcuffs you tightly but cooperate every step of the way. You're sandwiched between the two men, and you sit quietly as the masked man drives the truck away. Surprisingly, it's as straightforward as just driving down the road to a nearby airport to escape. On board a big military plane, the questions start. They hate your answer that it was a spontaneous decision, and you just didn't think it was right, keeping him there. It's nearly an hour of questions before they seem satisfied.

You can't believe it when they just uncuff you back at the military base. Rather than let you walk away, the masked man pins you to the wall, pressing his body against yours. "You cannot return," he says bluntly.

You shake your head. "No, I can't go back."

He stares at you for a long moment. "Then, you are mine," he says with a growl, dragging you to his quarters without a further word, determined to cement your place at his side.

#call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader

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lettersfromaphrodite · 9 months

Text

[17.49]

― pairing : Chris x fem! reader ― content warnings : smut, fluff, gamer au, drabble, mentions to overwatch, explicit language, oral sex (f recieving), unprotected sex, established relationship ― word count : 2.099

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

«Hurry up, Chris.» you whined to yourself as you were wearing your headphones and adjusting the microphone in front of you; streaming videogames was one of your favourite hobbies and you managed to stream a couple of hours a day as soon as you got home from work.

Honestly, you were more than thankful to your boyfriend, Chris, offering you to be the admin of your gaming channel and therefore, sitting next to you during all your streams. Despite the fact that you started constantly streaming more than six months ago, the fact that an unknown number of people was watching and sometimes judging your gaming skills was enough to make you nervous and slightly worsen your aim.

Chris shared the same passion as you did, and your gaming set up included two almost identical gaming postation and therefore, this meant that not only he could sit next to you, but also monitor the viewers’ comment just in case someone was disrespectful enough to be banned. It was undeniable that you found his presence soothing; he would place a hand on your thigh to signal that the live had started - since you couldn’t see the live delay for yourself and, as soon as it was finished, he would kiss you while praising you with a wide and sincere smile, saying you did great.

Somehow, Chris managed to make everything seem less intimidating, and you were genuinely thankful for his daily presence in your life.

«What if I mess up and try to counter Winston with Genji?» you left yourself sink into the chair, re-adjusting your pyjama shorts – you honestly didn’t bother to dress up nicely beside your shirt, as you heard a light chuckle coming from next to you.

«Prepare yourself to be banned by the whole community of gamers.» Chris answered with a playful smile as he put on his headphones as well; you groaned to yourself, making him laugh at your reaction.

«Come here, sunshine, let me give you a good luck kiss.» Chris pulled your chair to his, and you immediately leaned in to peck his lips in a quick but soft manner; you sighed, feeling content with your boyfriend’s constant display of attention. However, Chris felt like he wanted more, and he wasn’t sure he could wait for your streaming to end.

«Hi, everyone!» you said as soon as Chris placed his hand on your thigh, staring into the camera with a bright smile on your face, «So many games came out this week, but I didn’t know what to stream! I guess for today we’ll settle for some quick plays on Overwatch until I decide what to actually buy.» you laughed, blushing a bit.

The stream started smoothly, you would miss some kills due to your nervousness, but Chris gently patting your leg or your elbow anytime you died helped yourself not to feel too frustrated about it.

«I know you’re about to come for my head,» you joked, focused on changing your character, «but I’m going to try walking this path again, this time with a sniper, because don’t we all love a bit of thrill.» you said, leading your character on the route where you died in silly ways at least four times, completely unaware about Chris’ sudden mischievous smirk.

Eventually, you felt Chris’ hand on your thigh; you glanced at him, just to see if anything was wrong or people were really spamming the comment section because “playing a sniper on Nepal’s control map is just unacceptable”, but he simply shook your head, showing you a playful and innocent smile.

The more the game went on, the more you tried not to focus on the fact that Chris’ hand was slowly inching higher on your thigh, making your skin immediately feel warm at the contact; you could feel his eyes fixed on you rather than the screen, and anytime you glanced at him, he’d squeeze your thigh and shook his head in a silent signal that everything was okay.

Chris’ hand was dangerously close to the hem of your loose pyjama shorts, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from the desire to touch you; Chris was perfectly aware about the fact that you tensed up, and he was also perfectly aware that you were sensitive, but he wanted to have a little bit of fun.

As you felt Chris’ thumb stroke your thigh while applying a slight pressure every now and then, you knew it was not unintentional; your eyes widened, noticing what your boyfriend was up to. Your leg accidentally twitched, causing Chris’ hand to slide a little bit higher; you sent him a panicked look, but your boyfriend answered with a wink and a playful smile.

Only then, you understood how mischievous Chris looked in that very moment: messy hair in which he kept running his hands, and his pyjama shirt slightly unbuttoned; this small distraction caused you to die once again, the loud noise of an enemy’s special attack startling you and inevitably drawing your attention back to the game.

“Okay love,” you thought, “two can play this game” you jolted, trying to keep a neutral expression as you felt his Chris’ hold tighten on your inner thigh, hoping that he wouldn’t try anything in front of 900 viewers. Once again, you were perfectly aware about the microphone only few inches from your mouth, recording perfectly every hitch of your breath anytime Chris dared some bolder move as massaging his thigh.

You knew that at this point, the views probably dropped, since you couldn’t focus due to the growing wetness in your pants. “This is surreal,” you thought trying to chase an enemy player, “I can’t get turned on from this,” you managed to counter his attack and proceed straight to the point yet to conquer. All the hopes you held were short lived, as soon as you felt Chris’ hand taking advantage of the fact that your legs were spreaded – damn you and your habit of sitting in weird ways, just to place the palm of his hand directly on your wetness; your leg twitched and your knee accidentally slammed under the desk.

«Shit!» you exclaimed, «Sorry everyone, I kinda got startled by Genji screaming in my ear.» you lied, fully aware of the blush entirely covering from your face to your neck.

As you sent Chris another panicked look, your breath slightly quickened and your heart was hammering in your chest so loudly that you could confuse it for a game sound effect; Chris, however, simply winked you once again, his hold tight and unwavering. Luck was on your side, because as soon as you felt Chris’ hand sliding inside your shorts, the match also ended.

«Okay, today live ends here!» you announced, not planning to end it so soon, but you certainly couldn’t keep streaming when Chris was teasing you like that in front of everyone.

«Thanks everyone for following me today, see you in two days, same time! Bye!» you smiled cheerfully trying to ignore Chris slightly palming his growing erection with his head thrown on the chair, before turning everything off: live, webcam, microphone.

«Okay love, we can log out, and also» you whispered taking off your headphones, «what the hell was that for?» Having gotten what he was aiming for, Chris’s mouth was now stretched into a full grin and his attention directed completely towards you; his hand was still between your legs, but now he was applying more pressure to it, knowing well the effect it had on you.

«Your fans are absolutely right, sunshine,» he said, removing his hand from you for a brief moment, enough for him to stand up and balance himself on the armrests of your chair, pinning you against it and leaning towards you, «You look absolutely gorgeous today, I couldn’t wait to have you all for myself.» Chris’ lips inched towards you with a slow pace, and you waited for him to kiss you with parted lips and a hammering heart, anticipating the moment; as soon as your lips were few millimetres apart, he suddenly tilted his head, his lips busy tracing abstract patterns on your neck as he gently spreaded your legs using his.

«Are you sure you turned everything off?» Chris asked, sitting between your spreader legs and caressing your inner thighs in a rough manner, his fingertips toying with the elastic band of your pyjama; you glanced at the screen with a panicked look, and nodded as soon as you saw that you were completely offline.

As soon as Chris saw your affirmative response, he slid both your shorts and your underwear off your legs, licking his lips with a victorious smile at the sight of you already on the verge to fall apart when he still didn’t do anything. Chris knew the effect he had on you, and he loved to take advantage of it; wearing rings on his hands, bracelets, it was not casual, they were simple details which would focus your attention to certain places and he loved seeing you getting flustered because of it. Especially, he loved when he could feel your body shiver as a reaction to the cold metal of his rings encountering your hot skin.

«Chris!» you whined, as you felt his lips attaching on your clit and eagerly sucking on it; your hands flew in his soft brown hair and he moaned against your wetness, eager to please you and to hear your moans in return, knowing that he was the cause of your bliss.

Chris wasted no time in teasing you, and immediately his tongue was occasionally alternating kitten licks to more rough movements, his tongue flat and spreading your wet folds already clenching around nothing thanks to the desire that rapidly built up inside you. Chris fingertips reached out, spreading your folds so that he could draw abstract shapes against it while using the tip of his tongue, making you whimper at the need of further contact.

However, by now, Chris knew your body language and purposely avoided to give you what you were silently asking for; you jolted forwards, feeling your legs shake as Chris experimentally moaned against your wetness, and since he was pleased with your reactions, he simply decided to add it as well to the mix.

Quickly, you reached out to unbutton your shirt, feeling like it was getting a bit too hot in the room to be so overdressed; you took the opportunity to push your wetness even more into Chris’ face, which in response sucked on it a little more eagerly at the sight of one of your hands playing with your nipple and your chest rising and fall in quick, uneven intakes of breaths.

«Fingers,» you whimpered, «I want your fingers.» you pulled his face closer to you by the hold you had on his hair; you were close, but you wanted to come at least around Chris’ thick fingers scissoring and curling inside you.

«You’ll take what I give you.» Chris’ voice was hoarse and husky, and he detached from you just enough to answer your plead, before starting once again to lap at your parted folds; choking on a whine, you nodded at Chris’ sudden rough behaviour, before glancing down, and finally noticing that Chris was also busy touching himself while pleasuring you.

The sight of his fist tightly wrapped around his length in quick and sharp movements – while the silver bracelet he always wore was dancing around his wrist, mixed to the feeling of his mouth stimulating you, made you rapidly approach your orgasm. Calling for Chris’ name as if it was a prayer, your body shook, your muscles quickly tensing up and relaxing in a rapid succession, and Chris never stopping his motions of eagerly sucking on your clit until you eventually started to tremble in overstimulation. You were sure that your wetness was dripping on your gaming chair, but your eyes were locked on Chris, which sat back with his cheeks flushed red, leaning his weight on his hands as his pyjama pants were loosely hanging around his thighs, his length still hard and obviously begging for attention and release.

«If we don’t fuck within the next minute I’ll go insane,» you panted, your legs still spreaded and the sensation of your orgasm still lingering on your body; Chris agreed, nodding few times, before quickly glancing behind himself.

«On my gaming chair?» Chris asked, rising his eyebrow at you.

«On your gaming chair.» you nodded immediately, and you both moved to stand up at the same time.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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#fanfics #bang chan smut #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut

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astarionfixation · 2 months

Text

Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!

A multi chapter adventure in Astarion's mind

Chapter 2 - +As if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over+

Rating: eventually Explicit but just a lot of mind tease so far.

Word count count: 2.3k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/137824306

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

Teaser:

In an exasperated sigh he breathes in again and all the effort he put into keeping lucid since he got back into her room is crashing down upon him. The nauseatingly spiced mix of wine and flowers assaulting his senses once again, and her breath caressing his face as he just now realises he must have leaned in without thinking. *As if she’s not been a damned little inconvenience already!* But that’s when she begins stirring and the image of the moment when he was just that close to her a few hours prior, flashes in his mind again. Her warm fingers on the back of his neck as traitors ready to find a spot to bury a dagger *I should know! I’ve played this game before, you hussy! better than you ever will!* Those fingers seemingly trying to grasp at him just before a soft whiff of that intoxicating scent escaped her lips when she hummed, barely intelligible: Stay.

Chapter Two - *as if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over*

Notes: *Astarion's Thoughts* +quotes from her journal+ "audible dialogue" -remarks-

aul iasa nha tho is Elvish for "in vino veritas", otherwise said "In wine there's truth" or the general idea that people are much more guileless when intoxicated.

He must’ve read those pages so many times that it’s surprising how they have not been worn out. And the fact he doesn’t technically need to sleep surely hasn’t helped the surprise quickly turn to addiction.

*How could I have not noticed?!*

The tightly kept book gave him more access to her mind, her actual thoughts, that any connection the worms might have forced them to share, and that’s likely why everyone promptly agreed to stay out of everyone’s business for the time being. And it wasn’t quite like he meant to break that deal, he was just severely unprepared for what he had found in that insignificant shiny little volume. All handwritten. By her.

Along with the odd note of information gathered during the last few days, the pages were filled mostly with just her reflections, clearly never intended for eyes that were not her own deep ones, eyes he never felt lingering on him more than the time it was necessary to be called for duty, to be addressed as politely as an accidentally forced companionship put them together. And he was supposed to know, to see, to read people and understand how to play them as if fiddling with an instrument he himself had built from scratch! The countless souls he alone had enticed and played every key, including -especially- the dark, heavy ones. Then how could he have missed the eyes she had been looking at him with? How could he have missed the intention? How could she have walked this earth without a tenth of the time he had and compete with his own ability to mask and dissipate any impression of sentiment or feeling?

He started to genuinely wonder if there could have been a mistake, perhaps she had been keeping the little metallic book for someone else *and yet I saw her and her damned quill on it! I saw her unimpressed and vacant eyes!* while clearly less than a day ago her thoughts must have been so focused on him they should have burnt a hole in his back:

+I cannot cope with the heart rending clench, from my stomach to the tip of my hair, diffusing a cold, quivering heat as if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over in just a moment, every time his voice pours, like honey, into my ears+

He found himself catching breath he didn’t need for hours, disgusted surely by the idea that she kept him in her mind so often, yet compelled to scrutinise every single line, with no chance to concede that even just one word she spent on him could have gone amiss. He had dozens of pages to commit to memory before sunrise, now that his plans toward individual freedom had suddenly fallen apart. There was no tadpole solution, no way to charm and dominate the worms, nothing to guarantee he could remain himself while still feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin.

*Nothing to guarantee the warmth of her skin if her thoughts get consumed until there’s nothing left of her*

And he has to shake his head physically from the thought because *why!? Why would she be the issue now!?* when he has his own thoughts, his own brain to worry about, his own survival as the only thing that has kept him unnaturally alive for over two centuries, well before she was barely an idea in her parent’s minds!

His arm pulls back and the book’s metallic cover hits the door he’s still sitting against. He should be throwing it with such force that would destroy that little insignificant piece of paper conjuring all kinds of soft, enticing visions, while none will help with their shared issue: they are all on borrowed time.

+it was a good delusion of power, as if anyone could really be just... So mature for their age... But that's another story, I don't like the stories of my memories, read in hindsight…+

And that’s what froze him in place. She doesn’t spell it out but just reading the words pulls his stomach just the same, he knows that feeling, the lulling comfort that the idea of pleasing a tyrant and taking each beating as a compliment will do. His eyes close and this time the little precious book is brought to his chest, just where his heart last beat all those centuries ago. And his tintless eyebrows furrow, his usually graceful traits tighten in what is almost a grimace, teeth clenching as his head shakes once more, but this time it’s because his own memories made stories out of his delusions of power, when no matter the amount of sacrifices he brought back every night, neither his body nor his mind were spared the abuse and humiliations from his cruel Master. Cazador’s looming body flashes behind his tightened eyes.

*Fourth: thou shalt know that thou art mine.*

The rules of his master played like an obsessive charm in his head over and over, and then it’s kinder, it’s easier to embrace what felt like the only power he had, seducing and pleasing whilst hoping for the lesser beating.

It does not matter that air is not needed now, because the sharp intakes cut through his lips and down to the bottom of his lungs, and his lips pull almost as if from muscle memory and like he so often did before. To please and appease him, to make the punishment shorter and numbing his own mind for longer.

And all of a sudden it all stops. His arms feel as if they are strained by efforts he does not recall, the heavy door behind his back certainly not as comfortable as the bed in front of him and

*oh yes, the little useless book*

The book that gave him no more freedom he had the night before. He would throw it mindlessly but his hand finds a way to just leave it to rest on the floor, while with an agile movement he’s back on his feet, and in a moment he’s theatrically falling on the bed, face hitting the pillows first, and a long unnecessary breath empties his lungs with the last remnants of something that reminds him of mulled wine and flowers.

—-----------

The noise of boots outside snaps him out of his trance just when the last of the candles must have burnt out as a swirl of smoke still rises in the otherwise darkened room. Voices muffled behind the door tell him his companions are only now getting to their beds which means not much will be expected of him that morning.

*Thank fuck!*

His arms move the pillow around to bury his face onto it and hoping to fall into trance again when a deeper sigh rises from his chest, and he knows. He knows what he has to do to avoid any consequences to befall upon him. Never before a sleight of hand has failed him so spectacularly and now he's not only stuck with the merry fellowship of warmbloods ignorami

*no closer to understand and control the worm in my head*

but now with the knowledge that their pretty, little accidental leader has had her eyes fixed on him way more often than he ever realised.

*Shit… does she know?*

And with that thought he rolls on his back, the crook of his elbow sheltering his eyes and with a final exasperated sigh he pulls himself up. Even in the darkened room he can see the metallic cover trying its best to reflect whatever resemblance of light it can catch. His long, delicate fingers pick it up and he finds himself almost laughing at himself

*You thought this was going to be your freedom and now you're just more chained to her them*

Of course he's just stuck being a monster, what did he expect? He gathers the book in his hands and not far, discarded by the door, he finds the small lock, the mockery of having to use his lockpicking skills to put it back together does not escape him.

Once the lock is back in place there’s only one thing left to do. His resignation has almost taken over if it wasn’t for that tinge just at the bottom of his stomach that wishes for him to destroy the book, destroy the room and have splinters find their way under his skin so that maybe, hopefully, the pain will take his attention away from the spectacular failure he is.

*serves me well for conceding anything to hope*

In a flash he’s out of his door, gliding through the shadows. The corridor should simply bow to his graceful presence as he approaches her room. Again.

His hand pushes the door slightly and in a moment he’s in, this time making sure the lock is turned just to avoid any sudden interruption, and within a few seconds his senses are assaulted once again by that scent that makes him feel both a drunkard and abstinent by necessity more than choice. A sigh is the loudest noise he allows himself to make as he exhales: the less he has her scent in his lungs, the easier it will be to ignore it.

Her breath is deep and regular which gives him information enough to carefully reach for her bedside table where her bag was discarded, and indeed, it’s still there waiting for him, half open. The little book still in his hand and he’s just about to place it back there

*Like absolutely nothing ever happened*

And in that moment he realises, as soon as it’s back, it’s gone. His one window to her unadulterated thoughts is gone. The one access he has ever had to someone, anyone’s actual idea of him that wasn’t serving a purpose or trying to extort something from him. If her behaviour had fooled him so completely then it was reasonable to consider the possibility she never intended to act upon any of her reflections, and the book held so many he found himself cursing the fact his elven life ended earlier and lasted much less than his immortal one, before he could learn how to commit to memory more enduringly that the last few hours perusing the little tome allowed him.

*nasty little tease! letting my mind slip that far back!*

His head shakes slightly and a bitter smile pulls the corner of his lips. There’s no point crying over spilled milk again. His hand doesn’t even touch the bag, but the book is back in it, as if it never left. With his body crouched next to bed he can see the look on her face, the look of someone who has really been peacefully resting for the last few hours, completely and utterly unaware about how she has taken that peace almost directly from him: he should have rested, he should have gone hunting and the mere thought reminds him of that dry, stinging feeling in his throat. But instead of satiating his hunger, gaining any ounce of strength back, any semblance of mortality, he just wasted the entire night on that vexatious little book that she guarded so intensely for absolutely no reason.

*Nothing no one of value in it!*

*As if she’s not been a damned little inconvenience already!*

But that’s when she begins stirring and the image of the moment when he was just that close to her a few hours prior, flashes in his mind again. Her warm fingers on the back of his neck as traitors ready to find a spot to bury a dagger

*I should know! I’ve played this game before, you hussy! better than you ever will!*

Those fingers seemingly trying to grasp at him just before a soft whiff of that intoxicating scent escaped her lips when she hummed, barely intelligible: Stay.

And she might just have given him an excellent solution. Out of that image it finally dawns on him:

*For all she knows, I have never left*

As if the mystification of the last hours had never happened, he can just slip back into the flirtatious role that she last remembers, and at that, he whisks himself up and his leg gracefully drapes over hers so that in the next moment his body is now behind hers, without so much as a breath *or heartbeat* skipped on her part. She wanted him to stay didn’t she? In hindsight it’s just like they say *aul iasa nha tho in vino veritas*. And now her tipsiness really reads as someone’s infatuation, he had confirmation from her own well guarded thoughts, her fingers and heart committing words to paper that would have kept being nothing but denied by the demeanour she carries herself with, except for last night.

*And isn’t it going to be a delight to coax the truth out of her own lips, when I already know I have her protection, before I even had a chance to persuade her so*

That is the first time the realisation dawns on him: no matter how well she hides her feelings, he is already under her skin, there is nothing that he can’t convince strangers to give him, the knowledge that

+he’s on my mind, really almost all the time+

And *oh! What a terribly applicative concession!* He knows, before he even thought to strike, that he will hit the target in the perfect bull’s eye. The attainment of that awareness almost lets him enjoy, for the first time, fully, completely, the exhilarating aroma that she emanates, because in due time, understanding how that little precious tome has opened her mind, her actual mind, to him, he now knows.

Before he has to ask.

He will taste her.

Because she already says yes to him in every thought of hers he occupies.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg 3 #bg 3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #am i fucking insane astarion fanfic

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jpitha · 1 year

Text

The K'laxi head of security flattened his ears in frustration and sighed.

"Okay. Go over it one more time."

"Right, so we were at the bar."

"Who was at the bar?"

"Me, Damien, Kenneth and N'ara"

"And all of you were drinking?"

"Well yes, it's a bar." The head of security flicks his ear, a raised eyebrow. "Sorry. Yes, N'ara was having vodka sodas, you know how K'laxi are with mixers - er, no offense."

"None taken."

"And Damien and Kenneth and I were having French 75s. You know, fancy, classic, tasty..."

"And easy to overindulge?"

He nodded, quickly, then winced at the headache. "Yeah, you understand! They sneak up on you. Anyway, we got to talking about Humans."

"But, you are Humans?"

"N'ara isn't. I think she was trying to hit on Kenneth. She was all - he at least had the good taste to not try and approximate a K'laxi accent - "tell me about yourselves! Earth sounds so interesting!" and so on and so on. Kenneth talked about how Humans have pretty decent reflexes and are decent at catching and throwing."

"Yes, I've seen you play - oh ancestors what was the name? - Ultimate Frisbee in the Commons."

"That game rules! You should come join the All Starbase League! It's a beer league, nothing too intense. We have lots of K'laxi on the team."

"Your reflexes?"

"Oh yeah yeah! Kenneth was like" Here, he lowers his voice. "I bet I have the best reflexes in the joint. I can catch anything you throw at me, go on and try!"

The head of security gestures for him to continue.

"So then Damien gets up and goes clear to the other side of the bar and shouts-" Here, his voice gets improbably high. "You think you're so good? Then catch THIS!" and whips his champagne flute right at him!"

The head of security makes a note "Which kicked off the bar fight."

"Yeah, he missed and just pelted some crewman from a Starjumper right upside the head. Anyway, it was pretty wild there for a few. I saw this human who looked like she was on a date with a K'laxi straight up catch a chair and put it down in one fluid motion!" He clearly was impressed.

He makes another note and puts the pad down. "It took 10 security personnel to break up the fight; the bartender says that fully two thirds of their glassware and half their chairs are broken. 3 people are in the infirmary. Everyone AND the security cameras say that you four started it, and you tell me that it was an accident because Kenneth was showing off to N'ara?"

He nods. "I mean, it sounds less cool in the morning and when you explain it."

He puts his head in his hands. Everyone starts bar fights when they get too drunk, but the Humans always wind up having...memorable ones.

"David, you were here two weeks ago for the...incident in Gene's Gym, weren't you?"

"Uh yeah, but that one wasn't alcohol related, I just thought that 4gees didn't sound that much and that Maxwell was just pretending how hard it was to show off." He rubbed his jaw. "Turns out he was really stacked."

"And last month, in the Commons? The Fountain?"

"I was sure it was a hologram."

The head of security stared at him hard for just a moment longer than was comfortable.

David dropped his eyes. "Sorry, Chief Y'meni"

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, David. You're on community service, two weeks. Every day - including the weekend - you're cleaning up the Commons for two hours and then you're volunteering to help at the bar, at the Gym and anywhere else people have requested assistance."

"Yes Chief."

"I mean it David. I'm going easy on you because you seem like a good guy, but you need to watch what you're doing. You're going to get hurt, or worse, hurt someone else."

"Yes Chief."

"Send in..." He looked at the pad. "Damien. I need to talk to him next."

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #writing #scifi writing #worldbuilding

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visage-of-hell · 2 months

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Starter for @radioiaci: The night had scarcely begun, and already Visage was up to her neck in bullshit. Word had gotten back to her from Carmilla that Voxtek surveillance cameras had been discovered throughout her facility during the meeting with the other Overlords days prior. While none had been found within hearing range of Miss Carmine's private office, an adjacent hallway had been found with a camera angled towards the office door--enough to know who was coming and going from there. As one such 'visitor' to her office recently, it was far from an unreasonable assumption that at the very least, she was now a person of interest to the Vee's. Not a favorable position to find herself in, as a newly-established Overlord. Leaving nothing to chance, she already had her boys in the process of searching the entire club top to bottom, on the off chance that she had received similar treatment. She sat upon one of the lounge cushions at the far end of the main club lobby, trying to keep up the appearance that nothing was amiss. Business as usual ... and business was good. After all, the club was already crowded less than an hour after opening, drinks flowed freely, and her girls were putting on stellar performances on stage. What could be better than that? Quite a lot, in truth--such as not having a bullseye painted on her back less than a week into her new role. But as that was no longer a luxury she had, all she could do was play the game with as stout of a poker face as she could manage. Her time as a bounty hunter had taught her long ago that those that acted like prey were treated like it. Though the stage she stood upon had changed, the performance expected of her had not. An agitated sigh escaped her as she took a sip of her drink, noticing one of her hellhound mercenaries already returning. "I know for a fact you ain't finished scoping this place out yet. Get your ass back out--" "The Radio Demon is here, Boss..." The sudden interruption of her subordinate would normally be answered with swift anger, but given the nature of his words and the tone of urgency with which they were given ... no such correction would be forthcoming this time. Visage's silver eyes went wide for the briefest of moments, a surge of ice running through her veins. Even a newcomer on the scene like her knew the fearsome reputation of Alastor. Indeed, she had already had the dubious 'pleasure' of meeting him in person mere days before at Carmilla's estate. While they hadn't spoken directly, the piercing intensity of his stares had unnerved her greatly. And now he was here, on top of everything else she already had going on? Great ... just great. Swiftly composing herself, her clawed fingers pitched the bridge of her snout with a long slow exhale. ".....Right. Send him my way and then make yourself scarce. You still got work to do."

#Threads: TeethSharpAndShe'sReadyToGo #radioiaci #Lemme know if this works for you! <3

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evscribe · 6 months

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Being a new addition to the ghouls’ polycule was definitely an experience. It was a relatively easy assimilation through friendship and what was now over a year spent knowing them all. It was rare to find Y/N in their own quarters so for Rain to find them shuffling out of Mountain’s room during early morning was no shock. Tour was sneaking up on them all and Y/N was taking up all the free time their partners’ had to offer. It was becoming more and more often Y/N and Rain would find each other in the wee hours when they both couldn’t seem to sleep. Rain’s dark eyes only briefly find theirs as they flop onto the couch in the shared space of the den. An almost dejected sigh leaves their lips as they curl into themself slightly.

“You’ve fucked up your sleep schedule bad, huh?” He comments knowingly, he only half heartedly tries to hide the knowing smirk on his face. A small nod of agreement from them was followed by a small frown.

“Cir, Sunny, and I stayed up until eight am playing video games a couple nights ago and that definitely made it worse, but it was completely wrecked before that.” They admitted. Y/N couldn’t keep eye contact with the ghoul out of shame. His hand came to rest on their thigh, his thumb rubbing their skin comfortingly.

“Sleep meds not working?”

“It’s still hit or miss right now while it’s getting back into my system regularly.” They explain with a sigh before they speak again, ”I hope it starts working before you guys leave.“

Rain’s chest started to ache at their admittance. It was hard to ignore the pain in their voice. This would be the first tour that the entire polycule would have a partner waiting for them back home at the Ministry and in Rain’s mind it was rather bittersweet. Mountain had talked about how he dealt with it when they were exclusive to him, but Rain was admittedly a little less independent.

”You can always crash in my room while we’re gone, if you want.“ He offers. A small smile cracks their face causing his heartbeat to pick up.

”I appreciate it. I don’t know if I will though.“ They admitted as their brows knitted for a second as if in contemplation. Rain couldn’t help but tilt his head at their words. “Any specific reason?“ He asks. A small sigh leaves Y/N before they rest their head on Rain’s shoulder.

”I think it may make me miss you more than I would in my own bed. When it was just me and Mountain tour was still a challenge, but now it’s even harder. I know Aeth will still be here now that he’s been reassigned, but that still leaves the rest of you guys to miss. Plus I think if I’m caught in the den without you all here I’ll catch hell.“ They admit

”When has that ever stopped you from coming to the den? I remember when you would sneak in here to convince me or Swiss to go on late night walks with you in the garden. I think you used to get caught in here once a week or more at one point“ Rain tells them with a fond smile on his face. Y/N lets out a chuckle at the memory followed by a playful roll of their eyes.

”There’s less incentive to risk it without you guys here.“ They explain. Rain nods, understandingly before speaking again.

”Well, the offer stands either way.“ He tells them before snaking his arm around their waist to pull them into his side. ”I appreciate it,“ Y/N tells him as they place a kiss on his cheek, before curling into him. ”I might borrow a hoodie while you’re gone since my bed will be so cold and empty.“ Their feign melodramatic tone making Rain laugh. He rested his head on theirs as he turned his attention back to the TV that had earlier served as white noise.

To Rain’s surprise it didn’t take long before their breathing slowed and they fell asleep cuddled into his side. He couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest at the realization. Y/N rarely slept, much less slept well, so he couldn’t help but be a little elated at the thought of comforting his partner to this level. Only when the other ghouls started to wake and come out of their rooms did Rain speak again. First was Sunshine who per usual was a notoriously early riser. She went to greet Rain good morning before she was shushed by him.

”Y/N finally fell back asleep.“ He whispered to the ghoulette. Sunshine silently walked over to the couch where Rain and Y/N were, giving Rain a kiss and placing a soft one on Y/N head, before whispering a farewell and leaving the den. A similar pattern repeated when Sodo, Aether, and Cirrus woke up. Sodo and Aether both went about their business after a brief explanation of shushing, but Cirrus decided to cautiously settle on the couch beside Y/N, who only stirred for a second then buried their face in Rain’s chest causing Cirrus to let out a quiet ‘aww.’ Cirrus gently cuddled up to Y/N's sleeping figure making them let out a quiet content sound. Rain couldn’t help but admire the scene before him. Cirrus smiled at him lovingly before resting her head against Y/N. Rain once again turns his attention back to the TV only to soon after be pulled into the warm lulling pull of his partners

#rain x reader #mention of polyghouls #smidge of cirrus x reader #and sunshine x reader #idk what else to tag #pls have mercy #this is my first published ghost x reader fic #i'm out of practice #so pls forgive me for errors #rain ghoul x reader

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necros-writing-stuff · 7 months

Text

The Horrors of Humanity: Collabo'ween Day 6.

Gn!Journalist!Reader/Darius Radner.

Warnings: Serial Murders; Kidnapping; Obsessive thoughts; Someone gets skinned but it's only mentions of it having happened. That's right, no smut in this one. Just dread. He do be playing mind games.

Word Count: 2366.

Notes: Might continue this later through smaller prompts. It's a good au for Dare.

His closed fist tapped against the cold metal of the table he sat at. His tongue trailed at the back of his teeth as he sucked in his lips and rolled his jaw. People sat around him, laughing or simply taking in their drinks as they watched the crowd float on by the window.

You were late. Meant to be here 10 minutes ago. It's how you always met, grabbing your warm drinks before walking around the local park and discussing the case you were following like a bloodhound.

'I'm starting to feel your absence in my heart when you aren't here,' he wrote in his journal. 'It feels leaden heavy, yet beats quicker than ever from the anxious thought that you'll never come back. How did you worm your way into my heart so fast? Was it because I wasn't looking at you when I should have had my guard up? Was that how you found the missing link in the fence that let you crawl through?'

It was true, he never meant to find your company so magnetic. People weren't his forte; a low social battery and a grumpy disposition can only handle so much before the man had to retreat back to his home to recuperate. Yet, when you left after your evening walks together, he couldn't help but yearn for more. When you were around he found himself smiling, snapping less when bumped into, hell, he even paid for that lady's baby food the other week.

'Your infectious kindness makes me feel like a new man. It was a newness I rejected at first, but I think I might like to try and be good. If it'll make you see me and not your work, I want to be good. But I still find myself playing the devil to keep you in my grasp.'

The Devil always got the contracts signed and the souls as his own in the end, didn't he?

"Hi, Dare!" You plop yourself into the seat across from him, a whoosh of air escaping your lungs as you sank into the frame. "Fucking traffic. Sorry for being so late."

You sip your drink, he closes his journal and hides it away before your instincts kick in and you try to pry it from him. Everything. You had a thirst for knowing everything. And most of the time you found it, but Darius kept you at an arm's length. He had to. To keep you safe.

" 's all good. You look knackered, love."

Dark circles under your eyes crease as you give a half-hearted smile. Your hair looks like you had your hands bothering it all day. "I haven't been sleeping the best - too busy looking over everything."

His eyes roll, already seeing that you're wasting no time on small talk today. You want straight into your little hyperfixation. Something must have really worked you up.

"Come here," you lean forward, chest touching the table top as you whisper. Darius follows with a deep sigh, his eyes shifting around the room and he feels like a toddler playing spies.

"Would be nice for you to ask me how I am, y'know?" It's bad manners for you to forget.

"Right- how are you?" Your eyes are so pretty. Your lips deserve his on them.

"Just fab, not considering skinning my employee for blunting all of my chisels."

Your face falls for a split second. Just a little bit before your eyebrows shoot up and that smile is back. "Funny you should mention skinning - that's what our friend's done."

A one track mind, truly. "Oh? Do tell me more."

It's like pulling the cord on a chainsaw. Four simple words, but he'll hear the buzz of you talking for hours now. He likes hearing you talk. He could sit and listen to you instead of being at home, watching the same old shows as he got drunk enough to pass out. Or out in the woods, in his workshop, listening to birds screech and bucks bugle.

Your excitement should be strange. It should put him off. It never has.

"Well I was talking with that constable again, you know, the tall lady? Yeah, well, there's been another body found. They don't think it's his because it's different from the others, but I know it just has to be."

What a rat. Darius never would have let shit leak like that back when he was on the force. He'd kept a tight grip on his underlings. At least this one leaks things to you; for that he could forgive her.

"How do you know?" Another sip of his coffee as you just keep fiddling with the lid of your drink.

"There's signs that he's been escalating, Dare. More violent and slow as he's killing, but an increased number of deaths. He's getting bored, so he's trying new things to bring back the magic of the first time."

The greying man considers it for a moment, his head tilting. "You should be careful, love. All this attention you give him might have him chasing you. You're well known enough that you'd end up in the news more so than the others - especially with how pretty you are. You know how the media likes a sleeping beauty sob story."

A scoff escapes your lips as you finally have a drink. "He's not dumb enough for that. Look at his targets. They're all people society ignores. He knows shit about how people work, he knows to be careful on who he picks. Since eyes would be on me, he'll stay away."

"Surprised you want him to stay away."

Oh, you don't appreciate that. A pitiful frown peers at him from across the table, your sweet face falling.

"I'm not like that, Dare. I've told you before." It's barely audible. He'd bet that your cheeks are feeling burned right about now.

A crack can be heard as he leans back and stretches his spine, his large hands combing through his hair and getting it out of his face. He's due a haircut.

"I know, love. Just teasing."

You arch a brow at him, a look that says you believe him as far as you could throw his giant frame. "Come on then. Give me your theory, what's he up to."

Ah, yes. The part of these meetings that caused them in the first place. Darius had seen your first article on your news site, your pretty little picture right there on the page. When he'd found you typing your next in this very café, he'd had to give his own two-cents. You'd been astonished and thankful that anyone was ready to hear you out (outside of degenerate threads on the internet full of strange people in love with the killer).

Bless your heart. You'd tried telling the police all of your theories, but they just wouldn't listen. Insisted they had a handle on things.

"He's lonely." A simple conclusion. A truth - not what the killings had started as. But very much what they'd turned into.

You know nothing. You never have. You know far more than anyone else but there's half of the picture you haven't filled in. And couldn't yet. That informant told you scraps of the details, but not everything about the bodies. About the messages left on them.

But you had guessed right on a few other things. Like his age range, his education or professional background - the fact that it was nine bodies so far, not six like the police believed. The fact that he is indeed a he.

"I doubt it. He shows all of the signs of a highly functioning person. He's probably well liked by people around him, probably-"

"But do any of the people around him understand him? Quite common now, no? Mental health pandemic and all that."

Your voice stutters as you find your response. "So he's… killing to feel connections? But he doesn't keep trophies. Not that we know of, anyway."

"Who says it's the victims he's vying for the love of?" Dare tips his nearly empty coffee at you.

Adorable, really. Watching the cogs in your brain turn as you recall everything you know. Watching how your tongue flicks out and wets your lips. You're a smart one. Surely you'll see what he's planting.

"He's killing to get the attention of someone else. They didn't start out like that, though. He's changed."

Darius nods along, proud. "How do you know he's changed?"

"Because of how slow and methodical he's getting. He used to just brutalise his victims, but now he's taking his time. Like he's… crafting messages?"

Bingo. You don't see the messages he makes for you, but you hear about them. And they bring you to him. The only time he gets to see you is right after he kills, when you can't wait to meet up and talk about your latest findings. But you're getting too close there.

"Or you were right the first time and he really is getting bored."

Now you're growling, rubbing your tired eyes. "Yeah… yeah… goddamn it."

Once again, you deflate. It's too easy, playing with your hopes and dreams like this. You want to catch him so bad, to know him inside and out. To know what makes him tick. But so long as you don't know, you'll come back to Dare to bounce your theories around.

Taking a final drink, Darius picks up his coat and heads to the bin to toss away the empty cardboard cup. Time for your evening walk together around the park. The cool air helped you both think.

Following suit, you chug what remains of your beverage while checking your phone. and thank him as he holds the door open even though you're enamoured by whatever is on the screen. You used to pay more attention to Darius himself, but his actions keeping your focus is close enough.

Your hand finds his, tugging him along as you rush to the park. A giddy laugh pulls from your chest. He's never touched you before. He can't think of words to say as he feels your skin against his own.

The first two killings had been out of curiosity. A need to know if they'd alleviate Darius' boredom. To know if it would shock some excitement within him. They hadn't been exciting at all until he'd found your article. You do such strange things to his head, love. All of those extra lives gone just because he needed to see you.

"Our friend managed to get some pictures for me! They're sending it over now, but they're messing around with emails to make sure it can't get back to them."

"Good news, that. You'll have more to think about." Ah. He wasn't exactly expecting this to happen so soon. Your room wasn't fully finished. "Are you sure you want to look, though? It'll be a real body. Not some movie prop. A real, skinned body."

"For better or worse, I'm very desensitised to blood and gore. I'll be fine. Are you sure you aren't the one scared to see it?" Your eyebrows waggle as you release his hand, having made it across the road and in through the gates of the park.

"I've seen this shit before. Ex-homicide department, remember?"

"Mmmm, but that was years ago, and we can go soft in our old age."

If you were anyone else he'd slap you upside your head. Despite himself, Darius laughs. "Not that old, love. I'm still in my prime."

There's a lot of trees in the park. And very little people at this time. He'd always think ahead and parked his car in a lot that just backed off into the foliage, in a blind spot from cameras, just in case. You walked to the café since it wasn't far from the office.

Your phone buzzes, your smile ceasing as you take in a deep breath and look over the photo. Your fingers pinch and you zoom in to examine every detail you can. A paleness crosses your skin.

"Fucking hell…"

Yeah, that's about right. Dare went the extra mile with this one.

"He really did take his time with this. It's. God, its smooth work. He knows how to butcher." The disgust is evident in your tone and the way your lip curls. What did he just tell you? You're biting off more than you can chew.

Darius' fingers snake their way into the deep pockets of his coat. They trace the rope he has hidden away. The capped needle he prepares before every meeting.

"He's-"

The gulp is audible as you scroll to the next photograph. Almost gag like as you zoom in as far as you can - your eyes blowing up as your expression blanks. You found it. His little note. A name, sewn onto the sole of the foot delicately. A nickname you barely tell anyone about because it embarrasses you. But you'd told Dare.

He can't hear anything over the sound of his blood rushing through his veins in his ears. Time seems to slow as your terrified gaze meets his own. The twitch of your muscles comes too late as you realise he's already moving - that he has something in his hand. Your scream dies as a gargle when Darius' free palm meets your throat, squeezing tightly as the needle goes in.

Oh, his poor little investigator. It was time to go home.

To Darius, you weigh little. Trussing you up is simple work, as is getting you in the boot of his car. There's a pillow in there for your head. Memory foam. He'd bring it inside to your new bed along with you, even if the room wasn't quite ready. He could make it work. Keep you bound, chained.

Driving past the café on the way home raises his curiosity. You wouldn't talk to him like you had in there. Not anymore. You'd be scared; feeling confused. Betrayed, maybe. He'd explain it all for you, though. His journal would tell you everything you ever wanted to know. Everything about how you became his muse.

The police wouldn't be hearing from him again. He had what he wanted.

#darius radner #collaboween #necro's fics #gn reader #cw death #cw abduction #cw horror #not dol

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yojeongin · 1 year

Text

DON’T BLAME THE LOVECATS — 32: ANTOLOGIA

→neighbor!jaemin x neighbor f!reader

genre: social media au, neighbors au, fluff, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, humor

wc: 2.4k

m.list | previous | next

an: I don't think you guys would like to know that this story is less than a week away from ending...

While the beginning of spring hadn’t flourished the love you and Jaemin had begun and rather a new one between you and Jungwoo (not actually); at least Jaemin wanted to express what he’s been holding back all this time.

He felt glad enough that the letters he had been slipping under your door and the brownies weren’t left there like a week ago (or that Ami had taken the liberty of taking whatever he left you). He was aware it wasn’t out of malice and rather your wishes but he won’t deny it hurt at the beginning.

Though heartbroken over what he sees online between you and the football player, Jaemin was glad that at least some progress was being made between you two. In the past he wouldn’t admit audibly that he loved your flan but throughout the drought, he was the first one to dig into the dish.

Cliche enough, compared to the rest he was the one to make the most pleased noises when the creamy texture of the curd and caramel fell upon his tongue. He missed it more than anyone could imagine. His selfish tendencies had tried to take over and hog the dessert but he couldn’t say no to his present friends. They all missed your labor of love, glad that you put away any resentment even if just for a tiny bit so they could eat their favorite food ever since meeting you.

Sadly enough, they all had gotten so carried away while eating that they forgot to save a slice for the two cooks who yearned for your recipe. It’s fine, you saw their crying and though you hadn’t seen Jaemin or Mark mention the flan, you knew what those two were talking about. For that reason you had gotten more ingredients while taking Sunwoo around the city on his free weekend. Now those two will get a flan of their own. At least so they know there’s no bad blood between you and his friends.

Almost like children of divorced parents or a girlfriend who’s partner’s kid got attached to.

Nevertheless, your demeanor with Jaemin and his cowardice had made Amilah have enough of whatever you two were playing. She understood he had hurt you with the way he acted but now Jungwoo was also in the mix and he didn’t deserve to ache.

In this instant, she took the opportunity that Gael took a nap to head up to your floor and talk with Jaemin like he had told Sunwoo. It worked since you yourself weren’t in your apartment, everyone was getting their dishes for the dinner get-together at Hyuck and Jeno’s apartment to receive Sunwoo who was back after leaving for his new FC.

Panting and huffing, Amilah went up those two flights of stairs. Sure, not a lot but she got the apartment on the first floor for a reason. Regardless, her knuckles fell upon the wooden door three times until Mark opened with a childish smile on his face.

“Here to pull Jaemin’s hair?” He giggles, opening the door fully for her. Ami rolled her eyes, shooting him a smile before walking towards Jaemin who had been doing the dishes after losing a game of paper-rock-scissors (Jaemin always picks rock).

“Hey…” Jaemin says, scared. “So… When are you two gonna talk?” Straight to the point, leaning against the wet counter, snickering when her forearm gained that moisture.

Jaemin sighs at her words, shutting off the sink water and turning to her with a side frown. “Believe me, that’s all I want but she won’t talk to me and… I don’t want to force her. What if she hates me more than she does already?”

Ami couldn’t deny that would be something she’d think too if it wasn’t for all your tweets in private that let her know semi-otherwise. “Well, we did make some progress, though. She dropped off some flan.” The image of you spending hours making the dessert and dropping it off in your favorite plate made a smile slip onto his face. His perfect pearly whites were not able to be hidden.

She found it sweet, the tenderness fighting with her anger towards him. “Aww. you missed it, huh?” She giggles pinching both his cheeks, causing him to smile wider even with the pain. At least he was able to let out a strangled: “Yeah.”

Letting go of his face, Amilah looks at the plate Jaemin had been washing. It was the one you dropped the flan in but it also turned out to be hers. “That’s my plate! That sneaky little weasel!” Ami gasps while pointing at the plate. No wonder she couldn’t find it for a good year, you had taken it!

“Well…” Jaemin nervously laughs, showing her an awkward smile. Mark on the other hand looked at the scene while laughing silently. Amilah clicks her tongue, giving up on the ordeal for now. “I’ll talk to her, okay? I need you guys to at least have closure. Seeing her crying about you not saying anything is a little… tiring.”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, turning to her fully. “Crying?” He was worried, he knew you were upset but the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. “You know what I mean.” Amilah squeezes his shoulder. Yes, you cried but he didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” “Yeah.”

He didn’t believe her. Intense stare through slotted eyes, the two were comically defensive now.

“Amilah… she’s been crying?” “Doesn’t matter, just give me my plate!”

She tries to deflect. “But that’s her favorite dish.” He pouts hoping it’ll hit her sympathy but she only knits her eyebrows letting him know it won’t work.

“It’s mine.” “Don’t you want me to win her back?” “Not with my plate!” “But, but—“

Jaemin holds the wet dish to his chest, starting to walk back to get away from her. Amilah places her hands on her hips like an angry mom whose kid won’t listen. “Jaemin…” But it doesn’t help because he walks to Mark hiding behind him and leaving the two to bicker.

While things were going comically in the Na-Lee household, you and Sunwoo were near the apartment complex from the supermarket. Throughout the entirety of his stay with you this weekend, the same melody and same song had been haunting him.

Not one minute when you turned your music on that, that nostalgic melody didn’t torment his ears. Yes, it was beautiful but hearing it night and day through your walls and in the car was driving him insane. In addition he knew why you kept listening to it and it had to do with the parent of your cat’s girlfriend.

“This makes you think about him, doesn’t it?” Sunwoo finally musters the will to ask. “You’ve been listening to it since I got here. Have you considered giving him a chance to talk?”

You hoped listening to every song you two liked would help you disassociate and forget about it. That maybe if you created a reality different from what was truly going on, you could distract yourself but that didn’t seem to be the case.

This song reminded you so much of Jaemin and you couldn’t help it. By now you were just being stubborn but he also wasn’t helping you understand what truly happened. All he would write in his letters was how sorry he was and that he would be there for you but never an explanation. You figured he wanted to do it in person but it’s been too long for that, why won’t he just cave?

“I made flan as a conversation starter but after knocking I chickened out and ran back inside. I don’t know, felt a little childish. I guess it’s not that deep anymore since Mark, Karina, and even Ami have told me everything they know but…” You scratch your temple, shrugging. “But it did hurt that he just pulled away out of the blue so it doesn’t hurt to make him ache a lil’ does it?”

Sunwoo smiled widely, shaking his head while you two laughed. Your stubbornness mixed with your will to play around a little was a bit comedic to him. “At least translate it to me. I know ‘amor’ that means love, right?” You nod, throwing him one last glance before parking in your parking space. One you and Jaemin often fought over for years but has left open for you since the beginning of the year.

“Because of you I learned how to love.” Warmth creeped onto your face, embarrassment and giddiness getting the best of you.

Sunwoo wanted to tease you for this vulnerable moment but he opted to just comfort you. “If it makes you feel better I think he’s been hurting a lot lately because of Jungwoo.” His arms were beginning to ache now, gravity making sure the bag straps do their worst on him on the way up the two flights of stairs.

“I figured.” You smile through your own pain from the bags. “Speaking of Snoopy, I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m leading him on…” Biting your lower lip in worry, Sunwoo turns to you with a slight pout. How he felt for both his friends.

“Believe, he’s aware you care for him as a friend.” It’s the best he could do. Now it was your turn to give him an apologetic smile. One that was easily swiped away when finally arriving to your floor. An obstacle of flowers laid across every square inch giving you two no passage towards your door.

Both of you stood in shock, the only question in your heads being: What the fuck? There were only two apartments on your floor. One wasn’t vacant and the other two were yours and Jaemin’s. If they were for him, they surely would’ve been cleared by now, right?

So that leaves it, they were obviously for you and the only two who’ve given you flowers have been Sunwoo and Jaemin. The former should be your target for now.

“Did you do this?!” Your voice pitched, struggling to lean down and move the first vase. One step closer to your door. “How? I’ve been with you all day.” He returns in that same confused voice, helping you clear the way to the vacant doors.

The latter was your only option now. You felt queasy and nervous, like you had to run to the restroom now if what your mind was telling you was true. “Do you think?…” You point to Jaemin’s door, biting your thumb nail and then flesh. Sunwoo did nothing more than shrug, pressing his lips together with a quizzical look.

Asking won’t hurt then…

Reaching the door of the Na-Lee’s household, the soft sound had stopped Amilah from ripping the dish out of Jaemin’s grasp, one that he held dear for life's sake.

Mark was closest to the door, taking the role to open it without even checking the peephole. “What’s up,” He cheerfully opens the door, forgetting to lean against the doorframe when seeing the scene before his eyes.

“Woah damn, that’s a lot of flowers.” He awkwardly laughs, door left ajar and now the two inside could see what he gawked at.

“Do you know if Jaemin did this?” There was hope in your voice. The way you tried fighting off your smile made Mark’s heart swell in despondency knowing what his answer would entail. You really liked Jaemin and seeing you hurt because of him was disappointing.

Mark tries to stall, sighing but with an apologetic smile that won’t leave his face. “I’m sorry… He’s been here all day.” He pouts, tucking his hands in his pockets. Surely enough your smile slowly faded, trying your best to avoid his gaze.

“Did anyone knock then?” But he shakes his head. You in contradiction nod, defeat taking over you now.

While you ran out of ideas, Sunwoo had thought of someone while you were talking with Mark. There was only one way to find out and that was by calling him.

So while you were distracted with your neighbor who tried making small talk to relieve some of that sadness, a loud groggy voice took all of your attention.

“It's a little early to call, isn't it? Missed me?” Jungwoo jokes with Sunwoo, the younger rolling his eyes but going back to business. “Here.” He ignores the older male, passing you the phone.

You again felt that queasy feeling but this time it wasn’t out of hope, it was freight. Freight over how this would take your friendship with Jungwoo.

Porting worry on your face didn’t impede him from smiling widely when seeing you. In fact he was glowing after doing so and that only made you feel guilty.

“Hey!” “Hey, Snoopy…”

The difference in your tones was so painful to note.

“By any chance did you do this?” Flipping the camera, Jungwoo chuckles seeing the sea of petals, all different colors and types. Fully unaware of what type of flowers you liked.

But Jaemin knew and the poor boy was listening in.

“Like them? Wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Eric to put in the order for me.”

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, your leg couldn’t help jitter at the situation. “Very pretty but you really Didn’t have to.” He could tell this was overwhelming for you but he hoped you still appreciated this action.

Mark felt the tension and by now all he could do was lift his hand as a sign of goodbye before shutting the door behind him and leaning against it to look at his roommate’s saddened look.

The three inside looked at each other with no words threatening to leave. They all knew this had made Jaemin’s heart even more sensitive and they didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Not now at least that the younger of the three excused himself with the wet plate clutched tightly against his chest on his way to the bedroom.

And by now that you and Sunwoo had hung up on Jungwoo and carefully took in the flower arrangements inside your apartment, that same song you had been listening to all weekend was plaguing the walls of Jaemin’s room. Loud enough for you and Sunwoo to hear.

‘But you forgot one last instruction because I don’t know how to live without your love yet.’

There goes your progress.

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kikithedreamerwriter · 7 months

Text

For some context also read my Enchanted series. Leo and Sayuri’s first meeting!

🗣️: @miss-andromeda @shinzowosasageyoooo @tinkabelle19 @m1dnyt3-w0lf @sharpwindow @akesdraws-blog @fyreball66 @pheradream-15

⚠️: typos hehe

Somewhere Only We Know

Part 1 | Part 2

Ivanna Lucia: i’ll be at dance around 1800 tomorrow. wait for me?

Raph smiled, quickly typing out his reply on his computer.

Hagrid Jr: Sure :)

Ivanna Lucia: goodnight! :3

Ivanna Lucia’s avatar disappeared from the server and she was officially offline. Raph sighed, laying his head against the apex of his spinning chair and staring at the ceiling. The way she would use small caps and her sense of humor sent a heat spreading across Raph’s plastron and all over his face. He shut his eyes forcibly, trying to zone out his own embarrassment towards his recent… feelings. When he opened his eyes again, he began to wonder just how did it turned out like this.

A few months ago, Raph walked in on Donnie who was re-watching Harry Potter: The Sorcerer’s Stone and found himself finishing the whole thing with Donnie at the kitchen table. You could only imagine the amusement Donnie had when his normally shut-in, tough-acting, and stoic brother began asking him questions about the movie as it played. And not just basic questions — but inquiries so specific and thought-provoking that Donnie had to stop himself from debating each and every single one of Raph’s points. He knew he would absolutely obliterate his red-clad brother, but for the sake of preserving Raph’s newfound interest, he abstained from doing so.

That’s when it began. As time passed by, Raph ordered thrifted copies of all the seven books of the Harry Potter books. He even read the scripts for Fantastic Beasts franchise and The Cursed Child. The guy simply couldn’t get enough. Who would’ve thought that this brute could plow through not only literal walls but through everything literary about Harry Potter in less than two months? Plus, he was able to keep his newfound interest from his brothers, except for Donnie of course.

So come mutation day when all the turtle brothers would gift each other presents, Donnie set up a computer just for Raph and installed for him Harry Potter: Magic Awakening, an online game where you could live out your own Hogwarts adventure.

Three days into the game, Raph met user: Ivanna Lucia, a first-year Hufflepuff with his own user: Hagrid Jr., a first-year Gryffindor. They met at Dance Club and they were the only two users on the server. You could say that they literally danced the night away. After reaching a Level 5 on Cloud Drop Waltz, they eventually accepted each other’s friend request and struck a conversation in their own private chat room.

Ivanna Lucia: hey! i just got invited to a quiz… do u want me to send u an invite?

Hagrid Jr: ok

And so it began. For many nights, Raph and user Ivanna kept in close contact. From duels to dances and escapades in Diagon Alley to adventures in the Forbidden Forest… Raph and his new friend became quite the unstoppable pair. In less than three months, they managed to reach Year 5 and then… it happened.

Ivanna Lucia: hey, we’ve been playing together for a long time… i’ve been thinkin…

Hagrid Jr: yeah?

Ivanna Lucia: we both live in nyc… do you wanna idk… meet up?

It took hours for Raph to reply back. A part of him wanted to enthusiastically say ‘yes’ and finally behold the face behind the avatar he had been imagining for months and another part of him just wanted to shut the game down then and there, and forget all about it. In truth, the prospect of meeting user Ivanna terrified Raph. He was a mutant turtle behind the guise of a male teenager avatar in a fantasy online game. She was an actual human who goes to university and plays gigs at bars. In his mind, Raph already knew the outcome of this prospective meeting and he did not like it one bit.

Hagrid Jr: I don’t think it’s a good idea. Sorry.

Ivanna Lucia: no worries hahaha

Raph was definitely worried. Especially when user Ivanna didn’t log in for the next five days.

Hagrid Jr: hey are you ok?

Five days ago ———————————————————-

Hagrid Jr: We’re still up for that quiz right?

Four days ago ———————————————————-

Hagrid Jr: Ill be at dance around 1800

Three days ago ———————————————————-

Hagrid Jr: Where r u? Im at the duel

Two days ago ————————————————————

Hagrid Jr: Are you mad at me?

Today ————————————————————————-

“Raph!” Donnie barged into his room. “We gotta go! Leo’s got his eye on a live kidnapping on some girl!”

“Are ya serious right now?!” Raph sighed glancing at the chat room, hoping a reply was waiting for him.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Donnie fumed, with Raph’s recent surge moodiness and Leo’s recent shift of focus, he was already on the brink of insanity trying to hold everything together... “Maybe I can tell Miss Sayuri Mizuno’s family that we couldn’t save her on the account of your little spat with your online girlfriend! Can we go now?! Oh my god I never thought I would ever say these words to you…”

Raph would never say it out loud but out of all his brothers… he fears Donnie the most.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃

Asa groaned, his messages staring at her from her screen — guilt eating at her from the inside out.

Hagrid Jr: Are you mad at me?

Two days ago—————————————————————

Asa couldn’t put into words what she felt. Of course she was mad at him, but at the same time… it wasn’t his fault. She tossed her phone aside and sought refuge under her sheets. Her brown-black locks were splayed across her pillow case, forming a halo around her face.

Ping.

It wasn’t user Hagrid Jr., but a message from one of her bandmates. She felt a little disappointed that it wasn’t user Hagrid Jr… he had been offline for two days now and had stopped sending messages. She felt even crappier when she deduced that it must be because she practically ghosted him. Asa sighed, setting a reminder on her phone. She’s going to apologize later, and she’s isn’t going to compose her apology last minute. On the bright side, her band’s gig at Seb’s had been canceled because of a conflict in scheduling… which meant a rewatching of the Half-Blood Prince with a mug of hot cocoa.

Ping.

Asa opened her phone so swiftly that she nearly knocked off her computer from her bed.

Pretty Lily 🪷: Hey, do mind getting my computer at my apartment for me?

Me: i seriously thought you were dead for a minute there

Pretty Lily 🪷: I’m sorry! Nursing school has really been a thorn in my side 😅

Me: okay, english lesson part 64, nobody says ‘thorn in my side,’ it’s ‘pain in my ass.’

Pretty Lily 🪷: Please 🥺

Me: gurl — i was literally just about to watch the half-blood prince

Pretty Lily 🪷: I’ll buy you boba next time we hang out on campus 🥺

Me: fine 😑 you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, you know?

Pretty Lily 🪷: You’re an even bigger pain the ass and I love you, ya know?

Me: man, i’d make a good english teacher. they’re on demand in japan, right?

Pretty Lily 🪷: 🤣🤣🤣

Me: where r u btw?

Pretty Lily 🪷: Weill Cornell

Me: you on clinicals rn?

Pretty Lily 🪷: Nope, I’m a patient

Me: your careful ass is a patient? what the hell did you do?

Pretty Lily 🪷: Well— I was kidnapped 😅

Me: that i can believe

Pretty Lily 🪷: Can you just bring my laptop over, please? 😑

After quickly putting on her headphones, a sweater, and her Doc Martens, Asa headed straight for a door and headed downstairs to hail a taxi.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃

“Hey,” Asa announced as she entered into the hospital room. In the corner, seated upright among the pristine sheets. A girl looked up from her journal, busying herself with a sketch.

“You’re a lifesaver Asa,” she sighed as Asa pulled out her laptop from her satchel… and a matcha milk tea with egg pudding, extra boba pearls, and half sugar.

“I could kiss you right now!”

“Alright Mizuno, keep it in your pants,” Asa chuckled as she poked a straw into her own order and sat at the edge of her bed. “Anything else you need, Sayuri?”

“Nope!” Sayuri grinned, closing her journal. From the corner of her eye, Asa glanced at the unusual sketch as it disappeared under its leather cover. It could just be the illusion of shape and light… but for some reason… it looked… inhuman.

“What happened to you, anyway?” Asa sipped at her drink.

“I was coming from a date with this new friend I made at the Asian mall—“

“And he offered you some candy and you walked right into his van?” Asa smirked.

“Oh hahaha,” Sayuri rolled her eyes. “For your information I was with a girl friend, her name’s April O’Neil.”

“That name sounds familiar for some reason—“

“She’s a reporter from Channel Five. I was helping her with a segment on Asian businesses. I got home late and the bad guys were already waiting for me at my apartment.”

“God— good thing you did karate, right?” Asa tried to humor her.

“That didn’t help one bit,” Sayuri sighed. “I was knocked out before I could even put up a fight.”

“How did you get out?”

“I was —“ Sayuri paused, as if carefully considering her words. A smile graced her lips as her hand fondly grazed over her journal. She was remembering something, and this did not go unnoticed by Asa.

“I was saved by… a-an agent of the NYPD,” Sayuri composed herself. “He had been staking out my area for a while and he happened to be there when I was kidnapped.”

Sayuri sighed.

“He tracked me all the way across Brooklyn Bridge… and he caught me as I fell off that helicopter…”

Asa looked at her quizzically. Sayuri was in a daze, her eyes were glossy and her lips let a breath with a sigh.

“… and held me as we fell into the Hudson.”

“That—“ Asa swallowed some boba pearls and swirled her drink. “Is some Romeo and Juliet shit, right there. Wait… You fell off of a fucking helicopter? Are you okay? Did you have a concussion? Is this where all of this is coming from?” Asa gestured to her dreamy state.

“Firstly I did have a concussion and I’ve recovered it thank you very much,” Sayuri replied. “Second, I got a few broken ribs and the scar on my forehead won’t probably go away anytime soon. Third, I’m not… really ashamed of feeling this way. He was caring—”

“Yeah,” Asa rolled her eyes. “Because it was his job and you’re a hottie. Give your heart a break. He’s going to be nice—“

“It wasn’t niceness!” Sayuri interjected. “Niceness is smiling and doing favors, because you want something in return. This was kindness. Trust me, when you’ve lived with nice all your life… you learn to look for kind.”

“Okay I believe you,” Asa smiled as she sat beside Sayuri and leaned against her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know. Disappointment’s a bitch.”

Sayuri turned to Asa.

“You’re upset,” Sayuri remarked softly. “And it’s not about my thing.” Asa sighed.

“Asa, in the year that I’ve known you, I’ve learned two things. One, you’re a performer but you hate it when the spotlight is on you and not your singing. Two, you like to lock up your heart… and if I had to guess… it’s because someone you loved… let you down. Listen… you know that you can tell me your problems too, right?”

Asa stared into Sayuri’s iridescent, pale-grey irises. She really was a beautiful girl… sincere, brave, kind. If that agent of the NYPD had any brains, he would be here right now begging for a date.

“You’re not going to ruin your snarky, tough-woman persona for the one moment you let you really give heart your heart a break.” Sayuri assured her as nudged her shoulder.

“Fine,” Asa relented, avoiding her stare. “A few months ago… I started playing — this game… online Harry Potter game. And well — I met this… g-guy.”

Asa looked at Sayuri who nodded reassuringly as she rested her chin against the palm of her hand.

“And… he’s really sweet,” Asa sighed beginning to recall one of their many conversations…

Hagrid Jr: Your off your game tonight, you ok? you really sucked at that last duel

Ivanna Lucia: ur quite the charmer, aren’t you? -_-

Hagrid Jr: I didn’t mean it in a bad way

Hagrid Jr: Your usually so good at duels that bombing hard like that just happen to make me notice

Ivanna Lucia: wow i feel so much better

Hagrid Jr: Your extra sarcastic tonight, so I definitely know your upset.

Ivanna Lucia: ya think?!

Ivanna Lucia: first of all it’s ‘you’re’ not your. second, i did have a crappy day okay?! i failed an exam by a point, so now i have to work extra hard on the finals to bring my grade up. third, some drunk threw a beer bottle at me while we were performing and i had to pull glass out of my arm! give me a fucking break!

Asa remembered shutting her computer so hard that day that she thought she heard her screen fracture under impact. She didn’t have the courage to log back on until the following day. As she took on challenges in the Forbidden Forest, she couldn’t help but glance repeatedly on her socials notification that was marked with that prominent red circle. After taking on the boss beast after so many attempts, Asa finally found it in herself to open her messages.

Hagrid Jr: Look, I kinda used the wrong words back there and… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I know cause I kinda do it to my brothers, sometimes.

Hagrid Jr: There’s nothing much I can do and we’re technically strangers but… you mean a lot to me so I just want to let you know that even if ya cant change your crappy day… your feelings will change and hopefully for the better.

Hagrid Jr: You’re worth is not defined by that exam and you’re potential is definitely not determined by that no-good- low-life who drinks just to feel somethin.’ Maybe you’re a serial killer… hell if I know— but if you were ever true and from what I see… you’re an amazing person.

Hagrid Jr: So in the event you get your ass online, meet me for a team duel. NYC’s top spot is still up for grabs.

Hagrid Jr: P.S. check your decks, I think you’ll find something you might like.

He had gotten her Percival’s deck, the most lethal hand of charms and curses you’ll ever need to defeat any opponent and it comes with quite the price tag.

“He asks me about my day, he cares if I’ve eaten or not, he tells me when I’m sleeping too late, and remembers my deadlines,” Asa sighed, shaking her head. “This guy… is unlike any other I’ve known — and trust me I’ve had my fair share of assholes.”

“Nearly a week ago…” Asa gulped. “I asked him if we could meet up… and he said no…”

“Asa…” Sayuri rubbed her shoulder.

“I was just so-“ Asa bit back a sob. “So-so… hurt. I thought — just thought that just maybe… “

“He liked you back.” Sayuri finished. A tear traced Asa’s cheek.

“Now because of these stupid feelings… I pushed him away! And now… he— he’s not sending messages anymore…”

“Asa, I’m sure it’ll be okay if you just talk to him-“

“No it won’t!” Asa burst, and took a breathe. “Look, I come from a line of women who married assholes. My grandfather left my grandmother and started a whole ‘nother family, so she had to move here to make just enough to take care of my mom. My dad used to beat my mom until the day she couldn’t take it anymore and left him. This guy — is not an asshole. I don’t want him to be the one that got away — or maybe I’ll just never have a guy. I-I mean — who needs love…right?”

For a moment Asa just sat there with her knees drawn to her chest and her eyes cast away from Sayuri’s. Sayuri stared at the back of her head. Asa was her first official friend in New York. When they first met, Sayuri remembered being so stunned by her when they first bumped into each other on campus. She has these doe eyes that will make you think she’s a sweet little thing, and then these lips that can light a fire under your ass if you’re not careful. To boot, she also happens to have a set of fists you don’t wanna get in a fight with. She has a dark humor and a bright disposition. She was… a kaleidoscope encased in honeyed skin and darks locks like ocean waves… So how can someone so colorful have such a bleak perception of love?

“Asa De Leon,” Sayuri sighed. “Whether you like it or not… you need love. And you are worthy of it. It doesn’t matter if its from this guy or… from this friend…”

Asa looked up at her.

“Go talk to him,” Sayuri smiled. “Nothing’s set in stone, yet… and I get it you know… about keeping your heart locked up…But you don’t always have to keep it this way.

Asa swallowed.

“Let yourself love, Asa… and if you get hurt… I’ll be here. Your mom and your grandmother will be here. Regardless of whether or not this guy is your endgame, you’re a hottie too. Inside and out. You’ll find someone… and he’ll be right for you.”

Sayuri embraced her slumped form.

“You’re extra sappy today, you know that?”

“And she’s back,” Sayuri muttered.

“You must be really whipped for this so-called ‘agent of the NYPD’… What’s his name, anyway?”

Asa could feel her hesitation slowly slipping away.

“Leo,” she whispered as if it were a secret that would disappear as soon as she uttered it loudly.

“Sounds like a dreamboat,” Asa teased as Sayuri rolled her eyes. They laughed together.

Dusk fell quickly over the city and Sayuri insisted Asa to stay the night. Asa ordered some pizza, sushi and some more boba, and put on Insidious on her computer afterwards. Halfway through the movie, Sayuri was already so blissfully asleep.

When the credits rolled in, Asa was just about to call it a night when she glanced quickly at the app, looking once more for that red circle… for any notification that indicated him.

“God I’m pathetic,” Asa groaned as she finally double clicked on the app.

She opened their chatroom, and took a deep breath in.

And then out.

Ivanna Lucia: hey, u up?

He was online.

Hagrid Jr: hey

Hagrid Jr: u alright?

Ivanna Lucia: d’you mind if we talk?

Hagrid Jr: not at all

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃

How do you think their paths will cross?

Stay tuned for part 2! Let me know if you wanna be on my taglist 💕✨

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raph bayverse #tmnt oc #tmnt raphael #raph tmnt #tmnt fandom #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014

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propheciesanddreams · 2 years

Text

Another Rosekiller fic

No cw this time it’s fluff!!

“He’s moping again.”

“Hmm?” Evan looked up from his Charms essay to see one of his two best friends standing there.

“I said he’s moping again.” Regulus repeated, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’d changed out of his outer robes though he was still in his uniform from today so he managed to still have an air of grace to him even as he stood there in front of Evan. Regulus was the only out of the three who seemed not less comfortable in lounge clothes than his uniform. Whereas Evan had been in a set of pyjama trousers and a band tee from a concert he’d seen last summer with Barty since the moment he had gotten back to the dorms after dinner, three hours ago. Speaking of the boy. Evan rolled his eyes and looked back at his book, eyes catching on a bit of highlighted text there. As he copied the information over to his essay, he replied,

“And who’s got him upset this time?”

Regulus smiled, briefly. Always briefly with Regulus; Evan wished he would smile more sometimes, he deserved happiness in his life. He sat down on the sofa next to Evan. Not like how Barty would, with an undignified plop. No, Regulus sat with poise and grace that was instilled in him for the last sixteen years of his life. Evan put his quill to his mouth and surveyed his friend as he waited for the answer.

“Melanie? Was that her name this time? Marlana? Maladroit?” Regulus mused. He pronounced the last word in a perfect French accent.

“That one’s not even a name,” Evan snorted.

“Yeah well it’s accurate for Barty.” Regulus reasoned. That it was.

“And you want me to talk to him?” Evan scanned the next page of his charms textbook, frustrated. There was nothing useful on this page that he hadn't already used, he’d have to go to the library.

“Finished mine last night.” Regulus nodded towards the essay. “I’ve got a book that was really helpful, I’ll get it once he stops moping because if I go up there and have to hear one more thing about this girl I will drown myself.”

“Are you bribing me, Regulus Black?” Evan shut his textbook as he spoke. Already resigning to the fact that he’ll have to go upstairs and confront Barty.

“Is it working?” Regulus leaned back with his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow. It would have been much more convincing if the dark green sofa weren’t currently attempting to swallow him whole. Nobody could sit in these sofas without being consumed eventually but least of all Regulus who always sat all the way back and he was just so small with that seeker build. Though Evan would never say as much to him.

“Fine. Can you look over what I’ve written so far?” He passed his parchment over and Regulus nodded, already reading through the scribbled notes there.

Evan sighed and stood, wiping nonexistent dust off his pyjama trousers as he did so, just for something to do. His footsteps felt heavy as he climbed the staircase and ambled down the hall to their dorm. The dark shadows in the lake windows along the hall felt as ominous as this encounter would be.

Barty was an absolute menace when he was moping. Anything could send him into dramatics, a poor test grade, a detention, missing a bludger he should have hit in practice, and, yes, girls. Then similarly, he’d seen Barty cast aside poor grades, laugh about detentions, tease himself over a poor play in an actual game, and wave off a girl as just some fun he was having. The inconsistencies made it so Evan and Regulus rarely knew what to expect from him on any given day.

That was how they had developed a routine on how they approached him. Regulus usually with blunt, unapologetic truths about how Barty needed to get up off his ass and do something about it. Evan, on the other hand, with kind words and sometimes a cuppa. It was a real good auror, bad auror dynamic they have. Unfortunately, there’s no telling at the jump which one Barty will need. He tended to respond to both approaches with no rhyme or reason. It seems today he needs softness if Regulus wasn’t able to sort him out already, and Evan is willing to do that for him. He’s always willing to be whatever Barty needs.

The loud tones of The Bludgers hit him as soon as he opened the dorm door. At least it seems Barty had the sense to throw up a silencing charm, or maybe that had been Regulus’ doing. He pulls out his wand and silences the record player with a quick spell. To Barty’s credit, he didn’t move.

“Alright, what’s this about?” Evan plopped down on the end of Barty’s bed and fixed the back of Barty’s head with an impatient stare. A moment later, Barty rolled over, knocking his foot against Evan’s thigh but not seeming to care that they were touching because he left it resting there.

“Am I unlovable?” Barty asked after a long pause.

“Unlovable?” Evan repeated. He screwed his nose up, not at the word itself but at the word in association with Barty. “Since when does that bother you?”

“So I am.” He sounded defeated. He sounded like he’d taken a brain altering potion. Or maybe someone using polyjuice on him because this surely was not Barty.

"That's not what I'm saying, Barty." He looked down the bed at his friend who was properly in a stroop. His brows were furrowed deep in thought, arms crossed in front of him, lips turned downward and in a bit of a pout as well. It struck Evan as fairly cute before he shook those thoughts and returned to how annoying his friend was being. "Look, mate, it's not that–"

"Mate." Barty mimicked bitterly. Evan raised an eyebrow at him unsure where they had gone wrong and why that word would be bothering Barty. "I–you know actually it's fine, forget it, mate."

"What did I–" Evan attempted to begin asking the question but Barty kicked at Evan's thigh where their bodies were touching. He moved up the bed again while grabbing an afghan his mother had knit for him and wrapping it around him tightly.

"Can you leave me alone?" He asked, his voice small. Wrapped up in the afghan as he was, Evan could tell this wasn't the usual stroop. His eyes were red and watery around the edges and there were deep, dark bags under them. Evan tried to think back if Barty had been sleeping lately and he couldn't remember. He should have been paying attention to this. He should at least know the name of someone obviously this important to Barty. Reflecting back, he can't remember a single conversation they've had about girls all week.

"Err, yeah." He muttered and got up off the bed. He stopped at the door, turning back to Barty. "You're not unloveable, Barty." A final attempt at pulling his friend out of this sadness. The boy under the blanket didn't respond and Evan took his leave.

~~~

A stream of purple light shoots over top of Evan’s face as he’s lounging in his bed and hits a bundle of blankets to his right.

“Ow! What the fuck!” Barty is to his feet, grasping for his wand off his bedside table, within seconds. However, Regulus has already shot off another wordless hex. “What. The. Fuck!” Barty growls again, rising to his feet once more, and attempts to shoot off his own stinging hex but Regulus, the better dueler, has already set up a shield charm and sent another hex. This time it catches the edge of Barty’s robes on fire and he’s distracted from calling out another spell by having to stomp the fire out.

Evan’s brain seems to finally catch up after that and he throws a shield up for Barty and glares over at Regulus just as another stream of pink light makes its way across the dorm.

“What are you on about?” Evan shrieks. Duelling in their dorm isn’t uncommon but usually both parties have agreed to it before having a hex hurled at their head. This has come completely unprovoked. As far as Evan is aware, Barty hasn’t said anything to either of them in two days. Not since he told Evan to get out of the dorm. He tries not to think about that or the bitter way Barty had said 'mate' as if the word were no longer true.

Evan had of course had to come back later that evening for bed but Barty had already closed the curtains of his four-poster around himself. He had skipped all his classes the following day and then today, a Hogsmeade Saturday, he had stayed in the dorm all day despite the many girls who had been disappointed in not seeing him.

"His moping is driving me mad." Regulus explained, setting his wand back to his side but keeping his grip tight. Across the room, Barty did the same though with a lot less poise. He pushed his hair back from his face, attempting to regain his breath as he did so. Evan lowered his shield.

"You don't just attack, Reggie, we've been over this." Evan attempted to joke but it fell flat as the other two dorm members glared daggers at each other across the small space.

"You act like you've never spent a weekend in bed, hypocrite." Barty replied. Which was actually a very fair point, when Regulus moped, it was much more difficult to bring him back than it was when he or Barty got in a way.

"Just tell us who it was?" Regulus ignored Barty's accusations. "We'll prank them, then you can move on." He waved a hand in the air indicating how he expected the situation would simply disappear.

"It has been a while since we've pranked anyone." Evan agreed, eager to have his friend back. Chaos was Barty's love language, hopefully it would bring him back.

Instead, Barty just rolled his eyes and groaned at them. He picked up his blanket again and climbed back onto his bed. With a quick flick of his wand, all the curtains closed around him. Evan and Regulus exchanged a look; Regulus' a bit more murderous than Evan's soft concern though they seemed on the same page as they walked over and reopened the curtains.

"You're really gone for this bird aren't you, mate." Evan climbed onto the edge of the bed. Across from him, Regulus did the same so they were now all three on the bed.

"Mate." Barty mimicked in a bitter tone from under his blanket cocoon.

"Ok that's the second time you've taken issue with me calling you mate what the fuck is wrong with you?" Evan could feel his anger rising, he tried not to get angry, not usually. Sometimes his anger built up way too much and it overtook him completely so there was nothing left to do but to scream.

These moments were rare and he attempted to contain them to moments when he was alone. Only Barty had seen him erupt once before in fourth year when they'd gotten back from the Easter holidays and Evan had spent two weeks holding his anger back at home. It had taken a hold of him without any warning and it was doing so again this time too. His very bones vibrating with the anger he hadn't realised was within him.

"Are we not mates anymore? Is that what this is? Some bird has you choosing between your mates or her because that's fucked mate! We're the ones who–"

"Not a bird."

"are there when yo–what?" Evan fixed him with a confused look but he only seemed to retreat further into his blanket. A cursory glance at Regulus showed that Evan was the only one of them truly confused by this statement. Instead of reacting, Regulus seemed to have found a very interesting spot on the floor that needed staring at.

"It's not a girl." Barty repeated, plainly. "I'm not with a bird, not with anyone right now. No one is making me choose anything." Evan tried to click together all the pieces he'd just been given but they weren't making sense in his head. He supposes he'd never really seen Barty differentiate between flirting with girls or guys, he just hadn't thought much of it. It was just, Barty. Barty was just a flirt, it didn't matter but had he actually been dating guys too? He hadn't noticed if he had been. This feels like something a best friend should know, shouldn't it?

Evan felt the weight of two sets of eyes on him as both his friends were now staring at him.

"What?" He asked, realising he must have missed something.

"I asked if that was a problem." Barty stated in a more confident voice than before. The defiance he used as self-defence shining through.

"Oh! No, no not at all. You're still Barty. Still my best mate." Evan offered him a smile and patted his shoulder over the blanket. He felt Barty wince and couldn't help the anger rising again, why was Barty so upset by this so suddenly. "What did I say wron–"

"It's nothing." Barty cut him off.

"It's clearly something." Evan shakes his head, he can deal with Barty in a mood, but Barty being upset with him when he's done nothing wrong isn't something he can manage with a level head. "Why are you upset with–"

He can't finish yet another sentence between Barty has snaked an arm out from the blanket to tug Evan forward and Evan has tipped off balance so that he has to place his hands on Barty to stop himself from fully falling on top of the other boy. One hand falls on his thigh and the other on his shoulder and he barely has time to process the fall (or the push?) before he looks into Barty's eyes and sees a faint blush on his friend's cheeks right there across those beautiful freckles and he's smirking. The bastard is smirking up at him like this was his plan all along but he isn't fooling anyone because Evan can hear his breath hitch all the same when one of them, he really isn't sure who, closes the gap between them.

Just like that, he's kissing his best mate.

Mate.

Oh, now he gets it.

What a horrible word in hindsight.

Distantly, Regulus mumbles something to the pair and Evan feels the shift in weight off the bed but he doesn't focus enough to comprehend what his friend said because he's kissing Barty and Barty is kissing him back and Barty is…pulling away. He frowns.

"Hey Ev?" Barty asks.

"Yeah?" Evan asks back. He doesn't move from where he was, confused as ever from Barty's behaviour.

"Will you do me a favour?" His breath skates across Evan's cheeks and makes him shiver.

"What is it?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"Will you shut up? You're thinking so loud." He whispered back, his voice steady and strong. Evan barely had time to nod before Barty hooked his hand around his neck and pulled them back together.

~~~

Time finds them still on Barty's bed when Regulus returns to the dorm. It might have been hours later or only minutes, Evan isn't sure. They're laying on their sides facing one another, Barty's fingers brushing against Evan's cheek absently. They aren't saying anything, they haven't been saying anything, yet the silence feels so different than it had moments, minutes, hours (however long it had truly been) before.

"Are you done moping?" Regulus asked. Barty made a noncommittal noise, his eyes not leaving Evan's. "Are you two mates again?" This drew Barty's attention more, he raised up on his elbow to glare at Regulus across the room. Before wands could be drawn yet again, Evan answered instead.

"I think it's safe to say we won't be just mates any longer." Barty looks over at him with an expression of shock and then it softens and he lays back down where he had been a moment before.

[insert actual fic ending here 😅]

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #rosekiller fluff #i didn’t write angst this time #idk how to end this fic #open to suggestions #not sure if this will go on ao3 or not. maybe #this fic doesn’t have a name #regulus black #marauders era

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nightttdreamers · 1 year

Text

Night Shift | Craig x Kenny

first chapter of my new crenny fic! yeah its a fake dating AU but it’s going to be super fun and just the right amount of cheesy. very excited to share!

AO3 Link | 4k words | Chapter 1/? | Chapter 2

“Hey, McCormick,” Craig says. “You’ll do anything for a buck, right?”

Kenny cocks his head at the question. “What? I mean, it depends. But, kinda, yeah.”

Craig takes a deep breath before he asks, “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

Craig switched to the night shift.

It wasn’t hard, because no one wants the night shift at a 24 hour convenience store. When his manager, a greasy twenty-six year-old, asked him why, Craig just said he wanted time after school for extracurriculars. It was the same excuse he told his parents, who, instead of wondering why their son wanted to work from 9:00PM to 2:00AM, just said, “You do extracurriculars?”

Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy didn’t believe that excuse however, so he told them that he’d be making more money instead, which seemed to work.

Thankfully, nobody asked further than that.

It’s not too bad. Craig hates customers and he sees them way less than he did when he was working after school. He just sits behind the counter, plays games on his phone, does the occasional bit of homework, and tries not to think. Recently, he’s been testing the limits of the security cameras, trying to figure out blind spots. Not because he cares if people steal, of course, he couldn’t give less of a fuck. It’s just something to keep him occupied until the five hours run out.

He’s been on the night shift for over two weeks now, and he’s gotten used to the routine. He knows the students that come in after football games before they head off to their parties he’s not invited to. He knows which truck drivers will let him bum a cigarette from the packs they buy. And he knows that after midnight the store is completely dead.

Except this particular night, apparently. At one in the morning, the door opens. Craig looks up from his phone, first seeing a flash of blonde hair that makes his heart sink. But, then the blonde turns around and Craig has to hide the relief on his face.

“Craig Tucker?”

Kenny says his name with a strange familiarity, like he’s reuniting with an old friend instead of a classmate he barely speaks to. He’s not wearing that stupid traffic cone-colored parka he always has on, but instead a beat-up denim jacket, which is why Craig almost had him mistaken at first.

“Yeah?” Craig responds, raising his brows. The last thing he wants to do right now is talk to anyone from school. At least it's Kenny and not any of his idiot friends. Craig classifies Kenny as a low-level dumbass, somewhat harmless, while Stan and the others are Certified Douchebags.

“When did you start working here?” Kenny asks, stepping up to the counter.

Fuck, he wants a conversation. “I don’t know, a while ago,” Craig replies.

“But where’s the usual night shift guy? Are you covering for him?” Kenny leans over the counter a bit while he speaks, which is a little too close for comfort. Craig avoids his eyes, instead looking down at what appears to be a spot of dried blood on his white t-shirt.

“Are you bleeding?” He asks.

“Probably. Did you trade shifts with the other guy? Me and him were just starting to become pals, you know?” Kenny’s bright eyes are bouncing around everywhere as he leans back again, glancing over candy bars and cigarette cartons and five-hour energy drinks on the counter. His general enthusiasm is making Craig feel more exhausted. He wonders if the blonde is on something. He’s heard some shit about what Kenny does when he’s missing school.

“I switched shifts like two weeks ago,” Craig replies, still looking at the blood stain, which actually looks a bit fresh in the light.

“Uh-huh, got it,” Kenny nods, finally leaving the counter to look through the aisles. Craig lets out a sigh, picking up his phone again to return to his game. After a minute or so, Kenny pipes up from the chip aisle. “Hey, didn’t you and Tweek break up two weeks ago?”

Craig grips his phone, looking up at Kenny who seems to be really interested in a bag of chips right now. “Why do you care?” It’s a genuine question, but Craig still tries to sound nonchalant when he asks it.

“‘Cause gossip is fun? I dunno,” the other responds flippantly, moving on to a bag of pretzels instead. He’s turned away now, moving further down the aisle, unaware that Craig is staring daggers at him. “I heard he dumped you in the parking lot and you got so mad you smashed a car window, then got in-school-suspension for two days.”

Craig slams his phone down on the counter, but Kenny doesn’t even flinch, simply turning back to him with an innocent expression.

“What?” The other asks. “Bebe told me that she saw the whole thing.”

“She-” Craig begins, nearly raising his voice. He cuts himself off, however, gritting his teeth for a moment. “Bebe is a fucking liar.”

Kenny seems to think about this accusation before responding. “Yeah, I didn’t really believe her,” he says, then ducks into another aisle. With Kenny out of sight, Craig deflates, running a hand through his hair. He’s no stranger to gossip in South Park, in fact he might be a veteran, but it’s been a while since someone regurgitated some bullshit they heard to his face. He can’t even be too mad, considering he’s talked plenty about every other breakup in their school- Stan and Wendy, Tolkien and Wendy, Tolkien and Nichole, Nichole and Kyle, in their small school, other people’s drama is prime entertainment.

The part of it that pisses him off isn’t that people are spreading rumors about the breakup. It’s the fact that, across every untrue story, people still know that it was Tweek who dumped Craig .

Kenny drops a 6-pack of beer on the counter and Craig is so preoccupied with his thoughts that he nearly rings it up before realizing what the item is. “Is this a joke?” Craig asks, looking back up at Kenny.

“Is what a joke?” The other asks, idly picking at his lower lip with his thumb. He pulls back the skin slightly, flashing a missing tooth, though it doesn’t look like he’s even aware of what he’s doing.

“Do you seriously think I’m going to let you buy this?” He says flatly. Kenny gives him a confused look, like he sincerely doesn’t know why Craig won’t check him out. “You’re not 21 McCormick, fuck off.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kenny asks, shuffling around in his pocket before pulling out a wad of cards and cash, held together by a rubber band. He slides a card out and places it on the counter, right in front of Craig.

It’s just about the worst fake ID he’s ever seen. It’s from Wyoming, the man in the picture barely resembles Kenny except for the blonde hair, and the text is chipping in certain places. Craig picks it up, bending the card just to see how flimsy it is.

Kenny is leaning on the counter again, wearing that stupid grin he always seems to sport as he watches Craig. “So, you’re twenty-seven,” Craig deadpans.

“Yes, sir,” Kenny chirps, eyeing the nicotine products. “And a pack of camels too,” he says, then adds, “Please.”

Craig sighs, putting the ID back on the counter. “I’m not selling you anything, McCormick.”

Kenny’s smile falters, though he tries to keep it up as his hand moves from his mouth to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing it. “Come on, man. The other night guy always took my ID. You can ask him, too. He never even got in trouble for it.” Craig simply stares at him, eyes narrow. His shift ends in less than an hour, he just wants to go home and ignore everyone, not deal with an idiot like Kenny. “Craig,” Kenny says, almost whining . “Do me a solid, I’m not even gonna drink it. It’s for my dad and he’ll get pissed, okay?”

It’s not like Craig really cares about Kenny enough to look into his personal life, but it’s impossible not to know that he doesn’t have it easy at home. And maybe it’s because he’s sleep deprived, or he just wants Kenny to leave already, but Craig grabs the Camels. “Whatever.”

Kenny grins now, somehow even wider than before, as he drums his fingers on the counter. “I knew you were a good guy. You know, everyone thinks you’re an asshole, but I knew you weren’t.”

Craig scans each item, trying to convince himself that this isn’t a terrible idea. “I am an asshole,” he says. “And that’s $17.02”

Once again, Kenny flips through his rubber-band wad and pulls out a twenty. Instead of just handing it over, he places it on the counter, then slowly slides it to Craig. “Keep the change.”

Craig, unamused, takes the bill, glancing up at Kenny. “Really?”

“Hell no,” Kenny says with a laugh, grabbing his change once Craig puts it on the counter. He pauses, then leaves three dimes on the table. “There, you can keep that change.”

“I’ll try not to spend it all in one place,” he says, turning back to the cash register. Kenny picks up his items, but lingers by the counter, and Craig can feel his blue eyes on him. “What? Do you want a receipt or something?”

“So it’s true, then?” Kenny asks. Then, when Craig gives him a confused look, he says, “You and Tweek broke up?”

“Do you really want to push your luck with me right now, McCormick?” Craig asks, hopefully in a threatening enough voice that Kenny gets the message.

Instead, the blonde just laughs like this is some inside joke between the two of them and heads out the door, throwing a wave back at Craig as he exits.

In the wake of Kenny McCormick, the store feels almost eerily quiet, rather than the peaceful stillness that it was before. Still, Craig exhales, grateful that the entire interaction is over. He returns to his mindless phone game and tries not to think about Tweek or Kenny or even stupid Bebe spreading rumors about him.

School had been more annoying than usual. He and Tweek entered their senior year together, how was Craig supposed to know they wouldn’t finish it like that? Their schedules overlapped for three periods: History, calculus, and lunch. In class, he and Tweek always sat next to each other, so it wasn’t too difficult to just sit in the back instead, though some people were pissed that their unofficial seating chart had been messed with after three months of peace. He’d sit with the goths or the ugly kids and ignore the twitchy blonde across the room, constantly pretending that he wasn’t just staring when Tweek would catch his wayward glances.

Lunch, however, was more difficult. In the first few days, he avoided the cafeteria entirely, opting to eat alone in his car instead. Sure, if someone saw him it would be social suicide, but that would be better than sitting with his ex-boyfriend. By the end of the first week, Clyde had called him on the verge of tears, begging his best friend to come back and sit with them. Apparently, Tweek had started eating lunch in the art room instead, something that he told Clyde that he had texted Craig. What neither of them knew, however, was that Craig had blocked Tweek’s number the day they broke up.

So, he went back to eating lunch with his friends. Tolkien and Clyde sitting across from him, and Jimmy on his side, leaving an odd space as if Tweek is going to come and sit between them like he usually does. There’s a certain stiffness at the table that certainly wasn’t there before, and Craig understands that it’s probably his fault. He’s caused a few awkward moments when they’ve tried to ask about Tweek by quickly dropping the subject or just ignoring it entirely. Even their attempts to talk to him about anything at all are unsuccessful, as Craig is much more interested in staring silently at his food while he counts the minutes until lunch is over.

Today, he once again brings an uncomfortable energy to the lunch table. However, instead of fixating on his shitty meal, he’s looking right at Clyde. He didn’t want to linger on the rumor Kenny had told him the other night, but he couldn’t help it. Did Clyde tell Bebe about what happened and she decided to make up a more interesting story? Or did Bebe tell him what she “saw” and Clyde simply believed her?

“What’s up, Craig?” Clyde asks, knitting his brows together. The two have made eye contact a few times over the last few minutes, but this is the first time Clyde hasn’t immediately looked away. The others at the table turn their attention to the two, feeling the tension.

“Clyde, when you and Bebe go out, do you guys just sit around and talk about my love life?” Craig asks. It comes out a bit harsher than he intends, but he’s always been one to be straightforward.

Clyde just gives him a confused look, then Craig watches the subsequent realization and fear come across his face. “What?”

“I heard a really interesting story from your girlfriend about how I got dumped, then broke a car window and got ISS,” Craig replies. “So I just wanted to know, do you guys sit and talk about my love life all the time, or just sometimes?”

“Wait, I thought t-t-that you tried to set f-fire to the car?” Jimmy says, which earns him a death glare from Craig.

“Don’t be mad,” Clyde whines, giving his friend a nervous smile. “It was just a rumor, I didn’t even believe her when she told me! I actually walked past the ISS room just to look for you.”

“So you do sit around and lie about my personal life,” Craig says, narrowing his eyes at Clyde. He then turns to Jimmy. “And you too? Tolkien, do you have any stories about my life I haven’t heard yet?”

Tolkien, not as easily goaded into drama as Clyde, just shrugs. “Everyone was talking about it, man.”

Craig exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And none of you just asked me?”

“We tried!” Clyde exclaims, earning a few hums of agreement from the rest of the group.

“You didn’t really want to talk about it when we asked,” Tolkien adds.

Craig presses his lips together in a firm line. He can’t really argue with that. In the days after the break up, he didn’t have in-school suspension, he just faked a cold and stayed home, giving him plenty of time to just think about all of the things that would be different now. Besides the obvious, giant void in his life that Tweek left behind, there was also the issue of their mutual friends, which neither of them would want to lose. Craig knew that Tweek had forfeited lunch, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in contact with their friends at all. The last thing Craig wanted was to make anyone choose sides.

To him, it felt like it would be in everyone’s best interest if he just left his friends out of it.

“Well, none of that stuff is true,” Craig mumbles, pushing the food on his tray around with his fork.

“So you d-didn’t set a car on fire?” Jimmy asks, scooting a bit closer to Craig.

“Or break the window?” Clyde adds.

“No,” Craig says flatly, rolling his eyes.

“And you didn’t get ISS?” Tolkien asks.

“No.”

“And Tweek didn’t break up with you?” Clyde asks, almost sounding hopeful.

Craig grips his fork tightly, staring down at the table. He pushes the tray of food away from himself, looking back up at three sets of curious eyes. “That’s- Yeah, he did.”

“Really? Like, he dumped you ?” Clyde doesn’t even try to hide the disbelief in his voice. Tolkien elbows him in the side at the comment, shooting Clyde a glare before turning to Craig with a sympathetic look.

“That sucks, man. I’m sorry,” he says, and Craig wants to crawl into his hoodie and never be seen again.

“It’s whatever,” Craig says, once again looking back down at the table. “I just don’t get why everyone thinks that I’m the one who got dumped.”

The rest of the boys exchange glances, and Craig hates the silent debate they seem to be having over his head. “C-c-can I be honest with you for a second, p-pal?” Jimmy finally says, reaching up to put a hand on Craig’s shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Craig replies.

“In a b-b-breakup, there’s usually a winner, a-and a loser,” he begins, and Craig has a bad feeling that he knows where this is going. “Usually, the p-person who dumps the other is the w-w-winner.”

“What makes you guys think I’m not the winner?” Craig asks, looking between his friends. Once again, no one seems to want to answer.

“W-well, Craig, you k-k-kind of look like shit,” Jimmy finally says.

Craig scoots back from him, rolling the other’s hand off his shoulder. “Fuck off, Jimmy.”

“He’s only saying that because we’re worried about you,” Tolkien says. “You barely talk to anyone, you always have your headphones in, plus now that you have the stupid night shift, basically no one has seen you outside of school.”

“We’re totally here for you, dude,” Clyde says, nodding in agreement. “Breakups are so hard, especially for the loser.”

“Thanks, Clyde,” Craig says flatly, moving to pick up his backpack.

Clyde winces at the remark. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t leave, man, you can talk to us!”

Craig stands, sliding his backpack over his shoulders. There’s still twenty minutes left in the period, but if he sits there any longer he might just explode.

“W-w-we don’t think of you like that, C-Craig,” Jimmy adds, and Craig knows that he’s being sincere. If his friends think he’s handling the breakup badly, that’s okay with him. What’s not okay is that, apparently, Tweek is walking around doing just fine without him.

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” Craig says, picking up his tray. “You can all think what you want, okay? I’m fine. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

He can hear his friends calling his name, but Craig is already walking away from the table, trying not to be so aware of everyone’s eyes on him as he storms out of the lunchroom.

As he walks away from the table, he can hear his friends call his name, but it’s too late. Craig spends the rest of lunch alone under the bleachers, smoking a cigarette while his headphones blast Radiohead, acutely aware that he really does look like a loser.

Days later, he’s still thinking about it. Craig stands in the snack aisle, restocking the instant noodles, while it repeats like a mantra in his head; Tweek won, you lost.

It’s now been almost three weeks since the breakup. Three weeks of staring at the other’s blocked contact in his phone, deleting shared playlists, and aimlessly scrolling through old photos like he’ll find something he missed before, something that explains why . When they had their last conversation, Tweek had said “I think we both knew this was going to happen,” and all Craig could say in response was “What are you talking about?”

He looks down at the cup noodles in his hand. Suddenly, just lifting his arm to put it on the shelf feels like the hardest task in the world.

“I really don’t think that’s the best flavor choice,” pipes up a voice from beside him, and Craig jolts upright, turning to the stranger.

Kenny is standing at the end of the aisle in his dirty orange parka, hands shoved in his pocket, wearing the shit-eating grin he always has on.

“When did you get here?” Craig asks, letting his shoulders relax as he returns to his restock. He keeps his face down, hoping that Kenny didn’t see his momentary existential crisis just then.

“Like, a minute ago. Did you not hear the bell when I came in?” Kenny steps closer, peering over Craig’s shoulder at the products. “I guess not, you seemed pretty into these noodles. But, I gotta say, I think shrimp’s the worst flavor. Not that I know what real shrimp would taste like, but the cup noodle flavor is just too fake.”

Craig’s barely listening, trying to finish quickly. He just wants to go back behind the counter where he’s safe because Kenny is way too close to him right now. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, turning to walk away from the other.

Kenny, however, follows right behind him. “Have you ever made ramen chips? You just put the seasoning in the bag then you crush the ramen up and eat it like that. Like, no need for hot water or anything. My brother and I used to make it all the time. It’s just like chips, it’s pretty good.”

“Mhm,” he hums. Luckily, Kenny isn’t facing him, or he’d see the grimace on Craig’s face right now. The dark-haired boy steps behind the counter, finally separating himself from Kenny, dropping the empty ramen box on the floor beside him.

“What did you think of the chem quiz today?” Kenny asks, flipping through the magazine rack.

The question catches him off-guard, and it takes Craig a second to realize that, oh yeah , Kenny is in his chemistry class. The blonde usually hides himself away in the back corner if he even attends class at all. “It was fine, I guess.”

Kenny nods. “Yeah, I think all this gas stuff has been tripping me up. I pretty much bullshitted the last page, but I think Mrs. Dawson wants to fuck me so I’ll probably be okay. I swear, every time she goes to help Kevin Stoley with a problem, she bends over right in front of me so I can see her ass. Like, it’s totally on purpose.”

“Are you here to buy something or just talk about random shit?” Craig asks.

Kenny doesn't respond at first, and Craig can see the way his smile falters, how he stops flipping through the magazines for a second. When he looks up, his expression is sheepish, and Craig feels like an asshole.

“Sorry,” Kenny finally says. “I’m rambling, right? I’m kinda high, the guys always get annoyed at how much I talk when I smoke.”

He’s never been great at reading people, but it’s pretty obvious he just hit one of Kenny’s nerves. Before he can really think about it, he finds himself saying, “No, I’m sorry.” Both boys look surprised at the apology, and Craig figures he’d better explain himself. “You’re fine, I’m just tired and it’s been a shit day.”

Kenny’s expression softens, and Craig feels a bit lighter. “It’s okay,” he says. “I can’t blame you, dude. I guess you heard about Tweek, huh?”

The air in the room stills for a second as the two exchange a panicked glance.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have-” Kenny starts.

“What about Tweek?” Craig cuts him off, but Kenny keeps talking.

“I’m high, I’m rambling, just forget about it. Fuck.”

“Kenny,” Craig says, watching as the other mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Kenny!” He repeats, louder this time.

“It’s nothing,” Kenny says, but the high pitch of his voice tells Craig it’s definitely not nothing. “It’s a rumor, total bullshit.”

Craig sighs, knowing he probably shouldn’t ask. But he already lies awake at night thinking about what Tweek’s doing without him, he might as well lie awake knowing what his ex is up to. “Just tell me.”

Kenny gnaws on his lip for a second, nervously picking at the hem of his jacket before he speaks. “Don’t shoot the messenger, okay? But there was this thing at the skate park a few days ago and I heard that Tweek showed up with Pete Thelman.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Craig exclaims, causing Kenny to flinch.

“I said don’t shoot the messenger!” Kenny says, raising his hands defensively. “All I heard was that they were there together, it’s literally nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Craig barely hears the other, already feeling a pit in his chest starting to form. He wants to bash his head against the counter or trash the entire convenience store. But, he also wants to curl up on the floor and never be seen again. While he’s wasting away every day in the back of his classes, or locked in his room, or working the worst job at a near-empty store, Tweek is okay. Of course everyone knows he got dumped, apparently his ex is already moving on.

“Craig, are you good?” Kenny asks, leaning over the counter a bit. “Should I like, call someone?”

For the last few weeks, Craig has felt like there was a hole inside him, slowly growing to consume every part of his life. But, right now, something feels different. Even if it is a bullshit rumor, hearing about Tweek like this is sparking something in him.

He’s fucking pissed.

“Hey, McCormick,” Craig says. “You’ll do anything for a buck, right?”

Kenny cocks his head at the question. “What? I mean, it depends. But, kinda, yeah.”

Craig takes a deep breath before he asks, “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

#south park #fanfiction #crenny #Craig Tucker #kenny mccormick #craig tucker x kenny mccormick #fic #fake dating #im so excited for this fic hehehehe

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