#I STEP AWAY FOR THREE SECONDS AND MY TUMBLR IS SCREAMING!!!

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦ view the second part here: part two.

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

#blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi smut #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #itoshi sae smut #itoshi brothers #vampiiebitez #tw:dubcon #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons

[valeskawhore]

IMAGINE:

APOCALYPSE AU?? PROXIES X READER (IDEA!)

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve been seeing all around tumblr from my mutuals and honestly, why the hell not? I love the idea of apocalyptic survival. Let me know if this should be a series !!

An eerie creak sounds out behind me as I opened the window, and Dust flooded the dimly lit room as I made my way inside. Exploring abandoned houses wasn't always a typical interest of mine, but staying warm and having a dry place to sleep at night was.

Rain clashed gently down on the roof from outside, crickets could be heard and soon the silence rested back into place when I pulled the cracked window shut from the other side.

This place definitely was not the best, but at least it was dry.

First thing I did was open my backpack, setting up candles and hanging an old sheet that I found laying in the corner, over the window to block out the light.

Repeatedly, I told myself that this was just temporary.

I didn't have enough food to last more than a few nights anyways. Walkers roamed more and more with every passing day, tho winter was coming and it was coming fast.

Hopefully, that would do something to slow the walkers, even if it was just by a few steps, I prayed.

With a sigh, I slowly sat down on the make-shift mattress that I made for myself, hearing my ankles pop in the process because man, I really needed to stretch more often, I'm not getting any younger.

I took off my baseball cap and pulled down my mask to breathe just a little bit clearer, running my fingers through my hair, I noticed how greasy it was. The thought made me disgusted since.. Well, I couldn't even imagine how I smelled and i didnt want to either.

Popping open a bottle of water, I drank my thirst away. Listening to the rain pour, the thunder crack and the sounds of the undead trudging along outside.

As I clenched my eyes shut for a second..

I blocked out the screams, the cries and pleads for help.. The cocking of guns and the growls of the unthinkable tearing and ripping the flesh of the people being eaten alive. My fingernails began to itch, my knuckles on fire, tears welding in my eyes.

“Y/N!!” She screamed, “HELP ME!!” she cried..

I sat my bottled water down, and lit up a cigarette.

“It’ll be ok..” I told myself, “Survive one more day, just one more,” everynight.

“I’ll find you baby.. one day..”

I closed my eyes.. Relaxed my body, breathed out deeply.

“Goodnight y/n” I told myself.

The front door clashed open.

*~*~*~~*~*~*~

“GET INSIDE! GET THE FUCK INSIDE!” A voice screamed. The sounds of the undead gurgled up the last of their life and slammed their heads against the door, screaming. I heard multiple people slamming themselves against the front door, refraining it from opening. “ROGERS, FIND SOMETHING, NOW. WE NEED TO BARD THE DOOR!”

“I-I-M OHN–ON IT!!” Someone stuttered.

I jumped up from my mattress, reaching for my gun and loading in the magazine. I threw the sleeping bag off of me, and unlocked the door. I heard the others rummaging down stairs for something to board the door. I peaked my head out,

Something suddenly rammed against my head, the door was torn open, slamming into my head. I fell back on my ass, and reached around lazily for my gun.

I heard a gasp fall above me, my vision was spinning, but I found my gun and raised it above me at the silhouette. There were two of them, then three, then two, until both shadow figures meshed into one guy. His face was something more,

Two dark brown eyes, greasy chestnut hair, he nose was already bleeding and there was a bandage covering up the right side of his lips stretching to his cheek bones.

He was definitely a young man, 23-24 maybe. Wearing yellow rusted-rimmed goggles, a blue hoodie with a tanned, older jacket overtop, there was a black and gray-ish mask wrapped around his neck and pulled up over his face. The (now) snickering man wore stained blue jeans and some bloodied converse.

His laugh rang out through my skull, pounding against my ear lobes. His eyes became impossibly wide now, canines glimmering in the moonlight as thunder cracked in the background.

With one final sadistic smile,

He picked up his double hand axes and raised them high, His laughter almost screams now, The screams of a hyena, a skinwalker luring its prey.

The young man brought the axes down quickly,

I rolled over with a small scream, doing my best to avoid the hard steel.

I fumbled around on the ground, reaching for my gun.

When I had it in my hand, the man jumped on me and slammed my back into the hardwood floor. The house was so old that dust jumped into the air, and swam around. I clenched my eyes shut and coughed until I could breathe again. I felt his boney hands wrap around my throat, his skin uncomfortably cold and white. I kicked my feet behind him and threw my head back,

The man let up his grip but didn't scream out in pain, his laughter only grew.

I grabbed the boy's hair and threw him off of me, his body collided against the wall,

Because,

His body actually went through it, clashing into the room next to us.

Dust flooded the room once more, and as the psychopath took longer than expected to rise back to his feet, I grabbed my sleeping bag and ran downstairs, contents loosley in hand.

I struggled to throw my jacket on as i ran down the steps,

A shorter figure stepped in front of me, and stuck his leg out, successfully tripping me in the process. I felt my world being flipped upside down as my rib cage cracked against the staircase. I coughed up blood, my heartbeat in my ears as I laid there motionless.

With my vision dark, i could only here throat-ripping screeching from the outside world,

Three figures stepped in my view of the door, I pulled my arms in front of me and did my best to drag my body away. I moaned out in a breath-less cry as I felt the rusted nails sticking out of the wood flooring scraped against my cracked ribs.

Something stopped me, whoever or.. Whatever it was, grabbed my achilles heel and dragged me back in the living room with one strong pull.

They flipped me on my back, blood dripped down the corner of my mouth as I did my best to control my breath. Hesitantly, I reached my hand up and folded my fist into a weak, shaky middle finger, my ‘fuck you’ to the world.

I heard one of them snicker before the tallest one leaned down carefully, dark red painted eyes peered into mine before he pulled off my mask. I had a surge of anger come over me, as I reached to kick him in the balls but he caught my leg, almost expecting it even. His grip tightened menacingly on my thigh, before he gave my cracked rib cage an almost impossibly fast sucker punch.

I coughed out blood on instinct, my body spasming. I held my chest and my body folded forwards, my knees to my chest. “F-fuck you..” I coughed, tears streaming down my face.

His hand, still on my thigh, tightened once more. Leaning close to my face, the stranger whispered..

“What.. do we have here?”

#funny story #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #masky marble hornets #masky #masky headcanon #masky x reader #hoodie #hoodie x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta incorrect quotes #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #yandere ticci toby #funny content

[mirkwoodmunson]

meltdown

eddie munson x gn!y/n

2k words

sometimes the bullying is too much. sometimes eddie needs you to step in.

contains: aaaangst but then a lil fluff at the end ig so it’s ok, jason carver, hurt!eddie, pre-s4 tw: cursing, physical/verbal bullying, violence, meltdown a/n: companion piece to bad day. eddie's turn to have a rough time! disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

“Piss off and juggle some balls,” Eddie snarls out, before abruptly getting slammed back into the side of his van, one of Jason’s basketball goons grabbing him by the vest, fists twisted into the denim and digging into his shoulders as he’s held against the vehicle.

He lets out a wheeze and then growls, attempts lashing out like a cornered animal but it only makes the jock pull him forward to slam him back again — harder — eliciting another gasp from Eddie as the wind is knocked from him a second time.

“You really shouldn’t litter, y’know,” the goon drawls smugly, as Jason Carver himself collects from the ground the pages of campaign material Eddie had dropped after being shoved into this altercation without warning. Material he’d been working on for the past three months.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide and panicked as Jason shuffles through them, the jock’s eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, face twisted into a sneer to say ‘what the fuck am I looking at, weirdo??’

Eddie’s stomach drops, movement ceasing as he watches carefully.

“H-hey c’mon man, c’mon just drop ‘em, alright? Carver!”

The blond boy snorts, meeting Eddie’s pleading gaze with a careless one of his own.

“Sure, freak. Sure I’ll drop ‘em,” he coos.

Jason smiles, flat and ice-cold, and tears a neat rip right down the middle of the pages, Eddie immediately crying out angrily and squirming, distraught shouts only growing louder with every slow rriiiiippp Jason draws out for his own amusement.

He does eventually drop the pages — the small little squares he’d made out of them — lets them out of his hands slowly to flutter away in the breeze.

It’s gut-wrenching, the way Jason just grins in delight as Eddie furiously tries to break free, tries to thrust himself after Jason, tries to defend himself — but all his efforts earn him is a swift punch to the gut from the goon holding him.

Eddie doubles over with a huff and blinks rapidly as his vision explodes with color, lungs sputtering and stinging as he tries to chase a deep breath of air that they can’t hold with their ache, arms wrapped around his middle as he starts to sink to the ground.

He can hear nimble, quick-paced footsteps, someone running towards the trio, but in his position he doesn’t see you come up right behind Jason with your arms thrown back, hears you but doesn’t see as you cry out in a blind rage and swing your book bag with full might into the side of Jason Carver’s head.

He misses getting to see Jason practically soar to the ground, but he does see him flounder on the pavement, eyes wide in his startled panic, holding his head and trying to place his attacker.

You keep screaming, wildly swinging your heavy bag, taking a defensive stance in front of Eddie who’s still holding his abdomen, curled into himself and coughing.

“FUCK OFF YOU ROTTING PIECES OF DOG-SHIT!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!! GET — AWAY!! I’LL FUCKING SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, JASON CARVER; SO FAR YOUR OWN MOTHER IS GONNA TASTE THE SOLE!!”

You get a few more good whacks in, making Jason and his goon stumble as the latter helps the former to his feet, trying to keep him steady as they gather themselves and attempt a hasty retreat.

“FUCKING FREAKS!” The goon throws over his shoulder before they both break into a run, Jason stumbling a bit and struggling with his footing.

As soon as they’re focused on high-tailing it out of there you drop your bag and sink to your knees in front of Eddie’s huddled figure, the boy still pulling in deep breaths that squeal with a wheeze in between his coughs.

“Eds?? Eddie baby, lookit me, look here,” you cup his cheeks and gently lift his head, pushing curls away from his face to give him room to breathe and checking for any other injuries; your stomach drops when he slowly looks up with your encouragement, his bottom lip quivering as he tries to keep the tears restrained but a few of them have already fallen down his rosy cheeks. He looks up, but avoids your intense, concerned gaze.

“Oh, Eddie… sweetie, come on, you gotta get up; I got you, c’mon…” you sigh gently and pull one of his arms around your shoulders, carefully lifting him with you. He leans into you and lets out a soft whine, his other arm tightly wrapped against his middle, letting you maneuver him.

“Keep doing those deep breaths, babe, you got it… it’s alright you got it… c’mon, m'gonna take you home, okay? It’s alright…”

Your voice keeps him docile, keeps him calm, keeps him focused and breathing and moving. He wants to hide, wants to be in the quiet dark, wants to crawl away with you so he lets you guide him to the passenger side of his van and into the seat. As soon as you close his door he leans his arms up on the dash and buries his head in them, shoulders heaving.

Your heart sinks to your feet and you breathe out slowly.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that piece of shit…” You spit under your breath, glancing back at the school. You take a few minutes to gather whatever scraps of Eddie's campaign you can find -- whatever hasn't already blown away -- tucking them into your bookbag as you scoop it up along with the rest of Eddie's things. You walk around to the driver's side of the van, hopping up into the seat.

Eddie tries to calm down when he hears you come in, looks away and lifts his shirt to swipe over his face, a quick successions of sniffles. You can see him tremble, errant hairs shivering, the way his hands moved almost frantically, body rigid and vibrating with adrenaline.

You set your bag in the back and then just sit silent for a bit. Letting Eddie have his time to quietly vent the steam while he tries to hide it from you — huddled away and trying to collect himself before you press for info or speak up again.

When he’s down to just heavy breaths, you reach over and slowly stroke his arm, testing the waters. They’re lukewarm and still, and Eddie just sits and lets you comfort him.

“Are you okay, Eds?" 'Silly question,' you think, 'of course he's not okay.'

"Do- …d’you wanna, talk about it?”

Eddie does a big shrug and huffs, looking into his lap while fiddling with his rings absently. He sniffles, swipes a sleeve against his nose, shaking his head a little.

“What’s there to talk about.” His voice is raspy and soft, stating it plainly; he still wheezes softly. You wince and withdraw your hand.

“Same shit as always. Bunch’a fuckin' little shits ganging up on someone bigger to feel tough.”

The quiet settles over you again.

And then you jump in your seat, when Eddie begins punching the dash in front of him, practically screaming,

“SAME FUCKING SHIT!! IT’S THE SAME — FUCKING — SHIT!! EVERY — FUCKING — DAY — OF MY LIIIFE!!”

He’s punching with each word, choking on a sob with every pained breath, and then he’s just shouting at the end, fists digging into his thighs as he strains with the force of his bellowing, face red and wet.

You just freeze and go quiet, eyes glued down onto your hands in your lap, flinching with the punches and closing your eyes when he yells.

He breaks off with a sob and rakes fingers into his tangled hair — you hear strands snap — tugging against the roots as he cries deep from his aching belly, rasping with each breath.

“It doesn’t stop!! It doesn’t stop it doesn’t stop it doesn’t—“

He stomps his foot, pulling his hair — he was so strained just sitting in place, groaning and crying and shifting irritably like he needed to do something, needed to move. Something angry and red and sad and tired was trying to break free, pushing at his seams, and it frustrated him that all he could do was just cry. He felt itchy and tight in his skin.

It wasn’t often, but you had seen him like this a few times before. When it got too be too much for him to hide with a grin and lame joke, too much to tuck away into the attic of his mind.

It was the ones that smiled the easiest, it seemed, that had the most they wanted to hide.

Grin and bear it.

It broke your heart every time. How could it not?

Eddie was such a strong person, his will unmatched and pride hung high — not proud, per se, but very aware of how bright he shone, and more than happy to shed that light. Happy to stand strong and be that person everyone saw him as — that you saw him as — untouchable, unwavering, mighty.

Eddie the Brave.

It broke your heart to see that light flicker and go out, even if only momentarily. Broke your heart to see Eddie — who was always the one to comfort and protect you — need comfort and protection himself.

But every light needs tending to stay lit. The flames may go out but they can be fanned into a roar once more.

Eddie would always help you pick up your pieces, you would always be there to help him pick up his.

He sits rigid in his seat with his palms cupped over his face, muffling the cries and sniffles, hiding the tears that fell freely — hid them till they were trickling down his wrists and dripping from his chin.

“Eddie…sweetheart…” Just the warmth, tenderness, of your voice makes his shoulders slump, quivering with the force of the next few sobs as his muscles struggle to keep taught.

“Baby c’mere,” you soothe, reaching to him and carefully sliding a hand around his wrist. You pull it away, and he lets you guide him towards you slowly. You lift his hand and bring it up and around your shoulder, and Eddie leans in with it and puts his other arm around you as well, now crying freely against your shoulder as he sinks into your awaiting arms and lets the meltdown run its course as you comfort him.

"I'm sick of it, y/n! I'm-I'm fuckin' sick of it!"

You tuck your face into brown curls, let your eyes slide closed as you murmur calming shushes, hand smoothing slow, deep circles into his back, gently grazing with your fingertips; other hand clutching tight to the scruff of his shirt, holding Eddie to you dearly.

"I know. I know, Eds..."

It's all you can say. Nothing would really make it any better right now, he just needed to let it out, just needed a moment to be comforted and told 'yes. you're right, Eddie. It does fucking suck. But you'll be okay.'

After a while he's more responsive -- quieted down -- rubbing your back as well and self-soothingly brushing his cheek against the shoulder of your soft, warm shirt, just under your collarbone. Listening to your heartbeat, letting that ground him.

You press nuzzled kisses into his hair, against his forehead and temple and the bridge of his nose, which makes him smile and crinkle it sweetly.

He leans up slowly in his seat while you keep a hand pressed to his back, watching him orient himself and rub his eyes, trying to physically wipe away the thoughts swarming over the incident. He smooths his palms into his thighs, over and over, a slow and soothing gesture. Breathes deep and exhales, still wheezing a little, still aching, but now mostly just tired.

"...can you, stay over tonight?" Eddie croaks just above a whisper, finally meeting your eye.

You smile and nod, holding up the hand you'd had on his back.

He smiles too, soft and weary, fishes the keys out of his pocket and drops them into your palm.

Your gaze shifts to the little keychain attached to them, a clear plastic heart that holds a tiny cutout picture of the two of you from a photo booth, giggly and excited after seeing The Return of the Living Dead.

“I can help you fix the campaign! You’ve been working so hard on it.”

You start up the van, Eddie squeezes your thigh -- a silent 'thank you,' and you head off towards Forest Hills.

#100th post lets gooo!!!!!! #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson x gn!y/n #stranger things x you #eddie munson fic #mine #1k

[dandywonderous]

ROTTMNT Bad Things Happen Bingo #2: Lost Their Voice from Screaming

for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Characters: Draxum, Leo (the others make minor appearances)

Square: Lost Their Voice from Screaming

Warnings: Major Character Death (canonical), Bad Future Timeline

Notes: The death is offscreen but the fic deals with the direct aftermath so take care. I've put the entire fic under a cut in case you'd rather skip.

This will be up on AO3 tonight unless tumblr deletes my post a second time in which case I will probably be too tired to continue

Draxum has become a father three times in his life.

The first time, of course, was with Michelangelo. The boy had helped (or harassed) him much over the last few months, and at this point his visits were an expected part of Draxum’s routine. Even, if he were honest with himself, an anticipated part of his routine, something he looked forward to the rest of the week.

It was during one of these visits, while Michelangelo was baking cupcakes in his tiny apartment kitchen and chattering away about what he and his brothers had been up to that Draxum recognized the warmth in his chest for what it was. This wasn’t merely his creation - this was his son.

The second time was immediately after their victory against the Shredder.

He had acknowledged the kids as his boys to Lou Jitsu, but that feeling of fatherhood was still missing between him and the other three. That didn’t stop him from opening his apartment to them, because they were exhausted and that pit they called a home was full of rubble and bad memories.

Long after the others were asleep, Raphael sat awake, back to the wall and eyes watching the door and the windows. When Draxum asked him about it, he admitted he felt like he couldn’t sleep - like the moment he closed his eyes, something would hurt his family.

Draxum didn’t bother telling him to sleep. He just sat next to him and promised to keep watch. And when the boy’s head finally listed and came to rest against Draxum’s shoulder, he gained another son.

The third time was months later. Michelangelo had been coming to his apartment regularly for training in his mystic powers, and Donatello had started tagging along. He claimed it was because he had an interest in alchemical compounds, but Draxum had a feeling that wasn’t all. There seemed to be growing tension back home that both boys were desperate to escape.

Draxum didn’t ask. He let Donatello peruse what books he still had at his leisure and allowed him to conduct alchemical experiments in the bathroom (under strict orders not to destroy anything). 

The day the boy came to him with his a successful compound, Draxum told him he’d done very well. He received the first genuine smile he’d ever gotten from Donatello, and while he quickly schooled his expression back into something more neutral, Draxum would never forget that moment of pure joy on his son’s face.

Of the four of them, only he and Leonardo were still at odds. He wasn’t hostile, and he accepted Draxum’s presence in the family easily enough, but he kept Draxum at arm’s length, never opening up, never letting down his walls, never offering anything more than the surface level.

Where the other boys had come around, Leonardo still

                                                                                                    resists

                                                                                                                               against the hold of Draxum’s arms, digging his feet into the dirt and straining to be free. He wriggles one arm loose, reaching back toward the smoldering wreckage of the collapsed tunnel, and he screams at the top of his lungs.

“DAD!”

“Leonardo, stop,” he commands, dragging them both back two steps before the child lurches again. “There’s no sense in this.”

“We can’t leave him!” Leonardo insists, struggling as hard as he can. “Dad! DAD!”

“If you go back there you will be killed! Which is exactly what Lou Jitsu did not want.” 

“I don’t care! Let me go! LET ME GO!”

He lifts the boy up and ignores how he flails and kicks. If his leg weren’t injured, he might be able to escape, but as it is he’s lacking in his usual force. Only the adrenaline is keeping him upright, Draxum knows. At least his swords are caught between his shell and Draxum’s chest.

He’s still screaming, but Draxum ignores him, looking over his shoulder at Raphael. He has his other brothers tucked under either arm. Michelangelo has retreated entirely into his shell, but Draxum can hear him crying even from here. Donatello is quiet, but he looks seconds from doing exactly the same as Leonardo and running off into the rubble. Raphael himself is silent, staring at the ruins of the tunnel’s entrance in disbelief.

Draxum’s voice is a commanding bark - he has to pull the kids out of their trance and get them out of here. It’s what Lou Jitsu asked him to do, after all, and he will do it.

“Raphael! Take your brothers and go back to the hideout!”

“But… but Pops-”

“Your father is gone,” says Draxum plainly, because they need to understand that. They need to get that through their heads. There is no time to be soft about it.

Raphael flinches. Michelangelo’s wails grow louder and Donatello sags, tears starting to stream down his face.

In Draxum’s arms, Leonardo howls.

“He wanted you boys to be safe and I will make sure you are.” Draxum jerks his head. “Now go! We will be right behind you.”

For a moment he thinks Raphael will resist, too, and he isn’t sure what he will do then because he can’t hold them all. But Raphael relents, lifting Donatello and Michelangelo more securely in his arms before taking off with them both, leaving Leonardo in Draxum’s care.

The boy sags suddenly, going limp in his grasp. Draxum doesn’t trust it for a moment, so he doesn’t let go, though he does lower him to stand on his feet.

“My brothers are gone,” he says. “You can let me go now.”

“So you can run straight in there and get killed?” Draxum scoffs. “I will not.”

He steps back again, dragging Leonardo with him, but still the boy resists. He tries to dig in his heels, but Draxum can tell his leg is starting to hurt too much for it to count.

“I’m not going to die,” he snaps, wrenching his chest to try and escape. “I’m going to save my dad.”

“If you would listen to me,” Draxum hisses, pulling him another few feet back, “you would know your father is beyond saving. And we will join him if we don’t leave now.”

“You must be happy about it,” says Leonardo, and his words sting like acid. “You guys never got along, right? You never cared about him.” His voice is rising again, growing to a shout. “You never cared about any of us!”

“I care about you very much!” Draxum argues, giving the boy a shake. It’s the first time he’s ever told him this, and he doesn’t even feel embarrassed because he just needs Leonardo to see sense. “Otherwise I would just leave you here and be done with it!”

“Then do it!” He kicks one last time. “Let me go! Dad! DAD!”

Draxum doesn’t want to do it, but he can hear the sounds of those monsters as they grow closer; the time Lou Jitsu gave his life to buy them is growing short. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and he’s never been more desperate.

He aims a kick of his own at the large gash in the boy’s shin, and Leonardo lets out a yelp of pain and surprise, folding over Draxum’s arm.

That’s all he needs - he takes the moment while Leonardo is limp and lifts him, then turns and runs.

Leonardo realizes what’s happening, and he tries to struggle but Draxum keeps him pinned to his chest, arms gripped tight. With no other recourse, Leonardo looks up at him and snarls ugly, ugly words.

“You don’t care… You let him die! I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

“Then live to hate me,” Draxum snaps down at him, and that’s all he says as he carries Leonardo far away from the wreckage of the tunnel, as fast as he can.

In his arms, the boy screams and screams and screams, until his voice grows hoarse, until it quiets to a whisper, and he finally gives out.

…

Mrs. O’Neil is waiting for them when they arrive at their hideout - an old basement storm shelter near the ruins of their apartment building. “Oh, baby,” she says softly, putting a hand on Leonardo’s forehead. He doesn’t react - he hasn’t reacted to much at all for over ten minutes now, his eyes staring up sightlessly at the red sky.

“His leg is injured,” Draxum informs her, and her brow creases.

“It wasn’t the krang, was it?” she asks. If it was, they would have to put the boy in isolation to make sure the wound wasn’t infected - hardly a good place for him to be now, in the midst of grief.

Thankfully, that is not the case. “No; there was an explosion and he was struck by the shrapnel.”

“Oh, honey,” she says, stroking his forehead. “We’ll get you patched right up.” Her eyes go to Draxum’s. “The other boys are with April.”

Draxum sets Leonardo down, making sure he’s steady before pulling back his support. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against Mrs. O’Neil and follows her away, the same shell-shocked expression on his face.

Draxum watches them disappear into the small medic center, then makes his way to the sleeping quarters to see his sons.

They’re easy to spot among the huddled humans, thanks to Raphael’s size. He’s sitting against the wall, head leaned back and eyes on the ceiling, tears rolling down face and dripping onto his neck. Michelangelo is still inside his shell, cradled in Raphael’s lap. April is sitting next to Raphael, her arms wrapped around the shivering mess that is Donatello. Draxum can hear the younger boys and April crying from here.

He sits down on Raphael’s other side and runs a hand over Michelangelo’s shell. The boy pokes his head out, eyes puffy and skin crusted with tears. He pops the rest of his limbs out when he sees who it is and climbs into Draxum’s lap, burying his face in the front of his robe. It’s seconds before a fresh round of tears start, but Draxum doesn’t do anything to discourage the clinging.

Next to him, Raphael sniffs, then starts sobbing louder. April looks up, then gives Donatello a gentle nudge; after some maneuvering, they take Michelangelo’s spot in Raphael’s lap, letting Raphael hug them and crying into his plastron.

It occurs to Draxum that these kids are his responsibility now; Lou Jitsu isn’t here for them anymore. Take care of our boys, he’d said, before using mystic force to push them out of the tunnel. He hadn’t meant just today.

They are his, and he will take care of them. 

All four of them.

…

The kids eventually fall asleep, and Leonardo still hasn’t returned. Draxum makes sure they won’t miss him, gently laying Michelangelo back in Raphael’s lap, where he and April sleepily curl around each other, before he leaves to go find his last wayward creation. 

Mrs. O’Neil hasn’t seen him since she finished patching up his leg, so he has to go hunting. There are a few other humans hiding out here, too, mostly people from the block whose homes were similarly destroyed. They’re all unphased by mutants and yokai by now, and they all know Leonardo, but none of them have seen him. He’s not in the makeshift kitchen or the central eating area, and Draxum would have noticed if he went back to the sleeping quarters.

The foolish boy wouldn’t leave, would he?

Of course he would, Draxum thinks, and hurries for the entrance.

Thankfully, he didn’t go far - as soon as Draxum emerges into the cold night air, he spots the shadowy shape that is Leonardo, huddled in the remains of the building that used to be next door. He had the sense to hide under an overhang, at least, his eyes staring out at the ruins of the city that has always been his home.

Draxum has to climb up a mountain of shifting rubble to get there, cursing the boy’s ability to teleport, before he finally arrives. He approaches cautiously, half expecting Leonardo to run, but it seems like the fight has left him now.

As good as that is for Draxum, it adds to the melancholy air hanging around the whole scene.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here,” he says simply. Leonardo doesn’t so much as look his way. “...How is your leg?”

To that he receives a shrug. Leonardo still isn’t looking at him.

“Are you hungry? There’s still leftover soup in the kitchen.” He’d tried to get the others to eat, but none of them had been interested. It doesn’t surprise him when Leonardo shakes his head. “Still, you should at least come back inside; it’s not safe to stay outside for long.”

Leonardo doesn’t respond to that. He just stares out at the city.

Draxum folds his arms, trying not to let the irritation he feels show in his voice and failing. “Are you this intent on giving me the cold shoulder all night? I’m trying to help you.”

Leonardo’s eyes narrow, and he lets out a long sigh through his nose. He lifts his wrist and pulls up the communicator Donnie made him (the only way they have to communicate long distance since the phone lines went down), typing a message on the holographic screen that he then turns to Draxum.

throat hurts cant talk

Draxum thinks about how the boy screamed and screamed until he couldn’t anymore, and it clicks. Of course his throat would hurt. They’re lucky if he didn’t severely damage his vocal cords.

I hate you!

He shakes the memory of the boy’s words away, focusing on the present moment. He may not be able to do anything else about this awful day, but this he has a solution for.

“Don’t go any further into the city by yourself,” he says. And then he leaves.

He returns to where his possessions are stored in the hideout, hidden behind a barrier spell to keep any nosy humans out. He fishes around until he finds what he’s looking for, then goes to boil water in the kitchen.

Soon enough he’s returning to Leonardo, an old, chipped mug cradled in his hands. It’s precarious trying to climb up to the boy again without spilling, but he manages.

Leonardo looks surprised he came back, but, predictably, he doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to the sky.

Draxum doesn’t say anything either, instead coming close and sitting down next to him. Leonardo doesn’t react, and he chooses to take that as a positive.

“Here,” he says, holding out the mug. “Drink this.”

For a moment Leonardo only stares at it, but then he slowly takes it in his hands. He gives it a sniff, his snout crinkling in displeasure at the smell.

“It’s a medicinal herbal tea from the Hidden City,” Draxum explains. “Worthless for any large wounds like your leg, but it’s effective at soothing muscle pains, headaches… sore throats.”

Leonardo’s eyes go wide for a moment, then he turns his head away, handing the mug back to Draxum. Draxum takes it before he drops it, and he has to swallow down his protest when he sees Leonardo typing again.

The message this time reads:

give it to someone who needs it

“I am,” says Draxum, and he presses the warm mug against Leonardo’s undoubtedly cold skin. “You need it, so I’m giving it to you.”

The boy hesitates a moment longer, but then exhaustion seems to leech into him all at once, leaving him slumped and shaking. He turns and takes the mug in his hands again, taking a long moment to just feel the warmth.

Then he takes a small sip, and Draxum’s chest loosens.

Immediately Leonardo’s mouth puckers, and Draxum can’t help but chuckle. “The taste isn’t very good, but it’s better than that artificial grape nonsense you humans use.”

Leonardo makes an amused noise and wags his free hand in a maybe gesture. Then he takes another sip, and then another, and his shaking starts to slow down, his posture growing more relaxed.

Draxum sits next to him in companionable silence, watching the eerily silent New York and waiting for him to finish. They can’t see the moon anymore, not with the permanent dust cloud in the sky, but he still knows it’s getting late when Leonardo finally sets the cup aside.

“It’s best if you don’t speak for now,” says Draxum, “but are you feeling better?”

Leonardo gives a slow nod, giving his throat a light rub with his fingers. Then he types a new message on his holoscreen.

hated drinking it tho

Draxum chuckles again. “I thought you liked tea.”

Leonardo makes a face.

not this tea. it tea-rrible

“Ugh, was that a pun? That’s what’s terrible.”

Leonardo actually smirks. It’s small, but it’s there.

Taking advantage of his improved humor, Draxum asks, “What kind of tea do you like, then? I can’t promise I can get it, but I can try.”

The smirk drops off the boy’s face. He hesitates, then shrugs, giving his head a small shake.

“You don’t know?” Draxum guesses, and Leonardo nods. He hesitates again, his fingers flexing over the keyboard of the holoscreen, before he finally types a message.

dad always made it for me

Draxum reads those words, then shifts to look at Leonardo’s face. His eyes are glassy, his lip trembling, and he shivers but not from the cold, this time.

Quietly, Draxum shifts closer and wraps one arm around Leonardo’s shell.

The child breaks - tears that grow into hitching breaths and harsh sobs. He tries to stay quiet, curling in on himself, and Draxum holds him tighter, telling him without words that it’s okay, he’s not alone.

There, at the end of the world, Leonardo cries himself out, and, for the fourth time, Draxum becomes a father.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #bad things happen bingo #lost their voice from screaming #rise leonardo #baron draxum #cw family death #rottmnt bad future #fanfiction

[black-occamy]

Cocoa By Night

A little Drarry fluff, 1630 words, #occamy-verse

I wanted to create this as a birthday gift, hoping that I could return at least a tiny bit of the joy I have every time @basiatlu posts anything on her Tumblr. I love your Sirius, totally. Also, you encouraged me to incorporate this idea in my main, so it seemed fitting to mention the whole Draco-runs-from-home-and-kind-of-gets-adopted-at-Grimmauld in something dedicated for you for the first time :D So, without further ado - the prompt for #boshhptober2023 was NIGHTMARE.

Harry stared at the ceiling above his bed, the pattern of the old wooden panels blurry without his glasses on. It was shortly after midnight, his smartphone informed him, and Harry had spent a couple minutes scrolling absent-mindedly through Fwooper, before he put it down and tried to fall asleep again.

It wasn’t that Ron was snoring softly in the other bed in the room; Harry got used to that over the last five years of sleeping in one dormitory with him. It wasn’t the soft tap-tapping sound of the summer night rain falling on London outside the opened window, either. Hazy memory of the nightmare was difficult to put in words or even concepts, but it was there. Skulking in the corner of his brain, ready to extend its imaginary tendrils towards him the moment he would close his eyes. A menace, waiting to haunt him as soon as he dozes off.

Harry sighed, massaging his temples and reached out for his glasses on the bedside table. If he wasn’t falling asleep any time soon, he could at least use the opportunity to make himself a cup of cocoa.

Read under cut or on AO3 🖤

Floorboards squeaked under his bare feet. He cast a quick glance towards Ron, not wanting to wake his friend up, but then somewhat also hoping he wouldn’t have to face the darkness of the ancient house alone. To his slight disappointment, Ron had just mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over away from the source of the sound.

There was a certain spooky air to the house on Grimmauld Place 12 that resisted all the attempts of renovation. Harry walked carefully through the corridors that always seemed way too long for the size of the building, especially in the middle of the night. Floorboards here were covered by a thick carpet, muffling his steps, as he slowly made his way downstairs, past the portrait of Walburga Black, who was whispering something to herself. It wasn’t unusual in itself - they got used to the portrait trying to have a say in everything they were doing. The uneasy truce of last summer was at least paying off in that she didn’t scream her painted lungs off at anyone that crossed the corridor. There was something different in the tone of her whispers tonight, however. Something bordering on excitement, a certain unnerving giddiness in the unrecognisable words. Harry felt his hand slowly trailing to the pocket of his night robe, fingers wrapped around the wand on instinct.

He blamed that for his reaction a couple of seconds later, when he crossed the living room towards the kitchen and something moved in the pile of blankets on one of the sofas. Startled like that, Harry immediately jumped into a battle stance, wand pointed in the direction of the movement, his breath held.

“Are you going to hex me, Potter?” The voice that came from beneath the pile of blankets was annoyingly familiar.

“What… Malfoy?” Harry blinked, squinting to see better in the darkness. “What the… Lumos!”

Light revealed Draco’s pale face and the rest of him dressed in what looked like one of Sirius’ pyjamas. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes, grimacing and shooting Harry an annoyed stare.

“Blind me, then?”

“What the hell are you doing in my house, Malfoy?” Harry hissed, trying not to be too loud. A series of possible scenarios ran through his head, each one wilder than the previous and all equally unlikely. Draco Malfoy. In the living room. At Grimmauld Place. These three phrases didn’t actually fit, regardless how he slammed them together.

“Your house?” Draco rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Can you stop that? I cannot see shit right now.”

“It’s Sirius’ house, so it’s my house,” Harry lowered the wand, dimming the spell so that it was just enough to illuminate the room a little. “Again, where the hell did you come from?”

“The street,” Malfoy snapped. “I climbed through the kitchen window like a stray cat and crashed into this room, what do you think?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your… guardian, my cousin, let me stay the night,” Draco explained, rolling his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious someone had to let me in here? Merlin, one would have thought your grasp on magic was better after those five years, Potter. This is a bloody fort, this house, with all the charms around it.”

“That still doesn’t explain anything, Malfoy,” Harry pointed out. He was not going to let the all-too-familiar dismissive tone of Draco's voice get to him. “It’s not like you could stumble on the front porch by accident and get yourself invited.”

“No, it’s not, is it?”

They stared at each other in tense silence, Draco hunched defensively on the makeshift bed in argyle pyjamas that was a couple sizes too big for him. His sleek hair was tousled, but not only from sleeping. Harry suddenly realised that Malfoy’s face was much paler than usual, bags under his eyes making him look tired and surprisingly older. And - somehow - on the run.

He lowered his wand. If Draco didn’t want to explain why, at least he wasn’t lying about the how. There was no way he would get inside Grimmauld Place without someone of the family members letting him in - Gemma made sure the spells on the front door would recognise their own and them only.

Regardless of the reasons for the heir of the Malfoy family to end up on a sofa in Grimmauld Place this summer night, common courtesy was to treat him as a guest, after all. Especially after waking him up like this.

“I was going to make myself some cocoa. Want to join?”

Malfoy stared at him with an incredulous look on his face. “For cocoa?”

“Or butterbeer. Sirius thinks he hides it well, but I know in which cupboard he stashes it,” Harry smirked. “Nothing too heavy, of course. He keeps those in his study.”

Draco opened his mouth, hesitated, then nodded. “Cocoa sounds good.”

Harry turned around and walked towards the kitchen, further dimming the light from his wand. Rustling sounds behind let him know that the other boy left the sofa and quickly followed in his footsteps. He resisted the urge to tease Malfoy for being scared of the dark. After all, it was the Grimmauld Place they were in.

He switched on the light in the kitchen and started rummaging through the shelves in search of the cocoa box. Draco was watching him from the seat he took at the table, narrowing his eyes when the cocoa turned out to be store-bought, but he said nothing. Not until the fridge was opened, at least.

“Are all the appliances Muggle around here?” he scoffed out loud and Harry felt himself grin at that.

“Careful. We use the phrase ‘non-magical’ in this house,” he warned. “Auntie Gem can hear the other one through the walls.”

The expression on Malfoy’s face was worth it, Harry decided in his head. Even if he did feel a little bad for him.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oat milk or rice milk?” Harry lifted up both containers and Draco stared at him with visible confusion for a long while. “Remus is vegan,” he explained. “So, which one?”

“Lupin is…”

“Oat is open, so we’re taking this one,” Harry decided, closing the fridge.

“You are all crazy here.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to fit right in. If you’re going to stay, that is.”

Draco scoffed and said nothing, eyeing him suspiciously while the milk heated up on the stove. When Harry put the steaming cup in front of him, his grey eyes brightened. Long fingers wrapped around the mug carefully, as if he was trying to absorb the warmth through his skin. Harry quickly decided to focus on his own cocoa.

They sat in silence for a while, with the only sounds being them drinking short careful sips and blowing over the surface of their drinks. Draco was the first to speak.

“It’s actually quite tasty,” he declared, then winced slightly and added. “For a non-magical beverage, that is.”

“Don’t burn yourself.”

“Sod off, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “You know, Malfoy, if someone had told me yesterday we’d be drinking hot cocoa in this kitchen together, I’d laugh my ass off.”

Draco stared at his mug for a long moment in silence.

“If you’d like to tell me why…”

“Not planning to!” Malfoy snapped, not looking at him. Harry raised his hands, palms up.

“Okay, okay, whatever. If Sirius let you borrow his pyjamas and stay in the house, that’s good enough for me. All I’m saying is, we don’t need to be fighting anymore, right? Not after…”

“Whatever, Potter.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He watched Draco’s fingers move around the mug nervously, tapping a rhythm. Slowly, the lines of his face softened into a careful smile. A nice one, Harry thought, somewhat more real than the usual, disdainful smirks Malfoy was known for in Hogwarts.

“If someone had told me yesterday I’d be happy to drink Mu… non-magical cocoa today, I’d hex them,” he said finally. “And if they told me you’d be the one making it…” his voice trailed off and Draco sighed.

“You’d hex them twice?” Harry suggested.

“Yeah, for real.”

It was surprisingly freeing to share a laugh with him, the boy who had been hell-bent on making his life miserable since the first year of school. Harry decided he wouldn’t mind doing it more often.

“It’s weird, Potter. Laughing with you other than at you, I mean.”

“I’d say it’s an improvement, wouldn’t you?”

Malfoy’s pale-grey eyes stared at him thoughtfully from above the cocoa mug. Then he grinned.

“Maybe…”

“I’ll take it,” Harry returned the smile. Funny, he thought, how it was the first time ever that he was glad for having his nightmares.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #boshhptober2023 #grimmauld place #fluff

[timebegins-onopeningday]

October 2023 New Works Round Up

Happy Sunday, everybody! It’s our inaugural new works round-up post, a mere two days after the soft deadline. Let’s do a round up of all the works posted to the collection so far* 🥳

*by Saturday night, when I drafted and scheduled this post.

AO3 | All works | Ask box

New works, in no particular order (link in titles):

spit it out on three by pamlipsestic | Oakland A’s, San Francisco Giants | Zack Gelof/Casey Schmitt

It was in the scouting report, and even if it hadn’t been, the neon yellow custom sliding mitt would've given it right away.

FIX ME A BLUE SKY by hualuo (baiyunli) | Philadelphia Phillies | Bryson Stott/Trea Turner

“Right,” says Trea, feeling like he missed several steps. You’re gonna be good,” promises Stott. “You’re Trea fucking Turner.” He squeezes Trea’s shoulder again, tips the bill of his cap down like he’s letting him in on a secret. His eyes brim with it, crescent moons shot through in hazel. “And call me Bryson, okay?” Trea Turner, on things (and people) he can't control.

our bodies to bargain by sorrellegiance | San Francisco Giants | Sean Manaea & Blake Sabol | neocities 

This is a comic about places and going to them!

step by step by glowfruit | New York Yankees | Aaron Judge/Anthony Rizzo

Aaron's simple request for Anthony to teach him how to cook is not as simple as he might think.

what you want, what you got by powderblu (bluspirits) | Philadelphia Phillies | Brandon Marsh/ Bryson Stott

So yeah, Bryson is a gift giver. That's about the only explanation he can come up with for what's in front of him. Or: courting rituals, daycare edition

we all end in the ocean by Anonymous | New York Mets | Francisco Alvarez/Brett Baty

“Why don’t you come over here for a second,” Eduardo frowned, cringing as he approached Brett. The injury must have horribly deformed him, or something. I’m fine, you don’t need to carry me, he’d wanted to complain, but it was like Brett weighed nothing at all, and no matter how much he kicked and squirmed, Eduardo didn’t falter, carrying him over to the sink. What the fuck? In the mirror, staring back at him, was an orange cat. Eduardo raised Brett’s arm and waved. The cat waved back. Brett let out an ear-splitting scream and the cat in the mirror screamed back, fur puffed up all over. animal transformation au: baseball magic is real and the rays are petty

Unbuttoned by powerblu (bluspirits) | Philadelphia Phillies | Bryce Harper/Trea Turner

Bryce had always told him he'd look good in a Phillies jersey. Now that Trea's on the team, it's time to prove he meant it.

all play no skips by powerblu (bluspirits) | Philadelphia Phillies | Garrett Stubbs/J.T. Realmuto

Some people would refer to what he has going on right now as 'intangibles'.

If I’m not my body by planesandtrainingwheels | Toronto Blue Jays | Danny Jansen/Jordan Romano

He catches sight of the beginnings of a bruise that promises to be ugly tomorrow morning stretching across Danny’s thigh. “You’re insane,” he says appreciatively. Something in him itches to put his hands on it, to brush across the tender purple skin with his fingers - which isn’t a thought he’s ever had before. Oh boy. Danny grins. “Anything for you, Romy.” Or, Jordan Romano, Danny Jansen, and the mortifying ordeal.

The next round-up post will be posted sometime on Sunday, November 12, so if you need a new deadline, aim for the North American morning of November 11.

Under the cut: October Challenges for readers and creators + 3 questions for creators (for your WIPs or completed works) and a bonus side quest for readers!

October Challenge for readers: Before the November post, comment on THREE works you haven’t commented on yet! If you’ve commented on them all already….king shit, because it’s been two days. Go get a boba to celebrate and watch some postseason baseball.

Bonus Readers Side Quest: If the creator of the work allows it, create a moodboard for one of the works you enjoyed and post it on Tumblr. Tag @timebegins-onopeningday so that I can reblog and of course make sure you link to the work and tell the author too!

October Challenge for creators: Every week until the November post (on the 12th), do the following:

Writers, add FIVE sentences to your work.

Artists, spend FIFTEEN MINUTES on your work. 

Podfic? Five minutes of editing or ten minutes of recording. Something else I’m not thinking of? Adjust accordingly to your medium.

Creator Questions: Answer in the notes, send an ask, or just post on your blog and tag @timebegins-onopeningday!

Which player in the work inspired you to put them in the boba shaker of baseball rpf and why?

What is one thing you want everyone to know about your work that didn’t (or won’t) make it into the final work?

Without spoiling anything, what part of your work are you most excited for people to experience?

That’s it for this month! I hope you all enjoy the works that have been posted - I’m still making my way through them, but I’m loving what I’ve read so far. Remember to leave comments if you read, and to treat yourself kindly as you create.

As always, ask box is open and anon is on. I can also be reached at rpfisfine@/gmail.com 🌞

#baseball rpf #fic rec #round up post

[demonicpiano]

A Sock for Your Dilemma

Written for @rusengweek2023, Free Day! Wahoo!

Includes demon summoning, bad ideas, and a need for knitting. Available on Tumblr and/or AO3.

Ivan had about three seconds before the black smoke cleared and the human-esque figure now standing in his living room prattled off, “My name is Arthur.  Reason for summoning and what are you offering?”

“Uh,” was the first thing Ivan said. He sat on his living room couch, leaning over the coffee table with his hands lifting from a drawing made with suspicious red on a piece of paper. Tall horns, tail tip twitching, hands on his hips—Ivan quietly bemoaned the creature staring dully and expectantly at him, “Oh no, it worked.”

“What worked? This better not be another prank! I had four this week already!”

“No! No prank!” Ivan shot to his feet, almost tripping on the coffee table as Arthur charged a few steps forward. “I just! Ah,” he glanced around the table, nothing foretelling but a half bottle left of wine. It didn’t do much. So he thought. “I…dont know.”

“You don’t know. You summoned a demon and you don’t know why.”

“Sorry,” Ivan said. “My bad.”

Surprisingly, the demon only huffed, puffed, and sighed. “Ugh. I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time. Fine. I’m here already. Let’s negotiate.”

“Negotiate?”

“About what you want.”

Ivan sank back onto the edge of his couch, staring up at Arthur.

“You somebody managed to get my number. There's some part of you that wondered if it was legitimate enough to try, yeah?"

"No, I don't think so," Ivan told him. "It's bad idea to negotiate with demons."

"Then why even try summoning one in the first place!" Before Ivan could 'I don't know' again, Arthur made an offended noise and turned away. He wandered around the living room, which was only a tight circle, sniffing at nothing in particular and his tail flicking.

Truly, Ivan didn't know. He hadn't been expecting guests that night. Demonic or not. It was just some silly paper his sister had stuffed in the mail. Maybe that was the prank.

"What the fuck is this!" Arthur turned to Ivan, pointing at a photo frame on the wall. "Is that a sock?!"

"I—yes? Have you ever seen socks before?”

“Not in a frame for pictures and paintings!”

“It's the first one I ever knitted. So I framed it. Safekeeping.”

Arthur looked at the frame. Looked to Ivan. Looked to the frame again. He harrumphed and continued onward, gesturing at a picture between the two windows facing the rich view of an alley, one of a morose clown. "And this thing! What the hell is that thing. It's creepy." He continued around Ivan's apartment, snuffing and snorting over anything he deemed extraneous and odd. Again, coming from a demon.

Didn’t every and any piece of literature and religion screech over these creatures? But it was so absurd. A demon. Snooping around his kitchenette, sans fireballs and tortuous screaming. Ivan may have been a bit underwhelmed, if it were honest to himself. Arthur seemed like an ordinary man that came out of a gay bar on Halloween night. Maybe it was all according to plan, to dismay the victim, then spring hellhounds and annoying pop music when they least expect it. Ivan rocked to himself on his couch, petting down his scarf as he stared at the sheet of paper on the table. Mildly worrisome. The mold growing in the bathroom pipes was probably worse in the long run, though.

Arthur stopped just on the other side of the coffee table again with fists on his waist. Ivan looked up at the horns again and tucked his face into his scarf to snicker.

"Oi. You brought me here, remember? I don't like wasting time, so I'm not leaving without a deal. If you need a friend, I will make you one. If you need a lover, I will make you one. If you want a plane ticket back to your sisters, it will be done."

"How do you know about all that?"

"It's my job."

Ivan decided not to question it. "Ah. So you are every kind of man."

"Aye. That’s right. Any and every sort you need me to be."

Ivan made a thoughtful noise. He shook his head. "I don't feel like giving up my soul today."

"You don't have to. We perform deals to a far lesser extent all the time."

"But I get lesser asking."

"Naturally."

Ivan thought again. He shook his head again. "No, it's bad idea."

"You give grocery clerks money for food. You give your car petrol so it can give you distance. Your entire life already revolves around deals and trade-offs. Think about it!"

"I am thinking! It's still bad idea!"

"Okay and?! Humans make bad ideas all the time."

"That's...not the good selling point."

"Well, it's true, innit?"

Ivan sighed to himself, but made sure it was loud enough for Arthur to hear. If there was no other way to get this demon out of his home besides striking a deal, maybe the smallest, most affordable deal wouldn’t be so bad. It was either that or start smacking the demon on his head, but that wasn’t a good idea either, even if a lead pipe, for example, would make good music between those horns.

Maybe Arthur could snap away the mold in the pipes. Or grant him a new cooking set, one that wasn’t dinged up and flaking. Or  new shoes that wouldn’t get wet in the snow, or…

Arthur gave him a curious look, one that sent a blush through Ivan’s face from the knowingness of it all. 

"How much would...it cost to have someone to talk to for the night?"

"You do understand what sort of entity I am, right? Ask for something better."

“I see. I cannot even pay a hell-creature to spend time with me.”

"I-I didn't say that! I'm just saying if you had one opportunity to ask for anything, why go for something so..."

Ivan frowned.

"Anticlimactic, really."

"Because you said big deals need big payments!"

"And what do you have to lose? You're two payments behind in a rundown flat. I can give you riches. I can make the world love you. I can give you friends. Endless vacations. Endless ecstasy!"

Ivan hunched up his shoulders and made a few uncertain noises.

Arthur was at his side, breaching the couch in a heartbeat. "Your shame. Your guilt. I can take them all away."

Ivan leaned back, pinching his scarf to his mouth to protest, "Then you will chew me and eat me!"

"You might like it!"

"Oh, no. Oh, no, that's more bad ideas."

A short sigh. Arthur resigned to whisk around the coffee table again and back, the tip of his tail irked and twitching. "Fine!" He finally said, still going back and forth. "I suppose since this is your first time, I'll go easy on you. But only because of that! This is business, after all. You want me to sit down and have a little chit chat through the night, then we will." He finally stopped, whirling on Ivan. "I won't take your soul over such a puny request, but I expect payment nonetheless for my time!" He pointed behind himself. "I will accept that!"

Ivan glanced at nothing there, then Arthur, then the nothing again, until he realized it was the photo frame on the wall. "You want a sock?"

"It's something meaningful to you, isn't it?"

"I could just...make you one."

"But that doesn't have the same emotional satisfaction to it!"

"It doesn't?"

"Well!" Arthur's hand fell to his side with a huffy sigh. "What sort of sock are we talking here?"

"Oh!" Ivan leaned down and brought out a wicker basket of yarn and needles from beneath the coffee table. "Any sock! I have good yarn."

"Aaaand that's probably where all your income goes."

"No, that's-" Ivan blushed. "Okay maybe a little true." Arthur raised a brow, in which he glanced away.

"Two socks, as I have two feet, after all. And my end will entail spending time with you in any way however long it takes to make them. Does that strike your fancy?"

Ivan peeked up at him. “You wouldn’t take my soul afterwards?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and slighted back, crossing his arms. “Look, I know my marks when I see them. I can go somewhere else to get that if I must.”

“But you can get socks somewhere else, too-“

“Not like this, okay?! Are you going to make them or not?”

“You cannot make socks? Maybe I can teach you instead, that will be good payment, yes?”

“Erm, well. Yes. But. I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I’m fine with you making them for me, really.”

“Is it because of the claws?”

“No. We’re cursed. Our little departing gift from Heaven, I suppose. Can’t make anything from our own creation. It withers and rots away in our hands.” Begrudgingly, “So we get others to do that for us.”

“Ah, and most people do not do it for demons.”

"Right, right."

The living room fell quiet. Such a thing must have been a bruise to Arthur's hellish pride.

A sock. Two socks. Two measly little socks. What harm was this? Ivan stroked through his scarf with the image in his mind of demonic toes wedging into a cracked door, or some idiom like that.

“Okay," he carefully said. "We can have a deal.”

The pleasure erupted across Arthur's features, shoulders straightened, his tail gave a singular flick. "A deal it is, then. Pleasure doing business and all that. We'll just need a kiss to seal it."

Of course. "Okay."

"With tongue."

Ivan furrowed his brow. "No."

Arthur laughed. "I'm taking the piss out of you." He held out a palm, making a beckoning motion. "Just a drop of your blood and we're gold, luv."

Maybe they should have gone with the kiss instead. "On your hand?"

"No, give me your hand. Just a little prick."

"Just how you are a little demon?"

Arthur lightly snorted, smiling almost. "Maybe to you." Another beckon. It was almost gentle. Maybe impatient.

Maybe demons hankered for dusty, boring old souls. He smiled, shy over something goofy like putting his hand onto Arthur's palm. It wouldn't be good. Every part of him knew that. Very warm, though. Of course he dwarfed the creature, but—Arthur leaned forward, lifting their hands to his face and stared right at him as he pressed his lips to Ivan's knuckles. A being quick and sly and holding him far more confidently than he could handle; yes, a very not-good idea indeed.

"If we misbehave," nothing but green, green eyes and soft lips on his skin, "it's bad for business, yeah?"

Arthur kept staring. Waiting. Neck, ears, cheeks, all red. Ivan nodded. Bad, bad, bad.

Just socks. Just yarn and string and a demon.

With a corner of his lips curling up, Arthur glanced down and sank a claw into Ivan's fingertip. A droplet fell onto the page with the sigil on it. Ivan tried to let out that shaky breath as quietly as possible. A pinch and cut were always worse when it was expected, but just a pinch, nonetheless. Arthur smudged his thumb over the cut and let go of Ivan's hand, poking into his own to drop a few more on the paper. Dark creature. Dark blood. Ivan instinctively put his finger to his mouth, gawking as the scrawls on the page shifted and swirled before his eyes, blending with the blood. He jumped, leaning back as they lifted in a grain of dark scarlet to Arthur's waiting hand, and ran up his skin and settled like a snake around his neck. Just a thin outline of whatever words they were, but Ivan knew where they settled, therefore could see them.

Magic? Science? An act of godlessness, right there in Ivan's crummy living room. Arthur's smirk split into a smile and sharp teeth. Just socks. Just knitting.

"From this moment until you're done, whatever you want. I'm yours."

.

#rusengweek2023 #THE SIN BIN #hetalia #hetalia fic #hws RusEng #RusEng

[roxygen22]

Stretch Marks

CW: Pregnancy (post-partum), body image, foreplay and implied smut.

A/N: This is my first ever Tumblr post. Please be gentle.

Summary: Ben worships your stretch marks (contemporary AU Obi-wan)

*************************************************

You sat on the edge of the bed in a tank top and underwear, staring at your closet in exasperation. Ben could feel your angst through the Force, so he came upstairs to check on you. "Why so glum, chum?" he asked in an annoyingly chipper voice.

After a quick glare, you responded with a pout. "None of my cute clothes fit anymore." You and Ben were invited out to a Halloween party downtown. You hadn't been "out" in the night scene in more than a year, and lots had changed since then. You were three months post-partum and your body was still adjusting to its new norm. Your mother happily volunteered to watch the twins to allow you and Ben some time away, so you didn't really have a good excuse to bow out. Shopping for clothes had been the furthest thing from your mind, so you rummaged through the closet while the babies napped.

"What about that black number with ruffled sleeves," he asked. It was one of his favorites.

"It's tight across my chest now," you huffed while he eyes flashed and a slight smirk appeared on his face for a fraction of a second. He held himself back from coming closer to cup your breasts in his hand, sensing that you probably weren't in any mood to be physical.

"Ah, yes, well - what about that sparkly, uh...oh, what do you call it? It's stretchy," as he gestured across his chest.

Trying not to laugh at his attempts to be helpful, you responded with a slight chortle, "the bandeau top? Maybe in a previous life, but not now." Probably not ever again. Your eyes dropped to the floor.

He stepped closer to where you were seated on the bed and gently pulled your chin up with his index finger. "What's going on behind those beautiful [y/c] eyes of yours?"

"I...I...don't want anyone looking at my stomach," you said. You got up to face the full length mirror, crossing your arms across your body as if giving yourself a hug. It was never going to look the same again. Thanks to your short stature and waist, your babies had nowhere to grow but out, stretching the skin over your abdomen and hips to near breaking point. You were now branded with reddish-pink scars running down the length of your bulging tummy and wider hips. So much for wearing those unforgiving pre-pregnancy jeans for a while.

Ben came up behind you and set his chin on your shoulder. He placed his hands on your hips, burying his lips into the crook of your neck and slowly inching his fingers under your shirt. "Even me? I'm not just anyone."

"Maybe you, if the lights are dimmed." Your hands stopped his from snaking under your clothes. You and he hadn't been intimate since the babies were born. Life as new parents (x2) had been exhausting, and you really hadn't felt up to it anyway.

Ben spun you around and leaned against the wall, one hand on each side of your head. His nose nuzzled yours for a second, then he stared into your eyes. Gah, those blue orbs were mesmerizing. "But I want to see you."

"Have you really taken a look at me since Ahna and Ashla were born?" You weren't sure how Ben could possibly look at you the same after seeing you in the delivery room spread eagle on the table, legs in stirrups, screaming like a banshee as each of the twins crowned. He had seen a lot in his lifetime, but you saw him grow pale after he snuck a peek, quickly regretting and resuming his focus on your white knuckles threatening to crush his hand. Nevermind all of the leaking afterward...eyes that constantly teared up from the hormonal rollercoaster ride, nipples that oozed with just a whimper from any baby, not just yours, and the war zone between your legs. And then mother nature threw in a period not too long after. You felt gross, and you're not sure how he could possibly think otherwise.

"You don't realize how utterly amazing you are," he sighed, taking your previous spot on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to come sit in his lap. You oblige and sit sideways, your legs perpendicular to his.

He wrapped one arm behind your back and rested the other in your lap, gently stroking your hands that nearly broke his three months prior. "You were breathtakingly beautiful before falling pregnant, but I now have so much more respect for what your body can do. You don't give it enough credit. This body was a vessel for the Force to materialize into not just one, but two new lives. I watched as your body adapted to make a home for our daughters - the very manifestations of our love for each other. It was miraculous. I was left in awe at your body's strength as you delivered them earthside. And this same body continues to nourish them. You were always my angel, Y/N, but now...now you're a glorious goddess in my eyes. A goddess who should be revered."

Ben stood you up, facing him. Once again, his hands started snaking up your shirt. You didn't stop him, so he continued until he pulled it off over your head. His face was at eye level with your tummy. You held your breath, resisting the urge to bring your arms over your abs to hide. Gently, he placed light kisses to the side of your belly button. His fingers traced the length of your stretch marks. Your breath hitched as you felt a familiar warmth spreading through the pit of your stomach and legs.

"Different isn't bad, Y/N. For example, these hips are much more fun to grab and will be great for guiding my thrusts," he playfully growled. Suddenly, Ben flipped you over, wearing a huge mischievous grin on his face. Your back was on the bed and your knees at his hips. He stood over you, looking you up and down. "My goddess." He leaned down to kiss at the bottom of your sternum. You couldn't help but moan lightly. His hands slipped under your back to unhook your bra. After fumbling a bit -- he was never great with bras -- he tossed it to the side. "And these," interrupted by a sultry lick to your right breast, "are a sculpted work of art."

He buried his face between your engorged breasts as you arch your back in response. You noticed how much more space they took up in his large hands. And then you realized...

"Karabast," you muttered.

"What is it, angel?" he asked with a puzzled tone. Then, as if on cue, you heard Ashla begin to fuss over the baby monitor. "Oh...." he said. His head hung down with disappointment, his forehead resting on your collarbone.

"Whelp, duty calls." You rolled to the side to stand up, leaving Ben laying on the bed. You walked into the next room and got the twins settled on the nursing pillow. They stared up at you, and you hoped they'd keep their father's blue eyes.

Ben soon appeared in the nursery doorway, arms crossed, head and shoulder leaning gently against the frame. The fiery playful lust in his eyes had morphed into a loving gleam as he took in the sight of his three loves. You saw an idea dawn on him, and then he stepped away.

You heard shuffling in your bedroom. Within a few minutes, Ben appeared in the nursery with a nursing tank top and black leggings. You raised an eyebrow in confusion mixed with curiosity. He stopped at the doorway and appeared to be distracted by a thought. He held up one finger (silently indicating "hold on") and went back to the bedroom. He returned with one of his green plaid flannel shirts and your black riding boots.

"Here, I think this will look cute on you. Maybe you could tie up the front of my shirt like that one time you paraded around the band hall in college, acting like a farm girl trying to get that trumpet player's attention," his mischievous grin returned.

"Ben Kenobi!" you exclaimed, feigning irritation while grinning, and then shushed yourself after Ahna startled. "I distinctly remember trying to get YOUR attention."

"Well, it worked. It was a good look on you. And now you're stuck with me," he smiled softly and rested his eyes on yours.

"Indeed I am. I can think of worse positions to be in." Ben turned around to go get himself dressed when you said, "Hey, speaking of positions, maybe we can excuse ourselves from the party a little early and finish that conversation we started before we pick up the girls from Mom."

"How can a mere mortal say no to his goddess?" His eyes sparkled with possibility.

#soft obi-wan #soft obi wan #star wars au #star wars one-shot #obi-wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obiwan x fluff #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi-wan fluff #obi wan x you

[allkinds-oftrash]

About Dream of A Thousand Cats & Calliope

Before we get into my thoughts on the latest Sandman episode, I just want to say a huge thank you to Tumblr’s fave Step Dad @neil-gaiman​ (this was totally @minim236​​’s joke but she’s right!) not just for the reblog and notice, but for all your stories that were a huge part of my childhood that helped to shape me as a person!

But this ^^ happening was pretty damn cool too. It was definitely the highlight of my day after a couple of hard days (we had a family friend death and grief is weird af) so thank you for that distraction Mr. Gaiman - I’m glad you enjoyed my screaming in excitement hahaha

Alright then, let’s get into Episode 11 which can I just say was absolutely brilliantly done! Both stories stood on their own with great themes. On a technical aspect too, it was just wonderfully done - I say this as a recent film graduate! It just made me sit and contemplate them for a good hour or three.

TWs for the Ep & my review mentions them: Animal Cruelty/Death (Timestamp: 5:10 to 6:10), Whole of Calliope is an allegory for SA/human trafficking so watch safely or don’t at all if you can’t! (Timestamp: 23:20 onwards there’s various beats of the storyline but nothing explicit, just implied and cutaways!) and Blood/Self-mutilation (Timestamp: 52:55 to 53:20 but the scene ends at 54:00 if you want to skip the whole scene)

Take care of yourselves and be safe while watching yall!! <3

Aights here we go, spoilers below the cut

[DON’T READ PAST THIS BEFORE WATCHING THE EPISODE, TRUST ME!]

Dream of A Thousand Cats

I don’t have much to say on this episode because I loved how it spoke for itself. I adore it when shows/movies do that because not many are able to do that!

This 16 minute short film was just brilliantly done from start to finish. It was very self-contained, got its point across in a succinct way with scenes and emotional beats that knock you off your feet. It was the way I gasped when all the pieces started to fall into place and saw exactly where the story was going halfway through. Sandra Oh was SUCH a great casting choice for The Prophet/Siamese Cat. She just had such a welcoming and alluring voice, definitely very maternal which made me more emotional over the cat’s backstory. I would definitely dream of a new world just for her! 

Also I had never been so angry hearing David Tennant’s voice after what Don did to the kitties. So I would say 10/10 voice cast. Of course, the animation was a masterclass! It flowed so well and it did look super real at first. I just loved this art style and it worked so well too, it felt like the comic being brought to life right off the page. 

All in all, I just have to say if the New World happens tomorrow well then, me to the cats:

~

Calliope 

This one hurt me. Completely changed me as a person after watching it. 

I thought the kittens being thrown into the river was awful? Oh god, this completely took my breath away in the best and worse ways. So it resonated deeply with me because I have been on both sides of it. I’m a writer (specifically screenwriter) who gets ideas far and few to be honest but I’m NOT going to kidnap a Muse to get them. Then on the flip side, I have been assaulted before. So while I’m thankful it wasn’t shown (I heard its more explicit in the comics so thank you to the writing team for updating it for the medium), it is implied that both Erasmus Fry and Richard rape her to ‘get inspiration’ which Jesus, that is gross. However, it worked as a powerful narrative tool and metaphor. Speaking of which, the allusions and allegory to human trafficking and slavery were very much on point. This was most likely my second favourite part of the episode (my all time fave will be listed below in a bit!) the subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle ways - especially with the language Calliope uses when describing her journey between Erasmus and Richard - in which Calliope’s situation held up a mirror to the horrific circumstances of SA and human trafficking happens nowadays. 

Because of these two experiences, I was able to see myself in both of them (Richard before he met her) though moreso Calliope, she IS THE Muse after all aka the Original Poet. The sinister side of it aside, I also did feel a kinship to Calliope being locked away as someone who is pretty sheltered at home. It was just a very interesting and illuminating experience to watch this episode - to see myself on both sides. 

Though I completely condemn what Richard was doing while branding himself as a ‘feminist’ writer, I rolled my eyes SO hard at the scene. It was good that women and POC were hired for his crew, but it felt so performative while Calliope was still captive. If I’m not wrong they were crew members, not creatives/executives so they don’t even get a say in the final product and storytelling aspect lol so it doesn’t really mean shit other than these people getting a job which is still good but the bare minimum in my book. 

Okay now, let’s get into my FAVOURITE part of the episode, so I adoreee Calliope and how strong she was all through it and she doesn’t need no man to save her shhshs but the fucking laws ugh. HOWEVER in this case, it worked so well with Morpheus, or rather Oneiros. Their chemistry was INSANE and it didn’t need to be explosive to work too - you can tell that they were ex-spouses but there was still that affection there with some hesitancy. How they interacted and what little crumbs was given to us about their backstory just made me all the more curious about their connection, story and ORPHEUS! He along with Eurydice are my favourite Greek myth. I just have so many questions about this family and him: Whooo is he in this? Does he still have an Eurydice?? What happened to him, how did he die? How was it either of their faults? I NEED ANSWERS MR. GAIMAN! 

[Anyways if anyone could direct me to the comic issue that covers this storyline along with what happened to Nada that would be great, thank you!! ]

Honestly though, the more we learn about Nada and Calliope, (basically Dream’s love life) the more curious it gets. It sounds like a disaster all the way through, and I am HERE for it. Hopefully we can get an S2 and watch it play out in real time then. 

All in all, I really enjoyed the bonus episode thank you to the team for keeping it under wraps, it was such a lovely surprise and on the off chance you see this, Mr. Gaiman thank you again for everything you’ve done - you had a huge impact on my life and I’ll never stop being grateful for that <3 

If yall read this far, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the review and the episode!!

#The Sandman #dream of a thousand cats #Calliope #Neil Gaiman #The Sandman Episode 11 #The Sandman spoilers

[mai-is-writing]

Miguel O'Hare <3

This is my first one short on Tumblr, I mostly write on Wattpad. So I don't really know what I'm doing but enjoy ♡

Nueva York 2098:

You had just gotten back from your work, you stretched out your back with a moan. "When I get home I'm going to have a cat nap." The sound of rustling makes you stop and quickly turn.

All was quiet, you shrugged your shoulders thinking nothing of it and kept waking forward, before again you heard it.

You quickly turned but saw nothing. Your skin grew cold before lifting your feet and making a run for it home, cold hands wrapped around your arms.

"Get off me!"

You was pulled backwards into a wall, the first thing you smelled was beer and alcohol. You nearly threw up at the smell.

A hand was wrapped around your mouth to stop you from screaming, you opened your eyes to see three thugs.

One had dark hair, the other had no hair and the leader (you presumed) had greasy hair. "Look what we got here boys?" The leader looked you up and down before smiling to himself.

"we got lucky tonight fella's!" tears started to fall down your cheeks, you couldn't breath or move. "Aww sweetness don't cry, we will take really good care of you.."

You tried to move again but nothing worked, "girls' are so pretty when they cry.." you heard one say, you closed your eyes as on of the thugs got closer to your face.

"such a pretty girl.."

You quickly bit the leaders finger and he moved his hand away from your mouth. You screamed out, "SPIDER-MAN!"

The leader let go off his finger and slapped you across the face, "Shut up bitch!" Your head fell to the side before the sounds of gasps and choking was heard.

You closed your eyes again as the sounds of fighting was heard before all became quiet, you opened your eyes to see the thugs hung upside down.

A tall man in a blue and red suit had his back to you, you gasped thinking he wouldn't actually come.

Spider-man turned his body to you, you smiled before taking a step towards him, you quickly hugged him as he went stiff in your arms. "Thank you.." your body betrayed you as you passed out.

Spider-man caught you just before you hit the floor, Miguel's mask disappeared as he looked down at you, the sound of the police made him jump onto a roof top.

Police came into the back alley and pulled down the thugs from Miguel's webs, Miguel turned his attention to you.

"Let's get you home mi amor."

You quickly awoke, you sat up and looked around to see your apartment you shared with your boyfriend.

You rubbed your eyes trying to remember how you got there, your door opened to your boyfriend, Miguel.

"Mi amor your awake," He walked over to the sofa you was on, "I was worried sick when you didn't return home at the same hour you do everyday. Then Spider-Man showed up at the door with you in his arms."

You gasped remembering, "a bunch of thugs attacked me!" Miguel touched your hair, "I know, I'm so glad your alright." You quickly hugged him.

Miguel went stiff as a board like Spider-man did, you thought about it for a second before forgetting it.

Your boyfriend couldn't be spider-man? Could he?

#Miguel O'Hare x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #x reader #Miguel O'Hare

[frozenjokes]

WoF/Third Life Crossover Fic Chapter Four - Great Idea!

NOTE: I use italics to indicate thoughts with the mind reading shenanigans. Italics don’t copy/paste onto tumblr and I am lazy. Ao3 version has italics and you can read that here

Pearl looked around her second period class as the rest of the students filed in, tail twitching. BigB and her walked  in together, Ren came in a couple minutes later with a few other dragons, and last in was Scar as usual. Still no Grian. 

“Did you see Grian this morning? I didn’t even think to check if he was up in the Nightwing nook,” she asked, turning to BigB. The Seawing looked around the classroom, as if noticing for the first time that something was missing.

“Ah, I did think it was quiet in history today. No, I haven’t seen him. You think he’s still asleep?”

“I don’t see how anyone could sleep through Ren’s little morning ballad,” she snorted, causing Ren to turn around.

“Hey! You were already awake anyway!” He shot back in mock outrage, “My Bigwings always made sure we started the morning properly energized before anything else, and I’ll see to it that tradition is carried on. Just you see, you guys will join me in no time.”

“Apparently Grian wasn’t,” BigB murmured thoughtfully, “Or maybe he wasn’t in the cave at all. Have you seen him, Ren?”

“Huh? Whatdya mean? Isn’t he..” Ren swung his broad head back and forth.

“You guys are awful,” Pearl chuckled, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion.

“Well maybe you Icewings have strict morning routines and schedules, but I’m not used to getting up this early yet,” BigB yawned, but his dark eyes shining with amusement.

“Yeah, that,” Ren waved his talons, “Have you asked Scar yet? He’s been all over the place today, maybe he’s seen Grian around.”

“No, I haven’t- Hey Scar!” Pearl called, but just as he turned around, their teacher called the class to attention. Pearl deflated, disappointed, but lightened up at an encouraging shoulder bump from BigB. The Seawing had such a kind smile that always seemed to say everything is gonna be alright. Pearl nodded, settling down for class. She just hoped Grian hadn’t run off after whatever had happened yesterday. Something odd is up with that dragon. If only I could read minds and figure out exactly what’s going on.

…

The first thing Grian noticed as his dream began to fade was the warmth of the sun on his wings and back. The second was an odd scuffling sound that abruptly halted as he opened his groggy eyes. The third was four other dragons standing over him with wide eyes. Grian screamed, leaping to his feet and staggering backwards, wings flapping wildly as he attempted a wild escape.

Well we should have seen that coming. Pearl. As the other three stared regretfully, Scar burst out in a fit of laughter so strong, he knocked himself off his own feet and onto his back. 

“Oh-oh my- If only you could’ve seen your face!” Scar gasped, holding his chest. Grian could, in fact, see his face, plastered in Scar’s mind. Was.. was that paint? Ren couldn’t help but let out a little snort, and even BigB and Pearl were smiling.

“Sorry Grian. We didn’t mean to scare you. At least.. I didn’t..” Pearl said, looking sheepishly away, but her smile remained.

“Aw, but he’s being quite the pRoPeR gEnTlemAn about it!” Scar wheezed in an exaggerated accent that sounded uncannily like some of the Nightwatcher council. Ren couldn’t help himself from laughing now, and Grian once again saw a flash of his own face in Ren’s mind. Grian let his wings relax now, more confused than startled. He ran a talon across his face, and found it covered in blue paint.

“No! Not your monocle!” Ren bounded forward, grabbing Grian’s paint covered talon.

“My-my what?”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that, you two are gonna kill him at this rate.” BigB stepped forward with a wet rag, handing it to Grian. “You can wash your face with this, and we can get those two back later.” Grian’s mind whirled.

“Get.. them back?”

“Shh, we don’t want to discuss retaliation while Ren and Scar are right here!” BigB chuckled, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, you can try!” Ren declared, launching himself at BigB and sending both of them rolling across the rock. Grian looked to Pearl, expecting her to be equally bewildered by their roughhousing, but instead, she let out a loud battle cry in BigB’s defense, jumping into the scuffle.

Grian found himself backpedaling towards Scar, who was watching with uncharacteristic tranquility. Grian settled, eyes wide.

“That’s a bit childish isn’t it?” he asked, quietly mesmerized. Scar gave him a warm look, similar to one of the ones his mother would give him when he was a dragonet. Before she permanently covered her eyes…

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” he stated, nodding a little to himself, “If adults aren’t allowed to have any fun, then I’m okay staying a dragonet.”

Grian blinked. He had forgotten these dragons were still so young, not just old dragons hiding in a dragonet’s body. It’s not like I’m treated like an older dragon anyway. Would he ever be allowed to grow up? He wiped his face as Pearl declared victory over Ren. However, after she turned her back, he leapt on her once more, leaving BigB to chase the two rolling dragons around.

As he set down the rag, he noticed a little picnic blanket set out across part of the rock. It was full of fruit from the rainforest as well as a couple prey items from the Prey Hall.

“Did.. did you guys do this for me?” Emotion swelled in Grian’s stomach, spilling out in quick breaths.

“Oh- yeah! You missed a spot on your horns by the way,” Scar said, picking up the rag and pushing it to the spot with leftover paint. Grian took it from him, grateful. Scar continued as Grian wiped away the rest of the paint. “I figured you probably had a lot on your plate.. I mean if I were in your position I think I’d be pretty overwhelmed..We just wanted to let you know we’re here for you! Oh- and I talked to the Headmaster and told him about your sleeping thing- and he totally understood! There’ll be an extra pad on the ground during Sun Time if you want to join the Rainwings while you adjust to your new sleep schedule.”

Grian could have cried. In fact, he might have if it wasn’t for one thing. He jumped to his feet, panic pulsing through his muscles. “Class- did I miss class??” He looked to the sun, which was high in the sky by now. He felt a talon against his leg.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Pearl got that sorted out for you, just lay down.”

“But-“

“Grian. It’s taken care of.” The firmness in his voice reminded Grian of a command. He laid back down, almost automatically, but his heart still raced. Scar removed his hand from his forearm, and reached for a piece of fruit.

“Just enjoy the show,” Scar murmured, peeling the banana he grabbed as Pearl, BigB, and Ren tussled.

Now… that’s an idea..

Grian whipped around, heart racing faster. Was that a Nightwatcher? There was something distinctly malicious about that thought that sent his mind spiraling. What were they saying? Are they angry I’m talking with a Rainwing? He couldn’t hear anything else, but that didn’t mean no one was there. Some Nightwatchers were particularly talented at shielding their thoughts from mind readers. They wouldn’t hurt my winglet would they? 

“Whoa- Hey- are you okay?” Scar was looking at him with intense alarm, and Grian realized his talons were shaking. Even the other three dragons had stopped fighting, looking at him with various levels of concern. Grian folded his shaking limbs underneath himself and tucked his wings close. 

“Grian?” Scar again. He must not have responded. Scar began scanning the rock behind them, looking for what had scared him.

“Sorry,” was all he could manage, eyes glued to the ground. His ears were still pricked, searching for any other crumb of information. Anything at all to alleviate this fear. The silence was deafening. He felt Scar scoot in beside him, leaning in a gesture of comfort.

Only then, Grian was sure he heard a dragon behind him breathe in. Strong. Deep. Purposeful. He shivered. Please don’t. He whimpered, a silent plea to whoever was there, drinking him in. Grian felt an aura of deep satisfaction on his back, and maybe even the breeze of a dragon taking off. He felt nauseous.

Please don’t take this away from me.

#hermitdragons au #third life #third life au #last life #double life #limited life #grian #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #rendog #bigbst4tz2

[soopsiesdaisies]

i mean, technically, (y)our marriage is saved

Fic summary:

Rhys is a little drunk when he graciously saves Feyre from her wedding to idiot and all-round tool Tamlin. Well, ‘gracious’ from his perspective, obviously.

Read on AO3 + Tumblr Chapters overview.

General warnings: use of alcohol, this is 8k, author's first (published) feysand fic, Tamlin and Rhys

~*~

I was going to fall apart, right there, right then–and they’d see precisely how ruined I was. 

Help me, help me, help me, I begged someone, anyone. Begged Lucien, standing in the front row, his metal eye fixed on me. Begged Ianthe, face serene and patient and lovely within that hood. Save me– please, save me. Get me out. End this. 

Tamlin took a step towards me—concern shading those eyes. 

I retreated a step. No. 

Tamlin’s mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us. 

Ianthe said smoothly, “Come, Bride, and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.”

Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul, was damned–

I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice the word. No– no. 

But I didn’t have to say it. 

Thunder cracked behind me, as if two boulders had been hurled against each other. People screamed, falling back, a few vanishing outright as darkness erupted. 

~*~

I whirled around. 

Curling wisps of night dissipated, blown away by the slight spring breeze—and there Rhysand stood, the High Lord of the Night Court, smoothing out the lapels of his jacket. He was the picture of suave confidence, didn’t seem to notice the tenseness of fearful sentries, swords half-drawn; or perhaps he did, and he simply did not care. Even Tamlin he did not pay any mind, despite the low, warning rumble of Tamlin’s growl having started up behind me.

No, his eyes were only on me.

Typical. Typical of him to arrive now of all times, after having spent three months keeping us in nervous anticipation. It shouldn’t have surprised me: he obviously had a flair for the dramatics, and even under— even then he was more than happy to piss Tamlin off.

I couldn’t help recalling the glint in his eyes as he touched me when Tamlin couldn’t. Couldn’t help blame the goosebumps that erupted all over me at the blurry memory of his thumb stroking my hip on disgust.

Rhys grinned at me, boyishly handsome, and took a step closer. There was a sway to his step, as if he was on the verge of losing his balance.

My feet refused to increase the distance between us. 

“Hi, Feyre darling,” he purred, words slurring together until I had difficulty deciphering where my name ended and ‘darling’ began. He stepped even closer, close enough to touch me if he so wished, and nearly tripped on what seemed nothing.

Now that he had gotten so close, the smell of him – citrus and sea salt and a hint of an alcoholic spice – washed over me like a breath of fresh air. Darkness leaked from his every pore, leaching into the daylight around him like ink in water: he was angry, there was no doubt about it, and wasn’t wholly successful at masking it.

It felt as though my heart had ceased to beat.

With an almost bored expression his violet gaze drifted over the near-abandoned venue, taking in the terrified guests, scrambling over each other to get away, and then they fixed upon Tamlin. Tamlin who, by all accounts, looked ready to morph into his beast, to tear Rhysand to pieces—

I saw Ianthe back away slowly, her face drained of colour.

The grin on Rhys’s face grew razor-sharp.

“What a pretty little wedding,” he drawled, stuffing his hands into his pockets with less grace than he usually possessed. His eyes turned to me, and for a split second, they unfocused, glazing over; but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he clicked his tongue. “You look like a cupcake, love.”

His breath reeked of alcohol, of a spiced liquor I couldn’t name, but the words felt mind-numbingly honest. My blood went cold, then excruciatingly hot, and to my horror I could feel myself flushing. 

Rhys smirked at me, like he knew that I knew he was right. 

And then, finally, finally, Tamlin moved, steps large and angry. His eyes were already blazing; claws ripped from his knuckles, glinting in the sunlight.

“Get the hell out.”

Rhys frowned and pouted. He was so obviously taking the piss I couldn’t help but hope Tamlin could at least get one punch in.

“But I just got here,” Rhys said. His pout melted away for another dazzlingly sharp grin and he inclined his head to the side, ink-black hair shifting with the movement. “Can’t I at least get a drink? There’s enough.”

He motioned at the abandoned flutes with sparkling wine at the refreshments table with a limp hand, swaying slightly as he went. I had a feeling he’d had enough to drink already.

“Leave,” Tamlin growled, voice having raised in volume. “Do not make me ask you again.”

“You’re not even asking,” Rhys replied, rolling his eyes. “And besides—I can’t leave now. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling.”

My stomach hollowed out.

“You can’t break a bargain, Tam-Tam,” he continued. “You know what will happen if you even try.”

Tamlin had grown red with anger.

Rhys then looked at me again, raking his eyes over my form and my frozen face, and his bored expression shattered. 

“I gave you three months of freedom,” he slurred. For a brief moment, he looked wholly devastated. Like I’d just ripped his heart out. “You could at least look happy to see me.”

I stared at him, vaguely aware that my hands were shaking, but said nothing. I wasn’t scared of him – Rhys was terrifying, yes, terrifyingly powerful, but even back there he hadn’t tried to break me like she had, like he could have done – but it was his Court that I was frightened of, where I did not want to go. I couldn’t—I would be a prisoner again, stuck, held against my will, and I couldn’t—

The devastation in his eyes did not fade, and he scowled. “I’ll be taking her now,” he told Tamlin, not looking away from me. There was a dismissal to his tone, as if Tamlin was far below him, nothing more than a servant.

“Don’t you dare,” Tamlin snarled. Behind him, the dais was empty; Ianthe had left, or run away, as had the remainder of the guests. Only Lucien and the sentries remained.

Rhys flicked his gaze from me back to Tamlin. The expression on his face changed quicker than I could properly detect: the sharp, mocking smile returned, and judging by Tamlin’s trembling fists, it had quite the effect.

“Oh,” Rhys crooned. “Was I interrupting? I though it was over. At least,” he said, looking back at me again, smile dripping with venom, “Feyre seemed to think so.”

He knew. He knew that—that I’d been about to say no, through that Cauldron-damned bond, through whatever magic was linking us together. He’d known and I wondered what else he knew, what else he’d seen, if he’d been able to hear—

Tamlin roared, a terrifying sound of pure rage.

I couldn’t help it. I flinched back, arms already in front of my face.

Before I could blink, Rhys‘s hip was pressing against mine, one hand on my shoulder and the other around my elbow, pulling me into his side. I blinked down at the hand curled around my arm, vaguely noted how tan he’d gotten, like he’d spent ages in the sun after having been freed; the difference between the black fabric of his sleeve and the back of his hand was less shocking now. 

Then my empty stomach rolled as it registered that he was touching me to take me away, and my breathing became shorter. Panicked. His hand was warm through the fabric of my gloves; it felt like his touch was burning me from the inside out, and I wanted to rip away from him, wanted to be free—

Rhys tutted, then barked out a bitter laugh. “I forgot how utterly incapable you are of controlling yourself,” he sneered, leaning forward to get into Tamlin’s face. He nearly toppled over in the process. “Perhaps she wouldn’t have called for my help if you’d waited until you’d both healed—but obviously you had to snatch her up as soon as possible to satiate the monster that controls you. Too bad for you, it’s not happening now.”

Tamlin’s face had started to change, canines lengthening. “You know nothing—”

“I know enough.” Rhys pulled me even closer and my throat was closing up, body frozen as my thoughts warred over what decision to make. “Even your High Priestess appears to think it is over.”

Tamlin whirled around, snarling when he saw the altar void of Ianthe. When he faced us again he was shaking all over, though his claws had begun to slowly retreat back into his hands. “You—”

“I’m in no mood to bargain,” Rhys slurred, a sneer on his face, “even though I could easily work it to my advantage, I’m sure.” He took a step to the side, pulling me with him. “Let’s go.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

“I��” I started, looking at Tamlin, urging him to do something, anything. “I—”

Tamlin’s fists clenched and unclenched. His arm twitched in my direction, as if he wished to grab me but thought better of it.

An ice-cold feeling spread through my chest. 

“Name your price,” Tamlin then said, voice quivering and hoarse.

Rhys looked wholly unimpressed. “Don’t bother,” he crooned, pulling more insistently at my frozen figure now. “Feyre, darling, come on—”

I still refused to move. 

I was waiting. For Tamlin to tear me out of Rhysand’s grasp, for a sentry or for Lucien to pull Rhys away from me, for anything that showed that they’d at least attempt to save me from Rhysand’s Court. They couldn’t let me go through that again—they knew I still had nightmares, that I awoke before dawn bathing in sweat and hurling my guts out from terror. 

But nobody was moving except for Rhysand, who continued his gentle tugs at my shoulders and elbow. Tamlin just stood there, looking at Rhys like he didn’t know what to do, like he was out of options, like his only option had been intimidating Rhysand into giving up the bargain.

In another life, perhaps I would have scoffed at Tamlin’s idiocy—Tamlin was powerful, but not as powerful as Rhys, and a couple of snarls couldn’t possibly intimidate the High Lord of the Night Court. I could’ve found it ridiculous that Tamlin’d had three months to come up with a strategy and his strategy was no more than acting like an angry toddler, snarling something about not taking what was his. 

Now, however, I was devastated. 

“Tamlin,” I whispered, voice shaking. My eyes burnt, but I refused to cry. This was a last resort, a final plea to please, please don’t let him take me— 

Rhys ducked his head towards my ear. The tip of his nose bumped against my cheekbone as he swayed in place, hands tightening around me.

“Does it look like he’s going to help you?” he hissed, disgusted. His mouth brushed the shell of my ear; goosebumps erupted yet again, and I nearly shivered. “He can’t, you see, because he knows there’s nothing he can do.” 

He’s a brute, Rhys’s voice continued in my head, seething, who sees you as his possession, as a toy. But he’s not the strongest youngling in the sandbox, Feyre, and someone stronger and bigger than him wanted to play with you instead. He knows that he can throw a tantrum, that he can rage and cry and hit all he wants, but there’s no going against a magical bargain. 

I closed my eyes to keep the tears of frustration from falling. 

Rhys raised his head, his plump bottom lip skimming the very tip of my ear as he straightened to look Tamlin in the eye. 

“I’ll return her in a week, safe and sound. No harm will come to her.” And when I opened my eyes I saw Tamlin simply staring, face sallow, as Rhys purred from behind me, “I promise.” 

Tamlin didn’t move. Didn’t do anything to rip me from Rhys’s grasp, didn’t even look at me—merely stared at Rhysand with an expression that told me he’d resigned himself — and me — to this, that he was allowing Rhys to take me. The sentries behind him were quiet, faces slack with shock, and Lucien looked pale, panicked, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. 

Tamlin wasn’t going to do anything. He really wasn’t going to do anything, hadn’t thought of anything else to help me, and was going to stand aside as Rhysand whisked me off to the Court of Nightmares. 

Anger and betrayal ripped through me like a tidal wave. It felt foreign after having spent so many months frozen in fear and apathy; as red and orange bled into my vision and my hands grew hot, it felt as if I was looking through someone else’s eyes. 

I’d done everything for Tamlin. I’d bled for him, endured torture for him, died for him… and for what? For him to stand aside, allowing the High Lord of the Night Court to have his turn with me? 

Was I really no more than his favourite toy? 

Rhys released me and stepped behind me, only to slip his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his front. “This has been delightful,” he said cheerily, thumb rubbing against the bodice of my dress. “Truly. Shame I couldn’t even get a drink.” Then he leaned down again, tip of his nose against my temple and bottom lip brushing the tip of my ear, and whispered, “Hold on.”

And suddenly we were falling through pure, utter darkness. The wind tore at me and my heart was in my throat and I could feel Rhys pressed against me, only him, as I clung to his arms with all my might and hated him with all my heart—

My feet found solid ground, and as my senses returned to me, I smelled jasmine.

It wafted around me, heady yet light, and when I blinked all I saw were stars; a sea of them, pinpricks of diamonds thrown across dark velvet, twinkling behind pillars of moonstone and rows and rows of snow-capped mountains.

“Welcome,” Rhys sighed, tightening his arms around me, “to the Night Court.”

I stared, looked, breathed.

The hall we were standing in was entirely open to the elements. No windows to be found, just towering pillars and gossamer curtains swaying in that jasmine-scented breeze. I inhaled, eased Rhys’s hands off me, took a couple of hesitant steps forwards.

The building appeared to have been built on top of a mountain—if I squinted, stepped a little closer to the pillars, I could see glistening snow pooled in the corners of the veranda, and a significant drop after that. Despite it, the air did not feel thin, nor excruciatingly cold; though I couldn’t feel it, I knew the building must thrum with magic. How else could the air have been kept warm in the dead of winter, and at this altitude?

I turned, swept my gaze over the interior. The hall was open plan, dotted with tiny seating, dining, and work areas, each sectioned off with the curtains or large, lush plants. Thick rugs were laid out strategically along the moonstone floor and everywhere balls of faelight bobbed on the breeze, whilst beautiful lanterns hung from the arches of the ceiling.

And it was quiet.

No screaming. No shouting. No pleas from desperate innocents, praying to be saved.

“This is my private residence,” Rhys said. He walked closer to me, hands in his pockets, gait unstable. Once he deemed he was close enough – which was, excruciatingly enough, close enough that I could feel his body heat – he grinned at me like he’d grinned at me before, unrestrained and boyish. “We’re all alone.”

I stared at him. His skin had indeed gotten a lot darker since—since her, since he’d made the bargain with me all those months ago. It made him, infuriatingly, even more handsome, even as he swayed in place and reeked of liquor, even as he’d stolen me away from my wedding. And his wings—

I let my gaze lower to his shoulders, to his arms, but they weren’t there. Without them, without his power leaking from him as some stupid intimidation tactic, he looked almost normal—like any high fae male, his perfection aside.

It was infuriating.

In a fit of anger, or confidence, or whatever it was, I bared my teeth and pushed at his chest. He stumbled backwards, fell on his arse, and then gaped at me stupidly.

“How dare you,” I snarled, resisting the urge to stomp my foot like a spoiled child. “How dare you take me away like that! You could’ve chosen any possible moment in the previous three months and you chose my wedding! I can’t believe you—Rhysand!”

He blinked and his eyes, that had gotten glazed as he stared at me, refocused. “Yeah?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Rhys blinked again, frowning a little. “You—you’re angry with me.” 

I crossed my arms. “And why?” 

“You’re always angry with me,” he answered, voice a bit quiet. “I’m the type of person lots of people get angry with.”

I didn’t know what to reply to that. He seemed very, very small for a brief moment, far from the imposing and dangerous figure he usually made. It was unsettling.

“Well, you… you did something shitty,” I said finally. “So I’m angry.”

He nodded, stood up carefully, and immediately lost his balance again, nearly tumbling to the floor before he grabbed onto the nearest pillar.

“‘S not that simple,” he slurred, frowning as he pushed himself away. “’S not—I’m a prick, but not that much of a prick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rhys sighed, lolling his head back like it was too heavy to hold up. “It means, you’re welcome,” he muttered, stalking off to a nearby seating area. 

“For what?” I hissed, following him.

The fabric of my dress rustled as I walked, grating against my ears, and I set my jaw. It was bad enough that he’d taken me with him against my will, but it felt like it would be significantly worse if I admitted I hated the dress. That it’d been chosen without my judgement, that I’d been hauled into it like a doll.

He started rummaging through a cupboard, emerging with a round glass and a dark bottle. The cork popped as it was pulled out, and the liquid’s spiced, alcoholic scent flooded my nostrils; he threw the cork away from him, poured the liquor into the glass, and threw all of it back.

“Rhysand,” I hissed, as he poured another. “What am I supposed to be thankful for?”

He turned, glass in hand, and grinned tightly at me. The liquor was vaguely dark, like stained wood.

“For saving you when you asked,” he replied, taking a long, lingering sip of his drink. Then he stared at the glass for a couple of seconds, as if contemplating something, and downed the remainder as well.

I’d gone stiff. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

 “Didn’t you?” he asked, eyes flicking from my face to my left hand. “C’mon, Feyre, you might as well have shouted it in my ear. We’re m—I heard you.”

“That’s impossible,” I snapped. 

The air grew cold around us as tendrils of darkness started swirling out from behind him, mouth contorted in something akin to rage—or desperation. Rhys snarled, put the glass down, and reached for my arm; he yanked the glove off, threw it on the floor, and pointed at the tattoo, at the eye. He swayed towards me on unstable feet.

“I heard you,” he said, and despite the harsh way he spat the words out, he was still slurring. “You—you said no, and you asked for help and you screamed it down the bond and I heard you, so I came. Because you were so upset I felt it and I couldn’t ignore it, not that, so I came for you—”

I looked down at my arm, at his hand around my wrist and at his finger jabbing at my palm, at the pupil of the tattoo. Then I looked at him, at the snarl on his face and his darkened eyes, and I narrowed my own. “You shouldn’t have stolen me away. Take me back.”

Rhys’s face flitted through a series of expressions, all too swift for me to catch, before it settled on something dark and ugly. “You have no idea,” he hissed, “how loud you are. How clear your feelings are. You didn’t want to get married that uncontrolled, violent tool of a male—maybe later you would,” he spat, scowling, “but not now. Is he even aware why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can’t go into certain rooms or see certain colours?”

I froze, chest heaving. Tamlin—Tamlin needs time, needs to heal as well. It wouldn’t be fair to put that on him. “Get the hell out of my head.”

“Do you not wish to burden him,” Rhys continued, sneering, “or did he never even care to ask? You shout every big emotion of yours down the bond, Feyre. Every intense feeling, whether it’s fear or nausea. I’ve never felt you be comforted by anyone, let alone someone you’re supposed to marry.”

I felt a grimace pulling at my mouth, eyes burning. This was too much—too much to think about, too much to hear after a day like this.

“Bastard,” I hissed.

Rhys’s fiery gaze shuttered. “Not a new insult, darling,” he said, cold grin all teeth. “Try again.”

“I want to get rid of the bargain,” I said. “Now. I don’t care whatever I need to give you in return. I want to go home, and I want the bargain gone. I’m done with you hanging out in my head.”

Rhys scoffed. “First of all, I cannot simply remove the bargain; the magic is older than that of all the High Lords in Prythian. And second,” he leaned closer to me, violet gaze locked onto mine, “it’s not the fucking bargain that’s keeping me in your head and you in mine, Feyre darling.”

I swallowed drily, hating how his eyes held galaxies and I couldn’t even force myself to look away. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he murmured, liquor-laced breath fanning over my face, “that for me, the mating bond has snapped into place already. And unless you learn how to block any daemati from entering that pretty little head of yours, I will have a front row seat to your thoughts regardless of whether I want it or not.”

I wouldn’t limit the feeling that spread through me, the feeling that took hold of my limbs and seized my chest and twisted my stomach, to just shock. 

Whatever the mating bond was, whatever it meant, I knew it was sacred—something the fae wished to wait for, for millennia if necessary. I knew it was type of bond that paled all others, the type that could dissolve unions; the type that that connected two immortal beings for the rest of their eternal lives.

And here Rhys stood, sneering in my face, with liquor on his breath and galaxies in his eyes, claiming that the link between us did not come from the bargain, and instead from that very mating bond. 

Tamlin was of the belief I was his mate. That the bond would snap into place eventually, even if we were married already. Inevitable, because I had saved him and the High Lords from Amarantha. We’re fated, he’d said before.

“Impossible,” I breathed. 

Rhys reared back, stumbling until he hit the cupboard, and he held onto it so tightly his knuckles grew pale, as if he wouldn’t be able to stand without its help. His face twisted up into hurt and devastation and longing as if I’d just rejected him and by the Mother, no, no— 

“When?” I asked, choking on nothing. “When did you—When did you realise?” 

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and he looked away. Indignation and hurt swelled up inside of me and I didn’t know where it came from, what caused it, as if him not meeting my gaze was enough for me to shatter. 

“I—I felt it at Calanmai,” he murmured, jaw ticking. “But I wasn’t sure until that morning on the balcony, when I was about to say goodbye.”

He’d reared back then, too, as if I’d hit him in the face, and then he’d vanished into thin air, taking all traces of night with him. And he hadn’t called in the bargain earlier, not until I was about to be wed and the rose petals sent me into a panic, and he was drunk and whisked me away— 

Oh. 

“Oh,” I said, mouth going slack. “Oh.”

“It doesn’t need to mean anything,” he said, gaze still trained on the floor. “It’s… a suggestion, of sorts. The two mated individuals are evenly matched. Not all mating bonds end with eternal love, and there are couples who thrive for millennia without a bond to urge them along. You love him,” he spat, squeezing his eyes shut, “and you’re allowed to without… without giving me a second thought.”

“Then why did you take me away?” I asked, voice scarcely a whisper. 

Rhys looked up. The expression in his face was still pained, tinged with something else. He looked younger, suddenly, a bit naïve, and it was making my fingers itch with the urge to touch him, to run them through his hair and simply soothe.

I curled my hands into fists. 

“You asked for help,” he replied quietly. “If you hadn’t panicked, I never would’ve appeared. I never would’ve told you and I would’ve left you alone to be happy.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But I’m—I’m a selfish person, and I’m not exactly the picture of self-control at the moment.”

His mouth quirked into a self-deprecating little smile as he gestured at himself, and I had no idea what to say. 

I was angry, of course, at his audacity: whisking me away from my own wedding like some harbinger of death was one thing, but keeping the mating bond a secret, no matter his reasoning, felt infinitely worse. It was like my chance to have a choice had been squandered — yet again, I thought sardonically; it appeared that all I was for the fae was a doll to dress up and play with — by him planning on keeping it a secret, and having kept it a secret until now. 

I was tired of others making my choices for me. 

“And I must stay here for a week,” I said, “because of the bargain.” 

Rhys nodded. 

If Rhys was right — which was likely, considering Tamlin had backed down at the mention of the old magic — then I did not have a choice here either. I’d agreed in a moment of desperation and it was time to face the consequences. 

I inhaled deeply. 

“Am I to be locked up?” 

Rhys’s eyes widened slightly and he blurted, “No,” as he swiftly pushed himself away from the cupboard and stumbled forward. “You’re not my prisoner. You are free to roam where you wish, as long as it’s within my territory.” 

“I do not wish to roam through the Court Amarantha based hers upon.” 

Rhys flinched at the mention of her name. “The Court of Nightmares is… only one part of my territory,” he said. “They are separate from most of the Night Court and wish to remain so. I can assure you that you can explore for a century without ever having to set foot in there.” 

Free to roam his territory, without ever setting foot in the Court of Nightmares. Not a prisoner. I could go my own way, explore what I wanted, and return to Spring when the week was over. It was more than I expected to receive, and yet, it did not feel like enough.

“If I were to ask for a house here,” I said quietly, “would that be too much to ask?” 

Rhys offered me a small, if sardonic, smile. “No, even if I’d rather you stay here. Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

I stared at him. “I want to go home.” 

“Ask me anything else.” Rhys straightened, attempting to put his hands in his pockets. It took quite a while for an action as simple as that, and I resisted the urge to wiggle myself into the space under his arm as he swayed in place. “Jewels, clothes, a house, liquid starlight… I’ll give you that, and more to boot, but that is the one thing I cannot give you.”

Not now, rung his voice in my head, and I bit down on my lip. 

He was looking at me with wide, open eyes, as if willing me to believe him; still, his eyes had gone slightly hazy, glazed over like his focus had faded.

“Where is my cell?” I then asked. I cast another glance around the hall, finding it hard to believe that a place like this would even have cells; but Rhys was the High Lord of the Court of Nightmares, and anything could be true.

Rhysand’s expression soured. “It is not a cell. I told you that you aren’t being locked up.” 

Deep inside me, wherever my stomach began, anger flared again. “And yet, you refuse to bring me home.” 

“I cannot bring you back,” he bit out. “I can’t go against the magic. You won’t stay in a cell, you’ll stay in a room. You’re not a prisoner of mine—if anything, we’re both prisoners of the bargain. If you wish to retire, your room is on the level below. Take the staircase on the right; you’ll find your room behind the first door.”

I turned immediately, walking towards the stairs, trembling. I was inclined to believe him, inasmuch I could believe someone who was revered with the same kind of fear one revered death, but it still didn’t sit right with me. The bargain, him whisking me away, telling me that Tamlin saw me as a toy but insinuating he did too… I didn’t like it, not one bit. 

“And take that hideous dress off,” he called from behind me, sneering. “I wasn’t lying when I said you look like a cupcake. It makes you appear every bit of that fearful, trembling maiden your beloved Tamlin and that simpering priestess wish for you to be.” 

Before I knew what I was doing I whirled around, inched off my slipper, and lunged it at him. 

He hadn’t been prepared. The shoe hit him in the face, right next to his nose, and he looked so shocked and appalled that satisfaction ran through my veins like a victory. 

But then his slack mouth morphed into a wide, excited grin, and his eyes sparkled like stars, and he crossed the distance between us with large strides. 

“There you are,” he crooned as I fumbled for the other slipper, holding it up like a threat. “There’s the fire—is it just me, or are your eyes blazing?” 

I narrowed them, tightening my hold on the shoe. 

“Autumn Court, I bet,” he mused, eyes wide in awe and amazement. His hand drifted closer to my face, as if he wished to caress my cheek, before it halted. Something in me felt disappointed. 

“Beron would be right peeved if he heard,” Rhys continued, stuffing his hand back into his pocket with difficulty. His grin grew wider, more genuine, more sappy, and he leaned towards me. “I wonder what else you’ve received.”

He was being ridiculous. He was lying. All the High Lords had done was give me life—and nothing else. I knew, Tamlin knew it, Lucien and Ianthe knew it. Even Rhys had to be aware that I’d received no magic; he had to know that I was little else but a basic fae female.

“There’s no magic in me,” I replied, cursing the way my voice trembled. “There can’t be.”

“Your ridiculous satin slipper is smoking.” 

I dropped said slipper. Stared at it as it laid on the floor, my handprint a smouldering, burnt black, and felt my entire body go cold.

“Mates are equally matched,” Rhys said, “and I’m the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history.” He stepped even closer, close enough that if I shifted an inch, my face would be pressed against his throat. “Cauldron, Feyre,” he murmured, “what power could you wield?” 

I slapped him. 

The sound of my palm hitting his cheek echoed through the hall, Rhys’s face snapping to the side. His perfect mouth was open in shock and he was blinking as if he’d gotten a lash in his eye; I’d managed to surprise him yet again, and thoroughly at that.

I was breathing heavily, shaking with ire, panic, and my shock at my own actions. My palm stung, skin tingling with vague numbness. For a moment that lasted far too long, I felt like I was seconds away from bursting into hysterical sobs.

Rhys rolled his jaw as he slowly turned his head to face me. “Well,” he said, sounding resigned, “I suppose I deserved that.”

He didn’t. I hadn’t slapped him for his actions today. Tears – frustrated, near-uncontrollable tears – prickled my eyes.

“I think,” he continued, oblivious, “it might be a good idea if we both retired for the night. I’m—I think I’m a bit too intoxicated to continue having riveting conversations with you, and I’m sure you’re… tired and overwhelmed.”

My bottom lip trembled.

He noticed that. Of course he did. And suddenly, before I could pull back, Rhys took my face between his hands with a distraught expression.

His hands were rough; I could feel the callouses on his palms scraping the sensitive skin of my cheeks. And yet, no matter the mild discomfort, I could feel something settle in what appeared to be my very soul, as if I’d sunk into a hot bath after a long day. The whole notion was distressing enough for tears to properly well up, and to my horror, one breached the containment of my lashes.

Rhys wiped it away with his thumb, expression nothing if not pure anguish. It was such a jarring difference from the last time he’d soothed me—when he’d licked the tears away.

“I barely felt it,” he said quietly. “My whole face is quite numb, actually. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not sober.”

“It’s very noticeable you’re not,” I said, though it came out more like a sob. “And I’m not crying about slapping you.”

His eyebrows shot up, and understanding bled into his violet irises. Then he tensed his jaw and looked away. “You miss the Spring Court.”

I did. I also didn’t. It was too confusing to think about, and homesickness had never been something I cried about.

“It’s not the Spring Court,” I said.

“Tamlin, then,” he offered, mouth twisting into a scowl. “It’s just a week. You’ll be reunited with your beloved before you know it.”

“I’m not crying about missing him,” I admitted, before I could swallow it down. Rhys’s eyes met mine again, hesitant, and I looked right back, resisting the urge to fold my bare hand around his. “It’s a week. I can deal. It’s just… I’m tired,” I said, blinking when tears threatened to fall again. “I’m so tired, and we’re mates, and I burned my slipper—”

Rhys’s face went pale with horror and then his eyes shuttered. He stepped back, wobbly on his feet, hands back in his pockets. I instantly felt cold.

“I didn’t realise the notion of us being mates is so upsetting to you.”

“Rhys,” I whispered, pained for no reason whatsoever.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” he sneered, though it felt more aimed at himself than at me. “It’s so fucking—I should’ve kept it to myself. I would’ve been fine just assuming and not knowing—”

“Rhys, I—”  

“—but I should’ve known you’d be appalled, because why wouldn’t you be? I haven’t exactly been on my best behaviour—”

“Rhys.”

“—and have simply been setting myself up for destruction, and now you know and I’ll never… there’s no ignoring it and hoping it goes away and you’ll never think I’m genuine, now, and I—"

“Rhysand.”

“What?” he snapped, darkness leaking from slitted pupils, canines elongated. I didn’t dare flinch, not even when he got close enough to tear my face off, and met his gaze instead. The flecks of silver in his eyes where so much brighter from up close.

“I’m upset,” I said, trembling all over, “because I’m tired, and my entire world view has just been upended. Not because you’re my mate. Get over yourself.”

Rhys’s entire body froze, and it was as if I saw his brain whirring, calculating, processing. I watched his pupils morph back into circles, saw the canines retreat, witnessed the scaly slivers of his leaking power melt away like snow under sunlight. Small smears of a vague, blotchy red appeared high on his cheekbones; it seemed he shrunk a little bit, body language changing from furious self-loathing to a kind that was tiny, more demure.

He swallowed, eyes darting from my own to somewhere around my shoulder, and then he said quietly: “Oh.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. I wanted to push at his chest. I wanted to wrap my hands around his shoulders and shake him, because apparently this infuriating male was so self-centred even his loathing was mainly aimed at himself.

“I want to go to bed,” I continued, watching for every little change in Rhysand’s expression. He still looked as though he despised himself. “And I want you to bring me to my cell.”

A muscle in Rhys’s jaw ticked. “It’s not a cell,” he gritted out, but he inclined his head in the direction of the stairs anyway. “Ladies first.”

I walked. The marble should’ve been cold against my feet, but it wasn’t somehow; again, likely the result of the magic. Rhys stayed a surprisingly appropriate distance behind me, close enough to still guide me with a hand on the small of my back if he so wished, but far enough that his presence wasn’t obstructive.

It was, though. Disregarding the liquor, he smelled like citrus, salt, and petrichor, strong enough to make my head feel hazy. His footsteps – loud on the marble, and distinctly uneven – were almost all I could hear, and when we arrived at the door of the room Rhysand had told me was mine, he leaned over me.

Up close, his scent got even stronger. My eyes swept over his face, inadvertently committing every detail to memory; his stubble was coming back in, a peppering of black along his strong jaw, and a muscle pulled visibly near his temple. His eyebrows were lowered, pulled together, creasing the smooth space between them in a frown, and his lashes cast shadows over the thin, bruised skin beneath his eyes.

I breathed in through my mouth, as quietly as I could, and mortification spread through my entire body when I had to hold myself back from pressing my forehead against his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, violet eyes stubbornly trained on the wood grain, before he pushed the door open.

He nodded, leaned back to allow me entry, and then slumped against the doorframe.

I spared him another glance. He still looked miserable, quiet and embarrassed, and I pushed my sympathy for him down and down and away; he did this to himself, and he could deal with it on his own.

But the room was gorgeous.

Much like the hall we arrived in, there were no windows—simply that comforting thrum of magic, pushing warmed air and a soft breeze inside; sheer amethyst curtains hung from the ceiling, fluttering, encasing the view of the mountain range. The bed was large and inviting, made up with creamy, ivory sheets and decorated with blankets and pillows and throws. Twin golden lamps stood beside it, a casual, thoughtless display of riches. An armoire and dressing table each occupied a wall.

Across the room, a chamber with porcelain sink and toilet lay behind an arched wooden door, but the bath…

Occupying the other half of the bedroom, the bathtub was much less of a tub and much more of a pool, hanging right off the mountain itself; its far edge appeared to stretch on into infinity, the water flowing silently off the side and into the night beyond. A narrow ledge on the adjacent wall was lined with fat, guttering candles, glow gilding the dark, glassy surface and illuminating tendrils of steam.

It took everything in me to stay still, to not heave a breath and sink to the floor and fall apart with relief, into a pathetic puddle of tulle, silk, and beading. The room was everything I could wish for, comfort and open air, space. A painfully stark difference from my bedroom back home, where I had so much difficulty breathing.

This room was fit for an empress. The marble floors, the silks and velvets, the elegant, subtle details… only a royal could have afforded it. I tried not to think what Rhys’s chamber was like, if this is how he treated his guests.

Yes. Guest, not prisoner. Unless Rhys was a creative kind of torturer, this was far, far removed from a prison cell.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, and slowly turned. Rhys’s eyes were still trained on the floor.

“It’s nice,” I said, walking a bit closer to him.

His gaze shot up to meet mine and he swallowed, lips quirking up in a smirk that did not look convincing. He probably knew it, too, because half a second later it dropped.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, a bit hoarsely. He cleared his throat, gaze dancing away from mine yet again. “If there’s anything missing, anything at all, you can ask and I’ll provide.”

I probably wouldn’t. It looked like this room had everything I could possibly wish for and more. But I still nodded at him.

“Goodnight, Rhys,” I said, in lieu of thanking him.

Rhys nodded at me once more and carefully pushed himself away from the doorframe, stepping out into the hallway. Then he paused, conflicted. “Feyre, I—”

“Yes?”

He seemed to war with himself for a moment, grimacing, before he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry,” he said, “for getting you at such an inopportune time. I didn’t want to call in the bargain at all, but—”

He cut himself off, falling silent.

I bit my lip, gazing up at him, and I despised and liked him all at once.

“Maybe you should’ve called it in sooner,” I said, not changing my expression when he stared at me with wide eyes. “Goodnight, Rhys.”

I closed the door, shuffled closer to one of the arched openings to the outside, and simply stared at the view. The bodice of my dress made it difficult to breathe the way I wanted, and I closed my eyes, willing the unwelcome tears back.

Perhaps, if he had called the bargain in sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.

I took a stuttering breath and stumbled towards the dressing table, lifting my hands to my hair and pulling the pins and baubles from the updo. I allowed them to drop onto the dressing table, carelessly, and when I yanked the last of the pins out, the curls all tumbling free, and threw the pin onto the little pile with such force that over half of them fell onto the floor, scattering over the marble like knives.

My scalp ached as I raked my fingers through my hair, nails scratching along the particularly sensitive areas of skin where the curls and pins had tugged too much. When my hair was being done this afternoon, all I’d imagined was Tamlin carefully removing them later that day, mouth pressing against every sore spot, but now…

I inhaled again, ignoring the burn in my eyes, and sunk my teeth into my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

Tamlin had seen me hesitate. Everyone had seen me hesitate. It had been obvious enough for Rhys to come running to my aid like some loyal hellhound, whisking me away like I was a damsel in need of rescue. But had they known, like Rhys, that I’d been about to say no? That I wanted to wait for things in me to settle, for me to feel happy again, before we could try another wedding?

Perhaps I could explain. Perhaps Tamlin would understand, with the nightmares that haunted him, too, with his warring emotions and fear that caused his near feral need to protect me, to keep me alive…

But so many people had seen me hesitate. And the mating bond, the one that Tamlin believed in so fervently, didn’t even exist between us; and it was exponentially worse that Rhys and I were bonded instead. I was quite certain that if Tamlin knew, if I told him, he’d tear the manor apart and get himself killed trying to storm the Night Court.

With shaking hands, I began to unbutton my gown, tugging it off my shoulders.

It fell to the ground, a massive, embarrassing explosion of too much fabric and shiny beads, an absurd puddle of embellished custard. Even my undergarments were ridiculous; frilly, shiny lace, wholly for Tamlin to look at and then unwrap me like a birthday present.

Heat and ire welled up inside of me, and through a haze of angry tears I yanked the underwear off and threw it on top of the gown. Then I snatched it all from the marble, a voluptuous pile of white silk and lace in my arms, pooling over the black lines of my tattoo.

It looked so obvious, so out there, that I shook with it.

I gracelessly piled the dress and undergarments inside the armoire, at the bottom. Beads burst from their delicate encasing of thread and pinged onto the floor.

I didn’t realise tears had started to roll down my cheeks until I’d shoved myself in the first bit of fabric within the armoire that I could find. It was a short-sleeved, turquoise nightgown, the material soft and buttery and suddenly a bit damp.

Choking on a hysterical sob, I whirled around, looked at my reflection in the mirror above the dressing table. The fabric of the nightgown was darker around the neckline, a mixture of my tears and my makeup. I looked half-crazed, with the kohl running down my cheeks and my stiffened, curled hair wild and poofy.

It took me a couple of long, agonising seconds, but I finally willed myself to stop sobbing, even if my eyes continued to leak, and quietly took a seat on the massive bed. The mattress wasn’t too soft, more on the firmer side, and I stroked my hand over the velvety sheets.

The pillows would be too much, I thought. They’d swallow me up. Even if the mattress would keep me afloat.

It was the remnant of hysteria that made me gather the fluffy duvet and some blankets in my arms, dragging them away from the bed and towards the large, open, glass-less windows. It was the leftover grief and loneliness that made me wrap the duvet around me entirely, tucking my feet in but keeping my face exposed.

I sat, breathed in the unnaturally warm night air of the mountains, looked up at the stars, and wished.

For what, I did not know.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #feysand fanfiction #feysand fanfic #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction

[uniquelyfierce]

JAMIE CHRYSTLER YOU TOO???!?? THANKS FOR THE SPAM @snurps !!!!

#I STEP AWAY FOR THREE SECONDS AND MY TUMBLR IS SCREAMING!!! #THANK YOU FOR THE SPAM!!!! #PLEASE STICK AROUND FOR SOME MORE INKTOBER AND DOODLES!!! #inktober will last till nov sometime causr queue but #immediately after is some.doodles from inbetween and after then!! #oh and check my tags too!!! #mango speaks #im.... still shook #thank yall. seriously #twt #puts a smile on this ol' mango's face

[tohokuu]

earned it - park seonghwa

tumblr is based on a system of reblogs, not likes. please reblog my work.

warnings: bdsm, impact play, choking, gagging, blindfolding, bondage, wax play, degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), brat reader, brat tamer ! hwa, sugar daddy ! hwa, 50 shades but it’s seonghwa, face slapping ? nipple play, nipple clamps

wc : 4k

a/n: since the song is for 50 shades, i based this off that one scene in 50 shades :) also, seonghwa has a sensitive chest. it’s his erogenous zone <33 or so i have decided that for this fic >:) this might be bad idk

- installment I of the starboy x ateez series

being affiliated with park seonghwa had it’s fair share of perks. being spoiled with gifts being one of them. he wasted no expense over you, making sure that you had the prettiest things to wear even if you didn’t want them. he was generous towards you, contrary to how the papers portrayed him. “ceo of park enterprises, park seonghwa slams wallstreet for false counts of defamation” he was a controversial man to say the least, so you tried to avoid him just a tiny bit when you first met him. what if he really was committing tax fraud ?

but slowly you learned that ceo of park enterprises, park seonghwa was nothing but a kind and humble man, honest to his word and gave great dick. (also, he isn’t a tax evader, after all.) seonghwa had special tastes in the bedroom. it shocked you when you first found out, sending your brain into a frenzy at the thought of how someone could derive so much pleasure from hurting others. but as you slowly fell into his web of blindfolds, leather whips and paddles, you understood. soon, the pain he delivered to your body was no longer painful, but pleasurable and only made you scream louder for him.

you walked towards the kitchen counter, grabbing your phone - he bought that for you too. you dialed his number, hoping he’d pick up since it was literally 3 am and you couldn’t get your thoughts away from him. after three rings, the call picked up. “i love when you call unexpected.” he chuckled through the line. you smiled at his voice, happy to hear it again after spending a week without each other. “how are you, hwa ? i hope i didn’t wake you up.” you spoke. you heard a gulp through the line, figured that he was probably drinking from the chardonnay he loved. “no, you didn’t. i’m just working over a couple documents right now. is there anything you needed, sweetheart ?” he asked.

‘sweetheart’ your heart beat faster at the nickname, loving the way that he only addressed you like this. “i want you.” you breathed out, unable to get the words past your lips without difficulty. the line went silent from the other end, causing panic in your body for just a split second. “come over. you know the password to the gate.” with that, the blood in your veins set afire again. grabbing your keys and phone, you dashed out to the front of your house, quickly getting in the car- that he had also gifted you on your birthday- and leaving the apartment complex you lived in.

-

the drive to the extravagant mansion was slightly long, he lived deep within the hills, surrounded by greenery and quiet; a place where one could never be disturbed. you drove over the gravel, making a satisfyingly crunchy noise that you loved. approaching the gate, it opened on it’s own once you punched the numbers in; the code was yours and his birth dates put together. you parked your car in front of the grand fountain in front of his home, carefully stepping out.

the size of his home was a reminder of who he was. an extravagant affair of infinity pools, french doors, marble pillars and stone gargoyles that sat at the mouth of the roof. shakily, you pressed the doorbell. you had expected the housekeeper to answer the door but it was seonghwa himself, clad in cream colored silk pajama pants and no shirt. “my dear, y/n.” he cooed as he grabbed your hand, pulling you into his grand foyer. “you look as stunning as ever.” he praised. seonghwa’s words had always affected you so greatly, immediately making you swoon as to how much love he showered you with. “thank you, hwa.” you replied with an honest smile playing over your lips.

he lead you into his kitchen, taking out a tub of häagen-dazs, he grabbed two spoons. “do you want bourbon with it ?” he asked. you nodded, knowing that you’d need to be more than tipsy for later on. “caramel ?” he asked, you shook your head no, deciding that adding caramel would be far more sweeter than you’d like. seonghwa took a seat in the island chair next to you, grabbing your thigh and pulling you closer. a coy smile played at your lips, staring at him with mischief in your eyes. you’re not sure where the audacity came from, but you grabbed the cold spoon full of ice cream, running it down the mans chest. the cool dessert melted on his warm chest, dripping down his chest immediately.

a shiver ran up seonghwa’s, a sigh escaping his lips. “y/n- you’re making me regret telling you.” he responded. but you ignored his words, the bourbon in your veins making you bolder than usual. you leaned down towards his chest, licking up his chest. “hwa..” you giggled. staring up at him with doe eyes, you made him groan. “y/n…” he groaned. you licked the melted dessert off his chest, cleaning him up just as though nothing had happened at all. if licking ice cream off park seonghwa’s erogenous zone was bad, imagine how he’d feel when you tried to suck marks onto his che-

a hand gripped your hair, pulling you up roughly. “you’ve got a lot of nerve, sweetheart.” he growled. you flashed a catty smile at him, completely careless of how he was going to treat you later. “you’re cute when you’re angry, hwa.” a part of him liked this. he wanted a challenge and you giving him one made his dick throb. “you’re gonna regret acting out, doll.” he commented. your answer was sharp, revolting against him. “am i, though ? i win in this either way, don’t i ?” you ran a finger down his chest again, visibly seeing him tense up more than he wanted to.

you wanted to rile seonghwa up as much as you could, wanting him to unleash his fits of anger on you more than normal. you’re asking for this, in fact you’re begging.

“come on, hwa. show me what you can do, baby boy.”

a shiver ran up his spine, somehow liking the idea of being under you. “shut up.” he spat, pulling your hair a bit tighter, burning your scalp as he slammed his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, neat but rough and passionate; he was a fantastic kisser. “slut.” he whispered against your lips. lifting you onto his lap, seonghwa carried you both out the kitchen and down the hall to a room that none of you usually spoke of. the red room, or as you liked to make fun of him for his corniness, “jungle gym for kinky money laundering ceo’s.” seonghwa threw you onto the bed, looking down at you, cock throbbing in his pants. you tried to scurry away, reaching back towards the headboard, but he grabbed your ankle.

“where do you think you’re going ?” he asked. you shook your head, “nowhere, sir.” you giggled.

seonghwa stared at you with disdain and pride all at once, but mostly disdain. he wanted you to submit to him.. “come here.” he said to you while curling his fingers in a come-hither motion. you shook your head,

“why don’t you come and get me ?”

you saw seonghwa’s nostrils flare and veins bulge; your words clearly pissing him off. “y/n. now.” he snapped, but you didn’t wanna listen. the power to piss him off made you high off of it, and only made you want to do it more. but there can only be an extent of brattiness in you..

seonghwa crawled over the bed towards you, bold and fast. his hands grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. “why are you being such a bad girl, today ?” he asked. your answer annoyed him even further, “because.” you quipped. a hand landed on your throat, squeezing until your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you almost regretted irritating him. almost.

when he loosened the grip on your neck, you sputtered over your words, trying to catch your breath. “is that all you go-” a slap landed on your cheek. it wasn’t too hard, but it was enough to leave some faint stinging on your cheek.

“you’re being so fucking mouthy today, aren’t you ?” you wanted to blame it on the alcohol. say that you acting out was just a little gimmick to piss him off, and it sort of was. you wanted him to treat you more harshly than usual. at this hour of the night, you doubt he would lift a finger on you. hence, the idea of making him angry enough to use you like a stupid slut made you go insane.

“what do you want from me, sweetheart ?” he asked. his voice is sincere and so much calmer than before. it melted your insides like hot lava, dripping down your eardrums like sweet honey. “tell me what you want..” he said once more. you sputtered, breath hitching in your throat as you found it more difficult to find yourself again. “just wan- just wanna be used..” you gasped. seonghwa didn’t waste any time. diving straight for your neck as he pinned your arms above your head. “you need to be more verbal with me. you know how important communication is in this.” he mumbled against your neck, laying kiss after kiss on your neck.

“ ‘m sorry, sir.” you whined back. the atmosphere changed as you submitted to him finally, knowing that he’d give you what you want now. “just be good.” he commanded. you sunk your nails into his back as he teethed at the skin on your neck, forming marks that would stay there for days. “s-sir..” you whined, fully immersed in the pleasure his lips alone provided you. he hummed in response, shushing you so you could enjoy the soft treatment; which would turn quite the opposite later on into the night.

seonghwa moved away from you after a moment, kissing you softly one more time before he left your line of sight. “i’ll be back, sweetheart.” he whispered. after no more than two minutes, your lover returned with an array of all kinds of toys, from a gag to a leather paddle.

“this is what you want from me tonight, right ?” he asked

you stared at the pink nipple clips in awe, absolutely astonished that he had purchased these for you. “y-yes, sir.” you stuttered, needing him to use all the toys on you now.

seonghwa stepped forward, bringing out a silk blindfold that he carefully tied behind your head. “you talk too much”, he whispered in your ear. “i can think of better ways to use that mouth.”

you couldn’t see his face but you were sure he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry to do this to you. a silk cloth was fastened across your mouth, leaving you unable to speak. “you’re gonna be a good girl for me now, right ?” he asked. you tried to speak around the gag, looking dumber than you thought you would and seonghwa ate it up.

“aw, is she trying to speak despite having a gag in her mouth ? what a stupid fucking slut.” he spat, tone switching from sweet to venomous within seconds.

next was the thin red rope he had bought just for you, looping it around your wrists and to the bed posts. your ankles were next; he placed soft kisses on the side of your knee, making you jolt at the touch.

“i hope you don’t cry too much after this. i think i’d feel a tiny bit sorry.” he mumbled.

you had no response, knowing he wouldn’t want you to talk with a gag in your mouth anyway. with your ankles and wrists tied to each bed post, your voice silenced and eyes blind, you were susceptible to any of seonghwa’s actions. your body formed goosebumps as he touched you once more. his fingers were ice cold compared to your body’s temperature.

there wasn’t much feeling other than the sounds of your heavy, erratic breathing and seonghwa moving around to grab things. you heard the clinking of chains, unsure of whatever this item was. soon, you feel two fingers reach for your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he kisses the other one. you gasped around the gag, finding it difficult to not be able to bury your fingers into his hair.

“h-hwa..” you try to speak over the gag, finding pleasure in the way he stimulated your perked up buds further. you felt a cool metal against your nippled, clamping against it until it almost stung. you let out a loud yelp, jolting as seonghwa clamped your other nipple as well.

you could barely move, trying to leave his touch as it became too much. “sir, please !” you cried, words still jumbled from the ball gag. you couldn’t only wriggle around pathetically, hardly even getting anywhere until the familiar lash of the paddle struck your stomach.

“stop fucking moving.” he spat. tears seeped down your eyes as you became more aware of your surroundings. “please..” you begged. you weren’t really sure what you begged for but you didn’t have much more to say to the raven haired man. a second lash landed right on the side of your chest, stinging as you tried to fight the restraints.

“you were gonna be good for me, yeah ?” you nodded your head, so ashamed of what you had become in front of him.

“i’m gonna give you 10. after ten, i’m gonna use the candles. is that alright ?” you nodded your head, knowing that he was waiting for a quick response before his temper struck again. “alright now, i’ll try to be gentle, okay ?”

seonghwa was anything but gentle. the lashes you faced on your body from the brown leather paddle were nothing but painful. they stung and you cried out each time, skin hot and burning as your tears soaked the blindfold. you could hear him chuckling above you as you jolted in pain each time he ran a light touch over the red marks.

“you’re so pretty when you cry.” he giggled, almost maniacally. you could hear the smile in his voice, knowing that having you as disheveled as he did pleased him beyond words. the pain from the harsh impact from earlier stung, but seonghwa did his best to fix it up, leaning down and pressing his soft lips against the welted skin. “such a bad girl.” he whispered. his hands were gripping your torso closer to his face, letting him feel your skin against his. you couldn’t speak much due to the gag, but seonghwa didn’t mind as much; there’ll be plenty of time to hear your pretty noises later.

he placed kisses against your stomach, reveling in the taste of your skin. “y/n, my love.. you’re so dangerous.” seonghwa whined. you were unsure where these words came from considering he had you tied up, and not the other way around. pulling away from you for just a moment, the raven haired man returned with a red candle, ignited, as the flame licked the thick, hot air. you gasped as you felt a burning sensation on the tops of your thighs. red liquid hardening instantly as it came in contact with your skin. seonghwa pulled the gag away from your mouth.

“scream for me.” he commanded, while dripping the wax across your body.

you liked it. you liked how sadistic your lover was, how his cock probably hardened at the thought of you being in pain because of him. “sir !” you cried as he stuffed a toy in between your folds, with little warning. it wasn’t all that big, but the stimulation from it vibrating inside you sent you reeling, combined with the clamps on your nipples and dripping wax, no sight..

you were a mess. unable to go anywhere and completely at his disposal. “you’re pretty..” he growled.

kissing your lips and trailing down to leave marks on your collarbones once more. “can’t believe i have such a good whore like you.”

seonghwa left your head dizzy, unable to register anything. the stimulation and love he provided you with left your eyes seeing white. you wondered how a meeting at the hardware store could result in this; a life of designer bags, exotic trips and dick like you've never had before. seonghwa was a diamond in the rough.

his groaned in satisfaction as he felt your slick against his thigh. “so, so wet for me, aren’t you ?” he questioned. you nodded your head, screaming about how his simple touch ignited a pool inside you. the wax from before had long since dried, left with only the cracking wax. you needed him, needed him to stuff you full before you went crazy.

“sir, inside. please.” you begged. “i want y- your cock. please.” you couldn’t show him your teary eyes but the patch of wetness on the blindfold was enough to let him know your condition. but he was cruel, he shook his head no.

“no, thanks doll. i wanna have my fun first.” your blood ran cold as he leaned down, settling between your thighs. he pried them apart with strength, making you gush more than before. “you’re gonna take what i give you, right ?” he asked.

“yes, sir.” you responded to him, knowing that anything different would make a ticking time bomb like him explode.

seonghwa’s hold on your thighs was strong as iron, pulling them apart as his tongue dove straight into you. his tongue traced your most sensitive parts, unrelenting and unkind to how sensitive you already were. the pink muscle worked magic on your body, making you wriggle in place, trying to leave the wrath it provided you.

“sir- sir please- it’s too much !” but hwa pulled away for only a moment, slapping your thigh and he looked at your dumb, crying wet face. “stop fucking moving.” he commanded, anger clear in his voice.

you cried as he dove right back in, tears streaming down your cheek as you found it even more difficult to take his actions. he sucked on your clit, groaning into your cunt. your taste was like an elixir of immortality to him, rejuvenating his soul. he could spend an eternity between your thighs, drinking from you like this.

“you always taste so good.” he groaned, the vibrations going right to the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. your orgasm was approaching you faster and faster, leaving no stone unturned as it hit you with full force. you cried out loud, screaming for seonghwa. but he kept your hips pinned to the bed, continuing to eat your cunt out like a mad man.

his arms locked around your legs as he held your hips up directly to his mouth. seonghwa’s tongue continued to unleash magic onto your cunt. you were unable to stop moving, wriggling and thrashing in his hold as you dug your heel into his back.

“hwa ! ‘s too much !” you begged, but he didn’t stop until the second orgasm came along, wetting his chin even further. you swore you saw white lights at this point, unable to make sense of anything.

he moved away from your thighs, licking up the last of your juices off your cunt. seonghwa moved up your body, kissing your lips fervently. he pulled the blindfold away from your eyes, finally allowing you to see clearly. you blinked a couple times to adjust to the dim lighting of the room, finally seeing your seonghwa in his glory. sweat coated his skin as some strands stuck to his forehead. his cheeks were rosy and suddenly he didn’t seem like the cold hearted man you had met months ago.

you could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning against his lips. mustering the courage to say something to him, you pulled away from his lips for just a second. but he just dove into your neck instead, kissing the skin that had already been littered with purple marks.

“i love you.” you confessed to him.

he paused in his actions, and for a moment you were terrified that he might just leave you like this. he pulled away from your face, looking at you with wonder and confusion in his eyes. “you love me ?” his black eyes questioned you. you nodded, fighting the heat that grew up on your neck.

“i love you, seonghwa.” you confessed once more.

you wanted so badly to touch him but these restraints were getting more annoying as time went on. “can you please untie me ?” you asked him. but it seemed like he was still in a daze, staring at you with rosy cheeks. he stuttered over his words for a moment before nodding his head. “y-yeah. hold on.” seonghwa pulled the clamps off your nipples, letting the cold air touch your nipples. your wrists came in loose seconds, then your ankles. he rubbed the sore skin and kissed it softly, leaning up to look you in the eyes again. he hadn’t said it back and for just a moment you thought you had made things awkward. that he did not love you back and you were crazy for thinking so, but he kissed you back softly again.

cock slowly lining up with your entrance, he pushed in. he stuttered over his words as you squeezed around him. “i-i love you more, y/n.” the exchange was unusual for him, nobody had given him the privilege of feeling as loved as you had.

the atmosphere had flipped, gone from a wildfire to a tamed flame from a candle. seonghwa rocked his hips into your slowly, getting used to how good your cunt was. this wasn’t something that could ever get old for him. you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. your nails scratched down his back as he worked his hips against yours.

suddenly this wasn’t just sex, you two were making love. it was something he said he didn’t do but look at him now, fighting the urge to cum inside you. maybe it was your vice grip on his cock, or the rosy blush on his cheeks that made him cum just a little bit faster, emptying his load into you.

seonghwa’s thumb rubbed circles along your clit, ruthless still as he was determined to make you cum for him.

“come on, give another one.” he asked of you.

you came for him as asked, ending the night on a very light note. the orgasm was just as good as any other. you squeezed around him even tighter, making his hips stutter as he tried to ride out his orgasm. when seonghwa was done, he crashed next to you, pulling you deep into his embrace.

no words were exchanged any further that night, but the deep purple marks on your body, and the scratch marks on his back were enough to let anyone know how you felt about one another.

tagging : @strangertides @luvaffaire @bunnybubkook @ateezbabysitters @aesmstar @hxneyboy @perfectlysane24 @hwasrie @leicy0756 @earth-to-leiki @malewife-supremacy @swimmingkpopblog @mitsuxii @baekhvuns @rdiamond2727 @yeodoodle @woahhwa @hongjoongshiddies </3 @appachicken @pinkchampagne2 @yuufiles </3 + send an ask or dm to be removed from the taglist + @koffeenet @kflixnet

© tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

#seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez #seonghwa smut #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa x reader #smut #kpop smut #kpop fics #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fic

[lovinghiddleston]

Not drunk; Chris Evans

the reader is keeping a secret away from Chris, so after dinner with her friends, things just come out.

Gif is not mine. Credits to unearthlydust.

Pairings: Chris Evans x pregnant!reader.

Warnings: None, this is pure love and fluff stuff. If you feel uncomfortable with pregnancy just don't read.

A/N: I'm not a native English speaker and I'm also new on Tumblr so pls don't be rude. I hope you enjoy this!

MY WORKS BELONGS TO ME. DON'T TRANSLATE, DON'T COPY AND DON'T PUBLISH THIS ON WATTPAD OR ANY SITE.

Chris was completely sure that you'll be coming back home in a clumsily drunk state. No matter how many times you denied his declaration, he ignored you like a kid. You used to go out with your friends every Tuesday night, you'd probably have dinner in some fancy restaurant and sometimes it was hard for your group to skip the champagne and the wine. You promised him that tonight it was going to be different, little did he know it was because you have a secret you are still keeping for yourself. Not for long, you imagine.

"No alcohol for me." You repeated, again. He smiled.

"I don't believe you, ya know?"

"You look so beautiful." Chris was behind you in your bedroom. "You promise me you'll be going safe tonight?"

"You should, I'm your fiance." The man was all smiles and nodded to you in front of the mirror.

He hugged you and his hands went to your belly in almost a second, you died in that moment. How can he know about your secret? You just realized you were pregnant yesterday and nobody knows it, you tried to keep the secret away from your family and friends. That was the reason you didn't want to drink alcohol, you have a beautiful life in your own body. Something made by love. The hands of the man you loved in your belly could be a coincidence? Chris didn't say anything, he was looking at you in the mirror with a dreaming look.

"Are you okay?" You asked your lover, interrogating him with your eyes.

"I love you, babe."

"I love you too."

Chris left you in the restaurant with a kiss and a hardly goodbye. You easily started a conversation with your girlfriends and you ate more than ever. Your appetite was quite different tonight and when your best friend met your eyes, you could know that she must know something. Lisa was already drunk, she flirted with the waiter three times and everytime he walked next to her, she made a comment about his ass. You thought she was too loose in her own mind to care about you or the way you didn't touch the champagne and preferred to drink water. So, when you walked to the bath in the middle of the dinner, she followed you like a shadow.

"Why didn't you drink the champagne? Something is happenin'? You never leave the glass full " She asked you, coming next to you. "Oh, no. You're pregnant, It's the only reason I can think right know."

"Is that a bad thing?" You asked, your friend was the first person you told about your uncoming baby.

"No, that's great! I don't like kids for sure, I think they're ugly but it's good for you. You like kids."

You couldn't not smile at her in that moment, she was drunk and she was really honest with all her confessions. Lisa will probably forget all you said tonight. It was good too, you felt so overwhelmed and worried about your baby and your future, so you were kind of more relaxed with your friend not acting like a mother.

"I think I'll call Chris, I feel like I couldn't wait any longer. He is the father, I mean, he must know this."

"Chris is the father?" You raised an eyebrow. It was obvious that Chris was the father. You were together for two years now and he was the first real boyfriend you had. He met your family and you met his. His dog was pretty close to you from the first moment. You loved him and the relationship you both had made. Being his wife was the next step in your relationship and it was coming in only two weeks.

You called Chris in the bathroom, Lisa was still there and you made a short call, or at least, that's what you expected. You just wanted him to take you home and eventually, you'll be going to tell him the truth. You were ending the call when Lisa screamed too loud. "AN APPLAUSE FOR THE DAD! DADDY CHRIS!"

"Chris…" you whispered, hearing your own heartbeat.

"I'm coming, just wait there."

He didn't sound angry or happy, or with any emotion at all. Your nails were suffering from your own nerves and when you saw his car on the street, you knew that the secret must have to be revealed. Chris opened the door for you and he didn't say anything. You took a seat and waited for a couple of minutes, your department wasn't really away from the restaurant and you both came to the house faster. The front door was being closed when he finally spoke.

"Is that true?" you saw his puppy eyes. "Me being a dad?"

You nodded your head slowly. "You are going to be a father."

He made something that you weren't expecting, his arms lifted you from the ground and kissed you as he knew how. Like the time he proposed to you, Chris made an eternal promise. You move your own hands to bring him even closer.

"It's kinda sad that I have to discover the truth by your drunk friend." he said, leaving kisses in your lips. "But I've never been so happy like now. I think we should move the date of our wedding, I can't wait to marry you and make you my wife."

Your laugh broke the serious moment in Chris' face. "No way! You have to wait only for two weeks."

"That's a lot, love"

"Well, we have to wait for nine months for our baby. Two weeks are nothing compared to that."

"Our baby, how magical that sounds?" Chris left a kiss in your nose. "Okay, fine. I think we should do other things while we wait."

And after all, that's how everything started. Your baby hadn’t magically appeared there.

#chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans drabble #chris evans x female reader #chris evans headcanon #chris evans #chris evans smut #mcu #marvel one shot #captain america one shot #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #marvel one shots #marvel x reader #dad!chris evans #dad!chris evans x reader #mom!reader #chris evans imagine

[you-are-my-joy]

The Return of an Empress | 01

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on)

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~6k (Unedited)

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive. 

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

A/N: Hello! So this is my first time writing a story and posting it one here, and I’m a little nervous haha. There won’t be a lot going on for the first chapter so bear with me. Since I’m still kinda new to Tumblr please be understanding and patient with me as I don’t really know what I’m doing haha! 

Also shorter text you see in italics are the readers thoughts and longer texts in italics are events that occurred in the book! Thanks for giving my story a chance! Enjoy ~

Masterlist

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Chapter 26 of Empire’s Star

“Empress”

Empress Y/n scoffs and turns her head to the entrance of her throne room, only for a smirk to slowly form at the sight before her. A few meters in front of her stood the 7 people she had trusted the most, with determined expressions on their faces. 

The empress smirks, “my, my, to what do I owe the pleasure of being visited at this hour?”

Being met with silence, the empress raises a brow, “well? Do you have any plans to tell me or are you just going to stand there?”

After a few seconds of silence, the once-loyal advisor, Namjoon, takes a tentative step forward, “your majesty, we have stood back and supported you for years, hoping you would change. But you’ve changed for the worse and we will not stand by and let you bring this empire down with you.”

Y/n smirks and slowly stands, “and what do you plan on doing Namjoon?”

He scowls and brings his sword out, with the 6 men following his actions behind him. Understanding the message long ago, the empress nonchalantly grabs her short sword as well and smirks, “And here I thought we were going to have a pleasant talk. I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part huh?” 

Y/n continues making her way down the steps, “So I’ll be assuming you want me dead? I won’t stop you, you know,” Y/n continues to take confident strides towards the 7 men and smirks as she is now only a few feet away, “just know, I’m not going down without a fight.” In an instant, she swings her sword with precision, which gets blocked by Taehyung, the knight that had pledged his loyalty to her years ago when he was only a knight in training. 

In a matter of seconds, chaos ensues as the sound of clashing swords is the only thing heard in the throne room, as a few of them go down. With her sword, she was able to defend herself against the 7 men, a testament to how she’s come to power. 

From her peripheral vision, she can see a figure begin to approach her. She smirks as she faces forward towards two men attempting to distract her. And just as the figure is finally an arms reach, she turns, surprising the remaining men fighting, and plunges her sword into the person’s chest. She looks up to meet the familiar black eyes that used to make her heart beat, “my sincerest apologies Yoongs,” she whispers, making sure only he had heard. His eyes widen as his brothers scream his name and slump over as the empress returns her attention back towards the others.

Yoongi begins panting hard as the youngest clutches his chest with tears in his eyes, begging him to stay awake. However, Yoongi only stares at the empress with sadness, “Yoongs, huh? How long has it been since you called me that… you cruel woman”, he takes one last look at the empress, before giving the youngest a sad smile and finally, takes his final breath.

Jungkook screams his name as he holds Yoongi's lifeless body. He hears a thud to his left and watches in horror, as Taehyung falls to the ground, soon more of his brothers fall, unable to fight back due to their wounds until he is the last one standing. The empress finally turns to him with a sadistic smile, “and then there was one…”

Jungkook wipes his tears aggressively and stands, gripping his sword tightly. He rushes towards her and screams at the top of his lungs, for his brothers, for the empire, and finally for the empress he once loved. Y/n manages to block his sword despite his strength, and counterattacks without hesitation. Jungkook grunts as he takes a hard blow, but nonetheless fights back with all his might. Just as it seems like the empress has the upperhand, she loses her balance only slightly due to a wound inflicted to her on her ankle. But that moment of weakness was enough for Jungkook to plunge his sword right into her chest. 

For a moment, everything stills, those still conscious on the ground hold their breath as they watch the scene unfold before them. Suddenly, the empress softly chuckles sadly, “to think it’d be you of all people…” Jungkook gasps as if finally realizing what he’s done and pulls his sword back, resulting in the empress to fall to her knees.  

She wheezes on the ground, “I hope you know… that I’ve never intended to hurt you… but I suppose that doesn’t matter now does it Kookie...” She coughs up blood and takes one last look at him, “...live well…” and soon, falls to the ground, taking her final breath with Jungkook standing before her with tears cascading down his face. He feels an arm hold onto his shoulder, he flinches and turns to find the oldest clutching onto the side of his torso. “You did good Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s tears continue falling, having no energy to wipe it away as he stares down at her lifeless body, “I-I hated her... yet... why does it hurt so much?”

Jin sighs,  “you did what you had to do kid. The only thing that you can do.” He kneels before the late empress despite the pain he’s feeling and proceeds to close her eyes gently with a sad expression as he whispers, “sleep well, your majesty.”

…..

And so, the end of the Astera Empire came when the star of the empire dimmed forever.

The End.

With a sigh, you close the book with a satisfied smile, “wow, I’ve practically memorized this entire book, and yet that ending never fails to bring chills.” you carefully place the book back in the bookcase. 

You hear a snicker from behind you, “how many times have you read that novel Y/n?” you turn your head to find your roommate Seulgi leaning against the wall, staring at you with an amused expression. 

You glare at her, “why must it matter? A book is meant to be read multiple times.”

She shakes her head smiling, expecting you to give excuses, “sure, but no normal person would read the same book a thousand times like you, honey.” 

You shrug, “it’s a good book.” 

“You’re only saying that cause the main character has the same name as you” she stares at you accusingly. 

You scoff as you begin cleaning up after yourself, “I do not! The storyline is wonderful! The book is different from others that I’ve read! Where in this case the character development goes for the worse cause the main character actually goes from hero to villain as she-”

“As she falls victim to corruption and dies at the hands of the people she loved the most,” she interrupts you with a smirk, having memorized your monologue long ago.

You pout, “I do not talk about the book that often.”

Seulgi snorts, “Honey, I could tell you what happens in every chapter and I haven’t even read one thing from that book. I only know cause that’s practically all you talk about when you finish reading it for the hundredth time this month.”

You roll your eyes, “you’re overreacting.”

She smirks and finally turns towards her room, “Whatever you say your majesty~” she laughs as she dodges a pillow that you throw her way and runs off before you have a chance to yell at her.

You scowl at her as you can hear her laughter from her bedroom. You trudge to the bathroom, and begin your nightly routine as you cleanse your face. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you start thinking about the book. Every time you finish reading it, you can’t help but feel pity for all the characters, as they were all victims by the end of the book despite having different endings. For the 7 men who had no choice but to kill the one person they looked up to, to the empress dying in the hands of the people she trusted. Despite the story having an intended happy ending as the tyrannical empress was finally killed, it was anything but that.

The author later released an after story due to the immense popularity the first book received. In the second novel, the story centers around the remaining men who are forced to rebuild the empire while mourning the loss of their loved ones, forever haunted by the pale lifeless bodies of Yoongi and Empress Y/n. Hoseok and Jimin, unable to get over the death of their lifelong friend and empress, ended their life one year later. At some point in the future, Jungkook and Taehyung begin to hate one another, what started with annoyance and frustration towards each other, led to both taking part in a gruesome duel, leaving Taehyung losing an arm and Jungkook running away, never to be heard from again. Jin blamed himself the most as he felt it was his responsibility as the oldest to care for everyone, but after seeing all his loved ones deteriorate right in front of him, he went insane and sadly took his own life two years later. Namjoon takes the throne as he was seen as best fit to be the successor and leads the nation, however, after losing practically everyone he’s ever loved in his life, he was never able to find someone to fill his empty heart, although he eventually led a great nation many years later, he did so without any ounce of happiness. On his deathbed, he had died a lonely and heartbroken man. 

Although it was an after story, the author did not forget to include the main protagonist of the first book, as the empress was constantly mentioned, whether it was from backstories or from the lingering thoughts of the men as they were never able to forget her, no matter how much pain she’s put them through.

You tend to immerse yourself in every book you read, imagining yourself in their world. It certainly wasn’t hard in this case when the main character happens to have the same name as you. Maybe Seulgi was somewhat right to an extent after all, though you would never admit to that in front of her. 

Even with the same name, empress Y/n was nothing like you. She knew what she wanted and knew exactly how to get things her way. She was an empress of an empire for goodness sakes, while you are a struggling broke college student whose parents never showed any love to you. However,  from what you’ve read, she's as stubborn and headstrong as you. 

Although empress Y/n did turn evil by the end of the book, she became that way due to the people around her taking advantage of her to get what they wanted. They would gift her with more wine and prostitutes to satisfy her for a lifetime that she lost her light and her love for her empire ceased to exist as all she wanted was to drink the night away. While those who manipulated her secretly stole money from the empire to satisfy their needs.

Along the way, she lost many people due to her change of morals and beliefs, no longer thinking of the people she once promised to protect. Ultimately leading to her death. 

When you read what was happening behind her back, you couldn’t help but grow even more angry over the whole situation as it seemed everyone was pointing her as the villain, when in reality she was the one hurting the most.

You finish in the bathroom and walk to your room, thinking that if only she wasn’t taken advantage of, she would have been the best empress the empire had ever seen. If only she was given more time to change. 

Just as you close your eyes, ready to sleep the night away, you hear soft footsteps approaching your bed, thinking it was Seulgi, you open your eyes ready to kick her out as you needed to get up early for work. Except, instead of seeing your loveable roommate, you find a cloaked figure standing dangerously close to your side of the bed. You gasp loudly and find yourself unable to scream out of fear. Oddly enough you can feel a sense of familiarity despite only being able to see her mouth. 

“Who are you,” you manage to blurt out as you back up against the headboard of your bed as if it would help you in any way.

Instead of answering, she smiles and presses a thumb to your forehead with a stone that seems to glow the closer it got, “Sleep well, your majesty.”

You panic as the glowing of the rock increases, and reach to grab her hand, but your attempts are futile as her other hand grabs both of your arms in one swift motion. You try to escape from her grasp, but her grip only tightens.

Before you even have a chance to yell at her, everything around you fades as the stone connects to your forehead, until you are surrounded by darkness.

You groan, feeling as though your head is about to explode as the rising sun shines on you with birds singing in the morning. Normally you would swoon over the chirping of birds outside, yet now you can’t help but want to throw a rock outside, in hopes of getting some peace and quiet. 

You grab your head, attempting to ease your pain. You sit up slowly, and finally you open your eyes. You gasp as you look around the room, coming to the realization that this was definitely not your room back in Seoul. You look around the luxurious room, with colors of white, red and gold everywhere. Your eyes catch sight of an emblem that you immediately recognize as being the cover of your favorite book. With wide eyes you scramble off the large bed to the nearest mirror you could find. Only to see that the person staring at you, is not you at all. You grab at the unfamiliar face, inspecting your entire body, pinching the skin here and there to see if this was real.

“No fucking way…” you curse as you stare at yourself. Although, skeptical, your appearance only confirms your fears. Staring right back at you were jeweled golden eyes, the same eyes that only Empress Y/n was known for all throughout her life.

You stumble backwards, only to trip over from an empty bottle left on the floor. You let out a loud yelp as you fall to the ground. A second later you hear the door to the room slam open. 

“Your majesty!” you turn to your right to find a young woman in a maid outfit. If you were truly empress Y/n, then based on the appearance of the woman in front of you, you can only guess who this is, “Uh? Joy?” you say hesitantly. Joy, Empress Y/n’s favorite lady in waiting when she had first begun her reign.

She gives you a confused look only for a second before it went back to concern, “Yes your majesty? I heard you yell, I was afraid something bad had happened to you.” Then just as suddenly as she appeared, her expression changed into fear as she instantly began to bow, “M-My apologies your majesty, for not receiving permission to open your door.”

You attempt to reassure her, but as you stand, she flinches away. This causes you to step back, shocked as you’ve never had anyone fear you like this before. But it doesn’t entirely surprise you as Empress Y/n had turned to violence when things didn’t go her way. Though you can’t help but feel sad as you remember reading how the old empress and Joy had been very close before she became a tyrant.

You clear your throat, “Joy?”

Despite being wracked with fear, she looks back at you, “Yes your majesty?”

“This may sound strange, but what is today’s date?”

She stares at you nervously, “Today is the 380th imperial year, May 16, your majesty.”

You widen your eyes, year 380, May 16, 3 months before the rebellion. You cough to hide your shock, “T-Thank you Joy, that will be all, sorry to worry you.” You were so immersed in your racing thoughts that you don’t notice the look of surprise on Joy’s face. She bows, her eyes still wide as she stares back at you one last time before leaving. 

You curse as you realize this must be the doing of that strange woman that appeared in your bed last night. However, you have absolutely no explanation on how she got inside your room or how she transported you into this world. 

You furrow your eyebrows since that woman could have done something to Seulgi after she was done with you. You desperately hope she’s fine and that she isn’t hurt or gets into trouble due to your sudden disappearance. 

But if this is your new reality, you can’t help but worry over something else entirely. 

If this is year 380, May 16, then that means the 7 men leading the rebellion had begun planning for my demise earlier this year. Meaning they have long since lost all hope in me that they’ve come together already. You rub your temples thinking that in a few months, you’re about to meet your doom.

 “Unless..” you remove your hands from your face. Unless I do something to change the ending. You turn back to stare at yourself in the mirror. Even if you have the same name, is in her body, you are not Empress Y/n, you do not share the same personality, nor the same morals as the empress. You can change the ending.

Standing up, you are met with a new sense of purpose and determination. There is no way in hell that I am going to just accept dying like that. You pull a golden rope that you know calls for the maids to help you dress for the day. In order to make sure you live, you must act like an empress, must act like you belong in their world. In an instant, Joy along with two other maids appear, they must have understood what you wanted as they move around without you telling them.

Once you are fully dressed for the day, you thank them with a grateful smile as you begin making your way to the door. As you head out, your back facing towards them, you don’t notice the shocked stares and whispers. 

You are approached by an extremely handsome knight that you seem to recognize, yet can’t risk using the wrong name on the person. He raises a brow when you don’t say anything, “Your majesty?”

“Um, yes?” you blush looking away briefly, before calming down and looking back at him. 

His eyes narrow momentarily, you would have missed it if you had blinked because within a second his face goes blank, “I am here to escort you for the day your majesty, Sir Jungkook was unable to come.” 

Jungkook? Then this must be Taehyung as Empress Y/n had only ever trusted those two to escort her. You hide your smirk as you know the real reason Jungkook was not present. The two would often place bets and the loser would always have to escort the empress the next day as they had detested being in her presence for too long.

You nod, “yes well, if you do not mind, but I have a bad headache that’s affecting my eyesight, can you lead me to my office please,” you say in hopes of him believing you.

His expression changes again for a split second but nods slowly nonetheless. You follow him around the large palace, looking around hoping to memorize the layout enough to make your acting more believable. Completely oblivious of the looks thrown your way by the knight in front of you. 

After some time of walking in silence, he clears his throat, catching your attention. “We’ve arrived, your majesty.” He opens the door for you. 

You nod and thank him, before entering the office, you are stunned as you are met with two people in the room. They stare at you and Taehyung with equally surprised and slightly confused expressions, “Your Majesty, you’re here?”

You tilt your head, “Am I not supposed to be here?” you look at the two men and based on their appearance you can only guess the one sitting at your desk was the advisor, Namjoon. And the man standing beside him was another one of your advisors, Jin. 

They continue staring at you as Namjoon speaks up, “N-No it’s just that you never come in here to do paperwork as you leave it to us.”

You shrug, “Then I suppose I’m failing at my duties as empress, shall we trade places?” you take careful strides towards the two as they blatantly gawk at you. Despite his appearance, Namjoon clumsily gets off the chair and steps aside for you. You sit down, somehow feeling like this was where you belonged. 

You stare back at them, understanding their surprise at your presence as you know that by chapter 16, roughly a year ago, Empress Y/n had begun losing motivation to do any paperwork as she left the job to Namjoon, her only job was to sign and approve of any documents when needed. 

You look up at the two men and gulp nervously, “As you know, it has been quite some time since I’ve done this, if it’s alright with you, may you give me a refresher?” you ask. The three men in the room seem stunned at your question and manner, though you notice something in their eyes that you can’t decipher. 

Namjoon, albeit wary, clears his throat, “of course your majesty. Allow me to inform you.”

Although they were a bit hesitant, you had spent the rest of the morning with Namjoon and Jin updating you on what they’ve been doing and although it took some time, you’ve gotten used to it. You were incredibly surprised and amazed with yourself at how much of a fast learner you were. You had assumed it must have been muscle memory from being in the Empress’s body, as you know for sure you would have never been able to do this in your world. 

They stared at you as you continued your work after some time once you finally got the hang of things. It’s not hard to notice their stares as you look up and make eye contact with them. They instantly divert their eyes, you sigh and lean back, “I know that there’s something you want to say,” you wave your hand, “speak” you don’t mean to sound demanding, but if you were going to be a convincing empress, you might as well act the part. They look back at each other, in a silent conversation, one that doesn’t take a genius to know what they’re thinking. “I won’t punish you if that’s what you think.”

Namjoon stares back at you with an emotionless expression, “How are you feeling your majesty?”

You raise a brow, “I woke up with a terrible headache this morning, but other than that I feel fine.” which was the truth, although you decided it was best to leave out the fact that you weren’t the empress, nor do you belong in this world.

Jin scoffs, not convinced in the slightest, “is this another one of your schemes” he bites back at you. You stare back surprised at his tone, but in hindsight it shouldn’t surprise you as you read that regardless of how the men treated the empress, she would never have the heart to kill them, only going as far as imprisoning them for long periods of time. And as a result, knowing they wouldn’t die, would often speak in a rude manner and their hatred for the empress only grew from there. 

Namjoon nudges his elbow with a glare, “my apologies your majesty, we just weren’t expecting your presence, if you do not mind, we will be taking our leave.” With a nod of your head, they bow and walk out. 

You turn towards Taehyung, “Taehyung do you mind stepping out a bit? I need time to myself.” He hesitates by the door but nods his head and proceeds to follow your orders.

Once they close the door, you almost snicker as you can tell exactly what was going on in their minds and why Namjoon and Jin desperately wanted to get out of your presence. But you don’t dwell on that thought for long as you look around your office.

You’ve come to the realization long ago that you have a major advantage in all this. You have the power of knowing the future. You know all the major events in the future that will lead up to your death. Knowing how to prevent it will prove to be challenging, but you’re determined to protect yourself and live.

And so the real reason you came in here was to look through the documents and reports of the elite nobles that the Empress has come in contact with. You wanted to familiarize yourself with the very people that took advantage of the empress for their own selfish needs. 

It’s been hours since you’ve stayed in that room, studying the documents you found, and memorizing the names of the nobles involved. You immediately recognize one name in particular,  “Grand Duke Lee Joong Gu” you hiss under your breath. The main person responsible for the empress’s demise. You glare at his name as though it would lead to his death somehow. 

You wanted desperately to put him in jail, though you can’t do that without any sufficient proof of his corruption. You stand and make your way to more documents that seem suspicious in your eyes. Your first obstacle is cutting all ties to Lee Joong Gu, and you know exactly how to take him and the rest of the elite nobles that took advantage of you down. 

It was later revealed in the after story, that during the Empress’ reign, the sly Duke had gone to the black market and purchased illegal drugs in which he would then slip into the wine meant for the empress. The Empress slowly became an addict, explaining her changed behavior and constant need for more wine. Where she would only find peace whenever the Duke presented to her his own drugged wine, resulting to her favoring the Duke more than anyone else. He would then later make a profit of selling the drugs to other elite nobles in hopes of the receiving the same treatment from the empress. When the secret was revealed, it was the start of the remaining 6 men’s downfall. 

You stare outside your window sadly as you recall how they had reacted in the book. How they were in complete and utter disbelief, soon leading to them wanting immediate revenge as the Duke and many nobles involved were executed right away. But even then, racked with grief and guilt, they were never able to fully recover. 

Just then you can hear a commotion outside the door. Curious, you stand, walking quietly towards the closed door. Silently placing your ear on the side of the door.

“I need to see this for myself.” You hear a man's voice. 

“Yoongi hyung, you need to calm down.” You recognize this voice belonging to Taehyung’s. 

Yoongi? You suck in a breath, knowing that he was the character you were least looking forward to seeing. Yoongi was another one of your advisors and in the book was known to give absolutely zero shits on how he treated the empress. He was the one character that wasn’t afraid to voice his opinions even if it meant opposing her, as he has known the empress the longest, ultimately leading him to visit the dungeon the most out of the men for constantly disrespecting her. 

“This may be a big palace, but word and rumors circulate at lightning speed. I need to confirm it for myself. Let me speak to her.” You hear the intimidating voice of Yoongi and mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to come. 

Wait? Rumors? You wonder what kind of rumors are circulating now as you’ve only just arrived today. 

After a few moments of silence, you hear a loud knock, “your majesty, Advisor Min would like to have a moment with you, shall I let him in?” You hear Taehyung speak. You panic for a moment and attempt to silently speed walk your way back to your desk, briefly cleaning the mess and attempting to act natural.

Alright Y/n. Deep breaths. You got this. “Let him in.”

Just as the doors open, you are met with a pair of eyes glaring straight at you. You remain with a blank face but you are literally dying and shaking in fear on the inside. Yoongi walks right inside the room with Taehyung following him and closing the door behind him. 

You and Yoongi stare at each other for some time, “do you have any plans on speaking Advisor or are you just going to stand there?” You have no idea where this tone came from, but you were honestly just putting a brave front. Maybe there’s still a little bit of the old empress in there somewhere.

Yoongi’s glare hardens and scoffs, “I knew the rumors couldn’t be true.” 

You raise a brow, “what rumors?” You were actually extremely interested in what was said about you in your time at the office.

Yoongi continues staring down at you, “the rumor of you being back.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know what he meant. The rumors of the old empress coming back must have circulated fast if it reached him. Which means everyone in the palace must’ve heard about it. 

You lean back on your chair, “and why would those rumors be circulating?” 

“Well for one you’re actually sitting at your desk and doing your duties rather than sleeping with the first person you see and drinking a whole bottle of wine.” He says bluntly. 

You shrug, “I guess you could say I’ve realized my wrongdoings and chose to change.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

You scoff, getting tired of his attitude, no wonder he was always thrown into the dungeons, “well it’s up to you whether you decide to believe it or not. It won’t change the fact that I need to step up as an empress and do my part.”

He keeps glaring at you, “You can’t expect me to believe that you woke up with this new mentality when less than 24 hrs ago you were screaming and throwing a tantrum in your room for more alcohol.” Though you put up a blank expression, you are currently internally scolding the empress for her behavior and putting you in a difficult situation. 

You lean on your desk and stare back at him impatiently, “discussing whether the rumors were true or not, is that all you wanted?” 

“Yes. Now I can see for myself that the rumors weren’t true at all, since you’re still a bitch.” He spats out. 

Oh hell no. Normally you would be more patient and endure the humiliation if this was your boss in your world. But in this world, you’re the boss, and there’s no way you would allow anyone to disrespect you like that.

Taehyung’s eyes widen in an instant, and turns to stare at Yoongi nervously. If you weren’t so focused on Yoongi, you would have noticed the fear in his eyes. You finally glare at the man before you, which must’ve had some effect on him as you see his fingers fidget slightly from his spot, a small detail the author included which indicates his nervousness.

Your eye twitches in annoyance, “A bitch you say?” you chuckle lowly, “Well behind every bitch, there’s a man who made her that way.” you pause and stare right back at him. “And I believe I’m speaking to that very man right here.” You would have smirked at his reaction, if only you weren’t so pissed off. “If all you wanted to do was disrespect me, then I’m going to have to ask for you to leave. As you may or may not know, I hate wasting my time on others that don’t deserve it.”

He stares at you for a moment without saying anything, as though analyzing you. You raise a brow, expecting him to snap back with a snarky reply. But to your surprise, he only glares at you fiercely and turns to leave without another word. Taehyung looks back at him, before turning his attention towards you. 

You look up at him tiredly, “you have any thoughts on the situation Taehyung?” 

He seems to look surprised that you had even addressed him, but shakes his head, “no your majesty.”

You hum and then stand up, “Today has been a long day, I will be retiring to my room. I will tell Joy to bring me my dinner to my room.” He nods and escorts you back to your room in silence. You try to ignore the stares from the castle staff, but it’s hard when it seems as though they weren’t making an effort at hiding it. 

Day one and you’re already tired of living here.

It takes some time before you hear a soft knock on your door, and then you hear a quiet female voice, “Your majesty, I’ve brought you your dinner.” 

You look up from where you lay on the large bed, “come in,” you call out.

Joy walks in with a tray of a dish you weren’t familiar with, but can already tell you were going to love as it was some type of meat. 

She places the tray on a table carefully by you and moves to cut the meat for you. You move and gently grab onto her wrist, causing her to flinch, dropping the utensils on the ground. Resulting in some of the food on the plate to fall onto the table. You gasp and take your hands away immediately, “m-my apologies! I was just going to say that I could cut the pieces myself.” 

But your apology gets left unheard as Joy begins trembling in fear with wide eyes. “Joy?” You reach a hand out, but when you do, she flinches and closes her eyes as though preparing to get hit, “my apologies, your majesty! I had no intention to drop the utensils! Please forgive me!” She starts tearing up, and it’s only now that you begin noticing small cuts and old scars all over her arms and a few on her neck. 

D-Did the empress do this? The book had only mentioned some physical abuse, but never really went into detail on what was done. You try to hide your gasp, but can’t help but let out a small noise. 

You had no idea what you were doing, but the next thing you know, you wrap your arms around the trembling girl and bring her close to you. She gasps loudly, frozen as you hug her. You whisper in her ear, “there’s no need to apologize Joy. It was an accident. If anything it should be me apologizing since I was the one that startled you. It’s alright.” You attempt to soothe her the same way you would normally soothe your younger siblings back in your world. 

Just when you thought she was calming down, you feel a new set of tears falling on your shoulder, pulling back you gently cup the crying girl's face, “why are you still crying?” You ask softly. 

Her crying doesn’t seem to stop as she whispers, “I was so scared, your majesty.”

You wince, “that I would hit you? I assure you, you don’t need to worry about that anymore.” 

Joy lets out a soft chuckle and leans against your hand, “N-no your majesty… I was scared that I had false hope. T-That this morning wasn’t real, that the rumors were wrong, I was scared that I would return to you and you didn’t change.” 

You sit there stunned, not understanding what you had done to conjure up these emotions. You had thought that your actions this morning weren’t that big of a deal, but according to Joy, they meant everything to her. Just how awful did the former empress treat her for her to act this way. 

She sniffs as you wait for her to continue, “I-I heard that Advisor Min had gone to see you, but he came back to inform everyone that the rumors aren't true.” And after taking a few deep breaths, she smiles at you, “But your majesty, he was wrong, y-you’re back.” She whispers the last part as if still in disbelief.

And for the first time since you woke up, you give her a genuine smile, albeit a bittersweet one. You don’t have the heart to tell her that the empress she once looked up to and loved is no more. That if you hadn’t come into this world, she would still be victim to the empress’s abuse. So for now, you allow her to believe, mentally promising to never hurt her ever again.

“I’m back,” you whisper softly.

Joy cries even more in your arms, holding you tightly as if you would disappear at any given moment.

To Be Continued...

Thanks For Reading~!

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