#This took me a ridiculously long time to draw hope you like it :3

[slytherheign]

DAYLIGHT | charles leclerc

PART 2/3 OF LOVER: THE TRILOGY.

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

SUMMARY: amidst the dark nights, you find that one glimmer of hope—the light that shines and the one who stays. it’s morning now, and you only see daylight.

WARNINGS: angst, hate, cheating (past relationship), doubts, and hints of smut. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. dedicated to @paperplane93, i hope you’re having a great day!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO TO TRILOGY MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Love was as cruel as the cities you lived in.

It was a journey you'd been on countless times before, but each time, it seemed to slip through your fingers like sand, leaving you feeling like shattered glass. Past relationships have taught you bittersweet lessons, dousing the flames of hope and leaving behind a trail of broken dreams.

Everyone looked worse in the light—everyone, including you. The town’s kind, innocent, smart, pretty little girl who turned into a rebel once she packed her bags, left the door, and stepped into the light given by the outside.

There were so many lines you have crossed unforgiven. You left everything behind and never looked back as if you didn’t care. Your old friends and your family have finally called, you answered them but once they said what they wanted to say, you ended the calls and blocked them all. The conversation was always the same anyway—them trying to convince you to come back and warning you that what you were doing would lead to failure.

There was also someone you loved before Charles, someone you loved truly and sacrificed a lot for. It didn’t end well when you saw him kissing your old best friend. He apologized and begged for your forgiveness, and because you loved him so much, you gave him another chance. It took you a long while to realize he was blinding you with lies. When you caught him cheating again, you ran away, never to turn back to him ever again. The luck of the draw only draws the unlucky. And so, you became the butt of the joke.

You were mocked for your naive gambles, ridiculed for your missteps, and left with a haunting regret that you wounded the good and trusted the wicked. It seemed as though every step you took to clear the air, to make things right, only lured you further into the haze of smoke, choking you with the consequences of your choices. You have moved on from your past, never wanting to remember it again. The only thing you took with you were the memories and lessons of your mother you held dear. Your mother would be so mad if she knew you were choosing to forget where you came from, but it was what you needed to do if you wanted to be free. In clearing the air, you breathed in the smoke.

You believed that love was a journey, a rollercoaster of emotions, where the highs were exhilarating and the lows were heart-wrenching. But as time passed, the uncertainties crept in, weaving doubts within your mind like persistent cobwebs. You began to question if love was nothing more than a shimmering illusion teasing you from a distance.

You've mourned over shattered hopes and dreams, clinging to the emotional debris of past relationships. Each heartbreak left you more hesitant, more fearful of falling again. You became convinced that love was a game of chance, an unwinnable lottery that mocked your attempts at finding happiness.

But then, just when you had resigned yourself to a life of solitude, someone unexpectedly entered your life. His name was Charles, and he carried a light that danced within his eyes—a light that you hadn't seen in years.

You didn't want to look at anything else now that you saw him.

His presence illuminated the shadows within you—dissolving your doubts and fears. He saw beyond your scars and unraveled the tapestry of your soul. His patience and understanding breathed life into your broken spirit, assuring you that love could be different this time.

Slowly but surely, Charles guided you through the remnants of past hurt, showing you that vulnerability wasn't synonymous with weakness. Together, you wove a delicate tapestry of trust, honesty, and shared dreams. With each passing day, the walls you had built around your heart crumbled and exposed your true self to him.

In his arms, you discovered a love that was both gentle and fierce, a love that healed past wounds and ignited a sense of hope within you. He listened, truly listened, to the tremors of your heart, and matched them with his own desires. Your love wasn't perfect—no love ever was—but it was real and authentic.

You didn't want to think of anything else now that you thought of him.

With Charles, the idea of true love shifted in your mind. It was no longer an unattainable fantasy but a tangible reality—a reality that blossomed when two souls found solace in each other's embrace. He reminded you that your worthiness of love wasn't determined by your past failures but by the relentless hope you held within.

Through him, you learned that true love isn't a fluke or a mere stroke of luck. It was a conscious choice, an endless commitment to nurture and cherish a connection beyond what society deemed acceptable. 

You'd been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night.

In the past, you've allowed your vision to become clouded by the remnants of failed connections and relationships. You wandered the murky path of love with blinders on, seeking validation and approval from old friends and family. You desperately tried to fit into molds that suffocated you.

And now you saw daylight.

With Charles, everything felt different. His arrival into your life was like the first rays of sunlight after a long and relentless storm. You realized that all the heartbreaks and disappointments were not indicators of your worth. They were simply stepping stones, guiding you towards something that rose above anything you've ever experienced.

You've stormed out of every single room in your old town, left it without even saying goodbye. And you knew he wasn't perfect too. He had a past full of pain and losses. He made his career his focus, because every time he was racing, the voices in his head were drowned out by the noise of his car. He ran with the wolves and refused to settle down. 

You found solace, understanding, and acceptance with each other. The dark nights were over the moment you found him and he found you. You threw out your cloaks and your daggers because it was morning now. It was brighter now.

You were laughing so hard as Charles tickled your stomach. He pressed kisses to your neck down to your chest to where your heart was. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love and desire.

“Can I have you tonight, chérie?” he asked.

You nodded, eyes mirroring the desire in his. “You can have me any day and any night.”

You could see it all.

All of him, all of you, intertwined.

You once believed love would be black and white.

But it was golden.

“I love you,” he said in between his breaths. His forehead touched yours, a hand caressing your cheek as you both danced to a rhythm of love. 

You opened your eyes to stare at his. “I love you too, Charles.”

You could see it all in your head.

Back and forth from Monaco, sneaking into his bed.

You once believed love would be burning red.

But it was golden like daylight.

It was morning now. It was brighter, it was better, and it was worth the 20-year dark night you experienced before. You were learning and growing together. He defined you by the things you loved, not by the things you were afraid of or the things that haunted you in the middle of the night. For him, you were what you loved.

You were only seeing daylight.

And it was him.

It was Charles.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, carlossainz55, and 998, 753 others

charles_leclerc Happy 2nd year anniversary, my daylight. @yourusername

view all 267, 890 comments

pierregasly a hard launch, finally

leclercsainz HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN PIERRE

pierregasly a couple months after they met

leclercsainz WHAT

cl16lover I JUST WOKE UP HELP

redleclerc NO CAUSE SAME

chilisainz CHARLES HARD LAUNCHING A SECRET 2 YEAR RELATIONSHIP WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD

forzaferrari i’m more surprised he was able to keep a secret this long tbh

chewie1644 MY DAYLIGHT EXCUSE ME GOODBYE

chilisainz fr i need someone to call me their daylight too

c2defender WHO IS THE GIRL

leclover someone on twitter posted a thread about her and it’s not looking good, yikes

c2defender omg why?

leclover apparently she abandoned her family or something

lestappensz yall should check the twitter thread about her

carlossaints drop the @ bestie

lestappensz i think it’s @charlesleclairs

simplylovely stop we don’t even know if any of those things are true

lestappensz girl i’m pretty sure her brother commented and confirmed everything was true

charlesleclairs LEAVE HER BEFORE SHE LEAVES YOU LIKE SHE LEFT HER FAMILY

You stepped into the daylight and let it all go.

The sky was painted with hues of hope, and your hearts were filled with a newfound understanding.

You just hoped the afterglow would be the same.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

#lover: the trilogy #rheignwrites: sweet street #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fanfiction #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #taylor swift #lover #daylight

[suckerforcate]

Hi there, I hope you’re enjoying the holidays and having a good time, I must say that you’re writing is just another level, thank you for sharing the incredible creative in that pretty little head of yours, really I appreciate it your work and the time you take to do it.

So I saw you were taking Larissa requests and I’ve been having this idea all week long. I was thinking about Larissa x r (so this one smut, just if you’re fine with it) in which Larissa is about to hardcore f*ck r, and as she has her bent over the desk r reveals undoing the position just to turn around taking Larissa by the folds of her blazer bringing her in a passionate kiss, then r ends up making love to Larissa (like real love) to the point that she realizes nobody has ever made love to her but just use her body and viceversa, and that the way for r to show her that she wants her for real. (Well that came out long than expected). Again thank you for being a pick up souls, and happy new year’s beautiful ❤️

My beautiful Angel

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Word Count: 913

Warning: NSFW, 18+, cunnilingus, eating out

A/n: this might actually be my new favourite work of mine! I love it, hope you do too!! @gabriela-1710 <3 Sorry for taking so long, to write it!

You weren't actually quite sure how this had happened. But you didn't mind it. At all. You were laying on Larissa's desk, bend over. She wanted to fuck you, but suddenly you felt like that wasn't enough. You didn't just want her to fuck you, you wanted more than plain Sex. You wanted to make love to her, worship her and her body.

So in a swift motion you turned around and pulled Larissa down. It happened so fast, she didn't even have time to argue. Passionately you kissed Larissa, exploring her mouth with your tongue. You could still slightly taste the coffee on her tongue. Your tongue found hers and in a fight for dominance you made Larissa's knees so weak, she had to support herself on the desk next to you. Your hand found its way on her neck and up into her hair.

"Turn around." Confused she looked at you but obeyed. Gently you pulled her blazer off of her shoulders, exposing the crème coloured blouse she was wearing, and started taking the hair pins out of her hairdo. Her silver hair falling over her shoulders in waves. You stood up on your tiptoes and whispered into her ear.

"Take me to bed." So she picked you up bridal style with ease and carried you to her bedroom, putting you down on her bed. Sitting up in front of her you carefully started unbuttoning her blouse, shrugging it off her shoulders. You took a lock of her hair between your fingers and tucked it behind her ear. Gently you cupped her face.

"God, your so incredibly beautiful, Larissa." She blushed. You had actually made Larissa Weems blush. But it didn't take her long to recover as you felt cold hands lift up your shirt and pulling it over your head. To Larissa's surprise you didn't wear a bra. She lightly stroked over your chest and your breasts until her hand stopped on your stomach. You carried on like this, discovering each other, worshipping each other, kissing every once in a while, until you were both completely naked. Slowly you pushed Larissa back, her head hitting the pillow. You above her, knee between her leg. She kissed you gently, full of love and care. Your hand wandering down her body, cupping her breast and caressing it, drawing circles on her stomach.

"How do you like it? Should I use my mouth or my fingers?" Larissa was surprised by the question, surprised that anyone would actually care enough to take their time and ask her something like that.

"I- If you wouldn't mind, I'd like your tongue, actually." She couldn't help but blush again, embarrassed by her request. And yet this was so ridiculously sweet. She was absolutely overwhelmed.

"No need to be embarrassed, I'd gladly do that, my love." Planting kisses on her chest, licking her nipples and planting even more kisses on her stomach, you slowly made your way down between Larissa's legs. You pushed them open a bit and smirked at her eagerly spreading them.

You started by kissing her inner thighs, both sides, up and down. Gradually nearing her centre. Her breath hitched as you kissed her clit. You grabbed her hand, intertwining your fingers. This moment, was probably the most intimate thing you had ever experienced.

Slowly, you let your tongue run through her folds, teasing her entrance a bit before focusing on her clit. She was incredibly wet.

"You taste wonderful, honey." Squeezing her hand a little, you quickened the pace in which you were licking her clit. Hearing her moan for you made you proud, proud that she trusted you enough to let you in. Proud to be able to pleasure her.

"Oh, (Y/n). That's so good-" you smiled against her, sucking a little, which caused her to let out a deep groan.

"I'm so close...please." She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing the even louder moans.

"Please, my love. Don't do that, look at me and let it all out." And she did, she looked you right in the eyes as another moan escaped her.

Mixing your sucking with licking was too much for her, you saw her pupils dilate and her mouth gap as the orgasm overcame her, with a last moan. Still looking at her, you licked her clean, feeling her sensitivity as she twitched.

You let go of her hand and sat down next to her, pulling her into your lap. You hugged her from behind and just held her, as she came down from her high.

Suddenly you felt a teardrop on your skin. Worried you looked at her.

"What's wrong, my love?" You wiped away the tears that stained her beautiful face.

"I just- I've never experienced something like this. You were so gentle, so careful. No one has ever asked me what I would like while having Sex." Your heart broke for her, she was the most wonderful angel, and you just couldn't understand how no one had ever treated her accordingly.

"My beautiful, beautiful angel. What we just did, that wasn't Sex. I made love to you, and I'm so incredibly sorry that you never had the chance to experience that before. But if you want, we can do this again and again, until we're old and grey." Larissa leaned fully into your embrace, relieved that she could just let go for once. Knowing that she'd be safe in your arms.

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #wlw #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa x reader #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednsday addams #principle weems

[hopefullywritingahit]

Hey! :D So I had this idea for an request, but I was not sure who to send it to, so I asked @heroes-villains-side-blog for help, and they recommended you✨

Here is the request, if you are interested :3

So, Hero has been kidnapped by Supervillain (who is known for being big and scary) and so since know one else seems willing to do anything about it, Villain decides to save Hero themself.

Only, plot twist!

After sneaking into Supervillain’s base and being caught. Supervillain is revealed to have taken Hero to save them from Superhero’s abuse. Revealing that Supervillain is actually a scary looking softie, who just did not want to see Hero hurt any more.

First off - I would love to say thank you so much!! Way too flattered at all of this. Oh my goodness. Secondly - I am SO Sorry that it took so long for me to crank this out! I can't believe it's been 3 months. I have been in a mean slump and (as what happens more often than I'd like to admit) I would have all the ideas when I was out and about or working and as soon as I sat down to write it was gone. BUT! With no more explanations or excuses I hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy :)

Villain stared at the 7 o’clock news with frustration. Hero was kidnapped. By Supervillain. On LIVE TV! Three days ago. And no one’s done anything about it. Villain bolted up and stormed to the back room. If no one was going to do anything about it, they’d rescue Hero themselves. 

Supervillain was notorious for his ruthlessness, ability to get anything from anyone, and his specialization with weapons and gadgets. Villain could see the scars on him well enough that he didn’t doubt that Supervillain knew the best ways to draw out tortures. Two days was more than enough time for the Hero Association to get their shit together and bring back Hero. Three days was ridiculous. Everyone knew where Supervillian’s lair was - it was their worst kept secret because no one would be stupid enough to break in or storm the place. No one could actually take down Supervillain - but sneaking in to rescue an abandoned Hero? Now that could be done. 

–

That apparently could not be done.

Villain hung in the air, sufficiently bound from one of Supervillain’s trips. They definitely should have planned better. They knew the gist of the layout. Was certain Hero would probably be in a lower level. Did not expect the window they tried sneak in through to be booby trapped!

One limb through and in less than two seconds, they had been hurled through the air and coles wrapped around their body so tight they couldn’t move their arms or legs an inch. It was humiliating. 

Villain didn’t have long before the door burst open as guards poured in. Supervillain followed with a casual stroll. At 6’4” Supervillain was practically at eye level with Villain as he hung upside down, suspended from the ceiling. Villain couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He knew he was caught and there was no way out of it. Maybe if Supervillain took him and captured him, he could find Hero and get them out of there. 

Supervillain grabbed Villain by the ropes and swung them closer. Villain could feel their heart racing, their breath hitched feeling the cool mint breath on his face. Supervillain unleashed a horrifying smile, and with that look in their eye it could only spell trouble for Villain.

“Well, well, well.” Supervillain chuckled as he pulled Villain closer. “And what do we have here? A little mouse in a trap?” Villain refused to say anything. Everything they thought of at their apartment was left on the other side of that window. Supervillain looked disappointed. “Nothing to say, mousey?”

Villain still refused to say anything. Supervillain let go of the ropes around Villain and let them swing. “That’s fine. We can just let you swing here.” Supervillain turned to go, leaving Villain swinging in the room.

“Well you didn’t really ask me a question, did you?” Villain said, quirking their eyebrow. They had no idea how they were getting out of here in one piece. 

Supervillain chuckled - Villain hoped that meant something good. “So what are you doing here, Villain.” That definitely wasn’t good. How did Supervillain know their name? They were a mid-ranking nobody who definitely should not have been on their radar. 

Villain had at least stopped swinging but now they were starting to spin which honestly felt worse. “You’ve got something I want and I’m here to take it.”

That definitely made Supervillain and his henchmen laugh. “And how do you think you’re going to do that?”

Villain tried to feel in their pocket, but it was no use. There was no way getting out of these knots or this trap. “I’ll figure that out.”

Villain had finally turned back to face Supervillain who was looking extremely amused. Villain rolled their eyes. Movement caught their eye just past Supervillain. They couldn’t believe their eyes - there was Hero! Not locked up. Not in chains. Not being tortured or beaten. But roaming free and eating an apple and looking at Villain, strung up and spinning in this mostly empty room. 

Villains eyes went wide - “Hero!”

Hero froze mid-bite. Supervillain looked panicked and spun around. “Hero!” If Villain didn’t know any better, they could have sworn there was a hitch in Supervillain’s voice. “Didn’t you hear the alarms? You really should be in your room.”

“You’re room?!” Villain exclaimed. They started spinning faster in their panic. “Hero! Are you fucking crashing here? I have been worried fucking sick about you and you’re just meadering around here with your own room! I cannot beli-” They crashed to the ground as the rope was released and dropped them from the ceiling. 

Everything hurt. They were absolutely furious and everything hurt. They looked over to see Hero standing on the side of the room, having pulled the leaver, still chewing their apple. “Really?!” Villain glared at Hero.

Hero grinned and shrugged at them. “What are you doing here Villain?” Villain was flabbergasted. “We barely even know one another. I honestly didn’t think you’d notice.”

Villain sat up at that as best they could. “Didn’t think I’d notice? Really Hero? I’ve known you for the past two years. We may not have had a lot of heart-to-heart. We may fight 90% of the times that we see one another. But did you really think I wouldn’t notice or care that you were kidnapped?” Villain looked around trying to hold in their tears. “I have been waiting for your shitty little association to tell us that they rescued you from Supervillain and that you were back home safe and sound. And every day that there was no news and every day that it seemed like no one was going to do anything about it I’ve been worried fucking sick.”

Hero was taken aback. They would have never expected their fond nemesis would have cared enough to notice they were “missing” much less come try and rescue them. They didn’t know what to say. 

Villain continued, “I thought we’d been honest with each other. I’ve told you shit about me that I haven’t told anyone. I -” The tears could no longer be contained as they trailed down Villain’s cheeks. They took a deep breath in an attempt to stop their trembling and tried looking anywhere but Hero. At Supervillain who looked genuinely confused and at a loss. At their henchmen who at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. At the boxes on the metal shelving they barely had a chance to notice when they first moved through the window. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Supervillain - do whatever. I’m done.”

“You two know each other?” Supervillain asked Hero in a quiet tone. Hero looked down and around, trying to avoid the other’s eye. “Everyone out.”

A sense of relief filled the room as Supervillain’s henchmen fled the room and closed the door. 

“I never…” Hero started, but couldn’t bring themselves to finish. 

Supervillain looked between Hero and Villain and sighed. He started untying Villain. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Supervillain said. Villain opened their mouth to say something, but was instantly silenced with a look from Supervillain. “We are going to sit down and see what the hell you are doing here,” he leaned in close, peppermint wafting over Villain’s face, and whispered, “I think we both know who you were here for.” Louder, so Hero could hear, he continued “Then, you’re going to tell me what you know about what’s been going on.” Supervillain turned to Hero, “And then, you two are going to tell me what your relationship is and we’ll go from there.” 

Villain looked somewhat guilty. “Yeah, I came to rescue Hero. I saw you kidnap them on the news.” Villain looked to Hero who also had the decency to look guilty. “What was that about Hero? Why’d you make everyone think that Supervillain kidnapped you? They caught it on Live TV, or was that all part of the ruse?”

Hero looked down, playing with the applecore. “No, Villain. No ruse.” they spoke so quiet Villain almost didn’t catch it. 

Supervillain put their hand on Hero’s shoulder. Villain never thought they’d see this side of Supervillain. Didn’t realize he even had this side. “You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.” Villain felt very lost. Sitting in Supervillain’s base with Hero looking so guilty and Supervillain…comforting Hero? 

Villain stood up. “Hero, as long as you’re okay it’s all that matters. I’ll just…get going.” They turned and headed to the door. 

Hero sighed, “Villain, please stay. I didn’t realize…but I’m okay with telling you.” Villain turned to Hero. Supervillain leaned against the wall behind Hero as some silent statue. Villain nodded in an attempt to encourage Hero to continue without pushing them.

“Supervillain did technically kidnap me. They saw my uh…training with Superhero and got me out of there.”

Villain looked at Supervillain and back to Hero. “Training? What kind of training?” They could see Supervillain tense and clench their fists behind Hero. 

Hero looked down, shaking his head and shrugged. “It was…you know…just training for fights.” Hero crossed their arms and sighed. They couldn’t bring themselves to look at Villain. To look at them while admitting what happened would absolutely make them burst into tears and they just couldn’t do that. “It got pretty bad a few days back and Supervillain saw it and got me out. As for why no one’s come from the Agency for me I can only imagine they’re hoping that Supervillain does me in cause they know they can’t beat him. And maybe they’re hoping that he broke into the agency for me for who knows what.”  Villain stood there absolutely taken aback. They suppose they shouldn’t have been too surprised. Superhero definitely wasn’t known for their leniency, but they doubted there wasn’t anyone in the city that would have thought they would take things out on their own. Villain looked at Supervillain who nodded. “Hero. Stop me if you want,” Villain said as they closed the distance between themselves and Hero and embraced them. Hero froze at first before relaxing and returning the hug. Villain whispered to them, “I am so sorry.” Those words was all it took for Hero to break down into tears. Supervillain slipped out once it was clear that Villain wasn’t a threat, closing the door behind himself as quiet as he could.

#villain x hero #hero x villain #hero x supervillain #tw: suggested abuse #my writing #much angst #hidden feelings

[mr2swap]

Call from “dad”

I stretched my long and hairy legs while the rays of the Cancun Sunbathed my tanned skin when the annoying tone of my phone took me out of my pleasant sleep, I took the cell phone and looked at who had bothered me, a small smile was drawn on my lips surrounded by my thick and well-groomed beard when I found out who he was.

Incoming call from “dad”

-Oh .. hello daddy, how is the summer camp, have you made new friends? - a hispanic waiter with a white uniform approached me and without making any noise put a drink in my hand, in addition to my “piña colada ” The waiter handed me a small piece of paper with his phone number and kindly whispered so that the other person on the other end of the phone would not hear -Call me…I finish work at six- he said and walked away with a shy smile as he returned to celebrate with his colleague's work for the courage he had in giving me his number.

-Stop joking Daniel I've been in your body for 3 days and I'm sick of so many songs and fucking crafts, have you found the necklace in my suitcase? I need to get back to my body NOW- at the same time my father was complaining about how horrible the camp for obese children was, I was slowly enjoying my sweet drink with extra rum, I was feeling a little dizzy, a little fun and with a lot of courage.

-I'm sorry dad, I still haven't found the Aztec necklace you say, do you think you could draw it for me? - The truth was that I had found that necklace the first day I woke up in the hotel room on some beach in Mexico, the day before I was sleeping in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with 30 other obese guys like me totally sore in all my muscles from that ridiculous soccer game they forced us to play to burn off all those extra calories and now I find myself in the amazing and muscular body of my father, fuck I feel like superman! it's great to have all the muscles my dad had worked in his gym for years, and best of all was all the attention he got, people are so nice when you're as hot as I am now.

And I was enjoying every minute in my father's muscular and aged body, I just hope he gets used to my smaller and obese body because I'm not going to give him his life back for now.

-DANIEL THIS IS AN ORDER YOUNG MAN! I NEED MY BODY NOW AND- I hung up the phone and put it on silent his squeaky voice was annoying and right now I'm on vacation, I stretched out my powerful arms and put my hands behind my head to use as a pillow showing everyone on the beach my hairy armpits and my stomach covered by a thick layer of hair.

Maybe I'll call that waiter at night it would be nice to have someone to spend the money my father had saved for his vacation with, I was still upset about sending me to that horrible camp without asking, that would surely teach him a lesson.

Hello again! I published this story the previous month on my patreon, you can support me on patreon and have access to all my stories and the stories with early access to the stories I post here on tumblr.

#bodyswap #body swap #male body swap #body switch

[qoeww]

I'm all in for angst, may I request some hcs of the turtle bros being rejected by their crush?

WHEN YOU REJECT THEM

Warning: Just angst

Characters: Turtle Bros

Author Note: Me trying to recover after the movie and then anon: LDNKDNL- Anyways I hope you like it hun, I wrote a little late, sorry <3

LEO

There is a smile of uneasiness on his face as he opens his feelings to you

"Oh, Y/N I umm- hehe what am I stuttering haha-?"

Finally, he admits his feelings to you, looking at your eyes with shiny eyes

But you haven't got any smile on your face

You tell him his feelings are unrequited

His smile fells slowly, his eyes open in surprise

Looking away so he can deny what happened

"Oh, yeah, ok..."

A strange silence comes between you

He forces himself to joke and laughs to destroy this awkward atmosphere

Because this is how he copes

He'll make up a ridiculous reason and quickly leave you alone

The first weeks he will still talk to you but won't be able to look you in the face

Just this boy needs some time

DONNIE

Everything was going according to the plan

He checked everything and he just need to make final move

He opens his feeling with confident, this is what it looks like from the outside

If you look closely you can see the crusted sores next to his nails

"Yes, YES! We did it, does they like it? Do I Iook cool? Do they-"

"Oh D, I'm sorry but-"

His brain refuses to hear other words, after apologizing he closes his ears(?) out

But... But he was so sure. After all the research he did, you seemed to be in love with him too

Well, scientists can be wrong too

He feels furious, heart broken, emberrassed and sad at the same time

He doesn't speak after you complete your excuse

"Ah, I better go..."

He will devote himself to his work for a long time, does not want to talk to anyone

It will take a long time to assemble

RAPH

This big boy snatched some ideas from everyone

He took your hand and looked at you with the warmest smile in the world

"Y/N, for a long time I had a crush on you. I wasn't sure to open up my feelings but I really like you."

You were afraid to this moment

You noticed how his actions changed, you were trying to imply you didn't have a crush on him

Well looks like he didn't get it

He worries that you can hear the sound of his heartbreaking

For two minutes he will focus on something else to collect himself

"Do you... Do you have someone else in your mind?"

Wants to know the reason for the rejection

He will sit with you a little more

You may feel a pair of eyes watching you sadly behind you for the next few weeks

The moment he sees you his mode will go down

More will go on solo missions, just wants to spend more time alone

Just give him a week, and he will be fine... Probably

MIKEY

You didn't expect this

Really, he always acted so sweet around you and everyone, so you didn't think you were that person, his crush

That's why you tried to figure out if it was a joke in the first minutes when it opened up to you

You tried to reject him with as little hurt as possible

But he is so sensitive

He will not cry next to you because he knows this will make you feel bad

He'll apologize to you like it was a mistake

He'll get up and ask for some time

He will definitely cry a lot in his room, bury his face in the pillow and try to keep his voice down as much as possible

His siblings will help him a lot in coping

He will be drawing in his room with a sad songs

That really helps him to get over it

At first, your friendship will be damaged but it will slowly heal

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt #leonardo x reader #michelangelo x reader #tmnt headcanons #rottmnt headcanons #raphael x reader

[asksds]

Part 1 | Next

Previous events

((This page was pretty much exclusively asset-flipping from the Clip Studio Asset Store. Materials used: City | Sky | Rain, the latter two get regular use across the entire thing.))

((MOM HOLY FUCK it's finally here!! I'll ramble a bit about it under a Readmore - but this one is 17 pages so more than 2 weeks of updates to look forward to! Yay! Return back to regular asks is nearing!))

((This really was such a particular roadblock for me and I think I have pinpointed 2 big reasons as to why it took THIS long:

I'd been thinking about it and layouting it in my head previously for years pretty much, and if you're an artist you know that overblown expectations like that can rarely be met by reality. Not getting to execute it like I imagined was a little frustrating so that made it harder to work on it

Turns out I was just helplessly overworked/kinda burned out from my job lol. The only time I could really get down to work on this was when I had any longer vacation, and we had a gigantic project at work spanning like 2-3 years that really went into overdrive last year with me pulling 10-hour-days for months basically. That left me no time and energy to really do anything else in the evening, and I'm pretty sure that impacted me until now since I could only finish this entire thing when I had another vacation and finally like...felt relaxed enough to draw?? and have fun doing it?? and have IDEAS?? It felt like I hadn't had ideas or motivation in years so that was a nice surprise, but also abolish jobs man I just wanna draw OCs and their shenanigans...

I'm really glad it's done, it did contribute to my posting anxiety to be honest where I felt bad posting anything because in my head I was like :( People will get mad if I do something else instead of work on this (ridiculous but you know how brains get. Like mate I drew a bunch of things for con prep and got too guilty to post any of it aaah) + for dramatic effect I didn't want to spam too many other asks inbetween which is why that grinded to a halt. Either way, it's done, it might not be perfect, it might show that it has spanned a very long time via some style changes between panels but what matters is that it's finished and I'm happy with it! If you read this (kudos) hope you enjoy, hope you have a great day and upcoming week, stay safe and hydrated in this hellweather, and remember the joy of creation because it's what makes life worth living!!))

#envy arc #comic

[cellsshapedlikestars]

I'm more of a draw-er than a writer so just shooting you a prompt idea if you ever feel inclined. With all the warging I keep thinking about the idea of a Freaky Friday/Body Switch theme with Arya and Sansa. Maybe it lets Sansa get to know another side of Jon && maybe Arya gets to meet Gendry because of it, but mostly cute sister bonding which you are so so so good at. Anywho do with this what you will, I love your writing and thanks for being awesome <3

First of all, I'm so jealous of people who can draw! My mom is an artist but the drawing gene skipped me (& my sister).

Second, this was a fun prompt! I wrote it in about an hour last night before going to bed, so please ignore any grammar/continuity errors.

Third, I made it take place in the 90s for some reason? Also, as a note, "Sansa-Arya" means Sansa in Arya's body, and "Arya-Sansa" means Arya in Sansa's body. Hope it doesn't get too confusing?

read it on ao3 here: ephemera, chapter 33

.

Sansa wakes in Arya's bed.

She frowns, confused, unsure how she got here.

Last night, they'd had a massive fight about... honestly, Sansa can't even remember how it started. But then again, they'd never needed a real reason to start fighting. All it ever took was one wrong word, one wrong look, and it would start. Maybe it was about Sansa trying to make everyone go outside to see the shooting star that was supposed to happen.

What Sansa does remember is storming off, her mother following her while dad went after Arya. She remembers bursting into hysterical tears and screeching, “she has no idea what it's like to be me!” A bit overdramatic, Sansa realizes now with a wince.

But that doesn't answer why she's in Arya's room. She sits up and rubs at her eyes which are... Sansa blinks, because she can see perfectly fine. Did she sleep in her contacts? She's usually so good about not doing that.

She swings her legs off the bed and she looks down and blanches at the state of her feet. She swore she just repainted her nails, but now they aren't, they're bluntly cut, and there's callouses on her big toes that Sansa would never allow.

She's also wearing Arya's pajamas.

Well, they aren't pajamas, really. Arya sleeps in sweatpants or shorts and a tee, it's Sansa who buys pajama sets, usually with a cute pattern. Her newest is little ice cream cones in various pastel colors.

There's a slam from the direction of her room, through their shared bathroom, and Sansa frowns. Who's in her room?

She stands from the bed just as she hears the door to the bathroom open on her side, the light goes on under the door, and there's a shriek. Then the door to Arya's room bursts open and-

Sansa's mind is blank for a long time, as she stares at... herself.

…

“Stop doing that,” Sansa snaps as Arya keeps flinching away from the mascara wand.

“This is ridiculous,” Arya mutters. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Because I like it,” Sansa huffs, grabbing Arya's chin – her chin – and holding her head steady. “It makes me feel pretty.”

“You're pretty already,” Arya mutters again, eyes shifting to the side, and Sansa pauses. She debates telling Arya that she's pretty, too, but she doesn't think Arya would like that. She'd just say something mean, so Sansa keeps her mouth shut.

Finally, she finishes up the makeup, but she can't even tell if it's good or not. Not when she's looking at her face that isn't her face, because Arya's wearing it.

They tried to tell Robb what happened, he was the first person they found after they woke up in each other's bodies, and he'd only rolled his eyes and said, “well, at least you're getting along, but I'm not falling for that. Find someone more gullible.”

That's when they'd decided to keep this a secret – to pretend like they're normal, until they can figure out what happened. Which means they have to go to school as each other. Which means Arya-Sansa needs to wear makeup, and Sansa-Arya needs to dress in ratty old jeans and even rattier sneakers and carry around a skateboard.

Sansa prides herself on being able to handle any social situation, but going to their school as a freshman again as Arya makes her want to throw up. There's a scuffle over who should drive – Arya doesn't have her license yet – but when Sansa-Arya tries to get into the driver's seat, mom comes out shouting at them, so Arya-Sansa takes the keys with a grin and gets behind the wheel.

The drive to school nearly kills them, but Arya is cackling with glee the entire time as Sansa clings onto the door handle for dear life.

Then they have to part ways, and as Jeyne approaches, she watches Arya-Sansa's face shift into an expression of something akin to terror.

Sansa watches them go, hoping Arya doesn't tank her reputation.

…

Arya walks through the halls with Jeyne and Beth chattering in her ear. She can barely keep up with their gossip, she has no idea how Sansa handles it. When they get to their lockers, she quickly checks the numbers Sansa had written on a post-it, and puts in the code, thankful when the lock clicks open.

“I hear Joff's gonna be at the party this weekend,” Beth says, suggestion heavy in her voice.

Arya feels her lip curl, and she lets out a disgusted noise, which surprises both of Sansa's friends.

Stupid, Arya chides herself. Sansa would probably be over the moon about that.

“I know you said you weren't going to date him,” Jeyne sighs, “but why not? He's so dreamy.”

“I said that?” Arya asks, completely confused. Jeyne looks at her curiously, so Arya tries to recover. “Well, duh,” she gives what she hopes is a perfect Sansa eye-roll. “He's majorly gross.” There. That sounds like something Sansa might say. Majorly is her new favorite word.

“I can't believe you think he's gross,” Beth shakes her head. “He's gorgeous, and rich, and he's into you! I can't believe you wouldn't even go to the movies with him.”

That makes Arya pause getting her books out (trying to remember the classes Sansa wrote down. She could look, but she might have actually lost that post-it). Sansa turned down a date with Joffrey Baratheon? He rules the junior class, and Arya can already guess he'll be Junior Prom King, and next year, Senior Prom King. Being his queen seems right up Sansa's alley.

Maybe Robb talked to her, Arya muses, piling more books into her arm. Robb isn't a fan of Joffrey, maybe he made Sansa see sense.

Sansa being rational about boys, Arya scoffs to herself. There's something you don't see every day.

…

“Not skating today?” a boy asks, pulling up on his own and coming to an abrupt halt in front of where Sansa's sitting, and he steps on the edge of his skateboard so it flips up into his hand. He's massive and she has to squint up at him.

“I pulled a muscle,” Sansa says, trying to make herself sound as grumpy as Arya always sounds.

It's not hard, she's had a pretty bad day. While she was changing for gym, a couple girls had snickered behind their hands and told her she had the wrong locker room. “The boy's changing room is on the other side,” the one girl had sneered, eyeing Sansa-Arya with a disdain Sansa has never had directed at her.

Sansa had been so shocked, she hadn't known what to say, and the girls had gone out to start gym class.

And then the anger had started – does that happen often? And how dare they, she's the only one who's allowed to make fun of Arya. Well, her and their brothers. Sansa's going to find out who that girl is and ruin her social life.

“Sucks,” the boy says, bringing her back to the present, sitting next to Sansa on the bleachers. “I was hoping we could head to the skatepark today and try the new quarter pipe.”

Sansa blinks and stays silent, because she has no idea what half that sentence means. The boy's face goes a bit red and he rubs at the back of his neck with one hand.

“Or, I mean,” he says, nearly tripping over his words, “we don't have to.”

Huh, she thinks, some of her bad mood disappearing.

Sansa tilts her Arya-head at the boy and bats her eyelashes and the boy sputters even more, and Sansa has to physically keep herself from smiling.

“I've got to hang out with my dumb sister tonight,” she finally answers, making sure to put as much venom into the words as she can, though as she does, it makes her sad. She knows Arya hates her, that isn't new information. But still. If she didn't, maybe Sansa would know about this boy. Maybe she'd know his name.

Maybe she'd know about those girls in the locker room.

“Bummer,” the boy says. “Maybe some other time?”

The awkward way he's holding himself solidifies that this boy absolutely has a massive crush on her sister.

Interesting.

…

“Gendry?” Arya makes a face that Sansa does not like, because it's her face, and Arya's twisting it into something ugly.

“Is that his name?” Sansa asks innocently. “Well, whoever he is, I agreed to a date with him.”

“You what?” Arya jumps up, and it's strange to watch her own body pace the room.

It's a joke, Sansa wouldn't do that to her, but... well, Arya isn't reacting as poorly as she thought she would.

Oh.

Arya wants to go on a date with this Gendry boy.

Double interesting.

…

Arya storms down to the kitchen, and she can feel how hot her face is – Sansa's face is.

She can't believe she fell for Sansa's joke about the date with Gendry, and she's even more annoyed that Sansa thinks she'd even want to go on a date with him. He's a middling skateboarder, at best, and he's too calm all the time and he's too nice. Ugh. She'd never.

She pulls the pitcher of Kool-Aid out of the fridge and starts pouring herself a glass, when she hears the door to the basement open.

“Since when do you drink Kool-Aid?” a voice asks, and Arya-Sansa turns to see Jon standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a bemused look on his face. “You said it tastes like chemicals.”

When did Sansa say that, Arya wonders. It definitely sounds like something Sansa would say, but how in the world does Jon know that, or even remember it.

“I like the grape kind,” she makes herself shrug. To her annoyance, and surprise, Jon doesn't immediately leave at her cold tone.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into the kitchen and coming to stand at the counter next to her.

“I'm fine?” she says, but it comes out like a question, because Jon looks genuinely concerned.

Wait. Did Robb tell him about their body-swap? Does Jon believe it? Oh, thank god someone-

Jon looks around as if checking for anyone nearby, then he moves forward, and all of Arya's thoughts go blank as he slides his arm around her waist, and pulls her up against him. He's touching Sansa in a way he should not be touching Sansa.

“I heard Joffrey talking about some party this weekend and how he planned to...” Jon frowns, hard.

That's when Arya's brain finally kicks Sansa's body into gear, and she makes a strangled noise and places both hands on Jon's chest and pushes. “What are you doing?” she squeaks.

Jon looks confused. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, and there's that look he gets sometimes, like a kicked puppy. “What did I do?”

What is he talking about? Why would Sansa have any reason to be mad at Jon, and why would he even care?

“Is this because I didn't want to go see that Romeo and Juliet movie with you? Or is it because I said Leonardo DiCaprio is overrated? Because he is.”

Arya's brain is in full panic mode, so all she can do is squeak out, “yes,” before fleeing the kitchen, abandoning her Kool-Aid on the counter.

She runs back up to Sansa's room and slams open the door to find Sansa-Arya sitting on the bed reading a magazine, and she says, “you're dating Jon?” Her voice is too high-pitched, but she can't control herself right now.

She watches her own eyes go wide and panicked, and Sansa-Arya stands up abruptly, but she doesn't deny it.

She doesn't deny it.

…

Arya can't wrap her head around this.

Sansa had sat her down and told her some story – Joffrey trying to shove his hand up her skirt at Margaery Tyrell's party at the end of last year. Running all the way from Margaery's house to the nearest payphone. Calling home, only to have Jon answer because he was staying at their house that weekend while his mom was on a work trip. Jon coming to pick her up. Them sitting in his truck and talking late into the night. It had – in Sansa's words, which sounded utterly ridiculous coming out of Arya's mouth – turned into something more within the next few months.

The weird part is, Sansa and Jon dating isn't the thing she can't make her mind process.

It's the idea that Sansa had almost been assaulted at a party. She'd gone through this whole thing and Arya had no idea.

Because why would Sansa tell her? They don't tell each other anything.

“I'm sorry,” she says, and Sansa jerks back a bit in confusion. “About Joffrey,” she clarifies. “If I'd known, I'd...”

She doesn't know what she would have done, but she feels angry now. Probably punch him in the face.

“Oh,” Sansa says with a half shrug, and Arya recognizes that move, though usually Sansa's in her own body when it happens. It's the move, the tone of voice she uses, when someone brings up something she's embarrassed by.

The fact that Sansa's embarrassed by something Joffrey did makes Arya even angrier.

“By the way, Jon mentioned overhearing Joffrey talking about you and some party this weekend. Sounds like he's gonna try something again.”

Arya watches her own face frown. “I won't go,” she says.

“Or,” Arya counters, an idea coming to her. “You can borrow my pepper spray, and I can teach you some stuff from my Tae Kwon Do classes.”

She thinks Sansa will say no, but instead, she seems to consider it, and then a small smile appears on her lips and she says, “yeah, alright.”

…

“Are they fighting?” Rickon whispers, eyes wide as he and Bran stand paused in the hall outside their sister's door. There are noises like fighting coming from Sansa's room, except there's no shouting. In fact, Rickons' pretty sure he heard them laughing.

“Weird,” Bran says with a shrug, then continues down the hall. Rickon follows, and they've just made it to the bottom of the stairs when there's a mighty crash from upstairs.

Chaos happens then, and Rickon plasters himself against the wall as mom rushes up the stairs and lets out a noise of distress when she opens Sansa's door.

“Ned! Ned!” she shouts, which brings not just dad from his study, but also Robb and Jon from the basement. All of them rush upstairs, and Rickon and Bran look at each other, then follow.

Rickon can barely see into the room, but it looks like Sansa's massive bookshelf had toppled over. Dad and Robb and Jon are lifting it up and mom is on her knees, her shaky voice saying, “Sansa? Arya?”

Dad and Robb and Jon get the bookshelf moved away, and there's a groan from the pile of books that cover his sister's bodies.

The pile moves, and Arya sits up first, rubbing at her head. “Fucking hell,” Arya mutters, and Rickon knows something bad must have happened, because mom doesn't even yell at her for it.

“Sansa,” Jon says, kneeling down and pulling books away, face pale. Rickon doesn't think he's ever even seen Jon and Sansa speak to each other. Weird.

“I'm okay,” her voice says, small and muffled, but then she sits up, too. There's a big red mark on her forehead, like the start of a bruise, and Rickon thinks the shelf or a book must have hit her head pretty hard. Arya's still rubbing at her own head, too, like she also got hit.

“What happened?” mom cries, a hand on each of their cheeks, like she can't decide who she wants to check over first. Mom's always fussing like that.

“Arya was teaching me self defense and we knocked over...” Sansa frowns, then her eyes go wide and she says, “I mean, I was teaching Sa-” then she falters and looks over at Arya. Arya looks at her, and her eyes go big and round, too. They both look surprised to see each other.

Arya starts to laugh, she sounds really crazy, and she says, “oh man, I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I'm so happy to see your face.”

Sansa still looks shocked, but then she says, “we're back,” and starts giggling wildly, and then both of his sisters are just sitting there, laughing.

“I think we need to take them to the hospital,” dad says, and even though his sisters protest, Rickon watches from the window as mom and dad load them into the car.

Sweet, Rickon thinks. With mom and dad gone and Robb in charge, that means pizza for dinner.

“Pizza?” Rickon asks, barely bothering to wait until the car has pulled out of the drive.

Robb looks worried, and so does Jon. He still looks pretty pale, and Rickon thinks they're worrying too much. Arya and Sansa will be fine. They're both tough.

Robb and Jon ignore him, so Rickon lets out an annoyed huff and says louder, with more emphasis, “pizza?”

#jonsa #jonsa fic #prompt fic

[dnofsunshine]

digimon secret santa exchange!

happy holidays and merry Christmas, @digitalworldbound i'm your secret santa for @digisecretsanta's gift exchange event! <3 i know you love 02, so i hope you enjoy 700 words of teenage takari being a chaotic duo~ (ft. older bros, yamato & taichi)

Or: Chaotic besties Hikari and Takeru have their older brothers wrapped around their fingers.

Thunk. Floosh.

Several seconds of silence ensued. Two pairs of eyes met, pooled with mirth and perhaps a little bit of regret. Takeru blew out a giggling sigh, which was a mistake on his part because it sent a puff of flour through the air.

Flour, which caked both of their faces. Because Hikari, in her attempt to measure the amount they needed for the cookie recipe she’d found online, had accidentally tipped the entire bowl, and now they were both covered in it.

And so was the kitchen counter. And the floor. 

“Oops,” Hikari whispered, although her expression threatened to break into a grin.

“Oops,” Takeru echoed with a tiny, held-back smile of his own.

“I don’t think that was supposed to happen,” Hikari said.

“...probably not.”

Hikari whisked her gaze around her kitchen, knowing that this mess was mostly her fault but finding it funnier than anything else. So when her composure broke and she finally began laughing, she couldn’t find it in herself to stop.

“You—you look ridiculous,” she gasped out as she doubled over in a fit of giggles.

“Me?” Takeru didn’t even sound offended—just equally entertained by their predicament as he, too, collapsed with laughter. “You look ridiculous! It’s in your hair!”

One of Hikari’s hands found the top of her head, making Takeru laugh harder because she’d only made it worse.

A doorknob jostled. Hikari and Takeru froze at the sound, meeting each other’s gaze again, and Hikari whispered in horror, “Uh oh.”

“We should hide.”

No sooner than Takeru suggested it did they follow through, but neither of them had time to find good hiding places—instead merely settling for ducking behind the counter—before the Yagami apartment door opened and two boys stopped in the entryway to remove their shoes.

“We’re back,” Taichi’s voice called, followed by the sound of shuffling. “There was a long l—oh. Where’d they go?”

“Gotta be here somewhere,” came Yamato’s voice. “Their shoes are still here.”

“Yeah, I see that. I have eyes.”

“Just making s—” Yamato stopped talking, and his footsteps came to a halt as well. Then, in a quieter voice: “...what the hell?”

Hikari bit her lip to keep her laughter at bay. She stayed hidden with Takeru as Taichi voiced his confusion about Yamato’s words, before probably seeing the kitchen for himself.

“Oh my god.”

Yeah. They were so screwed.

“What even happened in here?” Taichi went on. “How d—wait. Hikari, Takeru, I can see you.”

It was only when he stepped around the counter that Hikari started giggling hysterically again. She gave her brother what was supposed to be an guilty look—but, in all honesty, was more cheeky than anything—before drawing herself up to her full height.

“Hi, Nii-san,” Takeru said humbly to Yamato as he stood by Hikari’s side.

“What did you do?” Yamato asked.

“We were…” Hikari paused to scan the flour-covered kitchen with sheepish eyes. “...making cookies?”

Hook.

“Cookies,” Taichi echoed, deadpan.

“Uh huh,” Takeru said with a firm nod. “Cookies.”

Yamato gave Takeru a hopelessly fond look. “Kiddo. We told you we’d be back from the store to make dinner tonight.”

“I even recruited Yamato so Kaa-san wouldn’t kill us with her monstrous cooking,” Taichi added.

“But…” Hikari trailed off as she glanced at her best friend, who pouted. She took this as an opportunity to show off her best pout, too, aiming it at her older brother. “...we wanted something sweet.”

Line.

“Hikari. It’s like, four-thirty. We’re going to be cooking soon.”

“...and?”

Yamato and Taichi shared an exasperated look, which almost elicited another stray giggle from Hikari. Almost. She was still pouting, after all.

“Fine,” Yamato caved, surprisingly before Taichi. He sighed. “After dinner.”

Taichi’s expression turned sour. “Dude!”

“What? I can’t say ‘no’ to that face,” Yamato said and pointed at Takeru’s masterful puppy eyes.

Her brother, however, looked back at Hikari. Her pout deepened, and for a few seconds, Taichi stood strong. But only for a few seconds.

Sinker.

“Ugh, fine. Fine, we’ll make cookies after dinner,” Taichi relented with a sigh of his own. “Now help us clean up.”

Hikari’s pout disappeared in an instant, replaced by a grin.

She waited until both of their brothers’ backs were turned before she gave Takeru a victorious fistbump. 

#digitalworldbound #dnofsunshine #digimon secret santa #digimon secret santa exchange #digimon 02 #my fics #my writing #chaotic besties takeru and hikari everyone #takaishi takeru #yagami hikari #yagami taichi #ishida yamato #drabble #food mention #food ment tw #secret santa #gift exchange #digisecretsanta #digimon fanfic #mild cursing

[narukoibito]

Wrapped 2022

Thank you @nuatthebeach for the tag! 💛 I was tagged in 2023, so...

Post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular)

Well, considering I only posted 2 (3 if you count each chapter) things, this will be short!

Unravel Me, Chapter 6: I am sincerely floored all the time by the readers who have continued to read (and reread apparently) this story, especially considering this was my first foray into smut and how long it is taking. Your support means everything to me. 💛

since feeling is first who pays any attention: Me?! Writing canon-compliant?! I have surprised myself in what I've written, wanting to choose the most underrated missed moments and make Ginny her own person. It's stretching my abilities as a writer, and I am excited where the next chapters and Ginny take me.

i'm sure of it by @takearisk-ao3: to be clear I DID NOT WRITE THIS, but since Hannah decided to make me a co-creator, so I wanted to take a moment to thank Hannah for this incredibly thoughtful gift of a missed moment within the Unravel Me universe. It and everyone's warm birthday wishes (@wackus-bonkus-maximus @nuatthebeach @fairsquare16 to highlight a few) led to the best birthday I've had since covid started. 🥹

your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year

As always no promises on actually releasing but...

Unravel Me: I have a clear vision of what happens in chapters 7-9, and over 5k words for chapter 7 (they are ROUGH) and some words for chapters 8 and 9. I know I'll release chapter 7 in 2023, but I really hope I get to all three.

since feeling is first who pays any attention: Hopefully I'll be able to release the rest of this missed moments series in the new year.

unnamed Muggle AU FWB story: Another FWB, Naru? Why, yes. But a very different vibe from Unravel Me - this is college au, slow burn, learning how to smut sloooooowly, Harry trying to teach Ginny how to feel good and, maybe, hopefully, dare to love too.

cat!Harry: Thanks to @annerbhp's encouragement during Nanowrimo to write my most self-indulgent idea ever, I got 12k words of the most ridiculous thing ever. I have no idea how to string it into something coherent, haha but maybe one day I will!

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

Changing Unravel Me's original outline from one that would match a more conventional romance story to one that requires the characters to dig deeper than if they only communicated (but yes, if only they would). While it's deterred my completing new chapters, I do believe it will make the finished product better than originally imagined.

Writing Ginny as her own person during missed moments in canon has been a real stretch for me, the AU writer who likes the safety of not having to get things "just right." Ginny has surprised me with her tenacity, and I have surprised myself with writing reader dramatic irony and creepy scenes.

Writing words. Nanowrimo was awful, but I did get 50k words out. That took a lot of pushing forward even when I didn't like the words instead of letting myself get stuck on a scene. For that reason, I have (bad) drafts of multiple wips, but editing will (hopefully) be much less painful.

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year

To take my writing seriously

To continue to learn and practice the craft

and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year

From since feeling is first who pays any attention, the Dementor on the train:

But as a darkly hooded figure appears at the door, the smell of decay intensifies. It draws a long, slow, and rattling breath, as if to suck in more than air from the environment.

An intense cold overtakes her. It penetrates deeper than her skin, straight to her core. It’s so cold, it radiates from within her. To her horror, she recognizes this feeling.

It’s the painful drawing of a soul from her body.

It's no longer 2022, and I don't know who has or hasn't done this, but tagging @fightfortherightsofhouseelves @twentysevensummers @wackus-bonkus-maximus @gryffindorhealer and anyone else who hasn't done it and wants to play!

#wrapped 2022 #unravel me #since feeling is first who pays any attention #hoping 2023 will have more words

[ofmermaidstories]

Hello merms!!

I sent this ask before but I think tumblr ate it up lol.

I wanted to tell you how much I love all your stories and your little doodles!! I remember how I was having a really bad day a while ago and I saw your art and instantly started feeling better <3

I adore the way you manage to capture the essence of the characters and build up on them in a way that's so realistic - katsuki's grumpiness and hesitance, izuku's 0 or 100 mentality and how others see it. I've reread s(jlt) so many times it's ridiculous and yet it manages to pull me into the world of pro heroes every time

thank you for sharing your stories and drawings with us, merms! I hope you have a great day!!

Blue!! I have a confession to make: my reply to your other ask is sitting in my drafts—i was trying to draw something for you (for the bluebirds in your name) but wasn’t happy with the things i was making 🥺 I’m sorry it took me so long! I just wanted to decorate your answer for you, so it was pretty. 🌷 I actually cycled through a few different ideas—a couple of different iterations of like, girls hold out their hand to a bluebird, and then the bluebirds by themselves at a window—omg i won’t waffle on LOL sldkfjsdlkfj. But please know, I do have your first message and i will treasure it forever!!!! you were so kind in it, it’s like a little good luck charm to ward off all the doubt. 🍀🌿

You mention the bad day in your original ask, too. 🥺 I hope you’ve had better days, since. 🌷💕 or run into endless tiny things that make you smile, at least!!!!!

honestly though!!! part of the charm of a x Reader fic for me is like, seeing these characters we love in a different light. there’s something powerful, i think, about being seen by someone who hasn’t been with us through the hard things, like our other loved ones have—and yet who come to love us anyway. and i want that for our canon crew!!! and i want that for our Readers, too. in your original ask, you say that Izuku sort of—compliments Reader, and Reader’s gremlin-ness and like… I will always be a big believer Izuku’s self-sacrificial nature being it’s own burden, for both him and the people who care for him him, and so i think anyone who comes to love him will need a little bit of wildness within them, to help deal with that 0-100 mentality. He is such a sweetheart (when he’s not pushed to his limits), and one who seems like he just… deals, with whatever’s thrown at him, that it seems easy to take that endearing nature of his at surface level and not realise just how much of a feral he can be (and that you’d have to keep up with!). In that way I think he’s kinda the opposite of Kacchan, who’s also a bait-and-switch—deceptively explosive on the outside, and then like… careful, once you step in closer. Our grumpy, hesitant boy. 🥺

Blue!!! I’m so sorry i didn’t answer you sooner!!! Your asks—both of them—have meant a lot, though. 🥺 I’m thankful you found the fics, and came along—thank-you for being lovely, I’ll try and draw you something cheery whenever i can. 🌷🪺✨🌿☀️

#ofmermaidstories-asks #bluebird in the breeze 🪺🌾☀️ #i am so so terrible at answering anything in a timely manner #please know that knowing im slow fills me with dread with how rude it can look!!!!! LOLOOOL omg im so sorry #anyways—here we are 🪺🌿 we got there eventually so i guess that’s all we can do

[hankwritten]

The Scarlet Prince pt. 3

Demoman/Soldier Royalty AU, Magic, Amnesia

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

General Jane Doe of Cerulea can’t shake his past, and on a visit to the neighboring kingdom of Scarland, it comes back to haunt him in dangerous way. Who is this mysterious Scarlet Prince, and what is his interest in Jane?

“Marcel. We have to leave. Immediately.”

Marcel scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know how long the line is for the dragon-roasted shrimp plates? Forty-five minutes. I am going to stand here and enjoy my seafood platter, do nothing else, and drink my wine even if the entire castle starts collapsing around me.” He paused, a shrimp halfway to his mouth. “Why are you so very…sweaty?”

“Marcel. Do you remember that thing. That uh, the one thing you said not to do?”

Marcel’s lips pursed in that way that had and always would mean Jane was about to be in very big trouble. “…‘Cause an international incident’?”

“Yes. That. I have done it. So we should leave now .”

Several seconds of dearth ticked by, at the end of which, the Spymaster released his most beleaguered sigh, and with excruciating slowness dumped his platter into a nearby plant. “I hate you Doe. Almost as much as I hate being right. Let us move.”

They fled the palace at a gallop, the midnight bell tolling behind them, Jane’s mind a mess of broken glass. How had that man known his dreams? More, more than just the dreams, he talked about spires in trees, things Jane hadn’t envisioned before, but the words of them sparked revelations in him so rabid they made his head hurt. He unfocused his eyes, watching the back of Marcel’s courser as it kicked mud at a frenzied pace, and tried to stop the tidal wave of visions as they came flooding in.

When they finally allowed the horses rest—a day away from the capitol and still four days from the border—Jane stared at the fire, barely feeling his exhaustion. He had so many questions…could the visions that plagued him truly be memories? Normally he’d dismiss the thought out of hand—they were too strange, too nonsensical to have actually happened—but normally figments of his imagination didn’t jump out of parties claiming they knew him, so maybe normal could go to hell.

The logical thing to do was ask Marcel. They’d known each other longer than Jane’s memory stretched back, and he needed him to fill in details on a near constant basis whenever Jane was supposed to know a fact he did not. But something kept him back. What if he asked Marcel about the mystery man, and he knew nothing, proving something was far more wrong with Jane than either of them thought?

Or worse: what if he did know who that Scarlet was to Jane?

The questions chased circles around each other, and Jane sensed it wouldn’t be long until Marcel came back from checking their perimeter and finally tried to wring some answers out of him. Namely, the exact details that had put them on the run from the Scarlets. Jane still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to that.

The sound of a violent crash dangerously close to the clearing’s edge warned that that might be put off for a little while.

Jane raced toward the noise of a steadily increasing scuffle, drawing his blade and arriving on the scene just as it came to an abrupt halt. There, Marcel had their interloper pinned to the ground; a knee on his back, a blade to his throat as Marcel pulled him back by the head.

The name slipped out without Jane willing it. “Tavish?”

Tavish’s head jerked up, despite the knife beading a line of red against his skin. It was him, though he’d abandoned the mask and changed into a simple riding uniform. His eye, panicked a moment before, softened. Daring to hope.

Jane hadn’t meant to give him any, but saying the name felt right, felt familiar. He tried to tell himself it was only because he’d said it a few times during the duel, but it didn’t stop the feeling, that feeling that connections slid past his cranium like oysters being torn from their shell.

“Jane? Do you…?”

Again, Jane took a step back.

Marcel wouldn’t be so easily placated. He looked between Jane and the man he currently had pinned several times before saying, “Tavish? As in Tavish DeGroot?”

“Er,” Tavish said. “Which answer doesn’t get me slit?”

Marcel glared at Jane. “Please don’t tell me this is why we had to flee the Scarlet Palace in a whirlwind of disgrace.”

“Um,” Jane said. “This is not why we had to flee the Scarlet Palace in a whirlwind of disgrace?”

“That is just wonderful to hear. Then perhaps you can offer me an alternative explanation as to why the crown prince of Scarland is sneaking into our camp in the middle of the night??”

“I wasn’t sneaking!” Tavish protested. “Honest. I was just trying to talk to Jane, to…”

Marcel pulled his head back farther. “How did you find us? ”

“This is the fastest road to Cerulea! Someone in the last town said they’d seen you passing through, and then I saw your fire…”

“Merde ,” Marcel spat at Jane. “I told you we should not have stopped for supplies.”

“We may take it then that an army without its baggage train is lost; without provisions it is lost,” Jane said.

“If you say-”

“-Sun Tzu said that.”

“Shut up.” Marcel spun back to his interrogation. “How many are with you? Where are they? Do they know you’re here?”

Tavish opened his mouth. It was clear he had no answer, that his hope was slowly being replaced with panic, and those dark twisting things in Jane’s mind pulled aside just enough to recognize it.

“Marcel. Stop. He’s not…I don’t think he’s…”

He didn’t know what he was. He was an enemy. The enemy.

And yet.

Jane found himself creeping forward. He made a motion, but when Marcel hesitated instead of backing off, he locked eyes with his friend. The Spymaster said nothing, but slowly retracted himself, hovering just on the edges of the forest’s encroaching darkness.

The sinking sun cast everything into dull grays as Jane stepped forward and gently helped Tavish to his feet. For the second time in as many days. This was all together different before, the prince refusing to surrender room as he gripped Jane by both forearms, hauling himself upwards.

“I know.” Tavish swallowed thickly. “I know it was a long time ago. We were kids but I thought- I needed to be sure. This isn’t all just a dream, right?”

Jane laughed humorlessly. “Now there’s a choice of words.” He felt the fingers on his arms tighten. “How do you know me?”

“We were-” Tavish suddenly averted his eye in sheepishness. “Betrothed. I mean, we were just kids and all, so it was our families who put it all together…but we were still friends! And I never stopped hoping…”

Huh. That was…certainly something. Jane leveled an eyebrow over Tavish’s shoulder, to where Marcel was lurking. “That true?”

“How should I know?” Marcel waved his dagger impatiently, his hand clutched like he was still prepared to use it. “Yes, once you did tell me you were born in Scarland, but you have told me many things over the years. And yet, completely failed to mention you were once Scarlet nobility .”

Jane shook his head. Him? Scarlet? He’d always known patches of his past were rough…

Tavish looked equally distraught. “Why did you ask him? Why would he know?”

“I’ve always had…issues. With. Up here.” Jane freed a hand long enough to raise a finger and tap his temple. “Marcel helps.”

“So you…really don’t remember me, then,” Tavish finally arrived at, still not quite believing. A note of agony slipped in, that despair creeping back to his voice.

“Maybe. What happened exactly?”

“Cerulean attack. We were out, near the river like always, but somehow they got further into the riverlands without a single warning. Magic maybe. I took a blast when they started attacking.” He indicated his patched eye. “We scattered, like all the people in the farms, and we ran for the walls and I thought you were right behind me and…”

Tavish pressed his forehead to Jane’s chest.

“Endless Voice, I’m so sorry Janey.”

Jane wrapped his arms over Tavish’s back. He smelled like horse and road dust, and homes that didn’t exist. Jane leveled a look at Marcel.

The Spymaster stared back for a good four seconds before throwing up his hands in disgust. “Fine! We won’t kill him. But he absolutely cannot come back with us to Azure Bay with us.”

*

They decided to take him back to Azure Bay.

Well, Jane decided. Marcel—a man who Tavish had never heard of but with all the casual information Jane let slip he gleaned was some sort of bodyguard—tried very hard to undecide for him, which Jane ignored with an admirable stalwartness. It might have looked like Tavish feared the assassin, keeping himself so close to the other Cerulean at all times to avoid him, but honestly it was just because Tavish was scraping for Jane’s contact at every moment. His shoulder always hovered close to Jane’s as they sat on the ground for meals, almost afraid to touch, as though if he tried to make sure Jane was really there it would turn out he wasn’t.

“We cannot enter the country with Redmond’s heir tossed over the back of your horse,” Marcel whined. He did that a lot.

“I got me own horse,” Tavish put in helpfully.

“And even if he did not, there is no way we are sending him back to that commie country!” Jane poked the rabbit roasting over the fire with a stick. Tavish was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to do that to a spit roast, but he was too busy watching Jane with open adoration to offer culinary commentary. “Have you heard what they were going to do to him there? They were going to make him get married when he did not want to get married!”

“How positively barbaric,” Marcel replied drily. “Truly we’ll have these human rights violations as soon as we get back to the capital.”

Jane nodded. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Despite his pleading, appeals to reason, and several threats against Tavish’s personage, Marcel couldn’t get Jane to budge on the matter. Every day they grew further and further from New Ruby and it shocked Tavish how little that mattered to him. So much for patriotism. With Jane here and only his mother and the slowly constricting noose of Redmond’s inevitable demise behind him, the only true path was toward Cerulea.

“Thank you,” Tavish said that night, their bedrolls in the process of unfurling (Tavish hadn’t packed supplies in his rush to leave the palace, and Marcel had declared him ‘Doe’s problem’ so it was Jane’s tent he shared) on to hard earth below. “For standing up for me.”

Most of the conversations during their precarious journey had been like this. Tavish trying to and failing to find the words that would surmount the impossible hills of ground he wanted to cover, and in the end too busy being happy to care.

Jane stopped in the process of straightening out his boots. “We were friends. That is what friends do.”

“We were, aye. Do you really not remember any of it?”

“Not remember, no.” Jane frowned. “I dream, sometimes. But…there was always someone there, and I now know that someone was you.” He set down the boots so carefully, and fixed Tavish with his stare. “And when I met you again, I liked you then too. You were charming, daring, and proved not all Scarlets need their hands held to cross a puddle.”

“You sure about liking me? I sort o’ bungled the charming part…”

“You turned out to be noble at heart.”

He reached toward Tavish, brushing his thumb against that scratch still scabbed on Tavish’s cheek. Tavish froze, kneeled in front of him, both huddled so close inside the tent he could see every detail the years apart had left his friend. Wrinkles, the faint outlines of scars, and he searched hungrily over it all, just like he had when the mask had come down. He slung an arm behind Jane’s neck and dragged him closer.

“It was a crime to keep a warrior like you away from his sword,” Jane said. “They have wronged you. If I had been there, I would never have let it happen.”

Tavish laughed. “Don’t blame yourself for that, lad. You were too busy being kidnapped by Ceruleans.”

“Still! It was a mistake we will rectify. I’ll get you a real fight DeGroot, mark my words!”

Jane’s mouth was smirking, mere inches away…

The scream of horses tore all other thoughts from Tavish’s mind. It ripped through the tent as assuredly as the sword that came stabbing through the canvas a moment later. It was their only warning, and as the shredded flaps of tent parted around them Tavish saw why: Marcel, their usually dependable barometer for danger had his hands raised in surrender, kneeling next to the horses as they stamped in panic. Another sword was pointed at his throat, assumedly so he wouldn’t sound the alarm, and he wore an expression of beleaguered unspurise.

Tavish, honed by years of living under threat of Cerulean invasion, didn’t register what was happening at first. His mind snapped to occupation, to blue uniforms that didn’t exist. Even as he and Jane were forced to kneel, no time to even get to get their weapons in their hands, he still recognize them for what they were.

It wasn’t until one of the bandits said, “you were right Lloyd! Just like on that them poster there!”

They were all leering at Tavish like he was their next meal ticket, and under the burden of that uniform attention he stupidly repeated, “poster?”

“Aye, this one right here!” said the closest one, waving a weather beaten piece of paper. “Ten thousand kröwns for the safe return of the prince, and five thousand a piece for each kidnappers’ head.”

Tavish paused. It was not productive to argue with the sketch of him presented on the wanted poster—his features were rather on the distinctive side. Instead he said, “well, at least she had the decency to offer more for me than she did for you lot.”

Marcel released an exhale whose length did not seem humanly possible, which he capped off with an embittered, “fuck .”

Jane, slightly to Tavish’s left, said nothing. He seethed in silence, glaring at their captors as they began to rummage through the camp, and Tavish realized if he didn’t do something, someone else would. Guilt played no small part in the need for action either. Here he’d brought trouble down upon the Ceruleans heads, just like Marcel said.

“Listen lads,” Tavish said, trying to look like he wasn’t addressing the sword waving dangerously toward him. “You’re obviously all good, noble Scarlets who’re doing their patriotic duty. Now that you’ve got those er…kidnappers all hedged in, why don’t you point those knives somewhere else?”

“Don’t think so mate,” the one pilfering the food supplies said. “In order to get that bounty, it’s really important you don’t go anywhere .”

“You won’t get any bounty if-”

Tavish was just about to pull the royal pillock card, when his prophecy about someone else taking drastic action came devastatingly true.

However, it wasn’t Jane who slipped from his extortionist’s grasp and began jamming daggers into people's necks.

If Tavish hadn’t been watching he wouldn’t have believed it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marcel melt, his entire body turning to smoke, swirling backwards and appearing behind the bandit. The bandit gurgled as he went down, Marcel flipping his knife and falling into a fencing stance.

“Shapeshifter!” one of the bandits hissed as another rand forward with a roar.

Jane did not waste the distraction. He was up in an instant, dodging inside the range of his horrified guard, knocking him to the ground as, “oorah!” sprang from his lips. He used the tip of his boot to flip the fire’s poking stick into his hands, then promptly rammed it through the prone man’s eye.

The clearing they’d made camp in had devolved to blood and screaming so quickly, so vividly,  Tavish was back on those red banks in an instant. He tried to stay present, to watch as Marcel dispatched another, to notice the next attacker approaching the assassin from behind. He opened his mouth to give warning. Nothing came out.

But it wasn’t a weapon this latest assailant struck Marcel with. It was something he’d pulled from his neck, an iron symbol on a chain, and with it he rammed his fist forward until the pendant clattered against Marcel’s back.

His skin parted around the pendant like it was water, and though Tavish had just heard the screams of dying men thrice in intimate detail, this one was the most horrifying of them all. Marcel spun, clumsily thrusting his blade into the gut of the bandit, but when he fell Marcel made no move out of the way. The last Tavish saw of them was a hulking corpse pinning Marcel to the ground.

Yet when Tavish scrambled to his feet the only thing he could focus on was Jane.

The General had somehow gotten his sword in his hand, a feat Tavish couldn’t even fathom right now. He was locked in single combat with one of the last two bandits, and Tavish knew there were two because the second was swinging a greataxe at Jane’s back.

This time, the lack of logical thought going on in Tavish’s head was a blessing. There was no hesitation as he lunged forward and tackled the bigger man.

It was a miracle the axe didn’t get a hit on him. It was less of a miracle when they both went tumbling into the pit fire, though Tavish would take what he was given. He held the man’s face down into the flames until his hands blistered, and the screaming stopped.

When it was done, he scooted backwards, shaking, and muttered softly, “bloody hell.”

Jane had dispatched his dueling partner with a neat spear through the chest, flicking his blade free of blood before noticing. The prince sat on the ground, staring dumbly at the burning body, watching as the fire thanked him profusely for the fresh fuel.

He felt Jane’s hand squeeze his shoulder. “Well done, soldier.”

The pause for comfort was brief. Jane took one look around the camp and noticed where Marcel’s body was still trapped, and immediately his steely composure disappeared. He rushed over and pushed away the bandit’s corpse.

“Marcel!” he grunted, trying to lift the man to a sitting position.

Man? Was that the right term for a shapeshifter? With all that had gone on, Tavish was only now starting to connect the dots.

Jane found the pendant amongst the gore. “Cold iron,” he muttered in disgust, and tossed it away. Immediately, Marcel stirred, opening his eyes feebly.

“Is he…is he going to be alright?” Tavish found himself asking.

Maybe that was a strange thing to do—worry about a fae, man’s most hated enemy—but for some reason Tavish wasn't afraid. Marcel had probably saved all their lives and, well, he was Jane’s friend. That meant something now, when loyalties were more than red and blue.

“I think so,” Jane said. “I’ve only ever seen it happen once, but I am…reasonably confident it is temporary! Help me get him closer to the fire.”

Tavish helped.

As soon as Marcel was conscious, the abandoned the camp of steel and blood where Tavish had made his first kill. Their traveling pace was slower, and the tension releasing from Jane’s shoulders when they finally crossed the border into Cerulea was palpable. Exactly how bad of a situation they were in was unclear: it didn’t seem that Marcel and Jane’s identities were known to the general populace, but apparently ‘that damn toymaker’ would know at the very least. This Tavish gleaned from Jane and Marcel’s clipped conversations he was only occasionally allowed to overhear.

In a wild swing from the casual threats Marcel had made towards him during the first leg of their journey, he now spent their days crossing the plains of Scarland—the scent of salt grew stronger every day they drew closer to the sea, Tavish didn’t know how anyone could stand it—completely mum. A very obvious attempt to keep Tavish out of the loop, cutting off whatever he was saying whenever Tavish’s horse drew near.

Tavish finally breached that gulf of half a day’s ride away, the spire of architecturally improbable tower just visible on the horizon. “You’re feeding off him, aren’t you? That’s why he can’t remember anything.”

Marcel went stiff in his saddle. Tavish had waited until Jane’s draft had pulled ahead, swaying easily on the unpaved road. Their conversation was, effectively, private.

What little conversation there was. Marcel held up the silence uncompromisingly, like a blanket of protection, and Tavish had almost resigned himself to believing there would be no speaking to the fae, until he finally broke it with a, “yes, but it is not how you think.”

“And how do I think?”

“That stealing the thoughts of mortals is how I power my abilities. That is the faery story you tell in Scarland, is it not? But it is the opposite, really. His memories they….they do not allow me to change, but to stay unchanged, to find something grounded and hold on to that. Without him I would start to…slip. To whatever my own mind wandered to. It is why we do not ‘exist’ for very long.”

The sound of hoofbeats was the only sound  for a while.

Finally, Tavish asked, “does he know?”

Gravely, Marcel looked over the waving wheat of farms along the road, the summer’s harvest waist high and growing. “Once. Once upon a time I made a deal with someone who was full of potential, but hounded by ghosts that held them back. It was beneficial to us both. Now of course he does not remember that promise, nor even being that person who has made such a promise, and I for my part have-” He came to a stop. “I have grown fond.”

“Ach if ever a fae creature was going to grow a soft spot for some barmy mortal, it would be for Jane. He has that effect.”

Marcel looked at him sideways. “You’re oddly chipper after having your worst assumptions about shapeshifters confirmed.”

“Well…you’re Jane’s.”

“His what?”

“Just…his. I guess I am too now. Or always was. Even when he was gone, my heart belonged to him.”

They lapsed. Into silence, into routine, into night as the sun began to sink into yellow waves in the west. Every moment there was something newly off about Marcel, but Tavish didn’t think much of it; he’d said what he’d wanted to say, and now his mind had only thoughts of the future, what they would do when they reached the city.

He didn’t look at the hands twisting in the reigns until Marcel said in rushed tones, “they are going to kill you as soon as we’re inside the palace walls.”

Tavish didn’t have time to reply, didn’t even have time for shock before Marcel hurried on.

“They very very badly need this peace. You reveal yourself, claim you’re eloping with the commander of Blutarch’s armies, it won’t matter how willingly you’ve gone—it will be just the pretense our kingdoms need to reignite the kindling.” He stared straight ahead, delivering each line with cold indifference. “Even your personal best case scenario has you being shipped back to New Ruby in a belated attempt at appeasement; but honestly the council would prefer it if you were killed off quietly and cleanly, before word escaped that you’d been seen in Azure Bay at all.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” Tavish choked. “While we’re in sight of the city walls? And why didn’t you tell Jane this?”

“Don’t think I didn’t. It was the first argument I presented to him, and like always he brushed me off. Jane will and forever be convinced in his own inevitability; no amount of logic will persuade him he can’t handle something when he sets his mind to it.”

“…If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight,” Tavish echoed faintly, dread settling over him.

“To be honest, when it became apparent he would not ditch you, I resigned myself to entering the city anyway. Of course Jane would be upset about your death for a little while, but he’d get over it eventually.”

Tavish glowered.

“I…have revised my stance.” Marcel cleared his throat. “So now do you see? You must turn around. Forget you ever saw us. Avoid a war that will only spawn more ceaseless death.”

Tavish stared ahead. At Jane’s horse in the distance. At Jane’s home that had kept him safe when Scarland couldn’t.

“You told Jane all this?” he said eventually.

“As I mentioned, yes.”

“And he came to a different conclusion. He thinks this will help our kingdoms, not hurt them.”

“You can’t be serious,” Marcel glared. “Jane is—delusional is the kindest of the possible terms—and his judgment is blind to things like his own shortcomings and rational thought. You mustn’t follow him in there.”

“I trust him,” Tavish said, with a certainty that hadn’t hit him until he spoke the words. “With my life, if necessary.”

They entered the palace just as the last of the heaven’s eye dipped below the horizon. Marcel was still trying to convince him, his hushed words, in threats where he grew frustrated. Tavish kept his gaze to Jane’s back. Even as they walked up the great stone steps. Even when he heard the marching of many armored feet closing in behind them.

He saw the muscles in Jane’s jaw tense. Maybe he was expecting it too. He certainly didn’t seem surprised when he turned and saw the guards closing in on them.

They three drew their blades simultaneously, but it was almost funny how obviously ineffective that would be, how many the Cerulean numbers outmatched their own. A single second of consideration crossed Jane’s face, and Tavish watched it stretch an infinite number of heartbeats.

The General turned, standing shoulder to shoulder with Marcel as they faced the oncoming swarm. He looked over his shoulder and told Tavish, “run.”

And there was no way out but in.

His boots slammed against the marble floors of the Azure halls. Again the guilt of what he’d brought upon Jane welled within him, but the screeching pain in his lungs as he sprinted pushed it down. Jane and Marcel might be fine, and Tavish didn’t have that ‘might’. He had to keep running.

He sprinted up spiral staircases and down corridors, all the while swearing the march of footsteps behind him were growing louder. How long could two men against twenty buy him? A few seconds? It wasn’t his imagination, they were gaining and he was slowing, there was nowhere in this bloody palace to hide.

And then.

There was a door.

It was innocuous, hanging open as if laughing at him, strange soot stains caressing the wall where the wood touched stone. And as soon as Tavish passed through it slammed shut behind him.

#tf2 fanfiction

[psychedelicmadness666]

The Long Lost Love of a Friend from School (Part 3)

She told me she had problems with her family. It involved domestic violence. I was saddened by that. We kept in touch. I told her that we should hangout. She agreed. I told her that I still have the notebook of our drawings. She said, "Omg, that made me almost tear me up. I want to see you. When can you hang out"? Along those lines. And of course she just doesn't do that. She wished me a Merry Christmas and all that. 2023 comes by, I sent her a text and it went ignored. I hate it when she does this. I feel like she just ignoring me on purpose. I told her about my sexuality and coming out Bi and my parents were not accepting of that. She told me to move out. I had no money for that. I told her about my suicidal thoughts and she said "don't do it. And that she adores me and that she does not want me dead." A couple of days go by, she was happy to hear that I was going to trade school. Anxiety went back again. I ended up not passing a course. I was very stressed. I smoked tons of marijuana to ease the edge only to make it worse. I talked to her a month later and she said she was busy to hang out. I was understanding now since people are busy. May 2023, she told me that she wanted to and she had a breakdown so she didn't answer the phone. I was worried a little bit. I told her that she should stay alive basically and she ignored me. I sent a text just checking up on her. Again, she ignored me. I started to feel worthless and I felt suicidal now. So, I quit going to school and tried to overdose on cough syrup and ibuprofen. I felt the awful rejection like the rejection in your childhood all over again. This was more of a me thing. I just couldn't take the stress of being ignored anymore. I hated myself and living. I never told her. I went to the hospital and they let me go. She later texted me back on my birthday but not to say happy birthday. I posted something really stupid and it was me dancing with a skeleton. We had a conversation. I don't remember exactly what it was. Next day, I told her we should play Minecraft or something. I later then proceeded to play. It was great! I later took some edibles to ease the anxiety but this ended up being a failure because I started to hallucinate and hear voices. I swore I could hear her say, "you are worthless" but I decided to ignore it because I was confused if it was reality or if it was a hallucination. I later felt uncomfortable and unreal. I heard more voices and then I start to decline more. I started to abuse alcohol. I went to the hospital because I was having suicidal thoughts. I posted a pic on Snapchat that I was in the hospital and then she replied, "Are you ok?". I said, "it's too dark to talk about, I got too drunk." She later said, "I hope you're ok." This was in the beginning of summer. Our last convo was about talking about how people turn their whole personality on Trump and how ridiculous it is. I later never talked to her again. I have mixed feeling about her. A part of me can't help but to fall for her. I feel so stupid for doing so. Sometimes, I wish I can forget about her and there is times where I wish I didn't take things so seriously. I had a lot of traumas and I need to fix them. I'm starting to stop falling for her and just move on. Maybe, kill myself later on or maybe just do something other than doing drugs and being an idiot. Sober up because the drugs are the reason why I feel this way. I'm just scared of her not answering my texts so I just give up. There is no way I can hang out with this woman anymore. I can't share feeling with her without not having a single trust in anyone. I lost her and I have to move on and it hurts. It will always hurt. I liked her but that was years ago. She ignores me and I don't like it. She is always "busy" but not busy to hang out with other friends. I feel invalidated.

Nobody should love me. I am unlovable.

[chuacamille26-blog]

Day 10

24th June, 2022 8:37pm

🎵 Left and Right - Charlie Puth ft Jungkook

I was about to post an update last night but it got deleted out of nowhere and for no reason. My tumblr screen went all white. Then, BOOM! everything I typed were nowhere to be found. Not even on my drafts. Got pissed so just went to use my iPad and started drawing.

Finally, we finally get to hear Jungkook's first solo though he's featuring Charlie Puth. We've been waiting for quite some time since Charlie has been teasing us on his TikTok. TBH, aside from Left & Right, I've been listening to For Youth by BTS a lot. It just hits differently after them announcing their break from group projects. But of course, Yet To Come is very nice song too. I just thought that For Youth isn't getting much recognition that it deserves since it has a deep meaning behind the lyrics. 🤷‍♂️

And, yes. I know I haven't really updated for a few days. Just didn't get enough motivation this past few days. Too exhausted with everything that has been happening around. Ever thought of just escaping and just be somewhere far? travelling and exploring what's there? But, sucks though. Given the fact that the cases here in HK's rising again. I mean, c'mon. obviously people aren't afraid of covid anymore. It has been in our community around the world for 3 years already. People are already burnt out from working their a*s off and not getting their well deserved rest. But, I seriously hope that the gov will reduce the required/mandatory hotel quarantine here or just cancel it. It's too much hassle for everyone. I know a lot of people who wants to go home to the Philippines just to relax and be far from stress. Since, Philippines is already open for travelers as long as they're fully vaccinated (received 3 doses) and they wouldn't be required to get an RTPCR test and there's no mandatory quarantine anymore. I think most of the other countries are already open for travelers and there's no mandatory quarantine anymore. But, here in HK? There's still a mandatory 7 days hotel quarantine. Although, they reduced it from 21 days or 14 days... It's just ridiculous. A lot of us wouldn't want to have our vacation shortened just to have it enough for the quarantine. I mean, our annual leave is 14 days only and we want it to be spent well rather than having it shortened and paying for the hotel quarantine. Most of the hotels for quarantine are fully bookes. I'm not sure about the 5 stars hotel though. But, who would even want to be quarantined in a 5 stars hotel except for the rich people? What we're earning from our job isn't even enough to pay the 7 days quarantine. 🤦‍♀️

Anyway, nothing much happened for the past few days that I haven't updated. Except for, I had a haircut last Tuesday. Goodbye long hair. I miss my long hair though. I did have it cut short but not too short. My hair now is a little below my shoulder. I don't really want it to be that short since I have a round face and I just don't like it when the ends go different ways like an octopus tentacles. 🤣 Main reason for getting a haircut? IT'S TOOOOO HOT here in Hong Kong. The weather here in Hong Kong is freaking unpredictable. Like, really unpredictable. Imagine having a full 2 weeks of thunderstorm. And, now a few days of sun deciding to show up. Also, imagine having the temperature reach 33C + humidity? Jeez, you wouldn't even want to go out anymore. It would be nice to go to the beach or swimming pool though. But, given the fact that I don't have anyone to go with? nvm. lol. Plus, I really hate summer here in HK. Once you get out of the shower, you'll instantly feel that you're already starting to sweat. Also, we're required to wear face mask still. I still don't understand how am I still alive after enduring the heat everyday were I felt like I'm already melting with the heat.

Ok, enough ranting. Took me 30 mins typing this long. Who would even read it? 😂 I'm just here letting out my frustrations and keeping it as my diary. diary? 🤣 oh well...

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

[rinstars]

MELANCHOLY.

PAIRING : Suna Rintarō x Reader

GENRE : Angst. SFW.

TAGS/WARNINGS : Best friends. Mentions of one night stands but nothing detailed or explicit, just literal mentions. Hurt. No comfort. Or maybe a little.

WC : 3.6k+

NOTE : My entry for Violet's (@rintarhoes) "but my feelings" collab hehehe <3 This took a long time because I kept trying to make it as good as I can but in the end idk if I'm satisfied 😭 Anyways I hope you enjoy itttt

It was almost like a reflex—the way your hand reaches to peel your blanket off the moment your alarm rings, your body immediately positioning itself and bracing for the sudden surge of dizziness about to take over your head for a few seconds as a result of standing up so abruptly. The nagging feeling at the back of your head you're so used to ignoring and a voice telling you to just quit it is just as present today too—but you brush it all off.

After all, it's a weekly routine you've gotten used to. And despite the fact that you harbor great love for the way routines help you get your tasks systematically done, you don't suppose you can say the same for this one.

Not that you can do much about it.

Not when it involves Suna Rintarō and the stupid commitment you made. The foolish promise you sealed months ago.

Once you thought of just abandoning him. Maybe leaving him to deal with the troubles he's put himself in—after all, he's grown and it's the consequences of his own actions. But when he pulls you to his lap, hand on your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck, the tip grazing the skin of your jaw with a small thank you, all of your hesitations dissolve into nothing but a little thought you spared for the sake of your wellbeing.

Perhaps you really wouldn't be able to leave him alone, especially knowing how clumsy he can get and how he would probably start being unnecessarily mean had you left him to deal with it. You inwardly laugh at the list of possibilities of excuses he'd come up with and the annoying sting returns back in your chest at the realization of how much you really know about your best friend as a result of spending all these years with him.

You're lucky I love you, you jokingly mused to him one day as you help him change the sheets of his bed, tucking the white linen around the corners of his worn-down mattress.

He looked at you for a moment then, the silence drawing out and you thought—no, hoped, that he was about to say something that could possibly change everything about your relationship. But instead, he opted for a smile at you, breathy chuckle following after as he tells you, Yeah, yeah. Just what would I do without you?

That's probably how it began—his stupid five in five or whatever he calls it.

Five steps in five minutes to help him get rid of his one-night stands who according to him, always seem to have something in store every morning they'd wake up in the same bed. They're very demanding, they think it goes beyond a single night of pleasure—that's why you have to help him. You remember looking at him funny over your shoulder when he suddenly brought it up one night while you were cooking him pasta.

"Why do I have to be involved with those types of affairs?" You frowned at him, stirring the pot as you mix the sauce with the pasta, the sting of the metal on the back of your hand as you accidentally touched it nothing when compared to the sting you desperately avoid in your heart.

"Because you're my best friend," He shrugged at you, popping a cheese in his open mouth while bouncing a knee from his position at the table. "Can't trust anyone else about it, y'know?"

"You can't just tell them to leave?"

"No, princess. I need your help," He smirked at you, arms reaching out to call you on his lap. Turning off the stove, you slowly walk over to him, letting him talk you into something so ridiculous with his slender fingers tapping on your waist. He rests a chin on your shoulder, knee bouncing below your thighs. "Will you help me?"

You hesitated for a moment, sucking in a deep breath while the cogs turn in your head. A lot of things tell you it's a bad idea to see him wake up every morning undressed with another woman equally as bare on the bed he takes you to for movie night.

"Rin," you began slowly, as if testing the waters to see how far you can push him. And if he'll hear you out that way you do him. He hums on your shoulder, lips against the dip connecting your neck and shoulders. "Have you ever thought of just—I don't know, stopping these flings?"

His knee never stops bouncing below you, fingertips still drumming against the thin material of your shirt, and without hesitation, he told you that night, "Of course not," he pressed a kiss to your jaw "It's all good fun, takes my mind off a lot of things."

His keys missing from their usual spot at the front door making you snap back to reality, looking around a bit deeper in the kitchen until you found it on the corner of the table. Fishing it out of its position, you tuck it in your pockets.

Great. As for the third step, he'd have an excuse to not take her home, just like he's always asked you to do.

Maybe you should've given up that night. Even as his hold on you only gets tighter when you lay with him, and his kisses even softer every time he does it, you suppose you probably should've just brushed the thoughts that plague your mind. The what-ifs that keep you up at night might be nothing but false hope after all. It should've been clear to you by now that you wouldn't be more than his best friend—hard as you try to always make him happy.

His insistence to keep sleeping around should've hit the nail on the head, the lack of refusal even in your presence a red flag everyone would've started to avoid by now. Yet your stubbornness refuses to back down. You think maybe you'd rather hear it for yourself, the words that will crush you down to nothing but ashes.

Locking the last room in the house, you sigh on your way to the guest room you sleep in every Friday evening. Now, all that's left to do is wait and as you check the time on your phone. It should almost be time.

As if on cue, the door opens to reveal a disheveled Suna Rintarō, shoulders slacked and feet tripping over itself as he makes his way over to you. You hold him by the forearm as soon as he was within your reach, trying to steady him when he slams his body on top of yours.

"Morning," He mumbles in your neck, your fingers caressing the chocolate locks sprawled all over your chest. Then he sleeps in your neck for a few minutes, light breathing being the only sound in the room along with the occasional ruffle of the sheets when he moves to find a more comfortable position.

Around five minutes after Suna's arrival comes the woman of the night, slamming the door open with a sigh of relief at finally finding an unlocked room. The sight inside however makes her stop in her tracks at the sight of you and Suna on the bed.

You quietly bicker for a few minutes. Her insisting on you to wake him up and drive her home and you telling her to just give it up and go home. The same type of headache you receive every week—but the quiet rumble of Suna's chest against yours when the door closes, his laugh echoing in the room before kissing you on the lips as a sign of gratitude makes you think it's all worth it.

He makes you feel very appreciated, very loved.

Until he suddenly tells you one night that it's fine to not drop by on Friday evening. That he will take care of the morning after himself and for the first time in 6 months he wouldn't need your help. He wouldn't be barging in the guest room at 7 in the morning trying to find escape in your arms as he lets you deal with the aftermath.

He said it so casually too. While he was eating ramen on a convenience store table beside you as you both look over the glass walls to watch the people passing the glistening pavement wet from the rain.

It takes you a beat, or two, or three to respond. Only finding the voice you were starting to lose when he nudges an elbow at you—not to find an answer but to drink from the carton of milk you've long since abandoned. You guess he just assumed you'd immediately get it. After all, there's no reason for you to question it.

Aren't you supposed to be happy? The routine of weekly torture finally setting you free. You wouldn't have to see the face of the next woman he would send to the moon while you endure hearing the noises you didn't even want to imagine on the room just two doors away from his.

You wanted to ask why but you didn't. For now, it might be better to just let it be quietly. Suspicions are the last thing you'd want from him. You believed you'd find the answer sooner or later and he'll laugh to you about how his first experience in kicking a girl he slept with the night before went.

But when curiosity got the best of you and you drove to his house that morning he told you not to—the drop of your heart that seemingly echoed throughout the whole space of your car when the woman you were expecting to retreat from his house alone, comes out instead with a hand around her waist was way louder than any of the alarm that went off in your head every other morning you had been here.

A foolish part of you trusted Suna too much, thinking he probably decided to be a gentleman for once—taking the girls home for the good time they've spent together albeit short.

Yet how do you keep denying what's so painfully clear in front of you?

How do you keep averting your eyes at her face all over his Instagram stories, slowly taking over the ones he shared of you? What other position do you have in the life of someone whose time is now spent with someone other than you?

He tells you all about her like he doesn't hear your heart splitting into two with every word that falls from his lips—those you wish to hear for yourself but never do. He asks you out to join them on a picnic date, come over for a movie night, like he doesn't see the sting behind your eyes and the sudden glisten of your irises. Maybe he doesn't, maybe he does. And as long as you are concerned, you can't show more than you already did.

Suna had a way of looking at you and knowing exactly what lies beneath the surface you're trying so hard to maintain and you're afraid if you give him enough chance to dive deeper, he'd rip you open piece by piece until there's nothing left of you.

So you distance yourself from him.

Slowly but efficiently. The excuses you make all but reused and unbelievable but you figured he wouldn't care that much when he has another company to keep his bed warm. He wouldn't look for your kisses or the feel of your arms around his neck or his hands resting on the curve of your waist. Not when he gained more than he lost.

"Everyone hates me," you grumbled to him one day back in uni, one of his arms around your shoulders while he uses the other to suck on his blueberry flavored chuupet. "The girls in your class won't stop giving me the death glares."

"Who cares? Just don't pay attention to them," he shrugged at you, releasing the stick with a pop.

"They think I'm taking you from them."

"Too bad," he kept walking, fingers absentmindedly twirling the hairs falling on your shoulders before lightly tapping on your cheeks—offering the chuupet that was once resting on his tongue to you. "I'm all yours."

He shrugged at the questioning look you gave him, small smile playing on his lips as he waits for you to take it on your mouth. When you do, he laughs at you, arms around you tugging you closer to him. Only when you take your eyes off him did you notice the girls starting to take their eyes off you and Suna.

Looking back at it now, you think it was foolish you even thought that Rin was trying to make a statement, trying to prove a point among the many others who wanted to go after both you and him—hoping to seal a spot in your lives. But the ache in your chest now seems too true to be a mistake.

The first few weeks avoiding him were the hardest. Especially when you see the efforts he's taking in trying to spend more time with you. More than anything, it's probably the guilt eating him up seeing as he's suddenly a lot more preoccupied with someone he didn't even bother telling you about until you noticed just how serious he actually is with her.

He'd stop sleeping around too. Atsumu and everyone else in your friend group taking notice and asking you for the details they couldn't get out of Suna himself.

"I don't know anything, 'Tsumu," you sigh at him for the nth time, digging in your cheesecake at the café you're so used to going with everyone.

"What do you mean?" The blonde guy across groans at you, arms crossed as he continues pushing for whatever. "He's your best friend."

"Well I guess not, seeing as I also know nothing about this," you glare at him with a sigh, sitting back on the chair to close your eyes as you feel a headache creeping up your head.

Sure, you know her name, her face, the kind of dates he takes her to but Suna never really let you in anything more than that. How he met her, what she is to him, who she even really is, what's so special about her? And you respected that privacy and intimacy he shared with her.

You just thought maybe you meant more to him and he trusted you enough to let you in on things like he once did.

"Doesn't he seem pretty serious with her, though? I keep seeing her face everywhere."

"Probably," you blink away the sting in your eyes, quickly sipping from your drink to calm yourself down. "It's none of my business."

He stopped trying to text you after two weeks. And it would be a lie to say it stopped hurting and made things better for you. Despite it being the best choice, you can't help but wonder if that's how things will end for both of you.

Sure, you felt it was also unfair for him how you distanced yourself just because he started catching affections for another woman but the smiling faces staring back at you on your phone screen, almost like a mocking response to your miserable face, tells you he's doing just fine.

Trips to the convenience store a few blocks away from your house lack the usual joy you used to get when you walk to it with him by your side, thumb caressing the back of your hand while you walk through the dimly lit street with flickering post lights.

You thought you couldn't possibly feel worse as you caught the sight of the last pack of chuupets sitting alone on the shelf where there used to be tens of them. But as you reach to grab it for yourself along with another hand reaching the same time as yours, you decide you definitely could feel worse at the sight of the fingers you could tell apart probably even from a single glance.

Despite your resistance to look, it was your own reflex that betrayed you—eyes snapping up to meet the golden-green ones you haven't seen in weeks.

He's beautiful. Just as disheveled as you remember him to be but the night has always looked good on him. The fluorescent lights reflecting on his pale skin, eyes darker and pupils blown. The rings on his fingers seem so much more beautiful than what you remember it to be. The stupid chain on his neck that never failed to catch your hair still hanging on his chest.

He looks even more beautiful with her.

You didn't even need to try and recognize her face. There was no question with the number of times you've seen her all over your screen and the way Suna grips her fingers against his—thumb caressing the back of her hands like he once did to you.

She looks at you curiously, like you haven't even been brought up in the stories he tells her. Either that or she, too, wonders why you've gone out of his life when you've always been in it.

"You can take it," you whisper at them, eyes on Suna as you softly smile at him.

He doesn't even look at the candy, eyes on you as he gently exhales, "No, it's fine. We— I can just look somewhere else." He stops himself like he knows the reason why you're so far from him.

Shaking your head, you reach for the pack, thrusting it to his free hand. "It's your favorite, Suna. It's fine."

A look flashed in his eyes at his last name spilling out of your lips, but it's gone just as soon as it appeared. If you didn't know him any better, you would probably even think this was boring for him—nothing but a stupid exchange on who should take the last candy on the shelf.

"It's your favorite too."

A beat passes.. then two, until your eyes are stinging, making you swallow the lump that keeps growing in your throat. With a bite on your lip, you're pretty sure he knows what's happening by now. The sharp inhale you took being the final straw for Suna as he wraps a hand around your wrist—firm but hesitant at the same time.

"Y/N I—"

"It doesn't matter, Suna," you shake your head at him, the tears starting to blur your vision and you thought fuck it, well now he definitely knows what's up with you. You glance over his shoulder, she's staring at both of you with a look on her face. "She's waiting for you."

He tries. He really does. Especially when the woman behind her puts a hand on his shoulder, he really tries—to just give up something he knew he already lost and just leave with the woman he's always been spending his time with. But he knew the look of contemplation that passed his face was too real, much too real. And it feels even more genuine than the feelings he's been forcing himself to believe.

"I just need a minute," he almost pleads, voice quiet like he doesn't want her to hear him. "Please."

"Don't make it harder for me," you choke out, eyes landing on her whose face has a shocked look on it. Only then did you notice the warm liquid falling over your cheeks, and when you look back at Suna, he stares at you with furrowed brows—almost as if he's just as pained to see you like this.

Wrapping your other hand around his wrist, you pull him away from his hold on you. Face nothing but a reflection of the regrets eating out at your chest, the multitude of maybes and what-ifs that plague your mind.

His arm falls defeated on his side, jaw clenching as you try putting the pack of jelly sticks back at his hand. He looks away from you, grip on the plastic loose like the appetite he had for it earlier has disappeared.

Turning your back to him after a quick bow at the poor woman caught in what she would imagine as a simple best friend affair, you grit your teeth, mouth parting to say what would probably be the last thing you'll say to him in a while—at least until you feel stronger to face the raging emotions that never seem to calm down inside you.

"I miss you," you sniffle as quietly as you can. "Please be happy."

Even if it's without me.

Nothing is clear, not to you, not to him. His feelings didn't make sense and yours didn't to him either. He had words to say but they never seem to roll off his tongue as easily as they should be.

He misses you too, he wanted to say. So much that he wants to drive out of the park he's sitting in with her, chuupet in hands as the woman beside him tells a story during college. So much that the cold breeze barely does anything to affect him despite the thin material of the shirt he's wearing.

Looking up at the night sky he decides maybe counting all the stars would be easier than trying to find out whatever the fuck is going on in his head and picking up the leaves which have fallen over from the trees is way better than trying to make sense of your relationship.

All he does know, however, is the bitterness of the jelly fruit stick resting on his tongue. The longer it sits there the more he wants to spit it out, the more he eats the more he feels like gagging—yet beside him is a pile of the wrapper staring at him and his idiocy.

All he's certain of is that nothing ever tasted the same these past few weeks, and that the chuupet he loved eating with you seems to be the thing he hates the most now—even as he eats it with the woman he swears he loves.

🏷 : @kageyamakock @basicallystillafetus @kililovesqueen @nozomiasl @moonlightaangel @mysticstrawberryballoon @devilgirlcrybabiey @fairyxkisses

#butmyfeelings.collab #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #suna x reader #suna x you #suna angst #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou angst #suna rintarou fic #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro angst #hq x reader #hq angst #hq x you

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol 

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest 

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

-- 

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly. 

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow. 

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way. 

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted. 

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever. 

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.” 

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.” 

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?” 

He can never know. “Obviously.” 

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.” 

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way? 

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.” 

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.” 

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this. 

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.” 

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.” 

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?” 

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.” 

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way. 

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat. 

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.” 

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.” 

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.” 

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?” 

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.” 

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again. 

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier. 

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

 Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me. 

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve. 

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?” 

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?” 

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.” 

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?” 

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.” 

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm. 

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning. 

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?” 

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively. 

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?” 

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent. 

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.” 

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame. 

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one. 

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.” 

Understanding? “What is there to understand?” 

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable. 

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea. 

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.” 

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected. 

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.” 

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.” 

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?” 

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?” 

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words. 

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure. 

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?” 

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly. 

“What kind of punishment?” 

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?” 

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.” 

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?” 

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.” 

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip. 

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.” 

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it. 

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down. 

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--” 

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.” 

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin. 

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical. 

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn. 

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.” 

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion. 

“Kirigan.” 

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his. 

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity. 

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off. 

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am. 

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.” 

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.” 

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines. 

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips. 

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?” 

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want. 

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential. 

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.” 

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly. 

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat. 

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more. 

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible. 

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.” 

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.” 

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it.  My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out. 

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.” 

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking. 

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.” 

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together. 

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs. 

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?” 

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back. 

--

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