#yay i finished this way earlier than i thought i would

[nadvs]

cam girl (part eleven)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

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Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.

He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.

And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.

Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.

His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.

He still doesn’t know how you do that.

Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.

You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.

Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.

He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.

He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.

“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.

“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”

He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.

“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.

You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.

“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”

That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.

“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”

Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.

He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.

So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.

“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.

You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.

“Please?”

Did he really just say that?

The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.

“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.

His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.

“Come here,” he says.

“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?

He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.

It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.

“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.

“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”

“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.

“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”

Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.

“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.

He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.

Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.

You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.

You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.

“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.

“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”

He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.

You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.

He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.

The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.

You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.

When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.

You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.

You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.

Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.

He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.

Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.

He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.

You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.

“Why?” you whine, needy.

“Sit on my face,” he orders.

You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.

You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.

When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.

The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.

Rafe shoves away the thought.

He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.

Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.

“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.

“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you tell him.

“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.

“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”

Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.

“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”

You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.

His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.

Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.

Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.

When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.

Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.

“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”

You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.

“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.

Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?

He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.

But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.

୨ᰔ୧

You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.

When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.

His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.

But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.

The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?

You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.

You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.

After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.

You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.

Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.

You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.

“You should be careful.”

You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” you ask.

“I overheard him talking about you.“

“Sorry?” you repeat.

“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.

He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”

The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.

Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.

You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.

“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.

“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.

Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?

You’ve been found out.

“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”

“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”

“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.

“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.

“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.

“Just say it.”

“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”

This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.

“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.

“They all just laughed.”

Your heart sinks.

Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.

For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.

“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”

“Yup,” you reply, walking away.

You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.

This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.

When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.

You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?

Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.

After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.

Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.

Rafe: where are you?

You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.

You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

{ read part twelve here }

#yay i finished this way earlier than i thought i would #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and readef #rafe cameron and y/n

[rimunagenius]

Off Day

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

ʚ word count: 2.6k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! angst, creepy!stalker-ish!classmate, harassment, some fluff at the end

ʚ ri speaks: okay so i literally just dropped part one and the masterlist and right after i literally wrote this part! i literally pulled this series out of my ass last night…pardon my french. so i finished the masterlist and first part last night and so far, the feedback im getting is really good so…yay!☺️ anyways, this part is a little dark? but trustttt it will be resolved soon.

Part 2

| Series Masterlist |

You desperately wanted to crawl back into bed, get back under the cool covers, and just lie there until the world ended. Or until Kate got home. Either way, you wanted to be anywhere but class.

Something about today was so off. You woke up and did your routine like any normal day. Kate left earlier than you but came back right before you left. You left her breakfast or lunch, whatever she decided to classify it as on the counter, and said you'd see her later at practice. That was 3 hours ago.

But today you had an exam in your anatomy class. This class was easy but you just did not want to be there because of Nick. Ever since a couple of days ago when you told Kate what went down between him and Gabbie, he's been relentless in getting the details of "your and Kate's relationship." You didn't want to tell him it wasn't Kate because you'd rather have to pretend to date her than anyone in California. Especially the girls you knew.

Something about Nick was off so you weren't going to pick a random girl in your following on Instagram. Knowing him, he'd probably stalk the poor woman. You just wanted to skip this class altogether. You hoped this line in the coffee shop on campus would move faster to possibly find a seat where other people could fill in around you before he could.

"Hey!" You turned your head, pulled one airpod out of your ear, and smiled at the brunette next to you. Her name was Juliana and you had class with her in like ten minutes.

"Oh, my god, hi!" You put the AirPod back in its case, abandoning the tranquility for the rest of whatever conversation was going to ensue.

"Not to be nosy or get in your business, and I really don't want to make you uncomfortable, but that guy over there keeps staring at you." She pointed her finger, subtly, in the direction behind her. You got to be fucken kidding…Nick. "He's been saying things to people in anatomy, saying you guys are talking, and how he doesn't like how you're too close to Kate. Or something like that, it's all unclear. But I found it weird and thought you should know." Her face looked genuinely concerned. Her eyes went soft as she looked at your expression change from friendly to somewhat terrified.

"Oh, my god. Thanks for telling me. I don't even know him. He's asked me out a couple of times but I rejected him. Who is he telling? Do a lot of people know?" You asked her. Your hands started to get clammy, as you started to move to the pick-up counter, your name being called; your drink ready.

"I honestly have no idea, but if anyone asks just tell them you're in a relationship." Juliana suggested, unsure of how to handle the whole situation.

"Yeah, I thought he'd leave me alone when my friend Gabbie had said I was seeing someone already. He automatically assumed it was my best friend Kate." You really thought this was behind you. This was probably the bad feeling you've been feeling all day.

"Oh, so you're not dating Kate?" Juliana asked, her face lightening up.

"No, but she said she was okay with going along with it to keep him away from me. Why? You like her?" You had no idea she swung that way. She usually talked about boy drama whenever you guys did group work in your class.

"Uh, no. But if she decides to start seeing someone and needs to drop the whole "fake girlfriend" thing, you can definitely ask me. I'm happy to help." She smiled warmly at you. You were very grateful for her willingness to help.

"Oh, okay. Thank you so much!" Her friend then called her over, and you both said goodbye. You had already made it to your class. Juliana keeping you company the whole way. You walked in and took a seat, pulling out your phone. You figured you could text Kate and let her know that if Juliana was willing to help, you'd relieve her of her duties. You also wanted to catch her up on what the hell went down in the coffee shop.

"you will not believe what just happened..."

almost instantly, her response bubble popped up.

"omg, what?"

"a friend in my anatomy class came up to me in better buzz and told me some guy was staring at me"

"what guy? are you okay?"

"and the guy was Nick!"

"oh..."

"apparently he's telling people me and him are talking but doesn't like how me and you are so close"

"wtf. are you serious?"

"did you tell her that me and u were together?"

"ab that...she said she would be down to be my "girlfriend" if I needed it. so I was thinking I would just tell ppl that me n her are together, so that way you're not dragged into this mess lol"

"Oh."

"okay for sure."

"I gtg. I'll see you later at practice!"

"alright, see you later. love you!"

" 'bear <3 loved "alright, see you later. love you!" "

Usually, she said it back. You, Kate, and all the girls got in the habit of saying 'love you' to one another because it was true. You all loved each other so dearly. None of you had shame in how you felt about one another and how close you held each other to your hearts. But you just decided to brush it off, she was probably just super busy. 

You honestly had no idea why your mind told you to read into everything she's been saying and texting you, lately. I was seriously getting unhealthy with how much you worried about what she thought about you. You were lost in thought before someone took a seat next to you. Assuming it was Juliana because she was just outside with her friends, you turned to tell her that if she was down to be your "girlfriend." You were pretty startled to see it wasn't her but Nick instead. 

"So, how have you been?" He asked. Something about him seemingly so off. You didn't like the feeling you got around him at all. You noticed his gaze following you out of the shop with Juliana ten minutes ago. You looked around the room, the spots in the class filling up quickly. You saw Juliana walk in, but before you could get her attention, Nick moved into your line of sight and prevented anyone from coming between you two. 

"Uh, good?" You looked down at your phone trying to find anything to keep you looking as uninterested as possible. 

"That's it? Nothing else to say to me?" He seemed to be growing more irritable with the short responses. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, I didn't want to talk to you anyway." You looked at him, wishing he'd go away. You didn't want to say it out loud and catch the attention of everyone around you. 

"Oh, now that's not nice. That's no way to talk to your boyfriend." He said, a weird smile encroaching on his lips. You did not like this at all. You were genuinely starting to get scared. You pulled up Juliana's number, thankful you asked for it last week so you could send her the notes she missed. 

"911. he's starting to really freak me out." 

You sent the message and immediately Nick asked who you had been texting. "Can you please, for the love of god, leave me alone? I'm seeing someone." The smirk on his face dropped, a cold stare being directed right at you. 

"No, you're not. You're seeing me." 

"No, she's not you creep. She's my girlfriend." Juliana then sat on the opposite side of you, staring Nick down. Nick's face flushed, his eyes looking at a few people who had turned around to see what was going on. She placed a hand on your leg.

It wasn't long after your exam and when the class was dismissed that Nick approached you again. He tried to talk to you, you just want to get straight to the Carver stadium. No students that weren't on the team or staff weren't allowed in. You just needed to get there as quickly as possible. 

"Hey! Stop ignoring me." Nick semi-shouted at you. You had put both airpods in, trying to tune him out. It wasn't until he tried to grab your arm and pull you back from walking away from him that you turned around ready to blow up before your saving grace came up to both of you. 

"Hey, man! Watch the fuck out. I don't know who you think you are but you are not gonna put your hands on my friend like that. Not like that, not now, and not ever." Hannah, with the hand she had placed on his arm to throw it off you, pushed him back a little before putting her arm around your shoulder and walking away from him. "That was fucking weird. You know that guy?" She looked back to see if he was still there, and indeed he was. Watching you both walk in the direction towards the arena. 

"No, actually. He's a fucking creep who asked me out a couple of times and took it horribly. He's been harassing me for a little. He was staring at me while I was getting coffee before my class like two hours ago." You said, calming down significantly since Hannah showed up. But your stomach was still uneasy and you really did not want to go to that class tomorrow or ever until he was gone and far away from Iowa City. 

"Yeah, don't walk around campus alone anymore. I'll come to find you after every—what class is this?" 

"Anatomy." 

"Okay, after every one of your anatomy classes, I'll come to find you and we can go to practice together. Do you have friends that know what classes you have and can walk you?" Now that you think about it, Juliana was in a lot of your classes. She wanted to do nursing so most classes you had in the week, were with her. 

"Yeah, funny story. The girl that's pretending to be my girlfriend to keep that guy away, which he obviously doesn't give a damn about, is in a lot of my classes. And it works out because the ones she's not in, Kate takes me because they're on her way." You smiled at the tall girl, grateful. 

"Okay, good. I don't want you getting stalked and possibly worse because of that guy. You should report him before it gets too bad." Hannah suggested, and rightfully so. 

"Yeah, I will. Thanks again, Hannah."

The girls' practice was going well. Until it wasn't. 

"Hey, you got a minute?" You were organizing gauze and wraps in the med bag behind the bench before you looked up and saw Kate holding her nose. 

"Yes, of course, Kate. Another one?" You looked at the girl as she walked around the bench and you handed her a towel. She broke her nose every year, you and Caitlin swore on it. You grabbed some gauze squares and put them in each nostril, to absorb as much blood as possible before you completely ruined the towel. 

"Don't tilt your head back. It could cause clots." You knew she already knew that with how prone Kate was to bloody noses. But it never hurts to refresh her mind, as it is instinct to stop the bleeding. 

"Yeah, thanks." You and Kate stood there while the bleeding stopped. "Alright, I think I'm good." She said a small smile on her face. You saw some blood on her shirt, grabbing the small bottle of peroxide in the bag, and a small gauze pad, you tried to soak as much of it out so it was easier for her when she did laundry. Suddenly your phone started buzzing. A new notification every second. 

"Jeez, who is blowing up your phone?" Kate asked, as she looked at your screen lighting up and watching the notifications pop up one by one.

"I don't know. Can you check?" You asked as you tried to get the last spot of blood off her clothes. 

"It's Instagram. Someone named Nick? Is it that same Nick guy Hannah said harassed the fuck out of you today?" She set your phone down. Your stomach immediately churning. You were honestly getting the creeps. 

"Oh my god. She told you?" You asked as you looked into Kate's eyes. Both of yours mirroring each other. The same worried look. 

"Yeah, and I'm glad she did. You need to say something. Or I can if you're not comfortable." Kate suggested. Now six more new notifications popped up, all from Nick. "I'll block him for you." She said, picking up your phone but stopping to look at you. Her eyes silently asking if that was okay with you.

"Yeah, please." You sighed as you threw the gauze squares away, putting the peroxide back before watching Kate block Nick. On your main and spam account. You have no idea how he found you; your name isn’t in the usernames. You really should go private and change your message settings. "Alright lemme check your nose though, to make sure it's not broken." There was absolutely no need to do this. You knew it was probably just a simple elbow or ball to the face. You both would've known if it was broken. 

"Alright." She sat on the bench, signature manspread. Good lord. You stood between her legs, putting pressure on different parts of her nose, checking for any indication of pain. It was a little tender but that was obvious, and so was you making an excuse to keep Kate a little longer. I mean, could she blame you? You haven't seen her much in the last couple of days. Late practices you missed for studying for your exam, her leaving earlier than you and by the time you get home she's either asleep or visiting her nephew. You missed your best friend.

You could see her looking at you as you checked. Your eyes meet once or twice, small giggles escaping your lips every time. Her eyes dropping to your lips occasionally, watching your tongue poke out a little as you focused on the task at hand. That made her giggle too. "Okay, bear. You're good." You kissed the top of her head and patted her shoulder before she stood up and ran back to the court. 

"If I roll my ankle, do I get a cute nickname and a kiss too?" Caitlin shouted as she pretended to throw herself on the ground. You laughed at her antics loudly before nodding your head and yelling yes. You laughed harder as she pretended to limp towards you. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna need like ten kisses to make this unbearable pain go away."  She fakes winced as she took a seat in the spot Kate was previously in, resting her "injured" foot on the chairs next to her. 

"Oh for sure, Cait." You laughed.

Suddenly, Sydney, Kylie, Jada, and Gabbie, hobbled over pretending to be injured to get their kisses too. "You need one too, Coach Bluder?" You shouted after you made your way through half the lineup. You made the assistant coaches laugh, including Coach herself. The practice was better after that, but you just couldn't shake the events from today off. 

Maybe another movie night with Kate would fix this. A lot of ice cream must be eaten tonight. Just one night, peaceful, and Nick free.

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #kate martin fanfic #iowa wbb x reader #iowa hawkeyes x reader #iowa hawkeyes #iowawbb x reader #caitlin clark iowa #caitlin clark #hannah stuelke #gabbie marshall #jada gyamfi #sydney affolter #kate martin is so cutie #god i love kate martin #kate martin is indeed my gf #i love kate martin #she is my wife #real #sapphic wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw blog #wlw #rimunagenius writes ! #and they were roommates #series

[heavenlyvision]

ahh yay !! okay sooo… vamp!Tomas x fem!reader where tomas and the reader both like each other but never really said anything because they are both shyyy but after tomas gets turned by nitara tomas becomes a lot more cockier and confident causing him to cockily confess his feelings !! (smut? 🤍)

ty lovely and ofc have a good day/night <3

I love this request! I have written far more for it than I initially thought I was going to, I got carried away and couldn’t stop writing. I hope you like it anon! Thank you for gracing my inbox <333 sorry it took me so long to fulfil this request. I wish you a lovely day/night and I hope this lives up to your expectations :)

Dearest

Wc: 6k

Pairing: Vamp!Tomas x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angsty for like a minute, thigh grinding, cunnilingus (over the panties 🤭), p in v sex, creampie, spanking (1), I think that is all :)

Harbouring an unrequited crush for a man that you would describe as one of your closest friends is one of the most difficult things you’ve had to do in your adult life, and you have not had an easy life. So, it feels a little bit ridiculous how trying this has been for you.

Tomas is someone you hold in high regard, his skills, his generosity, his kindness in spite of his losses, you could ramble on about him and all the reasons you like him forever. Unlucky for his brother Kuai Liang, that means you torture him with your seemingly endless growing affections.

“He brought me back my favourite–”

“–Yes, I know, I was there with him.” Kuai Liang sighs, this is the third time you’ve brought up Tomas in the last ten minutes.

Tomas had brought you back your favourite baked goods on his last trip into town, it made your chest feel full with how kind the action was. He remembered your favourite treat, and he went out of his way to get it. He thinks about you, even when you aren’t with him.

“I’m sorry Kuai, I’m just really happy.” You feel embarrassed about how much you’re gushing, but you can’t help it. There is no one else you can talk to about this, and you need to talk about it with someone.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he smiles apologetically at you, “but you know, you should just tell him how much you like him.”

“I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t like me back? And then I’ve ruined our friendship over my silly feelings.” There’s too much for you to lose if you confess to him.

Kuai Liang refrains from a deep eye roll, he’s about to say something but Tomas walks up to you both.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” He’s just finished some training with Hanzo, he looks tired.

Kuai sits and says nothing, waiting for you to answer him, “We’re just hanging out, drinking tea.” You motion the teacup up at him to see.

He nods his head, smiling at you, “Got enough for me?”

Kuai pours him a cup before getting up, “I’ve got to go meet with Harumi, thanks for the tea.” He nods his head down at you and pats Tomas on the shoulder as he walks away.

“Thank you,” you tell him in reference to the gift he brought back.

He moves to sit down next to you on the bench, “No thanks necessary, I knew it was your favourite, and I was in the area.”

He lied just now, Kuai had told you that they would’ve been home an hour earlier, but he went out of his way to find your favourite bakery.

You take a sip of your tea, smiling into the cup and humming your reply to him.

You ask, “How did training go?”

“Well, Hanzo is improving fast, I am sure it won’t take him long to beat me in a fight,” he chuckles, his pride in Hanzo displayed in it.  

“I am sure he could, though I am sure I could beat you in a fight too.” You’re teasing, you are capable but not on par with Tomas.

He smiles at you, “You probably would win but I think that’s because you would play dirty.”

“Absolutely,” he knows you too well, any way to win.

You both sit and drink tea while talking, until you run out of tea, and then you’re both just talking. It gets late quickly but you both never seem to run out of things to say, and even when you do, you’ll say anything just to be able to talk to him for a little bit longer.  

“I should probably head to bed now, it’s getting late,” you tell Tomas, hours have passed since he sat down.

He looks into your eyes, like he has something pressing to tell you but eventually settles on saying, “Okay, thank you for tea.”

“Thank you for my treats,” you lean into his side, and he holds you there. Both engaged in a side hug.

“You are most welcome, dearest.”

The way he calls you dearest makes your heart rate spike; he makes you feel like you are genuinely dear to him, and it makes you giddy.

You move past it, “I will see you tomorrow?” you ask him, mouth muffled in his shirt.

He replies, “Yes but it might be late, Kuai and I both have to help Lui Kang with something.”

So vague with his missions, trying to shield you from the truth you suppose. You always end up asking Kuai about them anyways, and he tells you, so there isn’t really any point in keeping it from you. It’s sweet that he cares to try though.

“Be safe.” You tell him.

“Always.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

That was the last time you saw Tomas, he left for his mission and Kuai came back alone. It’s something that haunts you, you remember how distraught you were. You were told he was turned by Nitara, which means he’s out there somewhere, you just don’t know where. Don’t know what he’s doing. But your home feels empty and lifeless these days.

All you do is spend the days waiting for the next, an endless, mind-numbing cycle. Kuai and Harumi visit you often, checking in on you, making tea. They’re worried about you, you know that. But you’re worried about Tomas.

Lui Kang and Kuai Liang have been putting a copious amount of effort into finding Tomas, wanting to help him, but Tomas doesn’t want to be found. And he’s making it abundantly clear. Leaving a trail of half dead people, that have messages from him, telling them to stop looking.

This isn’t something you learnt from Kuai; you’ve heard the whispers in the village about it though. Kuai has now picked up Tomas’ old habit of not telling you the extent of things, but you can read between the lines. Tomas is moving closer to the Shirai Ryu’s village, for what reason you don’t know but you feel conflicted about it. You want to see him, but he is not Tomas anymore, not really. Not the man you…

…The bond between yourself and Tomas had always been unbreakable, at least you thought it had been. With the way things are now, you don’t know who will be standing in front of you, if you ever see him again.

Due to Tomas’ movements getting closer to the village people have been assigned to keep tabs on you. Kuai hasn’t said anything, but people roam outside your house now, frequently. All hours, they will stroll by, you think they aren’t meant to be noticed but when you live with ninja’s long enough, you start to notice them. You appreciate the consideration, but it’s not needed, even if he does show, you’ll handle it yourself.

There’s a knock on your door, three polite raps against the solid wood. Right on time, 3pm in the afternoon. Every day, you get visited by Kuai, sometimes with Harumi, sometimes with Hanzo, but more often than not, alone.

Sighing you move from your couch to the door and pull it open, “Afternoon, Kuai.”

You pull it open the whole way, allowing his large frame to move past you. He walks into the kitchen and starts boiling some water.

“Good afternoon,” he replies.

The afternoon with him carries out the same way it has for the past couple months, he talks to you, trying to get you to open up. You turn it on him and try to get him to talk, about how he’s feeling, about Tomas’ last sighting, his plans for if they find him. But just like yourself, he doesn’t disclose anything. So, you both end up drinking tea in silence, mention the weather and then part ways.

Some days he is more stubborn than others, he stays longer, pushing you harder, he’s feeling that way this afternoon.

“I know you must be upset and missing him; you can talk to me about him, it might help.” He presses you; he’d love to hear you talk about Tomas the way you used to.

It makes you sad to talk about him though, “I don’t have anything to say Kuai, you know that.”

“That is a little hard to believe,” there is humour in his voice, it pulls a small smile from you.

It is rather ironic, going from never being able to shut up about him, to never talking about him.

“I appreciate the concern, but I am fine,” you lie.

He knows and he looks at you, eyebrow raised, “You are not.”

“No… I’m not but neither are you.”

“I suppose not.” He sighs and takes a sip of his tea.

You think now is your time to mention, “Could you stop sending people to watch my house, it’s annoying and unnecessary.”

“I think it necessary,” he shoots back, but he caves a little, “I will send less and less frequently, but they will still watch out for you.”

You go to argue further, “I really don’t think it’s–”

“–I am not willing to compromise further on this matter.” He cuts you off.

“Fine.” You concede, too tired to argue with him. Always too tired.

He seems pleased with the progress he’s made with you though, finally getting you to budge the slightest bit. Admitting that you are not fine is enough for him today. He leaves with no argument, and you sit back on your couch, enjoying your solidarity.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

You’re in the shower when you hear someone rummaging around your living room, annoying, you think to yourself. It’s probably someone checking on you, though it’s odd they’re inside your house.

Wrapping yourself in a towel, you move through the ensuite and into your bedroom. Locating the sword you keep hung on the wall, if it’s not someone checking up on you, you may need protection. You pull it down, keeping it sheathed. Slowly you move towards the living area where the noise is coming from.

You sneak through the house as quietly as possible and come up behind the intruder, hands on the sword, ready to unsheathe it and strike if necessary. But then you realise the silhouette of the intruder is very familiar.

He turns around and faces you, a faux shocked look on his face, pretending to be frightened by you holding a sword.

Your voice comes out far more timid than you would’ve liked, “Tomas?”

“Ah, you caught me.” He holds his arms up in surrender, sly grin plastered on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to visit you, dearest.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, as if he’s questioning you questioning his presence.

Your eyes squint at him, “Don’t call me that.”

“You never use to mind it,” his face twists into a fake sad expression.

You’re still in an attack stance, “That was then, I don’t know who you are now.”

“Please put the sword down, it really isn’t frightening, especially since you’re in nothing but a towel.” His eyes look you up and down, appreciating your scantily clad body in a fluffy towel.

Your lip pulls up into a grimace, “Don’t look at me, turn around.”

He waves a hand at you dismissively, “Chill out, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Why are you here?” You’re quick to reply.

His presence is genuinely confusing, he didn’t want to be found by his own brother, but he came back here to break into your house and look at your living room furnishings?

“Like I said, I’m here to see you, I’ve missed you dearly… dearest.” He flashes you a cheeky smile.

He’s different, not right, not… himself. It’s uncanny and off putting to you. He is not the same kind man you called your best friend.

“I don’t believe you.”

His smile drops, “I know, but I’m not lying.”

He moves towards you, but you take a step back, hand pulling on the handle of the sword, ready to unsheathe it. He stops at your reaction; and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I really am not going to hurt you, I wanted to give you that,” his head motions towards your side table, your favourite baked goods sitting atop it.

Your eyes round in shock, why would he go to the effort? You stop your thoughts before they get too hopeful, he could be trying to lure you into a false sense of security, and it might work. He looks mostly the same, not quite right but his likeness is there. He’s pale, bloody, an odd marking on his forehead, and fangs you can spot when he speaks, but the same.

It’s confusing you; you want to be happy to see him, but you don’t want to let yourself feel it if he isn’t quite right. If he’s going to hurt you or worse. You are happy he’s alive though, there might be a way to help him.

“Why did you bring me that?” You ask, also motioning towards the treats on the table.

“Because they’re you’re favourite,” he shrugs, “can you please put the sword down, this is getting a bit ridiculous.”

You have a baffled look on you face, “You’re the one breaking and entering??”

“Hey! I didn’t break anything.” He looks offended, hand on his chest. He sighs and rolls his eyes again, “I don’t know what to offer you here to make you feel better, dear.”

“I don’t really know either.” You consider what would make you feel better about him, other than him leaving. “Getting dressed… would make me feel better.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” He’s flirting with you, brazenly.

“Stay here… or leave… but don’t follow me.”

He has a bored look on his face, but he shrugs in agreeance.

At his reaction you begin backing away slowly, watching him as you leave the room. He tilts his head curiously at you as you do.  When you can no longer see him, you shuffle quickly to your room.

You rustle through drawers to find clothes, settling on pants and a t-shirt. Something you can move around in if you end up having to defend yourself. You pick up your sword and exit your bedroom.

As you come back into the living area you see him sitting on an armchair in the corner, the one facing your larger couch. You move around the furniture to sit on said couch facing him. Your posture a stark contrast to his, you’re sitting up straight and alert. While he is lounging, legs spread wide, spine reclined against the back of the armchair. He’s fully relaxed and you’re… not.

“Still have the sword I see,” he notes.

Your grip tightens on the hilt, “I am not ready to trust you.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you would be.” His head rolls to the side quickly, listening, “are you expecting guests?”

You know what he’s hearing, your friendly watchers must be coming by to check on you.

“Kuai Liang started assigning people to come by my house, I didn’t understand why previously, I do now.” You reply casually with a wave of your hand.

“Mmm, he is taking care of you?” His question seems loaded, like he might be simultaneously pleased and displeased at the same time, no matter your response.

“Yes, he comes by regularly to check on me, he is worried.” You answer honestly, based on his hearing he’d probably be able to tell if you lied to him.

His eyes squint slightly, his reaction telling you nothing about his thoughts or feelings, “You going to alert them of my presence?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He seems a little confused, “Why not?”

“I’m not getting any information from Kuai anymore, he tells me nothing. If I let them take you, I doubt I’ll be updated of anything.”

“Very serious like this, you used to be much kinder to me.”

Your eyebrows raise at him, “I could say the same to you.”

“Fair enough,” he smiles at you, still eyeing you even though you are nowhere near as undressed as earlier.

“Stop it,” you tell him.

His gaze climbs up your body and then back onto your eyes, “Stop what?”

“Stop that,” your hand waves in circles around his face, referencing the way he’s been looking at you.

His head leans to the side, “Why?”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “Because I don’t know what it means.”

“I like you, is what it means.” His smile is as sweet as he can muster, it’d be sweeter if he didn’t have fangs.

Huh? Huh? What the hell? He likes you, is that possible? You must have the most bewildered expression on your face because he begins chuckling at you.

“Don’t laugh!” You’re frowning at him now.

“Sorry, sorry…” He waves his hand at you, “I didn’t think you’d look so confused, you’ve just made a very cute face.”

You sigh deeply, he’s making your heart rate pick up, you need to control it, “I don’t believe you.” You say in reference to his declaration.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but it’s the truth. I came back to see you because I miss you and I miss you because I like you. I always have.” His confession is making you feel flushed. He’s saying things you would’ve liked to have heard ages ago.

“Why? Why tell me this now?”

“Was too scared to tell you before, now it doesn’t matter as much, our friendship isn’t exactly in a great place, no?” He gestures to his whole being with his hands, as if to demonstrate the reason for that.

“I don’t see myself trusting you, I hope you know that.” Honestly, mutual trust isn’t something you can foresee in both your futures.

But that’s obviously the opposite for Tomas, “I am pretty confident that I can change your mind, I got your heart rate to rise earlier. My confession bring up some hidden feelings?”

You’re interested, “How do you plan on changing my mind?” You ignore the second part of his sentence.

“I will come by as often as I have to, for as long as I have to, until you trust me again.” He seems earnest at least, but you don’t know if you have rose tinted glasses on when it comes to him.

“Do as you please, I have a feeling you’re going to anyways.” You huff at him, spine becoming less rigid.

He smiles at you, eyes bright, “I appreciate the permission, anyhow.”

His visit ends quickly after that last conversation, having made headway with you made him pleased enough to leave. He did promise he would be back the next night, and the night after that, and so on, and so forth. The promise thrills you, much to your contention.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Tomas stayed true to his promise, he comes by, every night without fail and has been doing so for the last few months. He never stopped flirting with you the whole time, making his affection for you perfectly clear. There are only so many ways you can brush him off and change topics though.

He sniffs the air, “I hate how much Kuai comes around, always smells like him in here, ruins your scent.”

Your eyes roll at him, “Well, he’s about as stubborn as you are about visiting. Must run in the family.”

You stopped holding your sword every time he came round about a month into his visits, believing he probably wasn’t going to bodily harm you. It was never far from you though, now it stays in the lounge, not close but not far. He has succeeded in slowly building some trust between the two of you.

In the kitchen you’re waiting for the kettle to boil, Tomas comes up behind you. Leaning down he inhales your scent, not so close to touch but close enough to have your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Smelling you.”

“Yeah, I can see that, why are you sniffing me?”

“You smell nice,” he’s still standing close to you, chest brushing your back.

You turn around and place a palm on his chest, aiming to push him back but he doesn’t budge. His hand comes up and he places it over top of your own. His eyes looking intently into yours, as you’re looking up at him, you’re struck with the realisation that your feelings for him haven’t left you. He’s changed and so have your feelings, but you still like him.

His eyes flit down to your lips, he begins moving in closer to you. Giving you ample time to pull away if you don’t want him to kiss you. You don’t know if kissing him is a good idea, but it doesn’t matter anyways, the kettle starts squealing, alerting you of its boiled status.

His hand lets go of yours, the moment ruined. You turn quickly, feeling like your face is on fire. Happy to be able to hide your face from him, though you know he can definitely hear your beating heart working overtime.

You take the kettle off the stove and make a cup of tea for both you and Tomas, he never drinks it, but he asks for it every time and holds it for the entirety of his visit.

Later, after tea, as you’re washing up Tomas stands beside you. Ever since your guard dropped enough to let him get this close to you, he stays as close as you’ll allow. Always right by you, flirting, joking, watching.

“Do you want me to wash up?” He offers.

“No, thank you.” You continue, scrubbing at your dishware.

When you’re done you go to wipe your hands off, drying them. Tomas grabs you and spins you abruptly, a shocked gasp pulling from you at his speed and strength.

“I like you.” Is all he says.

Your eyes are wide with shock, “You’ve already said so.”

“I just had to tell you again, so you know.”

“You tell me every day, and you relentlessly flirt with me,” you remind him.

“Just checking you haven’t forgotten.”

“You don’t make that possible,” you raise a brow at him.

“That’s the idea,” he smiles cheekily at you.

His eyes dip to your lips again, the moment from earlier being recreated. You turn your head to the side, feeling shy under his watchful gaze.

“Your heart is racing,” he comments, moving his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I know, it is my heart.” You feel flush in the face.

He leans a bit closer, “And how does your heart feel about me?”

Ah, he’s fishing today. He has been very patient, not asking you your feelings towards him but he is curious. Especially since he can tell you enjoy his advances, or at least react to them viscerally.

“I reserve the right to not answer that.” You feel as though you’re being interrogated.

He finds your answer entertaining, “I think… you like me too, but you’re still not convinced you can trust me.”

Yep, he’s pretty much hit the nail on the head, and he knows it. You go to answer him, try to cover for yourself but he’s quicker with his words.

Tone growing glib, he taunts, “Mmm, yeah, that was dead on, huh?”

His large hand come up and pulls your face back to his, holding you by your chin, between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your face up, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Look at me and tell me, that you don’t like me.”

“I don’t like you,” you reply simply.

He scoffs, “Liar, I’ve grown on you.”

“Like a tumour, maybe,” you retort back.

He has a small smile on his face, “Now who is being stubborn?”

“Somehow, still you.” Your expression is one of defiance.

He rolls his eyes at you and groans, before grabbing your head on either side and pulling you into a kiss. It’s full and profound, and as he moves his head to the side, he licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. A shocked mewl coming from you, one that he swallows down greedily.

Your heart feels like it might explode in your chest, and as he pulls away, he makes a note of it.

His forehead rests against yours, smiling cockily he asks, “Still don’t like me?”

“No,” you shake your head against him.

He captures your lips in another lustful kiss, devouring you whole, consuming the noises that escape you. Common sense eludes you, his kisses making you dizzy and unable to think properly. He walks you back into the corner of the kitchen bench, still cradling your face. Your hands coming up behind you, resting on the bench top. As a result, your chest presses further into him.

One of his knees slots between your legs, pinning you to the spot. His kisses take your breath away and you have to pull back to breathe. Huffing slightly at his insistent manner of kissing.

“Seems to me, that you like me.” He states.

“You’re mistaken.” You retort.

His head moves to your neck, inhaling the length of it, “it smells like you like me.”

Low blow on his behalf, his observation of your growing arousal for him makes your skin set alight. An embarrassing observation for him to make and he knows it. His thigh slots higher, resting up against your cunt. The contact makes you jump lightly, your teeth biting your lip to stifle your audible reaction.

His hands move to your hips as he leans down and kisses you again. His lips serving as a distraction so he can use the grip he has on your hips to encourage you to grind down on his thigh. You get lost in the feeling, the stimulation sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, the sounds you make spilling from you freely.

He rips his mouth away from you suddenly, before you can complain he pulls your pants down, you step out of them. Standing in front of him in nothing but your shirt and panties. He drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your thighs apart, just enough so his face can fit between your legs. His nose resting up against your pussy over your panties, he inhales deeply.

You gasp out at him, “Tomas!”

“Mmmsorry, you smell so fucken good.” He speaks against your cunt, muffling his words.

This display is mortifying to you and also serving to fuel your arousal. He hums pleasantly at your reaction. His mouth opens, sucking over your underwear, wetting them further. His thumbs pull your pussy lips apart, giving himself more access to your arousal. He’s lapping at your hole over your underwear, nose rubbing up against your clit as he licks at you.

You’re squirming above him, gasping for air at the pleasure he’s giving you. He grows more fervent against you, your cunt leaking from the pleasure. The smell and taste of you sending him into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop making out with your cunt over your underwear. Your legs are borderline shaking with your building orgasm.

“Tomas – ngh,” you’re trying to warn him of your impending orgasm.

One of your hands reaches for his hair, grabbing on, your hips beginning to faintly grind against his face. He doesn’t pull away to acknowledge your words, just continues slurping at your cunt, humming at you in confirmation.

The noises spilling from you reach a higher pitch, coming closer together. Your eyes are wet as they close tight against the intensity of your orgasm. When you cum it’s with a bite of his name followed by a large inhale of breath. Legs shaking, if he had not been gripping your thighs, you would’ve fallen to the floor in front of him.

He doesn’t stop as you cum, or even after, continuing to lick at you enthusiastically, aftershocks running through your veins. You twitch at the continued stimulation he provides. He growls against you, an inhuman sound that spikes your heart rate, and your excitement.

The sight of him between your legs, gripping your thighs open and feasting on your wet cunt could have you passing out. He huffs frustrated against you, and he rips your underwear off, actually tearing them off your body. You can’t even complain because he’s put his mouth back on your bare cunt. Drinking up all of the slick and cum from your cunt, he’s licking you clean, you might actually faint.

Tugging at his hair harsher, you push him back, “mm sensitive, stop.” You gasp out at him, words slurred together slightly.

Thankfully, he pulls away but stays on his knees, watching you quiver in front of him. His mouth finished eating you, but his eyes haven’t. He inhales one last time before standing up in front of you.

Cocky smile plastered on his face, “Divine, let me continue?”

You shake your head at him, “No, I will actually faint.”

He preens at that, delighted by your answer, “Are you ready to admit you like me?”

“No,” stubborn for no reason at this point. It’s clear to the both of you, you definitely like him.

He chuckles dryly at you, and then he’s spinning you around and pushing your upper half against the bench top. His hands run over your body, down your back and over your ass cheeks, he pulls them back to stare at your cunt, he whistles at the sight of it. And you struggle against him, humiliated by his actions.

“Will you let me fuck your tight pussy?”

You feel red and raw, his direct question mortifying you, mortifying you because, “yes.” You will let him.

He lets out an amused sound that turns into a growl at the sight of you bent over and waiting for him. Rustling can be heard from behind you as he pulls out his cock. He runs it through your folds, using your cunts prior orgasm to lube it. You rock back against him, rutting down on his dick. It sends shudders down your spine, the pleasure already plenty and he’s not inside you.

“Hold still,” he holds his hand on your back firmly, keeping you in place.

His other hand on his cock, running his tip through your folds before notching it at your hole. Slowly splitting you in two.

All he lets out is, “fffff–”

You clench at the stretch, clamping down on his cock.

“–UCK!” He lets out at your tightening pussy, “gotta relax, or I’ll never – nghf – make it inside.”

You’re mewling and barely the tip is inside you, his hand reaches down and around to rub at your clit, trying to get you to relax.

“Thasss it, dear, fucken perfect… jus. like. that,” he sighs as you relax a bit.

He’s able to have his whole tip enter you, and then he starts rocking back and forth slowly, trying to fuck you open on the tip of his dick. Your legs already shaking and he’s not even close to halfway inside you.

He begins fucking his cock into you more, incrementally, it has pleasure wracking your body. Taking his time, rocking in and then out, slightly more in and then out, rinse and repeat. Until he’s finally fully seated inside you. The full feeling overwhelming you, you grind back against him, wanting more of the feeling.

“Tomas–”

“Hold still, and if it’s – hah – too much, tap me, okay?” He asks.

You nod your head at him, but he slaps your ass and says, “Words, dearest.”

“I will tap you if it’s too much – jus please – mmmmove.” You’re wiggling back against him, trying to gain some friction.

Both his hands pull your ass cheeks apart again, gazing down at the way you’re wrapped around him. A deep growl coming from inside his chest at the sight. Pulling back almost all the way out, he slams back into you, jolting your body forward against the counter. You have a feeling you’re going to have all kinds of bruises tomorrow morning.

He’s fucking you in earnest, roughly, inhuman and pleased noises coming from him. A wet slapping filling your kitchen along with your mewls and whines. You brace yourself on the counter and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

His hand moves up your body and grabs at the back of your neck, he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. Your head resting back against his shoulder. He’s fucking up into you, the change in position sliding you further down his dick.

The hand that pulled you up goes to the front of your neck, applying no pressure but holding you steady. His free arm moves from your hip to the front of your body, holding you against him, hand groping at your tit. His fingers pinch and play with your nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him at the sensation.

“Tell me, do you like mmme – ngh – now?” He whispers it against your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

“Mmmmaybe – mmph – a little…” You confess.

He laughs and licks your ear, his thrusts never stopping or slowing. Your cunt starts to rhythmically pulse around his cock, you’re so close to cumming on just his cock, a sensation you’ve not felt before. Previously always cumming with the help of stimulation on your clit.

He taunts you, “Go on, cream all over – mmph – me, can feel you squeezing mmme.”

“Hah – Mm gonna–” You’re cumming, hard, on his dick. Your release creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

His hands move to push you back against the bench top again, he needs to see the way you came all over him. He spreads your cheeks again to watch himself fuck you, to see the way you creamed all over him. Mesmerised by your cunt and the way it takes him; he’s chasing his own high now.

He’s fucking you harshly, aiming to topple headfirst into his own pleasure. You clamp down on him, pulling his own orgasm from him suddenly. He cums with a shout of your name and a string of profanities. Filling your cunt to the brim with his release, he continues thrusting, stuffing all his cum back into your pussy. He groans at the sight, dick twitching inside you.

He pulls out of you slowly; he tugs his pants back on before spinning you around and placing you up on the bench. He wets some napkins from your kitchen with warm water and gently wipes your thighs clean.

His fingers push some of the cum leaking out of your cunt back inside, “Keep that there.” He tells you.

You hold your hand over your pussy, as he runs down the hall and comes back with a fresh pair of underwear. He slides them up your legs and uses them to help keep his cum inside you. Your legs are shaking from the come down, eyes wet and dazed. You’d let him do almost anything to you right now, with the way he’s given you the two best orgasms of your life, you think he might’ve earned it.

You watch him move around your kitchen, he finds your previous pair of underwear and stuffs them inside his pocket. He looks back at you and smiles deviously. Then he moves to get you a glass of water.

He presents it to you, “Drink.”

You accept it gratefully, feeling parched, you drink it all. It dribbles down your chin with how you gulp it down. He smiles at you and wipes your chin clean.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him.

He’s smug, “Need me to carry you to bed, dearest?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

He obliges and carries you to bed, tucking you in. He won’t stay and he shouldn’t stay, though you find yourself hoping he would.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he says, practically reading your mind. He crawls into bed beside you, on top of the covers.

“Thank you, Tomas.”

He smiles kindly at you, “No thanks necessary.”

You fall asleep quickly that night. Fully trusting him and even feeling safe with him beside you. When you wake the next morning, he is gone but he’s left a note.

It reads, “I’ll be back tonight, dearest.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: This is not my best writing, but I find myself a bit fond of it, maybe because it’s a different character, a bit of a change up is nice. I did write almost an extra 3k than what I initially planned lmao. I find the need to add more plot in my stories. Anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed, my requests are open if you want a story like this one or if you want to share any thoughts, feelings, anything really, I am open for asks!! <333

#ask vision #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas x reader smut #tomas vrbada x reader smut #smoke x reader #smoke x reader smut #fanfic #tomas x you #mk1 smut #smut #mk1 2023

[voxofthevoid]

Have any of you seen me talk about some fic idea or the other and thought, "Sounds nice, but man, we all know you won't get to that until 2800 or something"?

In April, my Ao3 account will be ten years old. Earlier, I made a post about doing something unhinged to celebrate it. It's nothing wild, just not something I usually do. But I figured I'd try stepping out of my comfort zone a bit.

Currently, I have 93 ideas total for JJK, out of which 76 are unwritten. Some are more detailed and high priority than others, but they are all fics I want to write. But there's no way in hell I'll get them all, especially if the ideas keep coming (which tends to happen until I run out of inspiration, at which point I'll stop writing entirely). So, for April, I'll try to write one(1) scene of approximately 1000 words for 15 of these ideas.

Pick the ideas for me, won't ya?

I can't add the descriptions under a read more because it turns out that writing even basic-bitch summaries for 76 ideas racks up one hell of a word count. So here's a Google doc listing them, categorized by ships. Many of these fics deal with a variety of taboo content, including but not limited to all four main Ao3 warnings. I have not included content warnings for each fic because the time needed would be prohibitive. If you've survived my Tumblr until now, you'll likely be fine.

Give me a number, either via replies or reblogs of this post or via asks (if you wish to remain anonymous). For the first 15 unique ideas I get, I'll write 1k. You can send multiple numbers, but I'll only pick one per ask.

The objective is to finish all of them by April and post them throughout the month. I certainly need the head start because taking prompts (even limited ones) and writing short scenes are not my forte. Yay challenge?

The link is here. It's kinda long, but the headings should help you navigate to ships you're interested in.

I'll reblog/update this post every day or so till all 15 slots are taken (assuming they will be 😂).

#goyuu #nanaita #sukuita #jjk #itafushi #there are a few others too but these are the main ones #my fic #vox unhinged #what i need a tag for this and it fits #felt like a robot droning on while writing this

[italoniponic]

𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 - mini-project

Charming Eyes

Notes: based on this Cherry’s Harvesting request where Anon asked for Trey, Azul, Deuce and Floyd (and whoever else I wanted) to discover that Reader’s very dark-brown eyes (nearly black) could be actually brown if you shine light directly into it. And then they fall more in love with Reader~ I used Lilia instead of Trey and Azul at that time, so now they’re here too yay &lt;3

Trey Clover, Azul Ashengrotto x gender neutral reader / fluff headcanons / reader has dark brown eyes / use of “you” pronouns

Earlier that day, Trey had invited you in Heartslabyul to try out an old Clover family recipe. He planned to present this recipe to Riddle in order to expand the menu options at the Unbirthday Parties — if the Queen of Heart’s rules allowed, of course. And since Trey wanted to spend time with you, he asked for your help;

One of the first things to do was checking the egg cartons. Trey learned a trick in Magicam that consisted of using the cellphone’s flashlight over the shells to find out if the egg was good — the light would show an orange yolk — or bad — the inside would reveal to be dark. But, just as he turned on the flashlight, you crouched near the counter to take a look at the eggs;

Trey got terrifically surprised when the light flashed through your eyes and revealed, for a very brief moment, that behind your normally coal-black irises, it was the most beautiful shade of cocoa. Trey turned off his phone’s flashlight quickly, however. He didn’t want to blind you or anything;

But it still was a stunning discovery. During the preparation of the recipe, you commented on how it was a normal effect that the light had on your eyes. But so rare were the occasions that some strong light was cast upon them that you were sure hardly anyone noticed that your eyes had this effect;

And you sure couldn’t imagine the impression this would leave on Trey. He thought about it for a long time. So, he was one of the few people who knew? Trey felt special, although it was extremely embarrassing to admit it. He wasn’t very versed in romance, and this situation sounded like some of the honeyed things that he heard his parents saying to each other — and maybe he wasn’t that far behind;

As the days went by, Trey became more attentive to your eyes when you went out together in very sunny places or where the overall ambient light was quite strong. He hoped to see the glorious brown in your eyes again. Any day, any time;

It seemed almost natural that this was a unique effect of yours, reflecting your nature. You often keep things about yourself deep in your soul. Trey understood what that was like better than anyone else. He looked normal, too, but he could be unpredictable. Or rather, he seemed crazy, but he was in fact quite average;

You could pick up on that whenever you stared at him — meanwhile, he would look at you just as subtle and passionately. Trey’s eyes were golden as butter, soft like honey. Sweet and salty, mixed in the ceramic bowl that was his face. He would have died laughing at the comparison if he had listened;

You cooked together again, but this time at the Ramshackle. It was a pastry that Trey insisted on teaching you to make, called “Hatter’s eye” — an invention of his uncle, who was an oculist. It was worth the joke, you’d to say. It seemed complicated to do but it turned out to be pretty simple;

Finally, you tried the pastry when you two finished making it and it was really delicious. It looked like an eye inside a hat — honestly, the taste was better and easier to digest than the eccentric appearance. You turned around excitedly to thank Trey for the experience, your eyes shining like fireflies at night;

Then Trey ended up remembering something that was kind of obvious from the beginning: whether it was the black shadows of your eyes or their dark chocolate brown hue over the light, your gaze was beautiful in every way. That’s because it was you he was staring at deep down. And Trey could tell he just kept falling deeper down his heart’s rabbit hole, head over heels in love with you.

Sitting on his VIP office couch and reading a magazine full of interesting advertisements, Azul waited for your arrival so you both could dine in the Mostro Lounge that evening. It was a date in its humblest form — if “humble” could be used with the octopus merman. But without any warning, you soon rushed in, completely exhausted and practically collapsing on his lap;

You scared the living daylights out of Azul with that. But if anything, with the day’s fatigue weighing on your shoulders, you didn’t mind him and got distracted by the round ceiling lamp above — it was only really visible if you were in that position. It lit up the office while the little lamps on the shelves did the rest. It was in this mixture of several different lights that Azul noticed something in your eyes;

A discovery simply unimaginable! Your eyes were usually so dark that Azul found himself wondering if there could exist humans with shark-like eyes. But, right there under that bright light, he came across a shade of brown hiding in the depths of your gaze, like a ship full of treasures resting on the sea;

Because staring too long at the light was starting to hurt your eyes, you sat more appropriately next to Azul. He was still surprised, yet disguised it well. Even though he was no longer in the old-fashioned business of rolling you into contracts, there was something about this tiny piece of information that delighted him;

How many people knew your eyes had this ability? Your friends? Just your family? Would he be a humble lucky one among your acquaintances? Eventually, Azul brought it up again and you explained things better — and yes, he really was the only one in the entire NRC who noticed the fact;

It was inevitable that Azul would feel indebted to you in some way. What could he do anyway? He discovered a special secret about you unintentionally, even if it wasn't this big shock he was making it seem like it was;

In short, that was how you ended up being called to the Mostro Lounge, at its night after hours. Azul decided to “pay” an exchange for his discovery in the form of showing you again what his octopus form looked like. He was inside the huge aquarium on the wall — half hidden while you didn’t arrive, a little unsure if it really was a good idea this situation he created for himself;

From your own part, you were more scared to find out the real, crazy reason you were there than at the sight of a half-octopus boy in front of you per se. As you approached each other — well, as you could since there was a wall of reinforced glass between you — you stared deep into Azul’s eyes and he, into yours;

The merman’s blue eyes seemed like a mixture of the crystalline blue of his human form and the slight eye opacity of certain octopus species — perhaps that's why his vision worsened when he took the potion to the surface;

From his point of view, on the other side, the lights in the lounge added a bluish marine effect to the brown color of your eyes. Azul was already completely in love with you but, it was as if you only convinced him more that he was in the right direction with each new conversation. Not as if you were selling your love, but as a confirmation. He had no doubt of his feelings for you;

But, in all honesty, Azul always knew that you were a rare pearl. This from the first time he faced you, trying to investigate your mysterious black-ink eyes to the present day. And don’t think that this wouldn’t continue in the future too. Azul loved you for who you were, the real person behind your eyes. And you thought the same about him.

| Special notes: as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't exist a pastry called "Hatter's eye" lol but now that I came with the concept, I'm curious about how it would look like and the taste... |

#twisted wonderland #trey clover #trey clover x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #gender neutral reader #twst x reader #cherry's writing #bits of cherry #twst fluff

[collegetennisoriginstory]

I wanted to throw in my opinion on the Trans MC if you want it! Option 3 would be a lot of extra writing and coding, so I get that it wouldn't be a decision made lightly and it would be added pressure to get it right and it's a sensitive topic for sure. I will say that if you chose to go this route tho, it would make a huge difference and mean a lot to us. I'm a trans athlete, and the lack of representation can be really discouraging. It's time like these where we are receiving so much hate, especially when it comes to sports, that allies could really step up and make a difference. Reading can really open people's minds! It may be difficult and uncomfortable, and take extra work, but that's our everyday tbh. We out here living on hard mode 😂 that's just my thoughts on the matter but I will respect you and read your story either way. Much love 🏳️‍⚧️♥️

Hey! Thank you so much for sending this! This gets long, forgive my wordiness.

First off, I really feel your statement to the bone, the part about how allies could step up and make a difference, and how positive rep in media, games etc. is insanely important.

So many stories, TV shows, movies have shaped my experience of being queer and POC, and while some of them have been nice just so I could see someone like myself being represented, the ones that really made an impact are of course the ones where these identities were explored in a sensitive, thoughtful way. (When I watched Saving Face for the first time at 17, about a queer Chinese American doctor, I bawled my eyes out and dont think I've been the same since).

I would absolutely love if CT:OS/my IFs could do this for trans athletes too.

I've seen/heard so many worrying statements about trans athletes (both in real life and in the media)—and it makes me so sad.

Some that really get me really riled up are: The idea that a trans athlete's accomplishments mean nothing because they "have an unfair advantage" (or putting it down to "just hormones" or whatever instead of recognizing the hardwork, skill, and dedication behind EVERY successul athlete, trans or not). Or the idea that trans athletes shouldn't get to choose to be trans if they want to be athletes. Or the idea of policing trans athletes' bodies or forcing them to undergo surgery in order for them to be "valid"...

Well, FUCK THAT. FUCK those people.

If my IF can help celebrate trans athletes, and combat/shut down the really harmful (and ignorant) rhetoric out there? I'd love to do that.

But since I am not trans myself, it feels doubly, triply important that I wade really carefully here. I'd really need to spend time making sure I like and can stand behind what I'm putting out. I don't think it'd be responsible representation, otherwise!

I'm not really a perfectionist about my writing and that's how I make progress on my IFs while working a full time job. I'm more the... "slap shit tgt, get it out there, get feedback and edit if I feel like it" kind of writer. And I don't think I'd be able to finish CT:OS / Merry Crisis any other way. But when it comes to race, gender, and sexual identity? I really. Really. Wanna get things right.

(I rewrote that Rayyan convo about being a POC athlete with Deepal so many times haha and it was already marginally less scary, since I am a POC athlete.)

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I agree it's so goddamn important to have trans stories, and rep, especially in sports, where views are often so toxic and polarized.

But I don't think I know yet whether I see my IF being more a simple "yay, trans rep" kind of space or an actual deeper exploration of what it means to be a trans athlete. I was quite prepared to add the option to be trans (+ any accompanying scenes etc.) when I have the complete CT:OS 1st draft, but I was also toying with the idea of just putting something imperfect into the game earlier.

Faced with indecision, I've opted for: procrastination. I am still waffling, but it was helpful to hear what you guys think. Thank you so much for your message.

Lots of love, keep being awesome ❤️

#ct:os #college tennis: origin story #if #interactive fiction #asks

[kidge-planet]

Kidge headcanon 33 !

I know I made many different headcanons for kidge's last day on earth but huh... WELL ANYWAYS:

Episode 1 season 8:

Keith was watching the sunset on the head of the black lion along with his furry friend, Kosmo...

Lance came earlier to tell him about his date with Allura and of course, he was happy for them: He knew that both had feelings for each other for a while now... But that simply reminded him of how lonely he was...

He had friends... And at the moment, he had Kosmo... But being alone during his last moments on Earth for a while brought him back to his past. When his dad died, he was alone. Always. And it was okay for him now because he couldn't do otherwise... And after years, nothing had changed, apparently... Or at least, that's what he thought...

He got down from Black's head once the sun had settled... In reality, he stayed a bit longer...

He had nothing to do. Just going home in the cold desert. Plus, he had no electricity and nothing to eat for tonight... But again, it was fine for him because he couldn't do otherwise...

As he was walking in the Garrison, without a purpose, he heard some footsteps coming from the other side of the hallway... Walking directly in his direction... His gaze then met Pidge's as she stopped in front of him.

"Keith?..." she said as if it was the first time she saw him in years... "What are you still doing here?"

"Well, I was heading home now..." He sighed as Kosmo approached Pidge to get pats.

She caressed Kosmo's head with a soft smile and then raised her eyes towards Keith again; "Are you spending your last day on Earth alone?"

"Well... Yeah. Shiro is having dinner with his grandpa... So basically, It's just gonna be me and Kosmo tonight. No big deal, I guess," he admitted, sounding a bit down.

"Aw, that sucks! I heard your place doesn't have electricity either. You're gonna freeze!" she said, concerned.

"Yeah, but it's just for one night, so I'll survive," he replied in a desperate sigh.

She frowned. "How can you say that? What are you even gonna eat?"

He thought for a moment. "I have no idea... Maybe some leftovers if I can find any."

"Gosh, that sounds kinda sad," she said, her worry evident.

"Don't worry too much about it. It's just one night in my life," he reassured her.

"I'm not letting you go through this alone! Come to my place! My mom's cooking dinner tonight, and her food is amazing. Don't tell Hunk, but her cookies are even better than his!" she exclaimed with a mischievous grin.

"I don't wanna be a bother... It's a family dinner," he replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Who said that it was a family dinner? You're not bothering us at all. I'm sure my family would be happy to have you with us tonight. My dad used to say that we have the family we're born into and the family we choose. I guess you're part of my chosen family," she said, smiling warmly at him. "Come on, join us!"

He thought for a moment but obviously could not say no to these eyes that were staring at him... He sighed. "Fine, I'll come."

"YAY! Did you hear that, Kosmo? You're coming home with me!" she exclaimed, scratching the back of Kosmo's ear. "Oh, and by the way, you can crash at my place too. It'll be much nicer for you than going back to the desert and catching a cold before the launch..."

"Huh... I'm not sure about that..."

"Aw, come on! Just think about it and let me know later, okay? I'll quickly text my mom to let her know you're coming for dinner. We just have to wait for my dad to finish up some stuff at the Garrison before to leave."

He nodded in agreement, realizing that his plans had taken a complete 180 in less than five minutes, all because of this short, nerdy girl who he found it hard to take his eyes off of. She was actually really pretty, even if others didn't see it. He noticed the beautiful amber color of her hair, eyes, and freckles, and he found it absolutely fascinating. And not just her looks, her personality was captivating too. She had this introverted side but always stood up for herself, and she had so many other amazing qualities that it would take forever to list them all.

To put it simply, she was a smart and beautiful girl with a vibrant spirit and a huge heart. And boy, was she courageous!

How could he not admire her? Heck, how could he not ADORE her?

But despite all that, she was the Paladin he felt the least close to. They had been through a lot together, but they never really had the chance to get to know each other well. He had a unique bond with each of the other Paladins. Shiro was like a big brother to him, Lance started by being annoying but became a friendly annoyance over time (they had known each other for a while, but Keith never really minded him), and he had a few missions with Hunk where they bonded... (Keith also knew Hunk at the Garrison, but just like Lance, he had never minded before...) He even had bonding moments with Allura!

He really wanted to get to know her better. He liked her a lot and hoped to spend some time with her. But she always seemed busy, and he didn't know how to start a conversation. But now was his chance!

"Alright, my mom said you can come over for dinner and stay the night if you want," she said, putting her phone back in her pocket and looking up at him.

"That's really kind of you... But why are you doing this exactly?" he asked.

"Keith, I couldn't let you starve or freeze to death. I would be genuinely sad, especially when I know I'll be having a nice dinner in a warm house," she replied with a light giggle. "Let's go find my dad and get going."

He smiled. "Okay, let's do that."

A/n: HELLO!

(if you want the rest of this headcanon/fic, you can ask it in the comments or in the ask box as anonymous!)

I know that I don't post a lot lately, I'm sorry about that... I just have many things to do (and I don't have wifi until the 2 of January... WHICH IS MY BIRTHDAY, YES YES PLEASEEEE I WANT A KIDGE-FIC GIFT HAAA-) but anyways, know that Im still there, preparing a few stuffs and also, I will try to do some of the prompts for the kidge winter event! I wanted to do all prompts but things didn't go as planned in my personal life unfortunately... So all I've got to say is: STAY TUNED!

Also! The ask box is always opened for some asks, headcanons and whatever you want! Please, stay respectful!

I FORGOT TO SAY MERRY KIDGEMAS! 💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

Have a nice holiday and enjoy time with your family and friends! (Or alone 👍)

#voltron legendary defender #kidge #voltron #voltron pidge #keith voltron #pidge #keith #voltron kidge #pidge and keith #keith and pidge #please don't forget my birthday 🥲 #kidge headcanons #kidge headcanon #vld headcanons #headcanons #headcanon

[plusreaderswhenever]

Hi! I couldn’t find if you did any Magolor + Reader ficlets, and if you did I’m so sorry (can I be directed towards it?) and if you didn’t could I request one?

Thank you in advance!

Signed, a huge Magolor fan

oh my gosh MY FIRST EVER REQUEST! Ahem… I worked on a Magolor fic for a while before but decided to not finish it, and then I got this ask! Then I finished it and here it is, it’s not as bad as I thought it was turning out yay! Btw I was writing it a bit self indulgently (it’s a little sad) since it’s not originally from this ask so I hope that’s okay with you. Also this is, indeed, the only fic with Magolor in it I currently have, you were right lol! I hope you like it, and happy reading!

Magolor + Reader

You were at home, crying. Nothing went wrong, but you were crying anyway. Life sucks for you. (And that’s okay.) Your phone had been ringing annoying alarms for at least five minutes straight before, but they eventually died out. Your friends must have realized you didn’t want company, which would’ve been good a few minutes ago, but suddenly you felt like you could handle having someone nearby now. And you also NEEDED to have someone nearby now. You decided to text your friends back finally, since you luckily had the strength to move at least.

You opened your phone. 94 messages?! That’s a lot! Well, it had been ringing for 5 minutes straight earlier. You were treated to reading the following messages:

SkyBaby (that’s Kirby btw, RecD reference): what’s wrong? u didn’t show up to the picnic i planned w/ u! No one likes to refuse food! Are u ok?

ChinchillaTheCutest (that’s Elfilin): Kirby told me you didn’t show up to his picnic. What’s going on? He seems worried about you, probably because you passed up the chance to eat, but I get that you were probably just busy! But seriously, Kirby’s gonna cry if you don’t tell him why you weren’t there.

TripleD (you know): kirby’s crying! i asked him what was wrong and he said u didn’t show up to his picnic! whats up w/that?

BlueberryBatman (you know this one too): I heard that you did not show to a hang-out with Kirby. I hope you are okay. (If you read my Meta Knight + Reader, you know why he’s so concerned lol)

Spidersarenerdsallofthem (Taranza, I’m keeping in line with the lore of my Taranza + Reader): The king told me you hadn’t gone to a meet-up you promised Kirby. Is there anything wrong? I, your best friend, cannot allow you to stay hurt if you are hurt!

Spidersarenerdsallofthem: Nevermind that, something just came up. It probably wasn’t anything serious anyway, it might have been just because you were busy! I hope you understand~

Egg: yo, wassup? i heard you didn’t show to a hangout w/ kirbs was it because you forgot or smth?

You decided to respond to Magolor. You hadn’t talked to him enough and wanted to get to know him better. The only time you got to talk to him was when Kirby took you to see Merry Magoland, so you didn’t really know him beyond what was probably just a customer-service smile. Although Kirby convinced you two to give each other your phone numbers since he wanted all his friends to be able to contact each other in the event of a new threat that needs the power of friendship to be defeated, neither of you called or texted the other until now.

Well, here goes nothing.

You: i didnt forget i just wasnt feeling up to it… wanna hang out? im feeling a bit better now and would like to get to know you

Egg: a friend of kirby’s is a friend of mine! omw

You were glad dreamland was so peaceful. There was so little crime, people could just go to the houses of almost-strangers! While Magolor was on his way, you texted Kirby an apology for not coming to his picnic. He took it well, but you were still guilty for no good reason.

You hear the doorbell ring, and it was much tougher to get up than it had been to pick up your phone. It felt like your bones were made of lead, and your muscles were feeling weaker than usual. You wanted to cry again. Apparently you weren’t as over your meltdown as you thought, but you still managed to do it and went to the door.

You opened the door, and there he was, waiting patiently. 

You smiled to be polite and greeted, “Hey Magolor.” 

He exclaimed, “Yo, y/n! Doing okay?” 

You answered, “No.” 

He looked sad. 

“Is that why you passed up the opportunity to spend time with Kirby?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can I come in?”

You just nodded, and moved out of the way to let him in your house.

You closed the door and led him to the couch, where you both sat down. You wanted to ask him if you could vent to him, but you couldn’t possibly ask that. You just met him! Frick, why did you even invite him over just to do nothing?!

Fortunately, being the socially knowledgeable, charismatic person he is, Magolor could tell by your expression and body language, as well as what you told him earlier, that you had something you wanted to tell him, and he knew no one likes an awkward silence. “Wanna talk about it?” He sat there eagerly, ready to take whatever you told him.

“Well… I’m probably depressed. I spent a lot of today crying for no reason, and a bit ago, I’d have probably died if anyone spoke to me. But then I thought I should CALL A BORDERLINE STRANGER TO VENT TO THE SECOND I GOT LONELY, I’M SO SORRY I CALLED YOU HERE-” You started coughing and crying from your little outburst, to which Magolor replied by patting your back to help your respiratory system and worriedly telling you, “It’s okay-” 

“NO IT’S NOT OKAY!” You yelled, and started crying again. He looked concerned before, but now he tried to calm himself down for your sake. He asked, “Can I put my hand on your head for a sec?” You were bewildered, but nodded, still weeping. 

He started petting you. What? He kept doing it. When you were quiet enough to talk to, he reminded you, “Hey. Remember when we met at Merry Magoland? We talked for a little bit. So we’re not borderline strangers. Besides, if we’re in the world where Kirby can instantly convince enemies to become his friend and fight alongside him, we can be friends.”

Oh, he was right wasn’t he? Your wailing slowed to the occasional sob, and you looked at him again. He was still concerned, but happy you were getting better. He continued to pet you, and you quietly reached out and pet him, too. He started PURRING. Oh gosh a kitty! you thought.

In your already emotional state, his cuteness and kindness made you cry again for some reason, but more quietly this time. It seemed like anything would make you want to cry now. He just hugged you (or, pressed his hands against you comfortingly, since he has no arms it’s the closest he can get). “There, there.”

You hugged him back and muttered, “Thank you.”

“Anytime. By the way, my dude, wanna play Minecraft? I’m sure it’ll show us the power of best friends!”

Giggling at the sudden change in vibes and glad to think about something else, you two played minecraft the rest of the day and loved it. The end!

#magolor #kirby series #Magolor + reader #fanfiction by me

[mochascorner]

A Ding, a Dent, and a Death

Don’t you just love when you tell yourself to “write, just write - doesn’t matter what. It’s all just practice” and so as a result you end up with ten thousand little ficlets that will never be expanded upon? Don’t you love that? I love that. I love that so much. It’s so fun. I love drowning in tiny little story snippets. Yay.

———

“He's going to kill you.” Legend says bluntly. He leans back against the tree he’d been peacefully napping against earlier. He sets aside Four's shield down. "I can't fix this. And even if I could, there's no way Four wouldn't notice the repair job."

Wild moans into his knees, "But I thought you said you were a smith!"

"I never finished my apprenticeship." Legend sniffs.

"But you know the basics don't you?" Wind asks curiously. He'd been drawn over from the other side of camp by the promise of mischief, and now stayed to watch the end of what was sure to be a disaster. The sailor takes the shield to examine the damage himself.

"Isn't this an easy enough fix? How hard can it be to reattach the straps and buff out a few scratches and dents?" He turns the shield over in his hands, running calloused fingers down metal, "I've done maintenance on my own shield before and this doesn't look much worse than mine did after my battle with Molgera. I patched mine well enough, and I didn't even know anything about metalworking!"

"Yeah!" Wild's head pops up from his legs to gesture wildly at Wind, clinging to hope "And surely if a complete novice like Wind can buff out a few dents then someone with actual training can manage this! C'mon Leg! Give it a shot!"

Legend shots them both an annoyed look, "If you think it's so easy then why not do it yourself?"

"Because I don't fix things, Vet. I break them."

Fair enough.

Legend waves them off impatiently, "It's not a matter of being able to fix it. It's a matter of fixing it to a degree that Four won't notice - which he definitely will. If this was Wars or even the Old Man we were talking about, I'd give it a shot. But Four's got too good an eye for this stuff. He's a Master Smith - that's not just a title you slap on any two-bit metalworker who knows what a pair of tongs are. Four would spot someone else's work on his equipment in a heartbeat."

Legend takes the shield out of Wind's hands and dumps it in Wild's reluctant ones. The champion acts like Legend just handed him a lit bomb.

"Look," Legend tells him, "You're not getting out of this. Best to bite the arrow and explain it to Four before the smith chooses to beat the truth out of you. You're going to spill the beans either way - it's time to just minimize the damage."

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Wild wails. His eyes grow to the size of dinner plates as he quickly checks over his shoulder to make sure no angry smiths were in the vicinity. Luckily for him, Four was still out helping Twilight with the wash.

Wild lowers his voice anyway, "Look, I'm going to tell Four what happened regardless. I'm not trying to hide anything. But I was just thinking that if I could fix the damage before he gets back then maybe he won’t be so angry."

"Not a chance," Legend punctures Wild's octo balloon of false hope, "If anything, he'll end up even more pissed that an amature tried to fix it at all. One thing I learned in my apprenticeship?It's easier to do it right the first time than it is to have to work around someone else's sloppy attempts."

Not to mention that if Legend so much as breathed on the shield then he’d end up on the chopping block, too. And while the Veteran would take a sword or an arrow for the champion, he wasn't going to take a pissed off Four.

Wild, seeing the clear lack of sympathy, switched tactics. “I can't believe you're chickening out of a challenge. What, do you do sloppy work or something?"

"Compared to Four I do." Legend refuses to be baited into signing his own death certificate. He gives Wild a very severe look to make that clear.

Wild groans dramatically again and flops face-down on the grass. Wind leans down from his seat to pat him patronizingly.

"It's okay bud," The sailor comforts, "Four's a reasonable guy. I'm sure he'll understand."

From the opposite side of their log-turned bench, Legend snorts ungracefully.

“Oh yeah, sure. I'm sure Four will totally understand you using his favorite shield to stupidly surf down a hill. You know, the shield he basically fist fought a Like-Like for. The one he values more than his own life."

"I didn't mean to!" Wild rolls onto his back and put his face in his hands in shame. He really hadn't meant to use Four’s shield at all - it was just a terminal case of absent mindedness that caused this whole predicament!

An unfortunate side effect of using a constantly-revolving roster of weapons and shields is that Wild never really learned to distinguish his things from others'. He'd always operated on a very simple set of rules:

1. Was it strapped to someone else? Not his.

2. Was it on the floor and unguarded? His.

Wild made an effort to remember that that wasn't always the case, especially now that he was traveling with a group. But sometimes he simply forgot and instinct took over. It was hardly the first time he'd nabbed someone else's weapon to use without thinking about it, although it was the first time he'd broken something.

(Well, aside from the Master Sword incident. But they don't talk about the Master Sword incident and Sky sleeps with his sword now, anyway.)

And of all the things to break it just had to Four's beloved shield.

And now Wild was going to die.

Again.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wild #lu legend #lu wind #lu four #I will not continue this sorry #the dark side of simply sitting down and writing things #although if you want to use this or add to it feel free

[gamebunny-advance]

Exes Meme: Tatiana & Kliff

Yay, I finished this, so now I can talk about it ^o^! This mostly reflects their post-revolution state (I forgot that meant that Tatiana should have her rock hair, but this look is more iconic, alright), but I’ll make note if there’s something more to it.

I’ll go through it section by section and explain it as I go, but the order that everything is in doesn’t necessarily lend itself to good narrative progression, so not everything will make sense by itself and even by the end of this, I don’t think I’ve really described the full picture. Maybe someday I’ll write the full backstory in a way that makes sense, but for now, this is what I’ve got.

Anyways, here we go:

Sadness Level: I think they’re both kinda sad that it didn’t work out. In general, Kliff feels his emotions a little more strongly than Tatiana, but they'll feel the same way about most given topics. I just think Tatiana is able to manage herself a little better, since she accepted their relationship as a lost cause much earlier than he did.

Anger Level: They both still blame each other for everything falling apart. Tatiana is mad because Kliff wasn’t respecting her space and choices, and Kliff is mad because he felt like she was giving up while he was trying to make it work. Their anger levels basically doubled after the revolution, so Kliff is 100% a ball of anger and resentment now, while Tatiana is pissed about how he got B2J and her artists involved in their mess. They’d probably mellow out as more time passes though.

Awkwardness Level: I interpreted this prompt to mean how easy it is for them to talk to one another. Post-revolution, I don’t think there’s really any “awkwardness” and they just immediately start fighting if they exchange words at all, but in general I actually think it’s Tatiana who’s slightly more hesitant about it. Whenever they’re in the same room, it’s usually Kliff that instigates the fighting and he just has a way of dragging her down to his level.

Horny Level: During their relationship, Tatiana didn’t realize she was a lesbian and didn’t understand why she wasn’t attracted to the one person who consistently stayed with her, so she would overcompensate and initiate sex more often, but didn’t actually like it much. The only reason her horny level isn’t “0″ is that I consider “wanting to cuddle” as a part of being horny, and sometimes she does miss the sensation of just curling up on a couch and cuddling him. Kliff's sex drive was never that high to begin with. If anything, he got hornier after they split because he didn’t realize how much he liked it until they weren’t intimate at all.

Fond Memories vs. Wants to Forget: They both realize in hindsight that their relationship wasn’t actually healthy for either of them, but neither really “wants to forget,” they just wish the good times hadn’t ended the way they did.

Fling vs. Committed For Life: Back in the day, Tatiana was a real player, so she hooked up with several fans. Kliff was not supposed to be more than another hook-up. She told him as much even back then, but he still didn’t give up and just accepted it as a part of this lifestyle. He thought he would be happy as long as he thought he was the closest one to her, but her having multiple partners did start weighing on him a lot, so he actually isn’t as committed as he wants to appear to be.

On and Off Again Vs. Never Getting Back Together: Tatiana would absolutely never reopen the possibility of a relationship. Pre-revolution Kliff was slightly open to the idea, but post-revolution he feels way too betrayed to even want to pursue that possibility.

Moves on Quickly Vs. Closed Break-Up: They both invested a lot of time into the relationship, so it’s difficult for either of them to move-on “quickly.” Tatiana is only slightly quicker because she thinks it’s for the best if she does. Kliff is still getting over it.

Calm and Collected vs. Dramatic as Hell: If you don’t think assisting in a revolution against your Ex isn’t dramatic as hell, then I don’t know what to tell you. Similarly, I think blasting away your Ex with a sick guitar riff is also dramatic as hell, just a little less so.

Closer than Ever Vs. Worst Enemies: If they were any saltier towards each other, you’d be able to bottle it and sell it as seasoning.

Started the Relationship: Again, Tatiana really gave into the hedonistic part of rock culture, so she was the one to approach Kliff. If you wanna be technical about it, she basically just asked him if he wanted to bang, and he was the one that tried to turn it into a relationship and Tatiana never said it wasn’t. It was more like, “Oh, I guess we’re dating now. That’s cool.”

Ended the Relationship: I think punching your Ex in the face hard enough to launch them on their back is a pretty conclusive end to any kind of good will between each other. Again, if you wanna be technical, Kliff basically ended it when he chose to drop the satellite, but I think this was more of a power play/manipulation tactic and not really a conclusive end.

Saw it Coming: Tatiana realized early on that she just wasn’t capable of loving Kliff as much as he loved her, and saw them breaking up as inevitable and at some point stopped trying to make it work. Meanwhile, Kliff was so sure that if he tried hard enough, he could force it to work out, so he never saw the end till it was punching him in the face.

Would Get Back Together: Kliff would only get back together if Tatiana initiated it. He’s lost all hope of that happening in the post-revolution, but in the off chance that it did, he would get back together.

Was in Love: It was more like they were both in love with the ideas of each other: Tatiana wanted to love someone that was so devoted to her, so she ignored a lot of Kliff’s red flags. Kliff was in love with her persona as a strong, hot rocker babe, but didn’t consider how vulnerable and flawed she was underneath. Despite their mutual delusion on the matter, beneath it all, I still think that there was a genuine love between them at some point.

Still in Love: I think that before he dropped the satellite, Tatiana may have still had some residual feelings for Kliff, but they all evaporated after the fact. Kliff just can’t fall out of love with someone that he dedicated more than half his life to, so despite it all, he’s still attracted to her, and he hasn’t pursued another romantic interest since.

Friends Again?: Despite everything that’s happened, they still have good chemistry, which is evident in how easy it is for them to push each other’s buttons. If the stars were to align in just the right way, then they might be able to patch things up, but the odds are terribly low. However, since they both still hang around B2J on occasion, their chances to meet again have gone up, so who knows?

Responsibility Graph: I think to say it was Tatiana’s “fault” is a little strong, but the relationship failed partially due to their incompatible sexualities and how she chose to handle things. If she had been more honest about her feelings from the beginning, then a lot of this wouldn’t have happened, but I don’t think the environment she was in would have easily allowed her to be honest. She blamed herself a lot for what happened, especially when they first split, but after some reflection, she came to realize that Kliff was part of the blame too, with all his insisting. Kliff meanwhile thought that he was the only one trying to keep everything together without realizing that this is part of why they were getting driven apart. If he hadn’t raised her up so high in his mind, he might have been able to let go easier.

Feelings Graph: Tatiana is right on the line between being “torn up about it” and “Margaritaville”, because by this point she’s already accepted this as something that happened and has already moved on from it. She only edges closer to being torn up about it, because if she were to take the time to reflect on it, she does wish that she had tried harder to at least maintain a friendship with Kliff. I'd just be repeating myself if I explained Kliff’s feelings on the matter.

#gbunny draws #exes meme #nsr #no straight roads #tatiana #kliff #well this was fun #don't expect too much art out of me for a while though #work is really picking up and i'm just not gonna have the time or energy for it #i literally only have 1 day off next week U_U #and i'm probably gonna spend it 'recharging' #would have been 2 but they forced someone's shift onto me

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 3: motion

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next

chapter synopsis:

'You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine.'

---

Fushiguro Tsumiki is amazing and she's changed the trajectory of your life. You decide to hope you can do the same for others.

Fushiguro Megumi is someone you meet again after six years, only for the two of you to have become so very different since then.

Itadori Yuji is, well, a fun guy to hang out with. That's all you know for now.

word count: ~10k (this chapter was hell to edit on tumblr); tws: mild “gore” again? (a fight scene)

30-11-2010

“When’s Megumi’s birthday, actually?” you ask one day after finishing the last of your homework off at their place. 

“Oh! December 22nd,” Tsumiki states. Megumi’s scrubbing a plate in the kitchen. “Are you planning to give him anything?” 

“I’ll see what I can,” you reply, “But I just wanted to know. What do you usually do for your birthdays, though?” 

“Hmm,” Tsumiki pauses, “We usually only have Mr Gojo and some of his friends over— oh, hi, Megumi!” 

“Yay, you’re back!” 

“We were just talking about your birthday,” you inform him. “…you know, I’ve been meaning to ask something, actually. I never really see you guys’ parents, so, um… are they busy? Are they out of the country for work, or something?” 

“Oh— no, our parents left.” 

Left? Like, abandoned?

“Oh— oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I thought they just had work or something and could never come back earlier— I never even thought—!” 

“—They’re probably having fun or dying in a ditch somewhere, though,” Megumi interrupts, “It’s not a problem to either of us. It’s not like we knew them that well either. I can’t even remember them,” he explains. 

“Oh…” you trail off, turning to face the table. If they’d really gone away when the two were so young, Tsumiki, the older sister, must have tried to be the ‘adult’, right? That sounds difficult. And you’ve heard that children are like plants, and plants need to have enough space to grow— you can recall that fact from your science classes. So if they’d grown so close to each other with no one else save that weird benefactor guy, would they have been able to grow properly? It must have felt suffocating for both of them, right? Maybe they didn’t realise it if they’d been so comfortable with and used to what they’d been having their whole lives— only each other? 

Or maybe you’re thinking ahead of yourself and in reality they were okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t be either way, but maybe the benefactor spent more time with them growing up, and they had more friends before you than you think— you know that Tsumiki does, even if Megumi doesn’t. 

“Megumi, you shouldn’t curse people by talking about them dying like that.” 

“So what? It’s the truth.” 

“Hey, don’t argue…” you start. 

“Hm—? Sorry, [Name]! It’s our own issue— don’t worry about it,” she says, her smile a little forced, the remnants of her frown still left on her face, “Right, Megumi?” Oh, she’s angry. Oh no. 

“I’ll never understand why you’re like this,” he says, heading to his room. 

“Hey— why’re you leaving?” He walks out anyway. 

“Tsumiki, why’s he leaving?” She frowns again. 

“I’m sorry, [Name],” she says, “Megumi just thinks that you shouldn’t be nice to people.” 

“Huh? Nice in what way?” 

“No, it’s just… when people do bad things, I think we should forgive them. We shouldn’t punish them instead. We have to be kind because everyone has a reason for what they do, so we should just be kind to whoever we see.” 

“…uh-huh. I guess. But my mummy says that sometimes if you do that too much life gets harder.” 

“It gets harder if you think it does. Megumi thinks like that too, calling me a hypocrite when I tell him to forgive people and things like that,” she says, “…you know what I think, [Name]?” 

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So…” she grins, and it’s light and happy again, but you see the sagacity in her eyes, and maybe how tired yet satisfied she may be on her lower eyelids. “Don’t give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.” 

“Oh…” you say. If your eyes could, they would have stars in them. Nobody’s told you you could be amazing at something, much less good. You’re quiet and nobody listens to you. Every parent-teacher-meeting always ends with the conclusion that you’re quite an alright student, but even more so a reticent girl. For years your parents have been telling you to speak up or to be more confident and the only people you’ve been able to speak easily to are Tsumiki and Megumi. The two of them are the only ones who have ever said much beyond your timid demeanour. 

You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine. It’s strange how she doesn’t know that, how she must think that she and Megumi are close friends and that the impact she’s had on you is far less than that; it’s strange how you can meet other people at any time and if it’s the right person, no matter what, your life will be affected. It’s strange that there is such a thing as fate. 

It’s 2010 and you think this year is one you want to keep lasting forever. 

27-6-2016

It happens on one summer evening. 

Everything seems like it’s empty; from the streets and their dusty white concrete turning grey as they’re drenched with water, to the rain that news outlets report to be more saturated with acid as the years go by, to the houses and trees that around this time are either deafeningly loud with either the quiet, the sound of cicadas or the temporarily never-ending downpour. 

But for a while, on that morning, the place where you’re settled in— for now— is the rain’s dominion, and you’re just a feeble, powerless human at the hands of nature’s relentlessness. 

So you stay under the convenience store awning, hiding in the shade from the rain after running an errand. The last time you’d got drenched in this type of weather— about two weeks ago— you’d got ill, and it only caused your parents more problems, as your mother chided you. Being sick in the summer wasn’t that bearable for you either— no, it was something hellish. Sometimes you could handle being sick in the winter with a runny nose or getting mild colds in the spring, but being sick during summer time was the worst. You’d be struggling to breathe through mucus-filled lungs and you wouldn’t be able to swallow anything without triggering a terrible ache in your phlegm-filled throat due to post-nasal drip. You’d be feeling like ridding yourself of anything resting in your insides, from toxins to food; you wouldn’t be eating or ingesting anything except water and the constant sensation of feeling faint weighing you down would seem like it were about to kill you prematurely as the sweat from a high fever made you feel immeasurably weak, like a helpless child trapped in the confines of your own body. 

“Are you okay?” the cashier by the counter— not the one who’s usually there, though, so you presume that this one’s a replacement— asks as you’re lost in your own thoughts, “I can give you an umbrella. For free.” 

You’d insist on paying if you had any cash, but your now empty wallet reminds you of the fact that you’re all out. You have a tiny quibble with the kind lady before she finally gives in, and you’re off on your way back home. 

Even upon further inspection as you exit the store, she still seems like a run-off-the-mill cashier. She seems to be in her early 20s, some college student back for the summer part-timing at the local convenience store for extra cash, maybe— with a sort of wistful yet coltish smile and a mole by the side of her right eye. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t be so insistent on not doing things if those things’ll do you good,” she tells you, “I mean— I know that sounds kinda mean, and that in asian cultures like ours we naturally say stuff that deprecates ourselves, but I really do think that you should, um… how do I say it?” she ponders aloud, “Aha! —Yes, you should just look out for yourself and let people help you. It does everybody a little better. And, you know, you’ll be able to live life without regrets, because there won’t really be an opportunity cost for letting people help you, and they’ll like helping you too. I mean, who doesn’t like helping others? Wait, you get what I mean, right?”

“...it sounded like you were rambling,” you tell her, then step back, “Um. Sorry.” 

“No, no! It’s fine! Like, um, you and I are kinda similar in that regard, I guess? We’re both awkward and we’re strangers but I just thought that the advice would do you some good, you know?” 

“Ah— I get it, sorry,” you repeat, “It’s just that… I’m not used to that, maybe? I don’t want to be a burden on others.” Not anymore. 

She purses her pink-glossed lips. “It’ll be hard to live like that, you know. If you live like that you won’t know who you are.” 

It’s strange to hear that from a literal stranger. What’s even stranger is how deep the conversation is. Wasn’t this the time to make small talk? You didn’t talk to strangers very often, especially those in stores and all. At least not for this long. 

“I… uh. I’ll see— I guess…” you mutter. The conversation dies there. You really aren’t suited for things like that. You can only find it easy to communicate and speak in that way when it’s with Tsumiki or your parents. Otherwise, you’d be stuttering and muttering your way through valleys of words that you don’t know if you should use, people demanding you speak up, or people commenting on how awkward you are, even if they mean so endearingly. You don’t know the source of the problem, really— maybe it was puberty and the onslaught of new, different people you had to talk to every time you moved? Maybe it is that. But this is your predicament: you used to be able to talk to people and over the years that just went away. 

And it’s especially bad with people your age— the last time you’d been able to talk to someone your age in a normal, non-cloddish manner, was probably when you were eight. 

Oh. 

When you exit the shop, the sky’s been dipped in the sunset and it looks like a mix of purple and pink hues have been laid onto it like watercolour paint on fresh paper. The cashier waves you goodbye anyway, claiming that she hopes you’ll come back soon— you hope she doesn’t hate you now, else you’d avoid this convenience store like the plague for the next few months. The plastic bag rustles and crinkles as its contents bump against your knees. 

The air is still thick with petrichor and the breaths you take feel light and fresh, brushing against the inner walls of your lungs as you breathe in and out. There are water residuals left on the sidewalk in patches. 

Suddenly it changes— and you don’t notice this until after it happens. The air grows heavy and everything around you feels volatile, like their constituents will be separated from each other at any moment, turned into a mangled mass of jostling particles; your ears feel as if they’re so intensely covered to the point that you find it difficult to catch a breath; you can’t bring your lungs to continue moving after that hitched breath you made once you felt it. There’s something in the air, something disgusting and thick and suffocating. It fills you with ominousness. It fills you with a feeling of sickness, of suffering, of shame and fear and sadness, and it’s lurking somewhere, somewhere in the dark. 

Cursed energy. 

You remember your father talking about it, mentioning how it felt in passing. 

Oh no. 

“Help!” a voice erupts— it’s the same  voice from the cashier, except this time it isn’t pleasant, it’s frantic, no— downright terrified. 

If there is anything you’d consider yourself it isn’t someone who saved others. 

Beyond the geographical sense of the word, you were the embodiment of stasis; something that didn’t touch others at all and made no effort to do so. You’d have no effect on any others’ life and for a long time you’d accepted you’d live a life amounting to nothing. You knew that and walked into life thinking you’d just keep doing nothing until you died for some nondescript reason. 

So you didn’t really care about your future, and you abstained from thinking of the morality behind your actions because what was there to judge, anyway? You just had to follow what everyone else did, and none of your actions were so monumental to change anything. Being guilty over doing too little or doing nothing at all wouldn’t change anything; you didn’t have the power to change it and you didn’t see the point of a Sisyphean life like such. Even if humanity would have tugged at your shoulder to do something and be removed from that state of stasis, you were sure everyone felt the same and the amalgamation of this was society’s indifference— after all, what was humanity, kindness, against society’s apathy, its enemy; what was humanity when placed against what it had built itself into? 

Thus for all your fourteen years of life you did nothing at all to change the trajectory of anything. It would be no use doing and no use trying. Nothing would come out of it in the end. 

As long as you could be useful to your parents, or at least the people around you, you didn’t have to care about being good or bad or kind or evil. 

You’d lived like that for a long time. You’re not the type to save people, not the type to help those you know nothing of. 

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So… don’t  give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.” 

You look down at your clenched fists, at her hair tie and its cherry-red hue. 

She did say you’d be good at it. 

It’s strange to think of your best friend now, but damn it, you really want to be like her now. You need to. 

Else you wouldn’t be able to live; you have the power to help people, right? And you’re probably one of the only people on this island with the ability to do so. At the very least you’ve got some cursed energy, and you’ve always been able to heal from injuries really quickly. You’ve seen enough, from simple shikigami to veils and simple domains cast by your father. 

So there may be a chance, a one in a million chance. And you’re willing to take it. If you don’t take it now and find that in the future you could have helped someone who would have gotten injured or worse— it’s now of all times that you think you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive yourself for such a thing. 

You can’t change the directions of others’ lives. At least not if you keep thinking like that. 

You grind your teeth and turn back, leaving the bags on the sidewalk. You’ll get them later. This is a ridiculous idea and you’re doing it anyway and your mind is screaming at your frozen legs to move and keep running, idiot, keep fucking moving because you’ve got to save someone you may just be able to save. Someone you don’t know, who may just be able to help. She said that you shouldn’t deny things that can help you, after all. And she has to be helped, right? So you’re going to jump in and you won’t deny yourself from saving yourself from a life of guilt. And you’re going to be useful, too. You’re going to help. 

You really have to do this and all of a sudden you think you may be crying. But you run forward anyway. You’re going to move away from that state of stasis; you’re going to change and shift and move; finally, it’s liberating and frightening and feels like living as you step into the store. 

Your lungs are burning. 

The curse looms over, a deformed, monstrous thing with its eyes and hands drowning in the mud-like substance it consists of. 

You’re going to make this work. You’ve seen your own cells once or twice before in science classes and all, you remember how your father had the old microscope he used to use for work, and brought it out for you to look at what made you. You’re your father’s daughter so you’ll make this work, your promise yourself— and you think of those cells, you conjure that image of them in your head and focus on them shifting, changing to make something new. You force them to multiply by the millions in a tenth of a minute, then you cut them off from your body. You make a tiny blister and goodness you can’t imagine you can actually do it but you’ve got to digress from that and worry about the college student cashier first, and how she’s trembling at the sight before her. 

There’s a bruise on her arm, and so you’ve got to examine the situation: she’s holding it to her chest so you can imagine she’s only been wounded on the skin and hasn’t been scratched or anything. You imagine her cells— they mustn’t look too different from yours— and heal them back up, the blotch of a bruise disappearing as if wiped over by a stain remover. “Calm down!” you shout at her, and you really don’t mean to, but adrenaline and anxiety and the whole situation are getting your heart pounding unlike ever before. 

“Wait— don’t touch that thing!” she shouts, “You’ll end up getting bruised by the hands!”

So what next? —Cursed energy alone can kill other curses if there’s enough of it, right? And your mother told you about how some people imbue things with cursed energy. 

Then you run to the curse slapping it with as much force as you can muster, and it’s arms outstretch to snatch you and force you all around, hitting you abrasives against the shelves of the buns you bought earlier, scraping your skin against the surface of the counter’s edge or nearly smashing your shoulder against the wall, but you keep your hand on any part of it no matter what. You surge your cursed energy, splitting part of it to heal your wounds and the other part of it to overload it with cursed energy. The more intense you get, the harder it hits. But you can’t give up— you’re going to commit to it and stick to something; you’re going to do something that’ll amount to another thing for once. The sight of the cashier hiding under the counter, hunched and praying is enough for you to keep going. She doesn’t deserve that. 

You load it with all the cursed energy you can manage as a rookie— you don’t think this is as much as a rookie has, though, so you probably have a lot and you promise you’re coming out of this thing alive. For once you’re going to swear you’ll keep living this intensely. 

Eventually it fizzles out, its energy, and you just keep overloading it with cursed energy. You’ve still got a lot left. That’s good. Extremely so. 

It bursts all over the convenience store, the ways it was made of. It’s going to be hassle to clean. You fall on the ground face flat and heal yourself. There’s a nosebleed, you think, from such a large amount of cursed energy. You’re panting heavier than you’ve ever done in your from any race or PE class. 

But you’ve discovered that you are the type to help others. You’ve discovered that you can change others’ lives if you want to. 

And it’s really frightening, but you’re happy. You don’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer— you know too little of curses’ organic matter to be able to do this without making it alive yourself— but you’re going to devote your life to helping others. 

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor in that world, a nurse, or something. You won’t have to be too involved in its inner workings; you won’t be on the front lines. Still, you’ll help and you’ll be useful. You’ll help and your life will be a good one to live, hopefully. 

Shakily, she moves up. You’re shaking too, gooseflesh and cold sweat and temperatures going wild in and on your body. 

“A-are you okay?” she asks. 

“Oh— uhm, yeah!” you say, rubbing the blood off your philtrum. You’ll have to have a really long shower once you get back. Maybe you’ll draw a bath or something. “Sorry, I… uh— I should have asked you to go outside or something. Could you not tell anyone about this? If you’re injured anywhere I’ll try my best to patch you up as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I— okay… god, you’re just a kid,” she goes, “What happened back there, actually?” 

“Have you ever seen stuff like that before? Like that monster?” 

“…no.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, because there are people who take care of stuff like that. You seeing it was just a one-time thing. It probably won’t ever happen again!” you say, holding your thumb up. “Promise not to tell anyone, okay?” 

“Alright. Just… you okay? Want me to help you with anything? I mean, it’s pretty late now.” 

“I’ll be okay. But I think I’ve got to go home now. Could you let me see any injuries you had got just now, first?” 

28-6-2016

You only arrive back at midnight. The weather’s fully put a stop to its torrents and your parents are worried sick. You’re so tired you could faint— fighting the curse took more out of your mental energy than you thought it would, and you have a splitting headache as the result of it. 

When they see you and sense the cursed energy, you explain whatever happened. Once you’re done your father shudders, and your mother stands up. 

“Whatever it is, I’m not letting you be a jujutsu sorcerer,” she states resolutely, “I’m never going to let you be one.” 

27-12-2016

The date you and Megumi have agreed on (with the help of Tsumiki as a sort of middleman) is about a week after his fourteenth birthday. 

Your parents told you to be careful— it’s a long trip to and from Tokyo, and you’re going all alone. 

This is the travel plan: fly from Kagoshima to Tokyo, stay at Megumi and Tsumiki’s for a while, and ultimately find the courage to hand him the letter before you leave. Maybe you’ll see if he still cares for you while you’re at it. 

To be honest you don’t completely feel like going there anymore— you’ll always love Tokyo, it’s just that things will be painfully awkward between you and Megumi. So you remind yourself of Tsumiki, and that you’re mostly doing this for her. Any of the three of you can be the glue holding the other two together at any given moment, and now it’s Tsumiki playing that role. 

Friends will always be above boys, anyway. So you’re doing this for Tsumiki and not him or yourself. 

When you’re finally at the airport, Tsumiki greets you with a hug and Megumi in tow. You’ve her old hair tie on your wrist— it’s come in handy multiple times since then. They both look so different now: Tsumiki’s still tall, but her hair has grown longer, more luscious and she looks so pretty you understand why she had received so many anonymous confession letters on Valentine’s Day this year. Megumi’s taller too, and though it’s slightly embarrassing the first thing you think of when you see him is how handsome he looks, at least as far as boys your age go. The viridian of his eyes is a lush summer day in a capsule, a contrast to his jet black hair spiking in all directions and his eyelashes— and those, too, those eyelashes, goodness— they look like they were woven by silk or taken off a doll: they’re so unbelievably long and curly and pretty. Your face is as hot as an oven that’s about to bake up a whole cake and let it expand and rise. They’re the kind of people you see on television, each so beautiful like the other and you almost feel as if you’re intruding; you can’t imagine how out of place you must look with them from the eyes and viewpoints of other people. 

“Tsumiki!” you grin as you’re still kept in her arms, “Long time no see!” 

“[Name]! Finally! Oh, you look so pretty now!” 

“Haha, really? I was thinking the same about you, though. I’m so happy to see you, seriously!” 

“Me too!” 

You step back and pull away. 

“Hi, Megumi,” you say. You’re nervous, but you can’t deny you’re happy. You smile as you look at him— the two of you are no longer the same height anymore. You tug at the straps of your bag, feeling the weight of you pulling the straps down on your shoulder.  “…it’s nice to see you again.” 

“…nice to see you again, too.” 

Why’d he have to stop talking to you? Why’d he have to avoid you? “How’s… um, how’s everything?” 

A glimpse from your peripheral vision shows Tsumiki with sparks in her eyes. She really was so excited— and maybe a little too hopeful, because you don’t think anything will happen at all. The incident from June makes you feel like you should try to hope for something, though. But you probably won’t be completing this trip with a new boyfriend kissing your neck or something. 

“It’s been okay,” he answers. 

“…it’s the same for me.” 

“That’s good to know.” 

You take the train back with them, breathing in how crowded Tokyo is once again. When you’d first arrived six years ago you felt like a country bumpkin, the masses of people turned into one giant entity never once fathomed by your eight year old mind. Now you’re fourteen, and the lights with their neon sparks, the dark concrete bathed in streetlights when the sun sets, the moon hanging overhead over a multifaceted maze of buildings— it feels a bit like coming home, even if you only called it home for a little less than twelve months of a life spanning some number roughly around five thousand, one hundred and ten days. 

You really love Tokyo. But more than that you love the people you met in it during what feels like a lifetime ago. 

The cold air that you breathe in as the three of you walk and take the turn to their house fills your lungs, settling into them like they never left. 

“—And you remember that old maths teacher?” Tsumiki laughs, “‘You children have to harness your mental prowess!’” she quotes, holding two fingers on each hand up in the air. 

“Oh my god,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “I was so sick of him last time— bet he’d feel old as hell now if he saw us all grown up like this.” 

“We saw him last week,” Megumi adds, “That old geezer expected college-level intelligence from bunches of feral eight and nine year old kids.” 

“I mean, you were a smart kid, Megumi,” you recall, “Tsumiki too. But that guy, seriously…”

“Hey! You were a smart kid too, [Name]! But was there anyone who didn’t hate him last time?” 

“Never, probably,” you agree, “He was so infuriating. Ugh— Oh! We’re here! I haven’t been here in so long, oh my goodness…” 

Megumi works the key in and opens the door. You inhale the scent of their house, a mosaic of memories and old book pages. Places like these deserve to remain treasured forever. 

The three of you step in. Smiley Tsumiki, frowny Megumi and you. This is the home that will never leave you no matter what. This is what you’d call home even if you’re not in Tokyo, or away from them, because it felt like a constant for a year and that was enough to feel like you went to it at least five times a week for less than a full year.  

It feels good to be home. It feels better to call it that after years of not feeling as if you really ever had one at all. 

28-12-2016

You can’t sleep. 

They’ve helped you unpack all your things, you’re clad in pyjamas and have had a thorough shower, and the white blanket on the futon is warm on the inside and cold on the outside— perfect for sleeping comfortably. But you can’t get a wink of sleep. 

Since you’d first discovered that you could, in fact, use cell manipulation, your nights had always been like this. 

To use it properly with your own organic matter, cell manipulation requires cooperation with your brain and your stomach— the source of cursed energy. Imagining the cells enough and applying cursed energy to them required your brain to overload itself with both cursed energy and information, and adding commands to that, making yourself do even the slightest bit of actions with your cells— felt like leaving your brain in the microwave. The fact that your gut— for your cursed energy— and your brain— for command and control— had to work together added more of a headache on top of that. Headaches and nosebleeds and your brain being unable to shut down became what you were used to. 

Did you keep doing it anyway? Yes— you still had the intention of helping people with it, after all. You held on to the hope that you could be a doctor or a nurse for jujutsu sorcerers or something, not an actual sorcerer in that world itself. You assumed your mother would be fine with that at least. You’d be satisfied with something like that as well, even at the cost of your sleep and health. You were still young, and the only two people who could do anything like this were you and your over fifty year old father. And you didn’t want him doing that at all for any longer. 

Clang–! 

The water bottle on the bedside table falls to the carpeted floor with a bang against the wood under it— you rush to pick it up with as little sound as you can manage. 

Stealthily, you step out of bed. If your memory serves you right, the kettle should be on top of the drawer next to the oven. 

You’ll drink some hot water or tea and lull yourself to a peaceful night eventually, you decide. 

Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s light— so light that it would be inaudible had you stayed on the bed instead of moving nearer to the door, and so soft even the lightest of sleepers wouldn’t hear it. So whoever this is, they must know that you’re awake. You’re sure you wouldn’t have caught it at all and for a second you wonder whether there really was someone knocking the door after all. Tsumiki seems to be fast asleep, though— you can hear her muffled snoring from the other side of the wall. Thank goodness she’s a heavy sleeper. You’re not too sure about how Megumi fares in that sense. 

You turn the cold metal knob and open the door. 

In the dim light the front of his body’s barely visible, its glow only tracing the outline of his left shoulder from the back. 

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice as soft as you can to prevent cracking your voice once you’ve started speaking. 

“I heard something,” Megumi answers, “Did you fall?” 

“It was just my water bottle. Did I wake you up? Sorry.” 

“No, don’t worry about that.” 

“Why’re you still awake?” 

He places his hand on the door frame, voice lower than earlier that night. “Why are you? It’s way past midnight,” he adds, “...I couldn’t fall asleep either, to be honest…” 

“Insomnia, huh?” you go, “This happens to me all the time, too.” 

“No, it only happens once in a while,” he remarks, “Usually I sleep pretty well.” 

“Oh. You wanna come inside? We can, like, talk, or something. We can catch up.” 

“Sure.” 

You guide him over to the edge of the bed, and he shuts the door before he sits down beside you. There is no way you can think to describe this other than saying that it’s strange, really: the boy you had a crush on six years ago, who was one of your closest friends, has grown more than thirty centimetres, and the aura surrounding the two of you is more awkward than any conversation you’ve ever had in your life. Neither of you question why the light isn’t turned on, and neither of you head to the bedside table to flip the light switch anyway, so the scene in their guest room is of two fourteen year old— about to be fifteen year olds in a little over three days, though— kids in the dark either reminiscing over memories or trying to catch up despite having changed so much. 

“So how’s life?” you start. 

“Nothing much happens at all, honestly. Wait, [Name]—” When he says your name it’s like your chest makes one full leap. “—I think I should let you know, six years ago, the dog you saw—” 

“I already know about all that,” you tell him, “My parents told me. …hey, wanna see something I can show you with my own cursed technique?” 

“...okay.” 

You hold your hand out. 

“It may be hard to see it in the dark, but…” 

He turns the light on for you before you finish and you thank him. It must have been silly to try and show it to him when everything was engulfed in the night despite the fact that you were closer to the switch. You lean back as he outstretches his arm to do it. 

“See?” You hold your hand up, palm displayed and facing him, before closing your eyes and imagine your heaps of skin cells and red blood cells. You’re bound to have a headache by tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. At least there’s something you can show him, something new you can let him know of. This was ‘catching up’, anyway. 

“[Name]!” He whispers, but the urgency in his voice is clear. You close the wound up immediately, speeding through a healing process that would have taken days to be completed in the span of a few seconds. Tomorrow you’re going to end up having a nosebleed, too. 

“Are you alright?” he goes, “Your nose is bleeding.” 

“Is it?” you reply, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s just that I’m not that used to it yet. I guess if I trained my body even more, it would be able to handle it better.” 

His hand strays to yours, most likely out of worry. You pull it back. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“Sorry if I made you worry.” 

“...I don’t think you should strain yourself,” he begins. It’s like how you and your father speak to each other— how funny. “If your own cursed technique does that to your body, it’s better if you don’t use it at all.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you say, “I’m not going to use it in fights or anything, either.” 

“You won’t become a jujutsu sorcerer?” 

“No,” you explain, “I mean, my dad was one and he quit a while ago, but I know it’ll be hard to hold on and do so much with this during fights. I may just be like, backup, or a doctor or nurse, or something. You?” 

“I think it’s pointless to save others.” 

Wow, cringey much. Reminds you of yourself six months ago. 

You don’t press it any further. 

“But… about doctors and all, there are people like that. Only one, to be more specific.” 

“Oh, well then— what's her name? I’d love to meet her.” 

“Ieiri Shoko. Want me to introduce her to you?” 

29-12-2016 

He does try to take you to visit her the next day. You think the reason why he’s doing this is to avoid catching up, or at least actually talking about something beyond a superficial level. You think that if that’s the truth behind this then you must be at fault too because you let him take you there with no hesitation whatsoever. Like adding opaque white tape over a fully painted canvas. 

But he fails because of the man over the phone. It’s probably that Gojo guy, that benefactor. Now that you know how strong he is in terms of sorcery, you guess that since he’s taking care of Megumi, Megumi’s probably a massive deal too. 

“No, I’m just asking if she can visit right now— no, get your head out of the gutter, damn it!” 

He hangs up. “I’m seriously going to punch him,” he states, frowning. So it’s definitely Gojo, then. You remember him being really insufferable by Megumi’s standards. “She’s busy, by the way. …sorry about that.” 

“Calm down, it’ll be alright,” you say, “We didn’t have to. Let’s just go around the city like tourists or something. I think that’s better anyway.” 

Tsumiki says she can come along with you, but she’ll have to leave at the stop right before Ueno for something important— a sudden appointment with someone, she says— before heading back and reconvening with you and Megumi. The three of you ride the Yamanote Line, but at the stop right before Ueno—your first chosen destination for this trip— Tsumiki has to leave, as she’d said. She apologises profusely. You know she isn’t slick.  

You take your phone, texting her. 

[Name]

Tsumiki

You ain’t slick

Why

Seriously omfg

[Tsumiki]

Sorry, I would have joined, just wanted to test the waters hehehehe… (>‿◠)✌

I mean you two seem ok

But let me know if anything bad happens okayyy??? 

You two seem pretty happy with each other though… also, what happened last night? 

If you’re up to any hanky panky, don’t do it under our roof (ㆆ_ㆆ)!!

[Name]

Literally so done with you right now -_-

But thanks I guess, I’ll see if we can catch up

AAAAAAHHHHH it’s gonna end up being so awkward I swear

[Tsumiki]

Good luck!! Love you bestieeee

Ttyl okay?? Gimme all the details 

“Who’re you texting?” he whispers. 

“Just a friend,” you say, as they announce that the train is in Ueno. 

The day in Ueno Park goes quite smoothly, really— but there’s still little progress made and the letter seems to be having its screams more drowned out the more you tug on your bag. 

“It’s pretty cold,” you comment as the two of you walk around, witnessing everyone else walking around with their huddled-up bundles of clothes and coats on, “Next time, if it’s not too crowded, we should, um… we should visit during autumn or spring. Together.” 

“Tsumiki and I can come here anytime. It just depends on you,” he says, a little rougher than you think he intends, “Wait— no, I mean, your timing—” 

You giggle slightly. So you’re not the only one who’s gotten more awkward since last time. Now he doesn’t seem the type to be, though— he seems more like those ‘cool’ guys in shoujo mangas; those bad boys who the girls end up changing, or something. Kinda cringey. But the fact that he’s avoiding eye contact and turning his head away evasively so that you don’t see him because of such a little slip-up in his phrasing is really, really cute. At least that’s what you think. It’s not like any other people would think the same, probably because of that frown or the fact that his voice doesn’t seem any flustered at all. But you think that’s okay. That makes it so that there’s more for you to appreciate, maybe. “It’s fine,” you reassure him. 

“...I brought a camera, by the way,” he says, digging for it in his pocket. The camera itself seems like one from the 2000s— it’s the small type with the wrist strap, and the buttons on the side and all. “It’s… old, though.” 

“Oh! That looks nice!” you comment. It really does. Your bag’s strap— the damn thing— slips off your shoulder again and you’ve got to put it back securely in place. Your shoulder hurts and you regret bringing so much with you. 

“Want me to hold your bag for you…?” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, “It’s just that it goes off my shoulder sometimes and it can be pretty heavy. I packed too much stuff in it, heh.” 

“Then I’ll carry it. Give it here.” 

You end up handing him the bag. At least he doesn’t mind how heavy it is, nor does he complain about what you must be packing, or anything. It’s better than being forced to give your parents your things only for them to tell you to pack lighter ones. 

“It’s good that we avoided the crowd, but now there aren’t any leaves or flowers…” you start. You hope it doesn’t sound like complaining— that would be awfully rude. “Normally, people would be having picnics here, right?”

“We can still take pictures, though. Wait, can you— can you stand in front of me, here?” he asks, his steps coming to a halt next to a small garden. 

“Okay.” 

He brings the camera to his eye. “Smile,” he says. 

You’ve quite an awkward-looking smile, you think. It’s always bothered you slightly whenever your parents wanted to take pictures of you, but you smile anyway in the picture— you give him your brightest grin. It’s not like either of you will keep it anyway, and you are happy: gratingly awkward or not, you’re still with an old friend. 

“Ah, delete that,” you tell him when he shows the picture to you. The backdrop is pretty, though. “You should take a picture of the background. I look so bad in it.” 

“It’s a nice picture,” he argues, “You look… nice.” 

You shift your line of sight to look at him, unsure if it’s out of incredulousness, or the fact that the whole situation seems to be a little silly, or the fact that he’s looking down at the picture with a gaze that warms your heart a bit. Those eyelids and lashes and green green pupils will be the death of you, you’re sure. You feel you could drown in them at any second. “…thanks.” 

He looks back at you. 

“I think you look nice too, Megumi.”  

It’s really, really cold, but you feel your face heating up. For once in your life it doesn’t feel like something you should be shy of. 

30-12-2016

“Could you show me the dog again?” you ask him. He’s on the bed again. Different day, same situation. “Why did it suddenly pop out all those years ago anyway?” 

“It was an accident,” he explains, “You know how my Ten Shadows technique comes from the shadows, right? Wait, I should rephrase that—”

“Oh… I mean, don’t worry, you don’t sound rude or anything. I just wanted to see the dog. I mean, I like dogs! I still read books or articles about them every now and then.” 

“There are actually two.” 

“Two?” you go, wide-eyed and excited. 

He summons them out of the ground, one dark with the same red markings, and the other the exact same dog as the one you saw six years ago. He does it effortlessly— there’s no pain involved, no trade-off for getting to show someone his abilities. It’s not like you and your father’s, with your headaches and nosebleeds and vertigo every time you use it even if it’s for something simple like opening up a wound and closing it, or creating tiny blisters. How terribly inconvenient it was for you, and how easy it was for Megumi to use it so quickly and painlessly. You were slightly jealous of him for it. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” you say, petting the white one. It cuddles up to you. The one with dark, fluffy fur does the same and you’ve got each palm on each dog’s head. 

You turn your head back to face him. “Thank you, Megumi.” 

“...it’s nothing.” 

What a classic Megumi-like thing to say. 

15-4-2017 

Freshly fifteen years old, you know one thing. The friends you meet at this age are probably the best you’ll ever have. 

You’re still training your cursed technique from time to time if only for leisure or any emergencies since your mother’s absolutely determined to keep you from being one. But you’re in a new place again— your parents have chosen to move back to Sendai— where they lived and got married before you came along, and everything considered things aren’t as bad as when you had to leave to and from Tokyo. 

It all started with the class’s seating arrangement. You sat down after one of the classes, preparing yourself for a year where you had to search through the whole school for friends or spend it alone as you watched everyone else fall into their groups from the previous year like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces clicking into place again. 

The clique in front of you is all looking at this one guy with unkempt hair as pink as cherry blossoms, or MyMelody’s pink ribbon. He’s got a boyish grin on his face that honestly makes him out to be a pretty nice guy. 

“Hey!” a guy greets, his hand up as he’s smiling at you, “My name’s Itadori Yuuji. What’s yours?” 

He’s kind of tall, is a really smiley guy, and seems like he’d be pretty popular. He reminds you of a friendly puppy. Or one of those really, really cute seals people make videos of in aquariums. 

You tell him your name. “You… uh, you seem pretty popular, Itadori.” 

He pauses and turns his head up like he’s thinking. “Well… now that you mention it, I guess so,” he states, hand scratching the back of his neck, “They’re pretty cool, though. Don’t worry!”

“Oh…” 

“Anyway, where ya from?” 

“I–uh. I mean, my parents move a lot,” you say, “So I guess you could say I don’t know where I’m from, myself? Sendai’s my parents’ hometown, though. And they wanted to be back for a while. So I transferred here.” 

“Cool! So you’ve got to see a lot of stuff?” 

“Uh. Kind of?” 

He drags a seat from behind him before facing you. The way he sits is comfortable; it’s almost funny— you’re so awkward, so rigid like a frozen statue, and he’s actively trying to melt it, but the ice is still cold and barely broken. Poor Itadori, you think, He’s talking to someone who doesn’t know who to talk properly. He’s going to get bored any minute but he’s still going to talk. 

“Like, um…” you think, “Oh! I went to the Tanegashima space centre a while back.” 

“Woah!” he goes, with excitement in his eyes like fireworks sparkles, “Wish I could go to space one day. Maybe it’ll be like something in Passengers.”

It’s only the space centre, though? Not space itself, you think. But you guess that’s okay— something, something, men are perfect when they’re a little dumb. You don’t know that much about idols. “I haven’t seen it yet, but uh, sounds nice, I guess? And you don’t look like the type to watch sci-fi movies… but maybe I’ll watch it one of these days. I don’t watch a lot of movies, though.” 

“I mean, it’s got Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he says, “She’s my favourite actress!” 

That makes a lot of sense. “…really? I’ve only seen her in clips from the Hunger Games a few times. I mean, I heard she’s had other pretty good movies, though, like… what was it called… Silver Linings something? I don’t know, uhm.” 

“Oh, Silver Linings Playbook?” he says, excitement dazzling in his eyes again, “Man, you haven’t lived if you haven’t seen them. I’ll drag you along with me sometime to watch it!” 

“Ah,” you go, unsure of what to say, “Um… nice! Thanks!” 

Over the course of the next few months you learn a few things about Itadori Yuuji. He loves horror movies and Jennifer Lawrence with a passion, is a sterling athlete and freakishly good at sports, and has a smile that makes people turn to face him like sunflowers to bright summer sunlight. And he knows you too— knows that you mildly loathe all genres of nonfiction save for books about animals (especially dogs), that you prefer when things are busy even if you may enjoy the quiet, and that the two of you are people who really, really ought to just take a train to Tokyo and have kaiten sushi together one day. 

Also, you can admit that you have some degree of a crush on him— him and that damned smile. Seriously, how could anyone not? You watch him sometimes during PE, eyeing the way he moves, and that guy can move, alright: he swerves so naturally it makes you swoon, jumps up and down with might and energy, can carry people around like they’re boxes of tissues. He’s swift but his movements aren’t frenetic; they’re controlled and he demonstrates such mastery over his body that no one who sees him wouldn’t be amazed. And he’s a nice guy— your parents have met him at least twice by chance, and they love him. Your father talks about how he’s a nice, handsome boy, and your mother mentions how he’d be an ideal son-in-law. 

Poor Itadori, you think to yourself whenever they say it, giggling, Maybe they’ll let up soon enough, and they’ll realise that you’re just a really good friend. 

You’re still not going to act on your feelings, though. You never will; you’re never going to act on anything. So you’ll fade away like a spectator, only trying to talk to him because guess what? You like it, you like talking to him and spending time with him even if you know he doesn’t like you back and sees you as just a friend. He’s still a fun guy and he always will be. 

In a way it feels almost liberating, like a breath of fresh air from what happened a year ago: lighthearted crushes like these are a quintessential element of the teenage girl experience, and even if you’d always fit the bill for an ordinary teenage girl, another part of that would probably be not feeling like a normal teenage girl at all. So having this and not being hurt, having this and having fun— is great. Maybe if you get over him and start crushing on someone else, you’ll get to try having a boyfriend by the end of your last year in junior high. Sounds pretty neat if you do say so yourself. Having a partner sounds interesting. 

“Itadori. Um… they’re going to release a new Jennifer Lawrence movie,” you say, standing behind him as the other friends around him stare at you. You aren’t too close to them, but hey— he was right. Some of them were pretty okay, cool people. 

“Ah, yeah! I’m watching that too!” 

“Oh, great! I mean, it’s right up your alley, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says, “Wanna watch it together?” You blush and he continues, “I can bring the other guys too.” He gestures to the boys behind him with his thumb. You don’t know them very well— hell, they probably don’t know your name much less like you— but that’s okay. Itadori is a great guy to spend time with and whether it’s scream-singing karaoke in a language you can’t speak at his house, joking and horsing around while his grandfather frowns on the dining table, or learning how to cook meatballs he says are easy to make— you’re guaranteed to have fun with him no matter what. 

“Sure.” 

So: now you have a new guy you’re crushing on, because the last one took so long for you to get over, and you’re not sure if you’re completely over the last one, but you know you’re not going to talk to him that much anymore. And this new guy’s sweet, a hundred times better, and even if this all-in-one perfect guy doesn’t like you back, you’ll say it again: you think Itadori is awfully fun and nothing can change that. 

Life is going pretty okay, you think. Life is becoming something you’re getting the hang of. Maybe, just maybe. 

2-1-2017

“Guess I’m going back, now…” you sigh, zipping your luggage bag up. It’s a cold day outside— each time you press your fingers against a window, or even touch a door knob or any cold metal, it freezes you up. It’s just inconvenient, for now— if you could, you could even use cell manipulation to keep yourself warm, but that would just be too much effort wasted on too little of a cold winter day in early January. 

New Year’s had just been a trip to the local shrine with them— this time Tsumiki had to come too, so she didn’t sabotage you and leave the two of you alone— and the days have gone by relatively peacefully. When your parents call you up they’re always relieved to just see you sitting on the bed or seated on their dining table eating meals with the two of them. 

“You’ve still a few hours left here, don’t worry,” Tsumiki says, “Let’s make the most of it!” 

Despite how awkward things were, you’d say you enjoyed being with Megumi and Tsumiki the past few days— mainly Megumi, though, because Tsumiki’s been conveniently leaving anytime you and Megumi are about to go anywhere together. 

“Has anything interesting happened lately? Any action?” she asks. 

“Pft— no, not really. Haven’t even given him the letter…” 

“Aw…” she starts, “It’s alright if you don’t want to force yourself or anything, but I really think it would do him good to read it and that it’d do you even better if you passed it to him. He cares about you more than you think.” 

“Uh-huh, that’s good to know,” you say, “At the very least, we’re friends, still. I’ll get over him eventually— I mean, I think I already have, since I’m not praying for him to be my boyfriend or something.” 

“Oh…” she goes, “Well, whatever it is, I’m supporting you!” she smiles, patting you lightly on the head. 

“Thanks.” 

She leaves for something quick before Megumi arrives back, which you think does him good because he comes back with enough bruises and patches on his face to completely drive Tsumiki up the wall. 

“Woah— you okay?” You rush to him. “What happened?” 

He groans. He reminds you of a stray dog sometimes, really. Even more so now than before. 

“S-sit down,” you say. He follows your instructions. “I’ll try to heal you, don’t worry.” 

Since you discovered you had your cursed technique, you’ve only used it to heal others besides yourself once when you helped rid the cashier from the store of her bruises. It’s been half a year since then, and you’re still getting used to using it on yourself. Still, you let him sit on the sofa anyway. 

“You probably shouldn’t. I can handle this on my own. If you do this to yourself then you’ll be over-exerting your body.” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you chuckle, “Let me take care of you. And if I get a nosebleed or a headache, you can take care of me too. Heheh. That’s how things like this work, right? We take care of each other. So I can heal your wounds for you and you can take care of me if I get any of my cursed technique’s side-effects.” 

You place your hand on his face for your cursed energy to get to him— you’d be able to do it without touching him, but the more the better— and you feel how his breath hitches when you do so. His skin is cold, and so very smooth, like the soft cotton blankets they have in their house. Slowly, you visualise his cells changing, shifting, until his skin looks pristine and good as new. 

“…and…there.” 

Then your nose bleeds. “Ah— hate it when this happens, honestly.” 

“See? I told you not to strain yourself.” He gets up and places a tissue to your nose. “Lean your head back. Please.” 

You follow his instructions as he did yours. “So what happened?” you ask, only able to view either his face or the ceiling. “How’d you get injured?” 

“Nothing, just… I… got into a fight.” 

“Wh— a fight? That’s dangerous!” you frown, “What happened in the first place? Someone picked on you?” 

“No, they were just picking on someone else. People like that shouldn’t be able to trample on others.”

“So what are you, the police?” you argue, “You shouldn’t hurt people, nor should you let them hurt you. It’s bad for you, you know?” 

“The basis of all kinds of human interaction isn’t being kind,” he claims, “It’s avoiding violating someone’s dignity, and I despise the people who ignore this rule just to make themselves feel powerful.” 

And that pisses you off a little. Because for all his sister’s kindness and forgiving spirit, her brother cares less for being able to forgive others than for reading books until one AM in the morning or something along those lines. 

The weather becomes that little bit colder and you go against him. 

“Well, yeah— I hate bullies too. It’s just… ugh, why’d you have to get yourself hurt over this? It really isn’t good to have injuries. Who’s to say anything life-threatening won’t happen? It’s not like you’re invincible.” 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, seriously,” you retort, “Do you fight often or something? You know, no matter how many times you come out unscathed, it’s not like you’ll even be alive the next. What if these bullies aren’t the worst and there are some gangsters or something who kill you one day?” 

“In my school?” he goes. 

“Uh-huh— and you seriously sound kinda self-righteous, too. I mean, who gives you the right to judge? Just don’t be an asshole and you’ll be fine, and it’s not like being an asshole to the assholes is gonna do anything.” 

“No, I just can’t handle people who step all over others.” 

“Me neither, but why can’t you just be nice?” you go, “I don’t know, what do boys do? Talk to each other, make friends or something. Forgive each other. Just be nice. That’s what I think the basis of human interaction is. It’s helping people when you can, and stuff. That’s what the basis of life is, even.” 

“You sound like Tsumiki.” 

“Oh, well. I’d rather take that as a compliment even if it wasn’t intended to be by her own brother. I seriously used to think you were better than that, honestly. That sounds so emo— ‘Oh, the world isn’t inherently kind and so we should be tolerable to each other at best and horrible to the ones who aren’t tolerable at worst.’ What a joke.” 

“Seriously?” he frowns, not raising his voice, but definitely angered, “You’re worse, really. You and Tsumiki and that hypocritical sense of forgiveness. It’s probably because you read too many fiction books last time.” 

“I can’t believe I’m taking that from an antisocial guy who reads boring-ass non-fiction all the time and beats middle school bullies up to act high and mighty over them. You’re giving me secondhand embarrassment. You should be out with people our age buying sodas from vending machines or something— jeez, you’re just a fucking kid. Just be nice and save people if you have the power to— especially if you can do it without having to do things at your own expense. That’s the easiest way to do things in life. And who says you aren’t a hypocrite too? You think you’re some kind of judge in court or something—?”

“—You have cell manipulation, right? So use your brain! I’ve already told you that it’s pointless to save people. Good people who are too merciful to bad people are just as disgusting as bad people too prideful over themselves.” 

“Ew— good and bad? What happened to just living life? Just live it, seriously, it’s not like everything can be split into two categories like that. You just sound so— ugh— stop being so immature—!” 

“Megumi!” Tsumiki says when she opens the door. “[Name]! What happened? Did the two of you fight? Why were you fighting? What—!” 

“No, no! Just bickering over something small,” you tell her, “I had a nose bleed all of a sudden.” 

“Tch. Something small?” Megumi scoffs. 

“Stop fighting, the two of you,” Tsumiki orders, her voice firm yet still soft and sweet. 

The next few hours move painfully quietly. 

3-1-2017

“I’m really sorry it had to be at midnight like this,” you say. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” Tsumiki grins, “We wanted to come, anyway. We still have to give you a proper send-off.” 

You breathe in. “…okay. I’ll visit again, I promise. Maybe next year, but at a better time, okay?” 

“Alright, alright. Well— you’ve got to go now,” Tsumiki says, hugging you. You hear her sniffling even though you can’t see her face. 

“Okay. Bye, Megumi. Bye, Tsumiki.” 

“Bye, [Name]! Take care of your health, okay? We should stick together no matter what, the three of us.” 

You’re still a little angry at Megumi. You haven’t passed him the letter. 

You’ll live. You hope you can, at least. You’re better off not ending up with or confessing to a guy who thinks like he does. 

It’s for Tsumiki, you tell yourself. And it grounds you. 

“…I will.” 

“…bye,” Megumi says, avoiding eye contact. 

And as you get on the train and they’re waving you off, you should have taken a picture, or a video, or something. Something to keep that moment in place. There’s Tsumiki— smiley Tsumiki— with her signature warm grin and the faintest of tears in her eyes, with her hand raised up to wave at you. Then Megumi— frowny Megumi— older and taller and angry at you. 

You really should have kept things there, or apologised to her again for anything and everything, apologised to both of them for any trouble you’ve caused them, or thanked them a trillion times over, but you didn’t. 

And you regret this forever. Because this is the last time you see Fushiguro Tsumiki, the girl who changed the trajectory of your life. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#sorry for the extra long wait AGAIN but for the ao3 readers chapter six is finally here <3 #thank you for your patience! #also thinking on redoing the playlist since I've found better songs for it now... #take me back (take me with you) #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #didn't know where to put the readmore for this chapter so I just put it there HAHA #megumi x reader

[sysig]

He’s mad lol

#My art #TSP #The Stanley Parable #The Narrator #Chibi #I started making this earlier from that beautiful Narra compilation and 100% forgot that I could overlay colours to a traditional drawing lo #This definitely would've taken too long #All vectors! Yay!! #This is my third time starting a shaped vector project but the first one I finished #The be fair the other two are fullbodies of some form or another #I'm so glad my RikaBlend works even without my tablet I love the way it applies #Like a satin pillow <3 #He's purple! Love a purple lad #Ahhh I'm happy haha #Oh it's much smaller than I thought it would be lol #I forgot his little eyebrow lines too haha

[nvwxrlvcns]

Ok I’ve never sent a request before but I might as well aha. Maybe Austin sommers x gardner reader where their Harry’s kid (obviously older than 18😭) and Austin and the reader have a thing and the reader is trying really hard not to get caught by Harry? Maybe like a little fluffy and a bit of smut if your comfy? Idk I thought it might be a fun little fic to read:)

ahhh my first request yay!! This is such a good idea I hope you like the fic!! I am still taking requests by the way please send them to my inbox!

Catch Us If You Can

pairing: Austin Sommers x gn!reader

warnings: smut!! (18+), slight degradation, mentions of spanking, the reader and Austin almost getting caught during sex, a bit of fluff at the end, swearing, I think that’s everything?

summary: You are Harry Gardner’s oldest child and he almost catches you and your new boyfriend, Austin, in the middle of sex. To tease you, Austin makes you talk to your father behind a locked door

To say that Provincetown was a mystery was an understatement. You came here with your parents and younger sister, your father wanting to work on the pilot episode for a new show he’s writing. He didn’t wanna leave his family behind and thought it would be a great family bonding experience to welcome your new younger brother or sister into the family. Why your parents wanted another child when you were 18 and in college was beyond you, but your parents were both still young. You just questioned the age gap because you’re at the age where you can have children yourself.

One night you went out and took a walk around town, stopping to grab a quick meal at The Muse, a popular local restaurant. As you sat eating your dinner, a devilishly handsome man kept looking in your direction. He made his way over to you and introduced himself. You almost recognized him immediately. He was Austin Sommers, an award winning playwright and he was looking at you. A simple college student from New York City.

You and Austin immediately hit it off, flirting throughout the night and eventually giving him your number before you left. He called you afterwards, making sure you got home safe. The weekly calls became daily, the texts became flirty and very suggestive, and before you knew it one night you made your way over to his place and he took your virginity. Austin wasn’t just a master at writing music, he was a god in bed. He knew how to pleasure you and made sure after your orgasm you got anything you needed.

You and Austin have now been seeing each other secretly for about two weeks. Your father warned you to stay away from him, but you obviously ignored him. Right now you and Austin were in the house alone while your parents and younger sister went out to dinner, saying you had studying to finish. But your studying immediately came to a hault when Austin came over. What started out as playful touching and a few kisses here and there, turned into a full on make out session and him ripping the clothes off your body as well as his own.

Austin was on top of you, giving you sensual kisses as he thrusts into you. Your hands gently squeezed his shoulders, your grip tightening when he hit the right places that made you feel a sense of euphoria. Your soft moans were silenced as Austin continued giving your kisses. His fingers maneuvered over your body skillfully, leaving goosebumps on your skin and craving more.

Your fun was brought to an end when you heard your father’s voice call out. “Y/N? We’re home!” Hearing his voice caused your eyes to widen and pull back from the kiss. Austin saw your scared expression, knowing that if you two were caught Harry would never let you see him again. You heard your father’s footsteps move up the creaking stairs and jiggle the door handle to your locked bedroom door. Thank god Austin locked it earlier. “Y/N? How’s the studying coming along?” Your father asked.

You let out a soft, panicked mew. Austin smirked and quickly came up with a plan. “Go on, talk to him” he whispered. You glared at your boyfriend. “Are you insane? We’re in the fucking middle of sex!” You whispered back, causing him to chuckle. “Do as I say. I don’t wanna have to spank you later” he remarked with a smirk. You whimpered as Austin continued thrusting and kissing your neck. You cleared your throat. “I-I’m doing good dad!” You stuttered out, suppressing moans as Austin slammed onto your g spot.

“Why is the door locked?” Your father asked through the door, trying to get in. Without thinking you quickly shouted. “I’m changing right now!” You said. Austin smirked up at you and whispered against your ear, “that’s my good little slut”. You whimpered, feeling your orgasm approaching and wishing for your father to go away.

“Okay sorry. Goodnight Y/N” your father said and walk away. You thanked all that was holy for answering your prayers. Right as your father left you let out a soft cry of pleasure as your cum started spilling out of you. Your orgasm triggered Austin’s, him cumming into the condom and moaning. “Fuck baby!”

You watched him pull out of you, tossing the condom into the garbage can on the side of your bed. He layed down next to you and immediately wrapped an arm around you, chuckling to himself. “You had some quick thinking there babe” he said with a smile. You smiled back at him and gently pecked his lips. “Well my father would’ve gotten suspicious if I didn’t say anything to be fair” you said back to him. Austin nuzzled his head into your neck, gently squeezing your sweaty body. “I love you” he whispered, causing you to smile at him. “I love you too, babe” you said as you kissed his head, both of you drifting off to sleep safe to keep your secret for longer.

#ahs x reader #ahs double feature #fanfic #ahs imagine #american horror story #austin sommers #evan peters #harry gardner #ahs red tide

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 30/July/2021

Wow, what a week!

It felt like an intensely focused week this week! Not sure why it was that way, but it felt good :D

I think most of it was inspired by the fact that I finished A's scene waaay earlier in the week than I anticipated! That was a major boost of motivation! Though there was just one part in there where I had to take a moment 'cause I was like...

 Obviously cause it was A, it was pretty intense :D But it was great to finally bring in these moments...

After A, I got stuck straight into the ending scenes…and completed it! At least 95% anyway. I just have to add in the bits of variation to account for the combat scenes after they're finished, which shouldn't take too long. The longest part was adding in variation to the scene so that different team members would speak and ask questions depending on who you had the previous scene with!

There's a few variations to the opening of the chapter 8 end scene that made me chuckle. N's particularly, depending on how you choose for the previous research scene to go, really made me smile :D

I think breaking the chapters down into scenes has REALLY been working for me this time around, and definitely something I will continue to do for future books. It makes it much more workable, especially on huge chapters like this. It seems like Chapter 8 (both versions of it) will come in well over 100,000 words once done, probably easing over 150,000, so working in chunks has really helped to make it less overwhelming!

I'm waiting to hear back from some sensitivity readers too. Hoping that'll be next week. I had thought about having them read chapter by chapter, as some of my other readers do, but one of the sensitivity readers has actually worked on a branching narrative game before, and he suggested waiting until the end so as it's a cohesive piece and much easier to spot things in. That now seems like the best idea, and not actually something I'd thought of :D

I've given them my hopeful goal date for when I want the writing of the book to be done by, so I'm just waiting on them to get back to me on whether they can fit it in at that time, as it will obviously be a very big task! Luckily it's a while away, so plenty of time to plan it in.

Next week, I'll be jumping straight into the combat version of Chapter 8 or continuing on with Chapter 7 edits (which I actually have started today! Yay!)...we'll see how it goes ;D

Hope you all have the most wonderful weekend! We'll be offline as usual, so we'll talk to you all soon <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #interactive fiction #book three #update #progress report