#‘Curse you and all your Saints’ he said to no one at all then realized he was smiling.

[fangirlwithasweettooth]

Me? Going absolutely insane over every single Kanej moment in both the books and the series? It’s more likely than you think

[singmyaubade]

The Girl We Love

Poly!Marauders x Female!Reader

A/N: Hello! Long time no see; this came to me out of nowhere, and I just wrote it off the top of my head; I hope you enjoy it! <3 P.S. I have no idea what to think about this story.

Summary: Can all of them handle loving you at the same time?

Warning: Containing cursing, soon-to-be-smut, etc... Viewer discretion is advised.

--

The boys were enjoying their summer, basking in the hot sun and the chance to go in the pool anytime they wanted. Although it was just Remus, Sirius, and James, that was all they needed. Unfortunately, Peter was in France, but 3/4 Marauders was better than none.

"James, Sirius!" Euphemia yelled as James and Sirius groaned, not wanting to go downstairs due to their laziness, "I know you boys can hear me, and I am giving you five seconds," She yelled louder as the two boys looked at each other in fear as they both lunged to the door, James pushing Sirius into the wall.

"5..4...3.." The boys had rushed downstairs before two to see their Euphemia setting the dining room, "Why is Remus the only helpful boy in this house?" Euphemia huffed as Remus set down the dishes.

James ignored her, noticing the fancy table mats she would only bring out when people came over, "Uh, Mum, what's going on?" James asked, scratching his head, confused.

"Yeah, we never use this table unless James forgot he's human instead of dog," Sirius joked as James smacked him in his stomach, earning a groan.

Euphemia sighed, "Ms. L/N and Y/N are coming for dinner," She answered, setting the plates over the tablecloths.

James's mother and your mother were best friends, practically inseparable when you all were younger. Even when they didn't see each other, James would see her writing letters to your mom.

"Why?" James asked as Euphemia glared at him, "I just mean that we haven't seen her in so long, like since we were like thirteen,"

"You mean when you all would rough house and were into wrestling and Quidditch?" Euphemia hummed.

"The good old days," Sirius added, looking up in dramatics.

"Yeah, when you would tackle her and throw mud on us all," Remus muttered.

"Um yeah?" Sirius responded, "The good old days!"

Having you over was like having another brother around when it came to James. You always loved watching Quidditch and would yell with him when your favorite team won, chest-bumping each other.

You would always dress like the Marauders, wear whatever trend they were following, and play with whatever toys seemed remarkable to them.

You all ate like absolute slobs, and Euphemia and your mother would constantly reprimand all of you, but you didn't care because if you all did it, it was incredible.

When your parents divorced and you went to France with your Father, they all hadn't realized the switch in your presence as much. They would mention you sometimes but would only give it a short conversation. They were just kids; They didn't know much until later.

"This might be nice, you know?" Sirius said, "We haven't seen Y/N in so long, and I do miss having another one of the guys in the house," Sirius wrapped his arm around James's shoulders.

"Y/N is a girl," Remus corrected.

"You know what I mean," Sirius said, sitting in his seat.

"Wonder if she still plays Quidditch," James added, sitting beside Sirius.

"Can't wait to kick her arse in it," Sirius said, putting his hands together tauntingly.

Euphemia shushed them, "Enough of this talk, they should be arriving any minute now, and I expect the most from all of you," She tsked, moving near the door.

"She's talking about you two," Remus said, smirking.

"Oh shove it, Moony, you aren't a saint," James teased.

"Yeah, we know of your unspeakable acts in the bedroom," Sirius joked, winking at Remus as he bit his tongue.

James could hear voices from the front door as you stepped into view, hugging Euphemia, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing; none of them could.

Of course, you were different; the years did you well, but your hair grew past your shoulders, not the usual bob. You were wearing a lavender dress, a step away from your tomboy outfits. From what he remembered about you, your nails were painted in your favorite color, and you no longer wore a retainer everywhere you went.

Your dress hugged your waist perfectly, and none of the Marauders were perverts, but none of them could hide the fact that they were staring at you.

You looked at them with a grin, going over to James first as he stood up from his chair like a statue, "Jamesy!" You squeaked, the childhood nickname sounding different now.

You embraced him in a tight hug, your boobs pressing against his chest as he grew flustered. You pulled back, looking at him, "I missed you so much," You excitedly said, returning for a hug.

James could feel how soft your skin was, like a rose petal coated in shea butter. He had never felt something so gentle in his entire life like it wasn't real.

Once James squeezed you back, you moved over to Sirius, giving him a tight hug. His hands stayed on your back as your lips were on his neck accidentally. Sirius was never the type to blush, but somehow, you succeeded.

Sirius could smell home when he was near you, like cinnamon and hot chocolate, like a long day of Quidditch on the grass and Euphemia giving him a cold glass of Butterbeer kind of touch.

You pulled back, giving him a smile instead of words because moving over to Remus, pecking him on the cheek, and moving to a hug, "Remsy, long time no see," You giggled, giving him a hug as he smiled, trying not to let his thoughts get to him.

Remus could feel your happiness like sunlight as if it was glowing. When he hugged you, he felt happy like never before; it made him forget every stormy night or memory.

They all could feel your presence like a lightning bolt with each embrace, and it was hard to hide when you were up against them.

Euphemia and your mother were still chatting at the door, so you decided to talk with them about their social life as much as possible.

"I missed all of you so much," You cheesily said, sitting across from them all, "Please tell me how all of you have been," You looked at Sirius first.

You had developed a slight French accent, but only people would notice if they genuinely heard you.

Both Remus and James side-eyed Sirius, who looked shellshocked, "Well, I've just been focusing on school since graduation and just been enjoying summer," He awkwardly laughed, not knowing what to say, "I made Quidditch Co-captain with James,"

Your mouth fell open, "Oh my god, I am so proud of you guys; congratulations," You said happily.

"Thank you," James and Sirius said in unison as you laughed.

"What about you, James?" You asked, looking at him.

"I've been focusing on Quidditch and maybe becoming an Auror in the future when I'm done with my Quidditch career," James responded.

"I remember you always talking about being an Auror; I'm glad you still want to do it," You responded kindly, "What about you, Remus?" You looked at him.

"I've been focusing on becoming a healer or professor since I enjoy helping others," He said as you beamed.

"Well, considering you did help me when I cut my knee on the concrete when we were ten, I would say you are perfectly trained," You joked as Remus grinned.

"What about you, Y/N? What have you been up to?" James asked.

"Well, I hope to become a journalist or a write since it is a dream, but I was going to move back to London with my boyfriend," You said as all of the boys mentally punched themselves, "But then he cheated on me so I might just be alone," You said as the boys grinned from ear to ear.

"Yes!" Sirius said as you raised an eyebrow, "Yes, what an awful thing for him to do; I am so sorry, Y/N," Sirius said.

"Agreed, he must be a bloody fool," Remus added.

"I'm glad he's out of your life," James said, "Uh because, he's a horrible person,"

"Thank you, guys; I am glad I found out before I moved with him here," You said with relief.

Your mother and Euphemia approached the table, your mother sitting next to you and Euphemia sitting across, "I apologize, Fleamont couldn't attend; he has business matters in Rome," Euphemia said in a sweet voice.

"That man always focuses on business," Your mother tsked as Euphemia smiled before your mother looked at the three boys, "Oh my, how you guys have grown," She smiled dearly.

"You don't look like a day over twenty, Ms. L/N," Sirius winked as Remus elbowed him, causing the air to fall out of his lungs.

"Why thank you, dear," Your mother said genuinely as Euphemia glared at Sirius.

"First course is ready!" Minnie said, snapping her fingers to a variety of foods. Your eyes shot in amazement at the different dishes, even some being French.

"Thank you, Minnie," Euphemia said, nodding to the elf as Minnie bowed, disappearing.

"Y/n, how have your studies been at Beaubaxtons?" Euphemia asked, grabbing some potatoes.

"Delightful," You responded, "I know that it seems like a reform school for young girls, but I actually do enjoy it there, and we always watch Quidditch, surprisingly," You said as Euphemia grinned, "I do wish we had our own team though, I would love to play,"

"I'll play with you, Y/N," James said as the table looked at him, "If you ever need a partner," He whispered, digging into his chicken.

You cheerfully looked at him, "I would love to,"

James smiled to himself as Sirius side-eyed James, "And if you ever need another partner, I am here as well," Sirius added, making James kick him from under the table.

"Thank you, Sirius, I would love that as well," You said, still smiling.

Euphemia noticed the two boys rolling her eyes, "And your mother has told me you enjoy reading; Remus might know a thing or two about that," She said.

"I've needed a reading partner. The girls at Beaubaxton read, but they don't have much variety," You chuckled.

"Well, I can assure you that I do," Remus jokingly said as both James and Sirius glared at him, causing Remus to clear his throat.

"That's great! Considering I will be staying here, that sounds incredible," You said as James nearly spit out his dragon fruit juice.

"The cat seems out of the bag," Your mother said, eating another piece of meat.

"Oh, I apologize; you hadn't told them?" You said, looking at Euphemia.

"Not yet," Euphemia said with a slight smile, "Y/N and her mother will be staying with us for the summer,"

They all felt like they were in a dream that felt like reality; Sirius was close to pinching himself.

If they were thirteen again, they probably would've considered this a chance to have another Peter around, but now, it was entirely different.

You were sweet, still enjoyed Quidditch, and read while being entirely yourself.

You were like a dream.

"Trust me, they are all excited," Euphemia told you as the boys snapped out of the trance.

"That sounds amazi-" Remus started.

"I am so glad-" Sirius beginning.

"I can't wait to-"

They all said simultaneously, making you giggle, "I am excited too."

From then on, the conversations were light with laughs and banter, moving through the courses until Euphemia decided that all the kids needed to go to bed, to which James and Sirius protested.

They were all instructed to guide you to your room, to which you followed them up the stairs until they led you to a room with lavender walls and blue and white bedding.

You stopped them at the door, grinning ear to ear at the room, "Thank you all for leading me to my room," You said as they all said you were welcome at the same time.

You giggled, "I missed you guys so much," You said, hugging all of their tall figures with a kiss on each of their cheeks, "Goodnight, I will see you tomorrow,"

They all stuttered a goodnight as you closed the door.

And the Marauders didn't know they could ever want something so wrong.

[millervrse]

A SECOND CHANCE ! joel miller x reader

summary: Joel was sent by Marlene to come find you and bring you to Saint Mary’s. You are the only human aside from Ellie Williams who has been bitten and not turned: You are the only way that a cure can be created where no blood is shed. But to do that, you’ll have to warm up to the hardass that is Joel goddamn Miller.

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, so minors dni, occurs after the plot of the first tlou, but before joel gets ellie out of saint mary’s, some canon facts are changed for the sake of this story, ENEMIES TO LOVERS! reader has a heavily established backstory that is to be explored throughout the series, game references (tess, the fireflies, sarah, the general plot of the game, etc). implied age gap. reader’s just as tough as joel, if not worse! warnings will change and be updated as the series progresses.

word count: 2.8k+

LYN SPEAKING! alright, hey! i’m lyn, and i’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for close to a year now (yes, a year) and baby FINALLY finished the first installment of this series i plan to work on based on it. i sincerely hope this is well received! if you want to know when i update this series, please let me know, and i will kindly tag you. also, if you have any ideas as to where this story can go, my inbox is wide open! alright now, buckle up and enjoy!

PART I: IMMUNE

“If there’s no way for you to do this where Ellie lives,” Joel said, a dark gruffness to his voice as the words leave his lips. “Then it ain’t happenin’. I swear it.”

Joel Miller and Ellie Williams had been through hell and back to deliver her to the Fireflies. People had died along the way, close to the pair or not, and sacrifices had been made for the greater good. But now, as they stood at the end of the line, Joel realized that there was no greater good, and that they hadn’t been to hell.

Because this was it.

Joel stood defensively before Marlene, the woman who was the reason this was happening in the first place. The Fireflies wanted to make a cure for the virus that had taken their world by surprise twenty years ago. One that would cure the infected of their curse, to bring them back to the human beings that they once were. But to do that, Joel would have to make the biggest sacrifice of them all.

Losing Ellie.

He couldn’t bear to lose a second daughter, not when he had already given his all to have her. To keep her. Not when he had already lost Sarah in his arms all those years ago. No, no, no. Sarah had been unfairly shot, unfairly killed, and Joel was powerless to help her.

That wouldn’t be the case with Ellie.

He stood in front of an unconscious Ellie now, laid out over a bed in the hospital he had delivered her to. He had managed his way in here by narrowly avoiding Firefly personnel. But just as he was about to flee, Marlene and several soldiers behind her had him cornered every which way.

“Joel—“ Marlene did her best. But Joel didn’t want to hear it.

“No,” he barked, gun trained on the brunette. It didn’t matter if this ended in flames. It didn’t matter if he died. If he was doing it for Ellie, then he’d do it again and again, in this life and the next. “If there is no scenario where this little girl survives, it is not, happening.”

There’s a pause, a look of delay in Marlene’s eyes as she looks at Joel. She debated. Should she tell him? Should she reveal a secret she had been holding back since he had taken this assignment nearly a year ago?

This was no time to hang back.

“There’s one.”

That, was the moment in time when Joel Miller learned about you.

A girl, who had also been bitten, and not turned. A girl, whose history Marlene refused to delve too deeply into. A girl, who could be the cure to the cure, where nobody died. 

Where Ellie lived.

“Where do I find her?”

———————————————————————

That’s how he had gotten here.

A noise sounds from behind you as you're readying to go and hunt for food in your house in Vermont, alongside a brief patrol to make sure that no infected were lurking by. You’re quick to tense when the sound fills your ears, grabbing the crossbow that was on the counter near you, the one that you’d thankfully just loaded, and whipping around.

A man who looked much older than you stood in the doorframe. He was tall with tousled hair, a green, wrinkled shirt mirroring his gruff demeanor. Your gaze darkened at the sight. You hadn’t seen a human being in a millennia. Let alone one that you hated to admit, was handsome.

You didn’t let that deter you, however, raising your crossbow higher and aiming it at him.

"You've got five seconds to tell me what you're doing here,” your voice firmly rang out as you drew the bow. Thank God you’d always been a natural at aiming. “Or I'll put one between your eyes.”

The man put his hands up, though his face remained neutral as he stood in place, as if to show he wasn’t afraid of you. “Easy does it,” he rasped, his voice as gruff as he looked. “I’m not here to hurt’cha.”

“Then, leave,” you returned. “This doesn’t have to end in blood. And if you get any fucking closer, I promise you, it will.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” the man said in jest, causing you to draw your arrow back more, a warning for him to watch his tone. A sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders tensed at the gesture, closing his eyes and opening them to meet yours. “Look. I was sent here to find you. Alright? I just need to talk.”

This wasn’t going to be easy for Joel, was it?

Your aim never wavered as you responded. Your first thought was what the fuck was he talking about, but the curse doesn’t make the cut as you answer. “Sent by who?”

A pause.

“Marlene.”

You tense.

“She said you’d know her.”

Oh, you fucking know her, alright. Who the fuck was this man and how the fuck did he know about you and Marlene? It’s impossible, you think. That was years ago. This man was lying.

Right?

“Marlene?” you scoffed, your voice shaking. “That’s bullshit. I haven’t spoken to Marlene in years, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be sending anyone to find me,” you return, the furrow already present in your eyebrows deepening, eyes drowning in suspicion. “Who are you, really?”

The man doesn’t move, instead keeping his arms raised like he’s some sort of peace offering. “The name’s Joel, Joel Miller, and I swear on my life that what I’m tellin’ you is true,” he said. When he took note of the apprehension in your expression, he lowered his voice, letting it relax into one that was meant to make you feel calm. “I’m not here to hurt you. Alright? Just let me explain.”

It didn’t help.

You wanted to shoot this man already, with every fiber of your being. Your trust issues were rattling like fireworks in your brain, telling you that he was a liar, that he was trying to get you vulnerable, catch you off guard. But against your better judgment, you nodded, hanging fire for him to go on.

"There's a, uh, little girl. Her name's Ellie. About a year ago, Marlene asked me and a friend o’mine to smuggle her out of Boston, where we were, in exchange for some guns. We agreed. But Marlene didn’t tell us why,” Joel began, sighing before going on. “Come to find out, little girl was infected, but the bite was three weeks old.”

A pause.

“She was immune.”

You tense again, like you had been over and over again since Joel had walked into your house. That word, that fucking word. That word that made your blood run cold. Made your head spin. Made horrid memories rush to the front of your brain. 

Immune.

You raised your eyebrows at Joel in disbelief of the three words that had just fled his lips. “That’s impossible,” you said. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he returned a little too quickly. “I was thinkin’ the same way you are. Ready to kill her right there and then when I found out. Thought Marlene set us up, knew it was only a matter of time before she’d turn and catch us by surprise. But the little girl, Ellie, wasn’t lyin.”

You grimace. A fucking little girl. You didn’t even want to ask how old she was. 

Because if this was going where you thought it was, then your heart was going to ache a whole lot more.

“Our journey had its ups and downs. We had to reroute over and over again. Fireflies can be pretty damn hard to find these days. But we ended up finding out that most of the ones who were remaining, were in Utah, holed up in some medical center. Ready to make a cure.”

Joel was about to go on, keep explaining. But he didn’t have to.

You cut him off.

“I’ve heard this one before,” you laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement, let alone humorous at all. It was one of disbelief, because how in the fuck had the universe spared you that day, just to bring it back to your feet? A scoff escapes your lips, and you sigh, pushing your tongue into your cheek before answering. “Saint Mary’s, isn’t it?”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows. “How’d-” he said in confusion, wondering if he had accidentally let it slip a few minutes ago in his hasty battle to keep an arrow out of his brain. “How’d you know?”

It’s your turn to be confused. If Marlene had really sent this man all this way to come find you, you figured she wouldn’t have spared him the details on the true nature of your connection, or lack thereof, to Marlene. “Are you kidding me? I’ve lived this,” you say, a bit of  malice behind your words as you raise your bow. “And if you think I’m going to go through that again, you better think fucking twice,” you warned.

Joel scoffed, undeterred by your threatened show of violence. He had seen scarier in his over twenty years in the apocalypse, and he was sure that if you wanted to shoot him, which you were more than capable of doing, you would have done it by now. "Little lady, I am not asking you too, alright? There's more to it."

Your expression doesn’t get any more welcoming, much to Joel’s annoyance. “Then you better get to talking, because I’m dying for an excuse to shoot you. Pun intended.”

Killing a bloater is easier than suppressing an eye roll at your words.

"Look, that girl and her bite, Marlene thinks that the head surgeon over at the Fireflies could fix up a cure. A cure for mankind. But she can’t undergo the surgery alone, not unless, unless—”

You finish for him.

“Not unless she dies.”

Joel nods, his feelings too grim to ask how you know that. He was sure that there’d be lots to uncover about you, that is, if you agreed to come back to Utah alongside him. “Right. And Marlene said, that if I found you, there’s a chance you could undergo the surgery with Ellie. And she’d survive.”

You take his words in, mulling them over in your head. The survivor in you was screaming to not let your feelings take hold. That no matter how desperate this man was for you to come with him, you would have to decline. But your conscious, the moral part of you that somehow persevered no matter how cruel this world had been to you, was bellowing. It wasn’t fair, what was happening to that little girl. It wasn’t fair that she would have to die to fix a world that was arguable beyond fixing.

But then again, what had happened to you was unfair too. And so was this unexpected arrival.

“You’re asking me to leave the comfort of my own home, travel across the damn country, go off with a man I don’t fucking know, all for a goddamn chance?” you asked. There was no violence behind your words this time. Just disbelief, incredulousness. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Joel never lowered his hands as he spoke. “Look, I know you’re uncertain, and I would be too. But this girl, Ellie, she—” he paused, doing his best to maintain his composure. “I just can’t lose her, okay? I can’t.”

Now your face relaxes, if only a little bit. You can see the raw and vulnerable look in Joel’s eyes, the gloss to his brown eyes that shines in the dim light of your house. 

“You’ve grown attached to this girl, haven’t you?”

Joel Miller was a tough man. Feelings weren’t in the cards for him. Not since Tess, not since Sarah. And for the love of God, if he could turn them off and never feel again, it’s likely that he would. So for now, he doesn’t tell you how much Ellie really means to him, returning to the cold approach he took on the world before he met her. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have, not that that matters,” he dismisses. “Point is, lady, if I have to drag you out of here kickin' and screamin', I will. But I ain't leavin' without’cha."

You scoffed. "You don't even know my name."

Well, for some reason, you figured he didn’t. But just then, he said it, proving you wrong in seconds.

 “Ain’t it?”

Don’tfeeldon’tfeeldon’tfeel.

You and this man were more alike than you knew.

Rolling your eyes, you speak up once again, pushing your feelings down into the gutter where they belong. “Let me tell you this, Miller. I gave up the hope a long time ago that there was anyone else out there like me, and so did Marlene. Why in the hell should I believe you?" you ask.

Joel parts his lips to speak, but words don’t come out. You were right. He had given you no reason to believe him, to trust him, and especially not, like you’d said, to leave the comfort of your own home and join him on his quest to save mankind, to save Ellie, if she was actually fucking real.

There’s a brief pause before he answers. "I don't know how else I can convince you. I can't, to be honest. But Ellie, she needs you. I can't let her die."

You paused for a second, allowing his words to sink in. God, you were apprehensive, but he, he was adamant. And the look in his eyes was tearing your survivalist ideologies to the ground.

"Saint Mary’s ain't close,” you say.

Joel’s eyes light up. It’s not a yes, but it’s hope. "I know,” he says. “I've got a car."

"A car?" you asked in shock. What more did this man have up his sleeve? You hadn't seen a working car in years. They weren’t easy to come by, and even if they were, gas was a major aspect of why nobody had cars anymore. Marlene and the Fireflies used to always have them, but because it’d been so long since you’d last seen her or a Firefly in general, you couldn't actually remember the last time you'd driven one.

"Yeah, it's a means of gettin’ around, kind of like-" Joel began. Annoyedly, you cut him off.

Did you really look that young?

"I know what a car is,” you said in annoyance. “Haven't seen one in years. You really have one?"

Joel decided to ignore your offended response, though it was hard to suppress a smirk at just how offended you’d gotten. "Yeah, I do. I told you, I'm not lyin'. Not about the car, not about Marlene, and not about Ellie. I promise.”

Promise.

You had it engraved in your brain that the word promise was a synonym for lie. It was just a kinder, less harsh way of putting it. But regardless, they were bullshit. Promises weren’t real. This wasn’t real. Joel wasn’t real.

You want to pinch your arm to make sure. Then you realize you’ve never had dreams this vivid.

You hated your face for the way it relaxed. You hated the fact that you could hear the genuineness in his tone, the converse of lies in his gruff demeanor. You hated the way your crossbow unconsciously lowered.

And you were going to hate Joel Miller for sure.

“You try anything, Miller—” you bark.

Joel’s eyes light up once again, and he can’t help the small smile that takes the corners of his lips. "You’ll put one between my eyes, I know. And I won’t, I promise.” 

“So are you comin’ or what?”

"Not so fast," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Give me some time to pack, mull it over a little more. You owe me that."

Joel wanted to protest, just a little bit. But he refrained, nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your eyes remained watchful, fixed on Joel as you walked backwards to the top floor.

There, in your bedroom, you think over what just happened. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to risk the life you had created, all for a chance? Who the fuck were you right now, and what had you done with the tough woman you had always been?

You were about to let your morals cloud your judgment, traveling far and wide to save a little girl you didn’t know, alongside a man you were sure you were going to hate. You were about to throw away all you’d become, all you’d ever wanted to be since what went down with the Fireflies all those years ago. With Marlene.

God fucking damnit.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Wide Awake

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Wolff!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Self-Doubt, age-gap (reader is 22), slight smut (just fingering) , oh and slight orgasm denial.

(SOFIA IS A RANDOM GIRL I MADE UP!)

A/N: This was supposed to just be a one off thing but I kept writing and writing and I'm 99% sure that no one wants to read a 25k worded chapter only for it to BARELY get to the whole point/plot of the fic. so there's going to be another chapter (3 at max)

(Also I promise Too Good To Say Goodbye 7 is coming but I was hyper fixated on trying to finish this which isn't happening ) 🫶🏽😊

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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My dad’s always warned me about getting involved with the drivers. He told me that they’re all too young, naive and that all they’ll be good for is breaking my heart. For the longest time, I believed him. I’ve seen the way some of these young drivers were with girls.

Max cheating on Sofia with Kelly, Lando talking to 3 girls at once and George, well George hasn’t done anything. Point is, I’ve seen how they are and I don’t want to get with one of the young drivers only to have my heart ripped out. AGAIN.

I secretly dated one of the hottest drivers, Charles Leclerc for about 2 months. All was going well we were happy, we had secret dates and maybe I thought he was the one.

That was until one day In Monaco when I showed up to the paddock for Free Practice 1 & 2 I saw him hand-in-hand with Alexandra Saint Mleux. When I saw them together and I realized everything she had that I didn’t. She was at taller than me, skinnier, gorgeous, had flawless skin and had a modeling career. In other words, she was a goddess.

Seeing them together broke my heart and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and sob, but I couldn’t. My dad warned me about the young drivers but I still went behind his back and did the exact opposite of what he told me not to do. I deserved this.

I had made a beeline for the Mercedes garage just to get out of the public eye but I was so focused on getting as far away from Charles and Alexandra as possible that I hadn’t noticed I was running straight into someone.

I hit this person's body with such force I almost went flying back and I reached my hands out in front of me to try and grab anything for stability and at the same time I felt two hands on either sides of my waist trying to balance me.

I was feeling so many different emotions right now I couldn't even think straight, clearly. I was so angry at Charles for cheating on me even if weren’t technically even dating, sadness because I actually thought Charles was actually capable of loving me, and full fledged embarrassment because I just ran full on into someone thinking about how Charles just ruined my life. And my makeup.

I looked up to face the person I just ran into and tried to profusely apologize for my actions, but when I looked up tho I was met with the most gorgeous brown eyes I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I wanted to stare into his eyes forever but in the half a second it took me to look up I also realized who it was that I ran into.

The 7x WDC Lewis Hamilton.

Even more embarrassment coated my face as I realized that not only did I just bump into someone while trying so hard not to have a mental breakdown but I ran into the Lewis Hamilton, my dad's best and most loved driver. “Oh my gosh Lewis, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going and I really didn’t mean to run into you. Please don’t tell my dad” Honestly, it sounded pathetic. ‘Don’t tell my dad’? what are you, 12?

I stared at him in silence for about all of 2 seconds which felt like an eternity until I saw his lips curled up into a smile and heard a small chuckle come from him. “I won’t tell your dad, cross my heart” Lewis said while making an ‘X’ motion over his chest “Who are you running from? I feel like maybe I'm obligated to know since you ran right into me trying to avoid them?”

My face fell in shock. How did he know I was trying to avoid someone? I mean it wasn't rocket science, if I saw a random girl running to an isolated area with tears streaming down her face, I too am going to assume she's avoiding someone. “I- Uh, Well. See”

“It’s okay, Y/N/N, I’m not going to tell anyone. You also don’t have to tell me if you don't want to but I’m willing to help you avoid them if you do.” Lewis said as he placed a hand on my cheek.

I’ve always found comfort in Lewis’ touch. Actually, I’ve always felt comfort whenever I was in the same room as Lewis. Something about his Aura screamed ‘You’re safe with me’

As much as I wanted to, I knew there was no point in lying because one thing about Lewis is that could read people like a book. Including me. With a long, loud and dramatic dragged out sigh I reluctantly told him the truth.

“I was seeing Charles behind my father’s back for about 2 months, everything was going well and I actually kinda thought he was my person but I just now saw him hand-in-hand and all cuddly with Alexandra.” Tears sprung in my eyes and threatened to fall as I recounted what I saw a few minutes prior to Lewis.

He had a sympathetic look in his face and I could tell he genuinely felt bad for me. The hand Lewis once briefly had on my face had moved down to grab my hand before he whispered, "How about this: Tomorrow we wear almost matching outfits and we come back here also hand-in-hand. We'd be together all day and we'll be cuddly too. You know, just to make Charles jealous and regret cheating on you."

Lewis was always putting people's well-being ahead of his and it made a shy smile creep onto my face. As much as I want to, maybe I shouldn't read too much into this though, he's probably just being nice to me to stay in my father's good graces.

"Lewis," I whispered as I placed my hand on his cheek "You don't have to be nice to me because I'm your boss's daughter"

he looked a bit hurt by my accusations. "Is that why you think I'm doing this?" his hand squeezed mine a little tighter.

"Why else would you, Lewis?" his hands came up to cup my face forcing me to look at him.

"Because Y/N/N, I-" he paused, almost like he was trying to find the right words to use. "I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world. I've seen you sneaking around with Charles and it took so much in me not to go over there and tear you away from him, to show him that you're mine. I know I'm older than you but I'm wiser and I'll treat you better than he can." My jaw dropped, there's no way that Lewis Hamilton, a 7x WDC is head over heels in love with me, right?

"Lew, I-" a voice interrupted me, turning my body into stone and my blood into ice.

"Y/N!" I knew that voice anywhere and if he saw the moment that me and Lewis just shared, we were both dead.

"Dad! Hi!" I tried to sound enthusiastic but I was so flushed from Lewis' confession.

"My baby," His hands cupped my face inspecting the red all over "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, I'm just hot. You know how the sun is in Monaco." I said with a shrug, trying to change the subject

"Oh you have to go in the AC! Lewis," my dad turned to face Lewis who was already facing in our direction

"Yes, Toto?" he said as he cocked his brow.

"I need you to take my darling girl inside. She has a condition where she can't sweat which causes her to overheat and pass out. I am too busy with this race and getting everything perfect to be worrying about my daughter having a heat stroke."

"Oh, jeez, thanks dad. Just send Lewis to do everything for you" I said in a playful tone

"Of course Toto, I'll take her in right now." Lewis said as he walked over to me and linked his arms with mine.

Lewis started guiding me through the garage and to his driver's room where he opened the door and gestured me in. Once inside he closed the door before facing me with unsure eyes.

"What's wrong Lew?" I said as I cautiously walked over to him.

"What were you going to say before Toto cut you off?" his voice so low, I almost didn't hear what he said.

"I was going to say," I stopped right in front of him, our chests were touching. We were so close I could feel his breath against my skin. "I think that you have to prove what you said about treating me better than how Charles did."

Lewis grabbed my face and pulled me into a searing kiss, our tongues fought for dominance but his won. Lewis picked me up and sat on his couch with me on his lap so I was straddling him all without breaking the kiss.

His hands found their rightful place on my hips and applied pressure forcing my hips down as I rocked my hips to apply more force against his hardening cock.

"Mmm, you taste so good. I can only imagine how much better you taste when I'm eating your pussy." Lewis mumbled against my lips as his hands went just a little bit lower to stop at the elastic of my leggings. I guided Lewis' hands under the fabric to release some of the tension building in my core.

He understood what I needed and quickly started to run his middle finger up and down my fold, collecting all my juices before inserting it in my pussy. Lewis slowly moved his finger in and out of my hole while using his thumb to rub circles on my clit. His movements were slow and sensual bringing me closer and closer to my orgasm. I started rocking my hips into his palm to add more friction to my core and to chase my orgasm which I really needed right now. I was just about to go over the edge until a knock at the door quickly halted both of our movements and caused Lewis to yank his hand out of me leaving me without finishing.

"Mate, FP2 starts in 15. They need us by our cars now" The voice of George could be heard from he other side of the door.

“Oh fuck me” I grunted as I pulled myself off of Lewis’ lap

“Trust me, I was planning on it” He said with a smirk on his face as his hand came to rest on my ass before giving it a smack.

Lewis poked his head out of the door to make sure no one would see us leave, after the all clear we quickly rushed out of his room, both of us going in opposite directions as to not get caught.

————

The next day I heard a knock at my hotel door at the early hours of 6:00am. With a grunt I pulled myself out of the comfort of my warm and cozy bed and made my way to the door. Whoever was interrupting my beauty sleep was going to get a mouthful, I’ll tell you that.

“Do you know what time it is?!” I whisper yelled as I opened the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole to see who I would be yelling at. And boy do I really wish I did look because I was met with the tall, beautiful, muscular frame of Lewis Hamilton.

“Woah honey, I told you we were going to the paddock together. We need matching outfits” Lewis said while looking at me up and down "Do you by any chance have a matching Tommy Hilfiger set?"

"No?" I said, a little nervous

"Perfect, I bought you one that matches mine so put this on" Lewis said as he handed me a bag of 4 different sets.

"Lewis, there's four sets in here. Which am I wearing?" I said I let him in my room and watched as he took a seat on my bed right were I was once peacefully sleeping.

"Wear whichever one you want and I'll match it. I didn't know which of those four you'd like so I bought them all." My heart fluttered a bit at his confession.

--------

When Lewis and I pulled up to the race and got out of the car, we walked to the entrance hand-in-hand.

Charles and Alexandra were the first people to spot us and I took notice on how Charles dropped Alexandra's hand. When I saw that I squeezed Lewis' hand and leaned into him to tell him

"Lew, it's working. He dropped Alexandra's hand" I said with a smirk on my face.

"Wanna give them a show?" I cocked my brow at what he was suggesting but reluctantly nodded my head.

Without thinking twice, Lewis pulled me into a kiss, his hand finding their place to rest on my ass while mine traveled to the back of his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss.

I heard a strings of words which I'm assuming were curse words before I heard faint shuffles of feet echoing away from where me and Lewis were stood. Faint footsteps weren't the only thing we heard because next thing you know we heard clicks of camera shutters.

I pulled away from him with a horrified look on my face.

"Lewis! My dad might see those!" I don't think I was ever more scared in my life than I was in that moment. My dad can't know that I'm sneaking behind his back with Lewis. Well technically this is the second day of this 'sneaking around' but still, he doesn't know."

"Do you want to be with me Y/N/N?" He said dead serious while interlocking our hands

"Yes"

"So you shouldn't care about the pictures and your dad's opinion. Not everyone is going to accept our relationship but that doesn't matter because this relationship is between us. Not them"

"I need FP3 and Qualifying to end ASAP because I so badly want to suck your cock."

“I’m holding you to that” Lewis said as he swatted my ass. Surely the press people got photos of that and when those get out. I’m gonna have a fun conversation with my dad

It took us about 15 minutes to get the Mercedes Hospitality area because of all the fans asking for pictures, Press asking questions and other drivers asking what Lewis thinks he’s doing going out with me.

I almost took offense to that but quickly realized that they didn’t mean it in a rude way but more as a ‘you better be careful because if you break her heart, Toto will never resign you to Mercedes’ type of way.

When we entered, we were met with the angry eyes of my father.

“Lewis.” He said stern, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose “what are you doing with my daughter?!”

“Sir,” Lewis started but my dad cut him off

“Y/N/N, I told you not to go off with the drivers!” His voice raised, not too loud to be classified as yelling but a couple octaves louder than how it was before

“Actually, you said no messing around with the younger drivers. Lewis is older and more wise” I said as I grasped Lewis’ hand tighter.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?”

“Well sir, I intend to give your daughter the best life I can give her, I want to take her everywhere with me, I want to spoil her, I want to have her move in with me, I want to be her husband and I want her to be the mother of my kids.” Lewis squeezed my hand as he said that last sentence.

I never thought about being a mother, I never felt like it was an obligation of mine. I never thought that I wanted kids but hearing Lewis admit to my dad that he wanted me to be the mother of his kids sparked something in me. Lewis made me realize that deep down, I longed to be a mom and now I wasn’t going to be happy if I wasn’t.

“I will kill you if you break her heart.” My dad stated as he stared in Lewis’ eyes as if to try and intimidate him.

—————

It's not the best but I promise the plot is to die for!

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti@dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy

[megamindsecretlair]

Through the Fire

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving), size kink, all consensual. Praise kink, dirty talk. Mention of jail, drug use, guns, and violence. Angst. Established relationship. Spoilers for season 2 of Snowfall.

Summary: The night that Franklin shot Kevin, he made one stop before seeing his mom.

Word Count: 4,424k

A/N: Hello brainrot. Did I mention the brainrot? Because I have major brainrot. FX knew not to show them nasty ass sex scenes for him because I would be UNWELL. Anywhooo, I couldn't stop writing. This hurt me. I hope it both hurts you and makes you feral LOL. Thank you so much for the love on my first Franklin fic! Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe

The loud banging at your door made you nervous. No one knocked like that and it meant something good. It was either the police or some shit you didn’t want to deal with. You crept to the living room and looked out of the peephole. There was no one there.

The banging persisted and you turned to the sound, following the sound to your back door. You pulled aside the curtain on the door and saw Franklin looking over his shoulder. You opened the door.

“Franklin? What–?” 

Franklin pushed past you into your kitchen. Cold air from outside hit your exposed arms and legs from the shorts and tank top you wore. “He’s dead.” 

You closed the door behind Franklin and locked it behind him. The lights were still off thankfully and you peeked through the curtains, watching for anything suspicious. Though you didn’t know what you were looking for. 

Franklin paced the dark kitchen rubbing his hands and his breaths were shaky and stuttered. “Who’s dead, Franklin?” 

You’d never seen him like this. Franklin was the definition of cool and calm. Dread knotted in your stomach. ‘He’ could refer to anyone. You thought of Leon, Jerome, Kevin, Officer Wright. Naw. Franklin wouldn’t be this upset if it was that asshole Wright.

Franklin rubbed his head and you crossed the room. “Franklin, talk to me,” you said.

He was too agitated. He shook his head as he paced. “Is your moms home?” 

“She workin’ late. Franklin, you’re scaring me.” 

Franklin couldn’t take a full breath. In a minute, he was going to put a groove into the kitchen tile. “I told him! I told that muthafucka that somethin’ like this was gon happen. He didn’t wanna listen!” 

You stepped closer to Franklin and grabbed him by the shoulders so he would stop pacing. Your head spun watching him go back and forth like a ping pong ball. Franklin stopped but wouldn’t look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what’s going on, baby,” you said. You squeezed his shoulders. Franklin’s harsh breathing nearly echoed in the silent kitchen. Every sound was heightened and only served to put you more on edge. 

“Kevin…Kevin’s dead. Because of me,” Franklin said softly. His face crumpled and he dug his hands into his eyes. A choked gasp escaped him. You realized that he was crying. Your heart shattered as you pulled him into a hug. 

“What do you mean, Franklin?” He was saying words but it wasn’t making sense. You were no idiot. You knew what Franklin and his little friends were up to. You made him promise to leave that shit outside. So far, there haven't been any problems. 

Franklin shivered in your embrace, his crying quiet and soft. You hated this for him. There was so much you didn’t know, that you wanted to shake from him. You wanted to demand answers. You wanted to yell and scream. None of that would help the situation. You needed to be calm for his sake.

You rubbed Franklin’s back, soaking in the feel of him. He had to bend at an awkward angle in order to put his chin on your shoulder. Surely, it would start to hurt him. You pulled away and glanced at his face.

Franklin’s eyes were unfocused, seeing something in his mind’s eye that you had no idea of. Whatever it was, left his eyes wide. You hated that look in his eyes. You pulled him towards the living room. 

Franklin stopped and shook his head. He directed you towards your room in the back of the house. Bright light bathed your room and you cringed a bit at all of the girly shit. The Michael Jackson posters in your room. The comforter with flowers all over it. 

Franklin turned off the light. The sudden absence of light gave you a flash of a headache as your eyes adjusted. The moonlight hit your room in such a way that you could still see most of Franklin’s features but not much else. 

Franklin sat on the edge of your bed and pulled you next to him. You sat close to him and he put his head on your shoulder once more. You wrapped your arm around him and scratched his head idly. 

“Please, baby, I’m scared,” you whispered. 

“I shot Kevin. I thought…I shot him in the leg. He was gon be fine! Me and Leon had to leave him there,” Franklin told you. “We left him.” 

Franklin’s voice broke and you kissed his head, absorbing the information. Franklin shot Kevin? It didn’t make sense. It was so out of character for Franklin. You remembered all the conversations you and Franklin had about guns. About protecting himself. But as more of a scare tactic. You didn’t want him to get beat up like he did when he first started all of this. 

You shuddered remembering how hurt he was then. His face all swelled up and blood was sticking to his face. You told him then that you didn’t want something like that to ever happen again. You tolerated the guns because you knew he’d never use them unless he absolutely had to. 

“Tell me everything, Franklin,” you whispered against his skin. 

Franklin told you everything. About Kevin’s cousin still selling in Mexican territory. About the senseless murder. How Kevin screamed for the guy’s head no matter the cost to the business. Kevin wanted war and blood and violence. Franklin did what he could but he knew that if Kevin ever found out who did it, there would be no talking him down.

And that’s exactly what happened. Kevin betrayed Franklin. Sold the recipe to the Mexicans for the name of the man who murdered Kevin’s cousin. Kevin went to the park to kill the man in broad daylight, all the other people be damned. 

“There were kids there,” Franklin said and sniffed. “He didn’t care. What it would mean for us or for him.” 

“You did what you had to do, baby. I’m sorry. But if Kevin succeeded, you could be laying in a ditch somewhere,” you said. You knew your morals were messed up. But when it came to Franklin, nothing else mattered. You didn’t want that phone call. You dreaded it. You had enough nightmares about it to last you a lifetime. 

“He’s my best friend,” Franklin said. He buried his head in your shoulder. Warm, wet tears slid down onto your tank top. You held him and let him cry it out. You didn’t know how to help him. 

He needed some rest, truthfully. To sit with that he did. “Is that why you’re here? The cops are on you?” 

Franklin shrugged and told you the rest. About an agent being on scene. Leon drove away fast enough that he should be safe. But he didn’t want you hearing anything about him from the streets. It was too risky to call. Riskier still to make the trek here. 

You stayed across the street from him so it wasn’t entirely suspicious for him to be caught near here. Still. You wondered if he wouldn’t be safer in one of his properties. Something not tied to him. 

Your mind raced thinking of how to keep him safe. Franklin’s shoulders shook one last time and he wiped his face.

“I’m so tired,” he said. 

You scooted back in the bed and tugged on his arm. He kicked off his shoes and got into bed, placing his head on your stomach. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held on tightly. You stroked his head and kissed him periodically until his breathing evened out. He slept while your mind ran a mile a minute. 

So many emotions and thoughts ran through you. How safe was he with you? How exposed was he in the streets and all these drugs? What the hell was an agent doing at that park? Did someone see them? Their car? Franklin was the smartest man you knew. You knew that for every question you thought of, he likely already thought of the solution. Still. The worry gnawed on you like a dog with a bone. 

Time passed where you must have fallen asleep, because when you opened your eyes, Franklin was kissing your neck. 

“Franklin?” You asked groggily. What time was it? Felt late. The moon was still out. Your window was open and a light breeze ruffled the curtains. 

“I need to feel somethin’ other than…this,” he said. 

“You need rest. We gotta come up with a plan or…” 

“Please. Baby,” Franklin said and kissed you. He licked his lips and dived in for another kiss, longer and deeper this time. “You’re the only one who feels safe. Feel like home,” he said. He placed his forehead against yours and took a deep breath.

How could you deny him this? Outside was insane. Kevin was dead, there’s possible agents after him. On top of everything else…Franklin was constantly under stress. He took on so much responsibility. 

You nodded. You kissed his cheek and then the other one. Franklin leaned up and his palm came up to cradle your cheek. You kissed his palm. His thumb feathered across your cheek before pulling you close into a kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck and held him to you. 

You’d give him everything you had. You’d ground him in whatever way you were able. If he needed to kiss, you’d kiss. If he needed your hands on him, you’d do that too. If he needed a ride out town, then you’d find a way. 

Franklin kissed down your neck, to your chest. He kissed over the top of your tank top before yanking it higher and exposing your breasts. He played with them, rubbing it between his hands and pushing your breasts together. He kissed one and then the other, before flicking his tongue out.

You moaned and he wrapped his lips around your nipple. “Fuck,” you moaned. Each suckle of your nipple sent shivers right down to your pussy, making you contract and clench. Franklin blew his breath over the wet nipple and then moved on to the other one. 

You pulled at his shirt and pulled it over his head, exposing his chest. You ran your hands over the expanse of his body. He shivered at your touch on him. He grabbed your hand and kissed your palm, then your forearm, and the crook of your elbow. 

You leaned forward and kissed him, rising up. He followed you and you pushed at his shoulders until he laid down on your bed. He looked at you with a question in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help much when it came to his business. You didn’t want to be involved. Sticking your head in the sand wasn’t much better. But there was nothing you could do. You didn’t know shit about business. Not like Franklin. However, you knew this. You knew him. 

You knew that you could make him feel good and forget for a little while. To help him reset and think more clearly about all of this. 

You got off the bed and pulled at Franklin’s legs, moving him to the edge of the bed. You unzipped his pants and pulled both it and his boxers off. 

“Baby,” Franklin said. 

You put a finger on his lips and sank to your knees. Your bed was a little high for what you wanted to do. You stood back up and grabbed a pillow, putting it under your knees. It made you level with his thick, long dick. He was getting harder by the minute. 

You reached out and touched him. He hissed as he watched you. Studied you. It was like he was committing all of this to memory. You didn’t want it to be a memory. You were going to figure all of this shit out. He was going to stay safe. 

You kissed his thigh and watched his reaction. He smirked at you. “Don’t just play with it,” he said. 

Ignoring him, you stroked his dick and played with the precum beading on the tip. You kissed his balls and kissed a trail up his dick. Franklin sighed as he moved, leaning back on the bed on his elbows. 

You licked his dick and he twitched on the bed. You inhaled the musky scent of him. You fondled his balls, rolling one between your fingers nice and slow. His breathing picked up, little hisses of groans. 

“You are an evil woman,” he said with a chuckle. 

You giggled and sucked the head of his dick into your mouth. “Oh fuck,” Franklin said. You popped it back out with a loud smack.

You waited and looked at him. Franklin looked down at you and smirked. “C’mon baby,” he said. You grinned and gave in. Some other time, you could tease him all you wanted. He always paid back in kind, but for now, he needed this quick and easy release.

You sucked him back into your mouth, as many inches as you could fit. You started to bob your head, getting his dick nice and wet. You slobbered as you pleasured him. Franklin let fly a string of curses and moans, rolling his head back. 

His hand dug into your scalp and pulled your hair back. “Just like that. Fuck, just like that,” Franklin coached. You kept going, doing exactly what he wanted. Spit slipped out the side of your mouth and dripped down your chin. Franklin watched it slide and you could’ve sworn that his strokes increased. His thick dick nearly hit the back of your throat. 

Franklin’s moans grew frantic. He couldn’t move your head anymore, his hand slipping. You opened your eyes and watched his head fall back. His jaw went slack. A last, strangled moan escaped him before his dick pulsed and hot jets of cum shot down your throat. You swallowed and licked it all up. 

You moved your mouth off of him and kept stroking with your hand. He hissed and the look he gave you…it was ravenous. “Get that ass on this bed,” he said. 

You grinned and stood up, shimmying out of your shorts. Franklin moved to the front of the bed. He laid on his back and pulled you by the arms. You straddled him and looked down into his eyes. It was always strange to look down on him for once. His height always forced you to look up at him. 

To look up to his vision for the future. You spent plenty of time listening to him. He was like an old school Panther or activist the way he talked about the community. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth. 

Franklin ran his hands under your shirt to feel your skin. He caressed your lower back. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he rasped. 

You leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. You intended to give him all of the comfort you could. He quickly took over, kissing you deep and slow. You had all the time in the world to kiss him. Love on him. 

Franklin shifted and moved you. His dick pushed into your wet heat and you shared a groan. “Franklin,” you whispered.

“Love my name on your lips,” he said. He kissed you again. He didn’t move. The thickness of him pulsed and twitched inside of you. He was content to sit and kiss you. His tongue slipped inside. He kissed and sucked on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and releasing it. 

He licked your lips. Explored your mouth. Each pass of his tongue against yours made your pussy contract and arousal flood his dick. “Like that shit, don’t you?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Franklin, I love everything you do to me,” you said. You kissed him. “This right here? This is us. We’re the only things that matter,” you said. 

“I just wanna make you feel good, baby,” he said. 

“You make me feel so good,” you said. 

“Yeah? Let me hear it then,” he said. He started to move his hips, sliding you up and down on his dick.

“Oh, oh shit,” you said. It was like he pulled the words from you. He dick stretched you out but in this position, it was comfortable. Your thighs were on either side of him. Your hands braced on his shoulders as you looked into each other's eyes. 

There was still no sense of urgency. He moved slowly, pulling all the way out and then pushing back in and watching the way your eyes rolled. Your jaw would hang open, the breath stolen from your lips. 

His hands gripped your waist, almost bruising. It only turned you on more. His moans fueled your own. “Feel so good,” you moaned.

“Shit, baby. Grip that dick,” he said. His head rested against your headboard, his eyes rolling back with a smile on his face. You loved when he got like this. When he let himself be free and open. 

Your orgasm was building slowly but steadily. Climbing higher towards that delicious peak. “Franklin, please. Let me cum,” you begged. If he would go faster, you’d already be flying high. 

Your hands traveled up, cuddling him close. You buried your head into the crook of his neck. 

“Mm-uh, I wanna feel everything,” he said. 

He continued that slow, tortured pace. The sound of your lovemaking squelched in the silent house. There was just you and him. Joined. Connected. 

“Oh fuck, Franklin. That’s it,” you said. He managed to hit a spot deep inside of you. 

“Oh, I like that,” he said. He hit that spot, over and over. Your moans turned wild and crazy. You bit his shoulder as that peak neared. You bounced on his dick as he routinely hit your spot. 

“Oh fuck me,” you moaned. 

“Just like that, baby. So fuckin’ beautiful. Never letting you go. Never letting this pussy go.” 

You came on a loud curse, your legs shaking and your body going boneless. Franklin wrapped his strong arms around you and held you through it. “That’s it. Let it go,” he said as you talked you through it. 

When you were done, you panted and moved to get off of him. He shook his head, capturing your lips once again. His dick twitched inside of you. He kissed you and he leaned up, taking you with him.

He laid you onto your back, kissing you. Rubbing your back and your thighs. He hiked one leg up and over his hip. The other, he spread wide. Then he started to pound into you like a man possessed. 

His dick speared you over and over again. It robbed you of all thought. There was nothing but his dick hitting that spot again. 

“Mhmm, take that dick,” he whispered harshly. 

“Fr-Fra-” 

“Mm-uh, just keep taking that dick.” He moved your tank up, gripping onto your titty and licking your nipple. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Fuck me, baby,” you screamed. You were leaning on one elbow and your free hand pushed at his chest. You just needed your bearings. But your hand slipped on his sweaty chest. Moonlight caught some of it, making it glisten. 

“Mhmm, mhhm,” Franklin moaned. 

You slapped his chest. His dick kept sliding in and out, slick with your arousal. You looked into his eyes. There was so much love and lust there, shining through his eyes. He kept eye contact, never breaking pace, as he leaned forward and kissed you. 

“Who this shit belong to?” He asked.

“You, you, you,” you moaned. You were so close. Your moans and cries grew louder as your orgasm approached. 

“This pussy yours, baby. All yours,” you managed to croak out.

“All mine?” 

You could only manage a nod. Between his dick and your moans, you didn’t have time for anything else. 

He pinched your nipple and you gasped. It surprised the orgasm out of you. Wave after wave of pleasure suffused you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head while your vision blacked out. 

Franklin groaned and pumped you full of him. Spurts of cum shot into you, filling you to the brim. 

You collapsed together, panting and laughing at what you just experienced. He smacked kisses all over your sweat slick skin. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said in between kisses.

“You never have to thank me for that,” you said. 

“Yes, I do. My mama always told me to be thankful for what’s mine,” he said with a devilish smirk.

You smacked his shoulder and he laughed. He slid out of you and his cum came leaking out. You groaned at the feeling. He got up and disappeared down the hall and came back with a wet rag. He helped clean you up and then he slid into bed beside you and pulled you close.

You both grew quiet. You listened to the strong thump of his heart. You were halfway to sleep, cuddled into his side. 

“Baby?” Franklin asked.

“Hm?” You asked.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” He asked. 

You turned to face him. The moonlight cast shadows on his face so he was half in profile. He didn’t look at you, he stared out of the window. 

“You are the smartest, greatest man I know. You can never be a monster. Never.” 

“What kind of great man kill they own best friend?” He asked. 

“You didn’t know.” 

Franklin shook his head, refusing to meet your eyes. “There could’ve been a different way,” he said. 

“If there was, you would’ve found it. Things were moving too fast, like you said.” 

Franklin took a deep breath but he was retreating from you. You could tell. He was closing in on himself, locking away the sweet man you’ve come to know. The walls that you’d spent months pulling down were building back up. Brick by brick. 

“You’re not a monster, you have to believe that,” you said. You needed him to see. Before he disappeared completely behind those walls, you needed him to understand that crucial part. 

“I need to go,” he said. He didn’t move but it was like he didn’t hear you. Nothing you’d say would get through to him.

“Franklin, don’t. What if there are people looking for you?” 

“If they are, I don’t want to bring ‘em here. You’ve done enough for me. I love you,” he said. He kissed you, pouring unspeakable emotion into this kiss. It was unnameable. Something you could only feel in the tug of your soul. 

“I love you. Stay here with me,” you said. 

Your mom would flip so you thought of places to hide him. Your mom usually came right in, checked on you, and then went to bed. All Franklin had to do was lay on the floor until then.

Franklin kissed your cheek and got up from the bed. He started pulling on his clothes. His face closed down. He was not the same, scared person that showed up earlier that night. He was distant. Walled off. A pillar or a statue now, immoveable. 

“Franklin, please,” you cried. 

You stood up as well. He pulled on his boxers and jeans. You grabbed his shirt and yanked. You got into a tug of war as Franklin pulled the shirt from your grasp. He leaned down and kissed you, his hand caressing your cheek. 

“I have to do this. I’ll see my mom and then I’ll get out of town for a bit,” he said. He tried to smile but it was too quick. Too fake. 

“I’ll come with you,” you said. You didn’t care what you had to tell people. He couldn’t do this. But once Franklin got something in his head, there was no turning back. There was no talking him down.

“No. You have to stay here. Your moms will kill me,” he said with another fake ass grin. You groaned and pulled your panties and shorts back on. Franklin kissed your cheek and left the room. You hopped on one foot, trying to pull your shorts up. One side got caught under your foot. You cleared it and pulled your shorts up and ran after him. Fuck him and his long ass legs.

“Franklin! Franklin, don’t!” You pulled at his arm and he swung it, knocking you loose. He left through the back door. You couldn’t call after him. You searched the ground for your shoes. Fuck! Why was everything so fucking hard to find in the dark? 

You slipped on a pair of flip flips and left the house but Franklin was nowhere to be found. You searched the dark backyard, looking for any sign of movement. You cursed softly and placed your hands on your head, rocking back and forth on your heels. 

You went back inside, headed towards the phone in the living room. You picked it up and the dial tone sounded. Movement out of the window caught your eye. You put the phone back on the receiver and moved towards the window.

You peeked out from behind the curtain and saw numerous cop cars rolling silently. Their lights were off. You followed them with your eyes. They stopped in front of your house, in front of Franklin’s mom’s house. There was a soft glow of light on the inside. 

“Franklin, no!” You went back to the phone, dialing the number. At that moment, the sirens sounded. Red and blue lights flooded your house, a swirling mix that only spelled danger. “Franklin,” you gasped.

You left your front door. The neighborhood left their front doors, heading outside in a mix of robes, rollers, and house slippers. Cold air slapped against your skin as you watched Franklin getting marched out of the front door by police officers. He was struggling and looked scared.

His mom called after him and yelled at the cops. You stood transfixed. This felt like it was happening to someone else. It felt like a television program. Any minute, it would turn to the commercial and leave this awful scene. 

Your chest caved in as Franklin looked at you from over the hood of the cop car. He mouthed, “I love you.”

You did the same thing back. He was shoved into the cop car and the door slammed. It made you jump. Burning hot tears streamed down your face. The streetlights and red and blues swam in your vision. 

You watched your future drive away and all you could do was stand there and watch.

Loved this? There's more! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

[hunnysnoops]

Main Three + Craig with morbid/odd reader

“I want love to change my friends to enemies and tell me how it’s all my fault.”

Stan:

He lets you draw on him but instead of doodling you take a black marker and start to meticulously draw dotted lines and arrows like you’re a surgeon prepping him for cosmetic surgery.

While helping him with farm chores you go into detail about how you can compost and break down a corpse in soil, he just kinda nods along.

You give him tarot readings every week. He thought they were fake and just did it to entertain you until his week played out exactly like you said it would. When he realized he just froze up and went non verbal.

Stan- “Hey, do you have any spells to curse my dad?”

Met him when he was in his goth era.

The two of you were having a moment in the rain when you told him that he should’ve worn shoes with rubber soles in case he gets struck by lightning.

You started writing his eulogy when you were laying in bed together, bro was trying not to freak out. Just spam texted Kyle.

You’re date idea is taking him to an abandoned house.

You guys bonded over music. Now you help him write songs since you’re so used to writing poetry.

Reader- “You’re into music?”

Stan- “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reader- “Have you heard Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: Aquarium composed by Camille Saint-Saëns and performed by Philippe Entremont, Gaby Casadesus, and Yo-Yo Ma?”

Stan- “Can’t say I have.”

Kyle:

Has veiny arms so when the two of you are just chilling you’ll put your finger on one of the veins and start talking about what would happen if you severed it. He’s lowkey interested from a scientific standpoint.

You’ll straddle his hips and pull his lips back to look at his teeth, poking around in his mouth like a dentist. You’re inches apart.

Reader- “Wow, you have beautiful teeth.”

Kyle- “Thank you?”

He’s kinda fascinated by you but also repulsed by some of the things you do/say.

He came to your house and you were butchering your own meat, left right away.

You listen to The Cure together.

When you climb trees to look for birds and squirrels he’ll climb too to help you.

Will get mad annoyed after listening to you say incredibly out of pocket things while he’s trying to focus on something.

He’ll buy you little knickknacks that remind him of you.

Before he got to know you, he talked mad shit.

Sometimes gets super freaked out by your behaviour, you straight up give him the heebie-jeebies.

Reader- “So this is my collection of human teeth.”

Kyle- “All of those are yours, right?”

Reader- “Actually, none of them are mine.” 😁

Kyle- 😨

Kenny:

Sits through horror movies and weird foreign films with you. He didn’t like it at first but he came around and started sourcing out movies he’d think you like.

You took him to a Wicca ceremony and he had the time of his life.

You taught him how to make flower crowns and now he makes them all the time. He likes to give them to Karen.

When he sees something off-putting or creepy he will immediately take a picture and send it to you.

Reader- “Hey, it’s raining. Do you want to go look for earth worms and build a worm colosseum?”

Kenny- “Hell yeah.”

He likes to go for walks in the forest with you, you guys will look for bugs and pick them up or make them houses of leaves and twigs.

He’ll help you wash the skulls/bones you find.

Never really minded that you were weird, he approached you first because he thought you were hot.

He loves when you play with his hair and tie little braids into it.

You guys tried to recreate The Blair Witch Project but failed miserably when you actually got lost in the woods.

You’ll meet up at the graveyard and just sit in the grass while you talk about ghosts and ghouls. Sometimes you’ll walk around and stop at a specific grave and guess how they died.

Reader- “Would you rather be in Cannibal Holocaust or The Poughkeepsie Tapes?”

Kenny- “Erm, I gotta pick The Poughkeepsie Tapes.”

Craig:

Generally goes along with whatever you want to do.

Reader- “Can we go down to the riverbank to pickup fish heads and then eat out their eyes?”

Craig- “Yeah, sure.”

He’ll just watch you roll around in the mud or set little twig piles on fire, he won’t join in but he also won’t interfere.

You’ll talk to Stripe, not in the baby voice that people usually use to talk to animals but your tone will be dead serious like you’re talking to a grown adult.

The two of you will watch true crime documentaries together.

He’ll fuck up anyone who calls you weird or a freak.

When you’re out in public, you’ll point someone out and predict how they’re going to die.

There’s nothing you can do that’ll shock him, he’s unfazed by everything that you say.

Sometimes gets concerned with you around Stripe.

You’ll disappear for hours at a time and he’ll get worried, sending you a million texts then you’ll randomly show up at his door soaking wet or covered in dirt with no warning.

Craig- “Where have you been? You weren’t answering my texts.”

Reader- “I was meeting with a friend of mine who is alive.”

Craig- “Oh, that’s cool.”

Requests are open! I’m working through a couple right now. Thanks to the anon who requested this.

[silverskye13]

I vaguely remember something about Helsknight going to confessions? I’m interested as to why and what he confesses to :3

Hi, this has been in my inbox for a hot minute, but it got me thinking, and I kept thinking so. Have a snippet.

_____________________

Please read the tags for the TW list!

_____________________

The Confession room for the followers of the Saint of Blood and Steel was exactly the same room they trained and dueled in. The only difference was, at a certain time of day, on two specific days of the week, there was a little white sign on the doors that said "Confession Open." There was almost always a line. Only one person was allowed in the confessional at a time. There was no law or order or rule that dictated everyone wait in silence, but there was something particularly embarrassing humbling about standing in a line of armed and armored knights, all waiting patiently for god to slap them on the wrist.

The door opened. A knight exited with her head held high, though Helsknight noticed she clutched her arm a little too close to her body. She walked past the line down the hall, to the little room on the left where the pleasant and somewhat dissonant smell of baked goods warmed the air. The line shuffled forward a step.

The wait was long, and awkward, occasionally broken by stilted small talk, and the lethal sounds of mail and blade, and the scuffing of boots. Helsknight had gotten into the habit of bringing something to read while he waited. It gave him a good excuse not to make prolonged eye-contact with anyone, and he had grown bored of making shapes out of the mosaic tiles ages ago. He could only look at the same repeating pattern so many times before he realized they all looked vaguely like a dog lifting a leg to pee, and thinking about bodily functions while waiting in a long line was a great way to convince himself to leave the line. Then the chances of him getting home in a timely manner after his confession [or really going to confession at all] dropped exponentially.

The door opened. A young knight limped two steps down the hall before a priest, waiting at a nearby bench for expressly this purpose, dashed over and put the knight's arm around his shoulders. The knight muttered a wincing thanks, and together they limped down the hall to that same, sweet-smelling room. As soon as they turned the corner out of the main hall, the knight let out a loud curse, and there was the heavy sound of someone collapsing into a convenient chair. The line shuffled forward a step.

A twitchy squire standing in line in front of Helsknight stared at the door wide-eyed, and then forward to the confessional sign, which they regarded with the same blatant fear as someone confronting their own noose. Helsknight looked down at the little book he was holding, sighed, and decided to show a little mercy. He was at confession, after all.

"The Saint isn't cruel," Helsknight told them softly, and just the sound of his voice startled them nearly out of their boots. "Whatever your penance is, it will never be beyond your means."

The squire flashed him what was probably supposed to be a nervous smile, but which looked a lot more like a grimace. "What if I've fucked up really badly?"

Someone in the line coughed inconspicuously. Someone else cleared their throat. Helsknight fixed the young squire with a measuring gaze, and came to the conclusion this nervy kid had probably never "fucked up really badly" a day in their life. Though he supposed he'd been wrong before.

"You could start your penance early," Helsknight said, reigning in his sarcasm as much as physically possible, "by maybe not swearing in church."

The inconspicuous cougher down the line let out a much more conspicuous snort. The squire clapped their hands over their mouth and stared up at him in horror. Helsknight sighed and pinched the space between his eyes.

"Swearing isn't against our tenets."

The hallway murmured into a soft chorus of "Amens" and "Praise the gods" and one particularly ambitious "thank fuck." A few of the knights signed various salutes and benedictions to the Saint. The squire visibly relaxed.

"It's respectful not to," Helsknight continued after the murmured din died down. "Show the Saint your contrition by respecting Their home. Is your sword sharp?"

The squire seemed a bit taken aback by this sudden change in conversation topic. They unsheathed their sword a bit, showing a dull iron blade. "Uhm... it could stand to be sharper."

"You bring your kit with you?"

The squire sighed and rolled their eyes, more from disappointment at a new chore than any real defiance. They unsheathed their sword, dropped a large messenger bag off their shoulder, and started rifling through their things. The air was soon filled with the sound of whetstone on blade. Someone behind Helsknight tapped him on the shoulder. She pointed to the squire, then to Helsknight, and offered an approving thumbs-up. Good job on distracting the scared kid. Helsknight shrugged and held out his book, flashing the title in her direction. Everyone needs a distraction in this stupid line. She rolled her eyes, tell me about it, and moved her cloak to the side, showing off a little satchel with what looked to be art supplies. Helsknight smirked.

The door opened. A knight came striding out, running a stressed hand through his hair. He started to walk past the little door at the end of the hall, but a priest came dashing out to stop him before he could make it too far. They whispered amongst each other for a moment, heads bowed close together to keep their conversation private. The priest looped a consoling arm around the knight's shoulder, and together they walked slowly into the little room. The line shuffled forward a step.

No one ever stayed inside the confessional for long. Fifteen minutes, twenty. Once or twice someone dipped closer to a half hour. Then the door would open, and the line would shuffle. Helsknight had made it through about a chapter and a half of his book [an epic poem about the deeds of one of the Saint's paladins. He brought it to keep himself in a "contrite mood", whatever the hels that was] when finally it was the squire's turn to step inside. They bundled up their gear, offered Helsknight their bravest grimace-that-was-probably-a-smile, and walked inside.

The knight behind him asked politely, "Is that your squire?"

"No."

"Ah. Just being nice then?"

Helsknight offered an indifferent shrug. "It's everyone's first confession once."

She turned this somewhat nonsensical statement over for a moment, shrugged her agreement, and went back to sketching.

Time passed. The squire exited the doors with a relieved look on their face, though they clutched their right hand beneath their arm as though afraid to look at it. Helsknight sighed, closed his book, and stepped inside. The door closed behind him with a heavy click.

The room wasn't so much dark as it was simply not as bright as the hallway outside. Beside the door was a small table, and Helsknight turned and made use of it, setting down his book, then unbuttoning his tabard. He knew whoever was taking his confession today would be nearby, ready to help him doff any armor, but he wore mail today specifically so he could slip it on and off, without having to worry about all the buckles and clips that came with chest plates and grieves. When he'd relieved himself of everything he wore or carried, besides his leggings and his unsheathed sword, he walked towards the center of the fighting ring.

A knight in full plate stood in the ring's center, a great sword planted tip-down into the dirt between their feet. The sword was simple steel, as was the armor. No enchantment or ornamentation decorated the surface. There was no plume on the closed helm. They were the image of the Saint, an unremarkable warrior, all silent strength.

Helsknight knelt at their feet, laying his sword gently between them. He sighed out a long breath.

"I come to the Saint to be shriven," Helsknight said as deferentially as he could, in the face of an often repeated task. "By Their steel, and by my blood."

The confessor nodded. "Speak your confession, brother."

Helsknight winced, and barely stifled a groan. "It's always you, isn't it, Blade?"

The confessor let out a heavy sigh. "Come on man, this is supposed to be anonymous."

"Not my fault you talk like that."

"Heh? Talk like what?"

"Exactly."

The two fell into awkward silence, Helsknight probably much more awkward than Blade. He took a bracing breath.

"I... Come to confess the sin of Wrath."

There was a long pause.

"Again."

"This is normally where I ask what you did, and why," Blade said witheringly, "but it was plastered all over the broadsheets this morning."

Helsknight pinched the space between his eyes.

"If it makes you feel any better, I gotta agree with the West Side Tabloid. He had it coming." Blade said, leaning a little too nonchalantly on his greatsword. "You don't just call someone a coward like that. It's violence theater. If you bring real honor into it, you're begging for trouble."

"I... Agree."

"So, you lashed out in anger and got blood all over the nice Colosseum sand." Blade continued. "You lost your temper, but you were defending your honor. And I wouldn't even call it all that cruel. It's not like you tortured him or anything."

"Am I being pardoned?"

"Depends," Blade said, in a casual tone that suddenly didn't seem wholly his own. "Where else have you vented your Wrath, brother?"

Helsknight licked his teeth, as though he expected them to taste like blood. "I... attacked a thief today. He stole from me, and I was in my right to defend that."

"But you harmed him past self defense," Blade prompted, when the silence stretched long.

"If he hadn't escaped me, I would have." Helsknight paused, and added. "I had wanted to."

"Wanting isn't the same as doing," Blade offered charitably.

"I would not have stopped myself."

"Has Wrath consumed your life in any other ways, brother?"

"My hermit."

Blade nodded solemnly.

"We fought recently. I won. It was unprovoked. I was having a bad morning, and I needed -- I wanted to take it out on him. So I did."

"Have you asked forgiveness from the people you've harmed, in your sin of Wrath, brother?"

"No."

"Have you attempted any restitution?"

"No."

Very suddenly, the greatsword in Blade's hand was sheathed in red. It was light, bright and scouring, and it filled the air with the taste of blood. Even knowing it would happen, Helsknight flinched at the sight of it. His hair stood on end, and the air seemed charged, like the breath before a lightning strike. The Saint, alive and present, glimpsed for a moment through Blade. The confessor-turned-paladin tilted his head back slightly, and Helsknight knew if his face weren't covered in the helm, his eyes would be red, brimming with bloody tears.

In a voice that was Blade's, and something past him, empowered by faith, brutal and scouring, the Saint said, "Stand, and pick up your sword."

Helsknight did as he was bidden. His heart fluttered a little too fast in his chest, and while his hands did not shake, they felt near to it, unsteady. Helsknight was one of the best fighters to have ever crossed the Saint of Blood and Steel's threshold. If he were simply fighting Blade, there was a decent chance he'd win, though Blade had been his match many times before.

He was not only fighting Blade, though.

"As a knight of the Saint's order," Blade and the glimpse of the Saint beneath said, "you swore to uphold Their tenets, even in the face of great adversity. By raising your sword, not in Their wrath, but your own, you break that tenet."

Blade let out a breath, like someone barely keeping their head above water. Helsknight wondered if that was what being a paladin in the service of a Saint felt like: held under water, drowning under divine will.

"Yet Their order teaches that even the Saint is fallible, and once, Their will was driven, not by divine purpose, but by reckless bloodshed. As They were once challenged, now They challenge you. Do you accept?"

Helsknight didn't have to accept. This part had been emphasized a lot when he joined and took his first confession. Anyone was allowed to deny the Saint's trial and simply accept their penance. The penance wouldn't change. There was no incentive for, or against, besides maybe his own personal need to prove he really was in the wrong. Maybe it was pride made him accept every time. Maybe it was spite. Or, maybe, it was simply the need to punish himself for the lack of control he felt.

Solemnly, Helsknight nodded.

"Then Pick Up Your Sword, and Smite Me."

That was all the warning Helsknight was given. Blade, or the Saint, or the Saint's Will, or all three together, lunged.

It did not take long. By the third swing, Helsknight's blade was sent crashing from his hand, though he met the Saint's blade with all the strength and mastery he could muster. Losing to the Saint was an indescribable thing. It wasn't like losing a match in the Colosseum, or like losing a duel against Blade when they sparred. It was like an ant scratching at the heels of a giant, a kitten swatted aside by the massive claws of a dragon. If he swung his sword at a wall, at least there was the smallest chance the stone would chip. There was no chance in this. There was only the token effort of the attempt, one clash, then two, then three, and then his sword was gone from his hand. Blade slammed a palm into his chest, and Helsknight was on his back, gasping for breath, having crumpled so quickly he hardly had time to register he was watching the ceiling.

"By the divine right of contest, brother, Their will is done," Blade, The Saint, both and neither, said. Helsknight laid on his back and waited, catching his breath. "Hold out your sword hand."

A jolt of fear lanced through Helsknight then. He hated, he feared, hand wounds. It was an odd folly of his that he'd never been able to shake. Blade knew it. The Saint probably knew it. It felt unfair to punish him with it, or cruel.

Helsknight closed his eyes, and he stared down the scared little squire in his head.

[The Saint isn't cruel. Whatever your penance is, it won't be beyond your means.]

And then, for good measure, as he offered his right hand forward, [you deserve this.]

The cut was quick and clean. The blade was supernaturally sharp. The wound took time to hurt. Still, Helsknight's head spun. His breath came too quickly in his chest. Blade had to repeat himself twice when he asked for Helsknight's other hand. Then his vision tilted more, stars blooming in burst around his peripherals, edged in black.

When he found himself again, Blade had carried him to the table and rested him there, and stood bandaging his hands. His own hands were shaking, every shudder sending a jolt through Helsknight's arm. Helsknight turned this observation over distantly, curious in the way of the desperate, clinging to small details to better make sense of the world. Blade didn't normally shake when they did these sessions. Maybe he, too, had objected to wounding Helsknight's hands.

"Sorry... About that," Blade stammered hoarsely. "It's... You haven't made restitution. And it's a problem you keep having."

Helsknight didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

"It's not bad," Blade said, trying to reassure both of them. "No muscles or tendons or anything. It was just a lot of blood."

"Yes," Helsknight said airily, still a little too unrecovered to explain the blood hadn't been the problem. Not really. Not that it needed explaining.

"Go see the priests down the hall," Blade informed him needlessly. "You need stitches, especially near the veins on your wrists. They need to heal naturally. Over time, as penance for your Wrath. You may lessen your time through acts of service to the church, if you so choose."

Helsknight nodded.

"Do you need help walking?"

Helsknight blinked slowly, his sluggish, shocked mind slowly crawling to life.

"Helsknight," Blade said, putting a still-gauntleted hand against his face. The cold metal felt good against his feverish skin. "Are you hearing me?"

"I hear you," Helsknight said, ashamed of how weak and small his voice sounded. "I need help with my mail.'

"Maybe we should make sure you can walk first?"

"Every other knight walks into this room and back out again fine," Helsknight said, his pride slowly crawling to life in his chest. "I just... I just need some help."

Blade, as much as a man obscured by a full suit of armor could, looked relieved. He nodded, and after a few moments of coddling, they managed to get Helsknight on his feet and dressed again. He squared his shoulders and walked with purposeness down the hall, his vision only swimming a little. The spiteful little animal in him wanted to keep walking until he was home, and he almost did. But a priest ducked her head out the door of the room at the end of the hall, and fixed him up in a concerned stare, and Helsknight, tired in body and soul, followed her inside.

The little room held tables and chairs, and a counter brimming with freshly made breads and rolls. Sweet things, prepared in advance of confession for those who might've lost too much blood, or for those who needed something soft and warm to take the edge off their penance. Helsknight allowed himself to be guided to a seat. The priest who had pulled him in checked over the hasty bandages, let out a disapproving tsk! and began organizing some supplies. She was joined by two other priests who began quietly discussing the best way to go about his stitches. Someone put a slice of some freshly baked something-or-other in front of him, and Helsknight ate it with the mechanical necessity of someone who recognizes a chore that needs doing.

Months later, Helsknight and Tanguish sat at a fountain outside the First Church of Hels, their breakfasts in their laps. Helsknight ran a thumb self-consciously along the odd, thin, centipede-like scar that danced from the center of his palm down his forearm. Tanguish must have noticed, because he asked, "How did you get that one?"

Helsknight turned his wrist so Tanguish could get a better look. "Lost my temper at something."

Tanguish ran a gentle finger across the misshapen skin, his touch cool and soothing. "It looks like it hurt."

Helsknight shrugged. "Not as bad as you'd think. It hurt more when they took the stitches out. S'why it looks like that."

Tanguish yanked his hand away like the scar had come alive and bitten him. "Why didn't you just drink a health potion?"

Helsknight chose his words carefully. "I needed to remember it."

Tanguish grimaced and allowed, "You... are very scary when you lose your temper." He reached out a hand to run his fingers tentatively along the scar again, as though he could somehow heal the long-passed harm. "You've gotten a lot better though."

Helsknight shrugged.

They returned to their prospective breakfasts, Helsknight eating with much less enthusiasm than his companion. He wished Tanguish didn't have such a preference for baked goods and sweet foods. They reminded him too much of that long hallway, and that door at the end of it -- and how long it'd been since he last stood there and waited to meet his Saint. Helsknight resolved to visit again when he got the chance. Just as soon as he ordered his list of sins. He remembered when he fought the Demon, sighed, and quietly put Wrath in its place at the top of the list.

[mymegumi]

YOU’LL BE THE LAST TO KNOW ও ITADORI YUUJI

⠀ warnings: hurt/no comfort

itadori yuuji is meant for great things.

he has the smile of the sun and patience of a saint. he wipes away your tears with the look of someone who is physically hurt by the things that hurt you. he kisses the corner of your lips to convey to you that he loves you with all he is. he presses his hand to the small of your back so you always know that he’s there, that you’re never alone.

he loves you with everything he is, and it scares you.

you don’t think you deserve it. you can barely perform jujutsu at anything higher than a grade three sorcerer can. itadori performs as well as and is on his way to being better than grade one sorcerer—hell, he could be a special grade before this whole ordeal is said and done.

idiotically stupid and loyal to a fault, you know that he’s never had an evil bone in his body. he wipes away your worries with the promise of a life greater than jujutsu, kisses against your skin the image of a family.

you’re scared, though.

you feel anxiety crawling down your throat whenever he leaves on a mission you aren’t strong enough for. you let the feeling of uselessness wash over you every time he presses a final kiss against your forehead, fear shaking your bones that that’ll be the last one.

but itadori is the protagonist.

he is meant to be bigger, do better, and be the one to stop things.

when you beg him to stay behind, to just stay with you and let someone else do the job you know only he can do, he just shakes his head sadly. he lets his hand slip from yours and gives you time to cope with the fact that he might not always be there.

“if it’s not me,” he’d say, at the edge of your doorway, “then there’s no one else.”

“there’s me.” you’d beg back, hands clutched to your chest as you can feel the anguish of him leaving. “just stay with me.”

and he doesn’t say anything. you know why.

it’s never enough to make him stay.

itadori yuuji is meant for greater things.

it’s what everyone says when you ask others about him. kugisaki says that he’s held back by the meaningless relationships and friendships he’s had at jujutsu high. you’re not sure if it’s a slight at you, but you ignore it. megumi highlights his ever evolving skills and martial prowess. says that he’ll surpass even the greatest jujutsu high alum at the rate he’s learning and that he’s going to be a name everyone knows.

you think you’re holding him back.

because jujutsu high is being attacked and you know he won’t stop asking people where you are. he’s probably looking for you at this very moment, truthfully, while trying to fend of a group of humans using jujutsu negatively.

but you don’t want to stand in his way.

you love him so dearly, know him so well, that you know he’ll drop anything and everything he’s doing to help you. you couldn’t even fight off more than a handful of curses on your own, there’s no way you can call itadori to be your prince in shining armor.

he’s probably saving people who are worthy of it.

hand pressed against your abdomen, you feel the blood spill past your fingers and if you weren’t already on the floor from the blood-loss, you think you’d end up there from spilling your guts.

it might seem like you detest him, you realize later on. the self deprecating thoughts and disdainful comments to stay behind, but it’s because you always imagined he would be the one to die first. you suppose it’s cruel irony that it would be you, wouldn’t it?

you die holding onto your matching locket. the missing couplet was hung loosely around itadori’s own neck on a gold chain.

he finds you later.

the wails are enough to make kugisaki need to step outside. megumi can hardly handle stand to watch the sigh of him cradling your body.

he wishes more than anything he could’ve told you he loves you one last time.

[woman-of-balnain]

Bold as Love Part 2 (Arthur x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 | Masterlist | A03 Ver.

Summary: A requested part 2, where the Reader gets back at Arthur for making her jealous.

A/N: @anyas-stuff, I hope it's okay. I wasn't sure if I was making him too dominant, and then later if he wasn't dominant enough lol 😅 Please let me know if you aren't happy with any of it and I'll edit it to your liking.

Warnings: Possessive Arthur, jealous Arthur, dominant Arthur, reader flirting with some random guy lol, Arthur punching and threatening said guy, swearing/cursing, smut, unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, no use of Reader's name/Y/N etc.

Word Count: 3,409

Divider by: cafekitsune

You were treading into dangerous waters as you flirted with the handsome man you’d spotted while in the Bastille Saloon. Arthur had noticed that you were still annoyed with him for going off to see Mary, so he’d taken you out of camp for the night, planning for you both to spend some time alone together in Saint Denis. But the saloon was filled with people, meaning Arthur had to work harder than usual to get the bartender’s attention.

That had given you the perfect opportunity to get back at him. All it took was spotting this attractive stranger - who was clearly interested in you - from across the room. You had made your way over to him, struck up a lascivious conversation and now you were seated in his lap, toying with him and waiting for Arthur to notice.

You played with the collar of the man’s jacket, while his hand disappeared under your skirt, trailing up the bare skin of your leg. You hoped Arthur would realize soon, before things got to a point where backing out would cause a scene.

“How ‘bout we find somewhere more private, beautiful?” The man spoke deeply, right by your ear.

You tried to think of a way to stall him. He was attractive, sure, but you had no real interest in him other than to incite Arthur’s jealousy.

“This feller botherin’ you darlin’?”

Speak of the devil.

You tried to hide your smirk, not wanting to give yourself away as you turned your head to regard him.

“No,” you replied simply. “We’re just talking.”

Arthur looked absolutely livid, and his gaze only hardened even further as the man snaked his other arm around your waist.

“Yeah, back off mister,” the man told Arthur, not seeming to realize that he knew you, let alone that you were together. “I saw her first, so I’m havin’ her first. You can do what you want with her after that.”

You tensed at his words, disgusted by the way he talked about you like you were just some shiny new toy that he got the first dibs on playing with. But you barely had time to truly react, because Arthur seemed to like it even less. He moved with lightning speed, pulling you away from the other man right before he brought his fist back and then slammed it into the bastard’s face.

“I best not hear you talk about her like that again,” Arthur warned him lowly, seething with anger. “’Cause if I do, I’ll do worse than just breakin’ your nose.”  

Your heart pounded with excitement as Arthur took hold of your wrist and you got one final look at the blood pouring down the man’s face before you were being pulled up the stairs and towards the hotel room Arthur had booked. You let out a startled gasp as your back was pushed against the wall of the room after you entered it.

Arthur’s gaze was dark with both anger and possessive desire. You couldn’t stop the small smirk that played across your lips, as you realized that you had successfully brought out his jealousy.

“Did you forget you’re mine, darlin’?” He asked in that deep and gruff tone of his.  

He was pressed right up against you, his eyes heated as one of his hands moved to your collarbone. Arthur’s fingertips brushed over your skin, teasing in the way that he was barely touching you, but providing just enough contact to leave you wanting more.

“Are you jealous?” You asked him playfully, attempting to mask the way his touch always got to you.

“He had his hand up your skirt,” Arthur practically growled out. “I’m the only one who gets to touch you like that.”

His answer only confirmed your suggestion, even though he didn’t outright admit it. You reveled in the raw possessiveness that you found in his gaze, feeling yourself already becoming wet with anticipation. You tried to bite back a moan as Arthur began hiking up your skirt until your bare legs were revealed.

“Where did he touch you?” Arthur’s fingertips trailed softly over your knee. “Here?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded slowly, eyelids drooping slightly as you bit down on your bottom lip in open desire.

“What about here?” He moved his hand further up your thigh.

“Yes.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, but his touch kept travelling further upwards until he reached the very top.

“You better not have let him touch you here, darlin’,” Arthur warned you lowly, his hand cupping your now dripping wet pussy.

“What if I did?”

“I’ll go back down there and kill the son of a bitch.”

You should have found that to be a turnoff and you should have felt shame due to the fact that it only filled you with more desire for your man. But you felt neither of those things and your pussy just got wetter at the possessive fury Arthur was exhibiting.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare tell me you’re this wet for anyone but me.”

“What? I’m not allowed to have a little fun with someone else?”

You were referring to him going off to see Mary, of course. The number of times your mind had tortured you with imagined images of what the two of them might have got up to in that dark theatre left you rightfully angry.

Yet, you realized with satisfaction that Mary seemed to be furthest thing from Arthur’s mind in that moment. He didn’t seem to pick up on your insinuation and instead he just seemed to get angrier at the idea of you wanting any man who wasn’t him.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you again. “And you’re gonna prove it to me.”

Your eyebrows raised in question, but he didn’t give you time to think over and guess at what he might mean. Arthur took hold of your wrist again, pulling you over to the bed and unceremoniously pushing you down onto it. Then, his hands were on you, unfastening the belt around your waist, which kept your skirt up.

You were quick to work on removing your blouse as well, flinging it off to the side at the same time Arthur pulled the skirt down your legs. Once you were naked before him, he took a moment to eye you up and down with open lust before his gaze hardened again.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

“Or what?” You challenged. You were still unwilling to give in, partly out of pride and partly because you wanted to see how far you could push him and just how possessive and dominant he could get.

“Don’t make me ask again, darlin’,” he warned. “Or it’ll be ten instead of five and I’ll keep goin’ up ‘til you listen.”

Ten what? You wondered.

You did as he said though, turning around until your stomach was pressed against the bed.

“Lift up your hips,” he continued instructing you.

You lifted them up, resulting in your ass being presented to him.

“That’s it,” he praised. “My good girl.”

You felt the coarseness of his calloused hands smoothing over your exposed ass, his fingertips trailing over the naked skin before he squeezed down appreciatively. Then, he moved his touch down to your dripping folds, stroking along the slit of your pussy and then up to your clit, causing your legs to shake with need.

“That feel good, darlin’?”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t form any words as your body became desperate for more.

“What was that?” Arthur teased you by pulling his hand away. “Tell me.”

“It feels good,” you moaned out, pushing your hips up even further in an attempt to have him touch you again.

“What does?”

“You…” the reply was breathless and filled with desire. “Touching me.”

“Good girl,” you could practically hear the smirk he must’ve had. “Just my touch, right darlin’?”

You managed to regain some of your stubbornness now that he had relinquished his touch, so you bit back a little.

“Maybe…”

Yet, you were surprised when Arthur didn’t verbally respond straight away, and the only thing you could hear was the sound of him removing his gun belt. You went to turn your head and look at him, but Arthur was quick to give you another order.

“Eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, waiting with anticipation as you heard him place the belt on the dresser before the sound of clothes rustling filled the room. Then, Arthur’s body was bending down over yours, pressing against you until his lips were right by your ear. You realized that he had stripped as you felt his hardened length against your lower back.

“I want you to count for me gorgeous,” his deep and gravelly voice spoke into your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“You’ll know when to start,” was all he said in response.

Then Arthur was pulling back, and you expected to feel his cock thrusting into you fast and hard. You were aching to have him filling you up, deep inside. But you weren’t expecting to feel the forceful and sharp slap of his hand against your ass. A shocked sound – something between a moan and gasp – escaped your lips.

“I told you to count, darlin’,” he reminded you. “If you forget, this’ll just take longer.”

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned out, realizing that he was going to make you endure this at least another four times.

The sharp sting of his hand against your skin was shocking and gave you just the slightest twinge of pain, but it also made your pussy even more wet and needy for him.

“You got a dirty mouth, gorgeous,” he chuckled darkly. “But that ain’t what I wanna hear right now.”

He spanked his hand down again, his free one holding your hip to steady you.

“T-two,” you got out.

“No, sweetheart, that was one.”

You groaned, realizing that he was serious about drawing it out even longer if you lost count.

“One,” you corrected yourself, your pussy clamping down on nothing as you yearned to have him just fuck you already.

“Good girl,” he praised, squeezing down on your hip.

“Oh, Christ! Two…”

He had brought his hand down again and the sweet mix between pain and pleasure was already too much to bear.

“Look at you darlin’,” Arthur admired the sight of you. “Your pussy is soaked. Is this turning you on?”

“Please, Arthur,” you begged, noting how he had stopped. “I need you inside me.”

“You sure?” He asked, making you frown.

“Of course, I’m sure!”

“You don’t want that feller downstairs?”

“No,” you insisted. “I just wanted to get back at you… Make you jealous too…”

“Oh darlin’, I ain’t jealous,” Arthur told you lowly. “I am god damned furious.”

He brought his hand down again, a little harder this time and you scrambled to get out the word ‘three’.

“You’re mine,” he said yet again. “All mine.”

Your only response was another deep and desperate moan, so he did it another time, forcing you to continue counting.

“Say it, darlin’,” he coaxed you, his fingers soothing your skin by tracing lightly over where he had been spanking you.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out. “Just yours.”

Then you were crying out in euphoric bliss as he pulled back and finally thrust into you, deep and hard.

“Don’t forget it sweetheart,” Arthur warned you. “You do that again, and I won’t leave the bastard alive.”

Your hands balled into fists, clutching tightly at the sheets as he continued to pound into you.

“Your body is attuned to mine,” he grit out, quickly becoming lost in his own sense of desire. “You think another man can make you feel like this?”

“No,” you breathed out, knowing he was right.

He didn’t even have to touch you. Just one heated look, or the way his voice deepened and got rougher with arousal was enough to make your body yearn for him.

“Shit, darlin’,” he groaned, finally giving away just how badly he needed you too. “You’re always so tight around me.”

Arthur faltered just briefly, taking a second to enjoy the way your pussy wrapped around him so snugly, before he pulled all the way out and then slammed back in again. Your entire body seemed to thrust forward from the force of it and you could no longer hold back the constant and eager sounds that left you.

“That’s it,” Arthur encouraged you huskily. “Don’t hold back, darlin’. I want everyone here to know what I do to you.”

You bent your head down, letting it rest against the bed as the feel of his velvety but rock-hard length against your walls brought you closer and closer to the edge. You were so wrapped up in the fact that he was finally deep inside of you, that when his hand slapped your ass again, gentler this time, you almost forgot his earlier instructions. But you managed to moan out the number ‘five’ in time and then his hands were on your hips again, using his grip on them to give him leverage as his merciless rhythm continued.

“You’re close, darlin’,” he observed. “I can feel it. What do you need?”

You could only moan in response, but Arthur didn’t seem to mind. He knew your body just as well as he knew his own. He lifted you up until your back was pressed to his chest and then one of his hands gently held your throat, while the other slid down your body until it reached the apex of your thighs.

“You need me to touch you?” Arthur guessed, brushing his fingers ever so slightly against your clit. “Right here?”

“Oh god,” you moaned. “Please Arthur…”

“Tell me.”

“Please touch me. I need it so badly.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

Arthur pressed down harder, his fingers rubbing in circular motions over your clit. Your pussy reacted instantly, squeezing down even harder on his cock. He moaned, tilting his head to give you another kiss, this time to the crook of your neck.

“Come on, darlin’,” he coaxed you. “I need to feel you cumming around me.”

He lightly pinched your clit, applying just enough pressure to cause a wave of pure bliss to wash over you.

“Arthur…” you moaned out.

“Shit,” he cursed.

Arthur held your hips tightly, keeping himself buried deep inside while your pussy spasmed perfectly around his cock. He loved the way it felt when you came undone, knowing that it was him who did that to you. Your legs shook and your head fell back to rest against his shoulder as your orgasm left your mind and body reeling. Arthur gave you time for your body to settle again before he was slowly pulling out of you and turning you around to face him.

He hadn’t cum, so you knew he wasn’t done with you yet and you moved to lay back on the bed. Arthur followed, his perfectly chiseled body caging you beneath him. You spread your legs, allowing him to settle between them and you let your eyes move slowly down to look at his chest and the light hairs that spread across it.

Then your gaze descended further, taking in his long and thick cock, still achingly hard. You reached out, wrapping your hand around him and lifting your hips to line him back up. Arthur didn’t waste any time, thrusting quickly back inside you.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned, lowering his head until his forehead rested against yours. “You drive me crazy.”

He moved a little slower then, no longer setting the brutal and ruthless pace from before. Now, he allowed himself to take in every little feeling and sensation, like he was savoring the way your body fit his so perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

You felt slightly bad for making him so angry, even if it did mean that you’d successfully gotten back at him.

“Just don’t… forget… darlin’,” he murmured between thrusts. “I ain’t gonna… let you go. ‘Specially not to a… son of a bitch… like that.”

He brought his hands to yours, entwining your fingers together and using the grip he had to move his hips quicker and deepen his thrusts.

“You’d better not,” you grit out, your back arching a little from how deeply he was filling you up. “Just like… you’d better not see that… bitch again…”

Arthur just let out a light, amused laugh and it surprised you that he didn’t seem bothered by you cursing her out for once. Then he dipped his head and caught your lips in a fervent kiss, pressing his tongue against yours while he continued his steady but passionate rhythm. The way his cock moved in and out repeatedly, with his hips smacking against yours in desperation, caused that fire to build up in your lower belly again.

You met his thrusts eagerly, loving the feel of his naked and toned chest pressing against your hard nipples, teasing them and the rest of your body even further. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, bodies tangled together and desperate for release.

His taste filled your mouth, a mix of whiskey, tobacco and just a hint of the mint he often chewed. Along with the little sounds of pleasure he was letting out, it all meant that you were totally and utterly consumed by Arthur.

He gave one last lingering and deep kiss to your lips before pulling back, releasing his grip on your hands and taking hold of your thighs instead. He picked up the pace again and you realized how close he was. His hips moved rapidly, pounding into you forcefully and your body writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

You peered up to watch him through hooded eyes, seeing the way his own were squeezed shut and his mouth was slightly agape with open lust and desire. Then you looked further down your body and observed the swift way his cock slid in and out of you.

Paired with how it felt, tantalizing your sensitive walls with every stroke, brought you to a state of elation once again. Arthur was getting louder now, unable to hold back the moans and groans of pleasure that rose deep in his throat.

The way he lost control and began to unravel whenever he was close to cumming always turned you on. He threw his head back, muscles flexing slightly as he continued to smack his hips against yours. The sounds coming from him were now becoming more unrestrained and guttural. You were so close as well and when you clamped down even tighter around him, in a vice like grip, he thrust all the way forward, burying his cock completely inside you and holding himself there.

You both let out a simultaneous moan and as the first spurts of his cum filled you up, another orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy milked him, convulsing around his length and making Arthur get completely lost in the feel of you as more desperate sounds escaped him. His cock throbbed inside you, further stimulating your sensitive walls and keeping you in a state of euphoric bliss until his body finally began to settle.

When you looked up at Arthur again, he had a small but content smile playing across his lips, and he regarded you with deep affection. Then, he leaned down again, bringing his body closer to yours so that he could look you right in the eye.

“We good now, darlin’?” He asked, voice still deep and gravelly with unadulterated lust. “’Cause I can’t handle seein’ you like that again, ‘less it’s me you’re wrapped around.”

“We’re good,” you promised him, reaching up to run your fingers over his cheek, the coarseness of his short beard tickling your skin. “Although, jealousy does look good on you.”

You let out a light, playful laugh, showing that you were just teasing him.

“I ain’t jealous,” he insisted once again.

“Sure,” you nodded, still unable to hide your smile.

But Arthur was quick to wipe the smirk of your face, causing it to melt into an expression of desire once again as he stole another kiss from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and forgetting about everything else but him.

--

--

[lfcslut]

golden - part I

pairing: kylian mbappe x female reader

summary: you are childhood best friends with kylian. he grew up to become a professional football player, and you grew up to become a sports journalist. but what happens when outside forces test the limits of your love and friendship?

words: 3.6k

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex

author's note: ahhh! i've always wanted to do a multi-parter like this. i really hope you all enjoy! i'm not sure how long this series will be or to be honest exactly where it's going to go, but i'm excited. face claim is imaan hammam.

“Soph?”

“I’m in here!”

You were in your bedroom, struggling to zip up the sparkling silver gown that you had bought for tonight. You were one of the top sports journalists in Paris and so, naturally, you had been invited to tonight’s gala that Paris Saint Germain was hosting. It also didn’t hurt that your childhood best friend, Kylian Mbappe, was a PSG player. Neither of you had a date tonight, and it was an unspoken agreement that whenever the two of you were invited to the same event, you would go together. As friends, of course.

Kylian had let himself into your flat - both of you were at each other’s places so often that you had decided to give the other a set of keys to your respective homes long ago. You glanced at the clock. 7:03, shit, you thought to yourself. You weren’t even done with your makeup, yet. You should have known that Kylian would be on time. Ever since you were kids, he was the punctual, responsible one while you were the one who was perpetually running late.

“Are you decent?” Kylian asked, knocking on your bedroom door. 

“Yeah, come in,” you said. Kylian popped his head in the door and chuckled at the sight of you still struggling with the zipper.

“Do you need help with that?”

“Yes, please,” you said begrudgingly, annoyed that he was laughing at your suffering. You were facing the full length mirror in your room and watched as Kylian came up behind you. You saw him look you up and down once, before making eye contact with you in the mirror and smiling. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a few seconds before looking down to focus on your zipper. With ease, he zipped you up and then rested his hands on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said, even though you knew that Kylian’s compliment had been directed at you, not your dress. “Don’t be mad at me, but I still need to finish my makeup,” you said, turning to look at him with an apologetic look on your face.

Kylian rolled his eyes and smirked. “I should have known that 7 meant 7:30. I’ll tell Achraf and the boys that we’ll meet them there.”

You mouthed “thank you” as Kylian got on the phone. You sat down at your vanity to finish getting ready. After he was done talking to Achraf, Kylian plopped himself down on your bed. Though he pretended to be busy texting, he couldn’t help but sneak some quick glances at you in the mirror. He had seen you doing your makeup countless times before, and each time was as mesmerizing as the last. He always said that you looked just as beautiful without makeup as you did with it, but he had to admit that he loved the process of you filling in your eyebrows, smiling when you applied blush to your cheekbones, and making your “mascara face” as he liked to call it. More than anything though, he loved how content you looked when you were sat at your vanity, in your own little world.

“Alright, I just need to find my shoes,” you said as you finished setting your face and started rummaging around in your closet.

“It’s 7:35, Soph. We don’t want to miss the red carpet.”

“I mean, would that really be so bad? You know the tabloids are just gonna explode tomorrow when they find out we arrived together,” you said haphazardly, as you pulled out a pair of nude heels from the back of your closet. 

Kylian frowned. “Since when do you care about what the tabloids think?” 

You paused for a second, realizing how your words had come out.

“I don’t! It’s just… it’ll give more ammunition to all of your fans who already hate me because they think we’re together.” 

It was true, about half of your Instagram and Twitter comments were from anonymous Kylian fan accounts, calling you ugly and saying how you didn’t deserve Kylian, even though the two of you had made it abundantly clear to the public that you were just friends. Though you had to admit, for two people who were trying to squash relationship rumors, the two of you did spend quite a lot of time together.

“People will always talk. You’ve never let that stuff get to you before, so why are you worrying about it now?” 

It was a good question. You had never been one to be bothered by media and public speculation. As a female in the sports industry, you were more than used to people saying negative things about you. You had gotten used to ignoring what others had to say. So why was it different now?

You hesitated for a moment. “You’re right, Ky,” you finally said, smiling up at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Let’s just go and have a good time.”

Kylian grinned at you and the two of you headed out the front door to Kylian’s car.

While you were in the car on the way to the gala, your mind couldn’t help but wander to Kylian’s question. Why were you suddenly so weary of what people thought? Was it because of a certain someone at work who had suddenly started to take an interest in you? You and Kylian had been friends since you were in primary school, and so of course both of you had dated other people before. Almost all of your exes had been suspicious of your close friendship with Kylian - some had just been more vocal about it than others. You never really cared about what they thought though because, to be honest, you hadn’t really been serious about any of them. You had never been in a serious relationship, and while that had never bothered you before, you had recently started to wonder if perhaps your friendship with Kylian had contributed to that. After all, what guy would want their girlfriend to be spending more time with the Kylian Mbappe than with her own boyfriend? That was until last week, when a new intern at your TV channel named Lucas had caught your eye and asked you out. You had said yes, and the two of you had been texting almost nonstop since then. Lucas didn’t know about your friendship with Kylian, and Kylian didn’t know about Lucas. You almost always told Kylian when there was a new man in your life, so you weren’t sure why you were so hesitant to tell him this time around.

As soon as the two of you stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet, the flashing lights from the cameras blinded you. If it weren’t for Kylian reaching his hand out to help you out of the car, you were certain that you would have fallen flat on your face.

“Kylian, over here!”

“Kylian, who’s your date tonight?”

“Please could you sign this, Kylian?” 

Of course, most of the crowd had been waiting for Kylian all night, and so their attention was on him. There were a few people, though, who were calling out for you. Kylian continued to hold your hand to guide you through the crowd and onto the red carpet. Once you had made it through the sea of paparazzi and onto the carpet though, you promptly let go of his hand.

“Sophie, you look stunning!” An interviewer called you over, and you took this opportunity to step away from Kylian to speak with her. You could feel Kylian’s eyes on the back of your head, surely confused as to why you had left his side so quickly.   

After you were done with your interview, you headed into the hall while Kylian stayed behind to continue posing for pictures. You found your assigned table, where Achraf, Sergio, Neymar, and their respective dates were already seated. 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” said Achraf jokingly as you sat down. “Where’s Kyks?” 

“He’s still outside,” you responded, suddenly feeling very hot from all of the bright lights in the hall. You reached for the glass of water in front of you as Kylian made his way towards your table and sat down next to you.

You could tell that something was wrong with how quiet Kylian was all night. He chimed in from time to time during certain group conversations, but he didn’t say a single word to you, and he wasn’t his usual perky self. No one else seemed to notice, and you didn’t want to draw attention to it, so you waited until everyone had left to go and mingle before pulling Kylian aside.

“Alright, spit it out. What’s wrong?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” asked Kylian, and his inability to meet your eyes confirmed your suspicions that he was upset with you.

“I can tell that something’s wrong. You’re being weird,” you said.

“I’m the one who’s being weird? What about you?” Kylian asked, still not making eye contact with you and instead flashing a quick smile at one of his teammates who walked by. “You’re the one who suddenly doesn’t want to be photographed with me.”

So he had noticed when you had let go of his hand on the carpet. You were silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Ky. I don’t know what to say.”

Kylian’s eyes finally met yours, and you could tell that he was hurt by what you had done. “You’ve been distant recently, too. Don’t even try to deny it. What’s going on?”

Lucas. Lucas was what was going on. You hesitated, contemplating whether or not you should tell him. You knew that you weren’t going to be able to keep this a secret from Kylian for much longer.

“There’s someone at work. A co-worker of mine,” you mumbled, so quietly that Kylian had to lean forward to hear you over all of the chatter and music. “He asked me out and… well, I like him.” 

“And you don’t want him to see you pictured next to me in tomorrow’s paper?” Kylian asked.

You nodded sheepishly.

“Got it. Well then. You have fun.” Kylian walked away from you, and all you could do was gape after him. Kylian had never before walked away in the middle of a conversation like this. You could feel your eyes start to well up with tears, and for a moment you thought about calling a taxi to take yourself home, but you quickly snapped yourself out of it. You weren’t going to let this night go to waste. This was your opportunity to mingle with some of the biggest names in sports, and you were going to take advantage of it, with or without Kylian Mbappe by your side. 

As the night went on, you attempted to make conversation with various of the other attendees. Your sadness about Kylian quickly turned to anger though as you saw Kylian walking around, making his rounds at every table, laughing and smiling as he rubbed shoulders with players and managers. So what if you didn’t want your new crush to think that you were dating Kylian like the rest of the world did? What was so wrong about that? And the nerve of him to say that you were distant, when he was the one who had a habit of kicking you to the curb whenever he found a new girl to mess around with. Like an idiot, you kept running back to him when he called, listening to his problems and giving him advice. But now that you were the one who had found someone, you were the bad guy? 

“Hey, what’s going on with you and Kyks?” asked Achraf, coming up to your table and sitting down across from you. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” You had dozed off, busy staring off at the corner where Kylian was laughing and joking around with Brice and some of his other friends, and hadn’t even noticed Achraf coming up to you. 

“Usually the two of you are attached at the hip, but I haven’t seen you say a word to each other all night.”

“Oh. We just had a little argument, that’s all,” you said, finally taking your eyes off of Kylian across the room and reaching for your drink.  

“Did the two of you finally admit that you like each other?” Achraf asked casually, and you almost spit out your drink.

“What?! What makes you say that we like each other?”

“Oh come on, Soph. I’ve been telling Kylian for ages that you two are gonna get married one day. I mean, look at you. I tell myself that I’m Kylian’s best friend, but we all know that it’s actually you.” Achraf spoke casually, as if he was telling you something as simple as how the sky was blue.

“Well, I don’t like him as more than a friend, and I highly doubt that he does either,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “In fact, I’m not sure if I even like him as a friend right now.”

“Ouch. That bad, huh?” 

When you refused to elaborate further, Achraf shrugged his shoulders and got up from the table. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you know how to reach me.” 

He walked away, and once he was out of earshot, you scoffed. As if you were going to be talking to Achraf Hakimi about your problems with Kylian.

Even though Kylian was supposed to be your ride home tonight, you decided to catch a taxi. Despite your desire to mingle with as many people as possible, you just weren’t in the mood tonight, so you headed out a bit early. As you walked out the door, you spotted Kylian sitting in a corner, laughing with his hand on the thigh of a beautiful blonde you didn’t recognize. You rolled your eyes and kept walking. 

When you got home that night, you kicked off your shoes and immediately fell down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and noticed that you had gotten a text. You secretly hoped that it was Kylian, apologizing for his behavior. When you opened up your messages though, you saw that it was actually from Lucas.

How was the gala? Bet you looked amazing x

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked down at your phone. Suddenly, you had an idea. You went to your bathroom and hesitated for a moment. Fuck it, you thought to yourself, and you pulled down the top of your dress so that more cleavage was visible than you would typically be comfortable with. You snapped a picture and, before you had time to think about it, sent it to Lucas. 

Had the best time :) Wish you had been there!

😍😍😍 you’re absolutely gorgeous. Wish I was there with you right now x

You smirked and put your phone away before you got yourself into any more trouble. 

When you woke up the next morning, much later than you normally would and with a raging hangover, you saw that Lucas had already sent you a Good morning, pretty girl text message. You grinned, responding back with your own good morning, and then opened a text that you had gotten from your friend, Lila.  

Did you see this? I thought you went to the gala together?  

Confused, you clicked on the link that she had sent you. A tabloid article popped up with a picture of Kylian and the blonde girl you had seen him with last night. The two of them were in the car together, both attempting to hide their faces from the cameras but doing a pretty poor job at it. 

KYLIAN MBAPPE SEEN LEAVING PSG GALA WITH MYSTERY BLONDE 

You scrolled through the article. There was another picture of the two of them walking arm in arm out of the hall where the gala had been held. You went down to the comments at the bottom of the article.

What’s her name? 

Kylian has a girlfriend?!?!?!?! 

She’s so pretty!

Wow, I always thought he was dating that journalist. 

Your heart began to beat fast and rage filled your veins. So this is how he was going to respond to your confession? By hooking up with some random girl and making sure all the tabloids knew about it? Kylian could be a player sometimes, but you had never known him to hook up with a girl he had just met, and he certainly wouldn’t let the paparazzi see him doing it. You knew that if he had wanted to keep this a secret, he could have, but he clearly hadn’t put any effort into hiding this. You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone to the other side of your bed. 

Well, two can play this game, you thought to yourself. 

You got out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. You then changed out of your pajamas and into a pair of high-waisted jeans, a crop top, and your favorite black ankle booties. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and you hadn’t bothered to do your makeup, but who gave a shit. You picked up your phone and texted Lucas, asking for his address, which he immediately responded with. You grinned at his eagerness. You picked up a quick bite of breakfast from your kitchen before heading to your car and driving towards his place. 

Lucas only lived about a ten minute drive from you, and on your way there, you thought about what you were doing. You barely knew Lucas, and you were already sending him skimpy selfies and spontaneously driving to his place for your first real date? You cringed at how you were reeking with desperation. But Lucas was cute and available. And you were mad - really mad.

“Hi,” Lucas said with a smile when he opened the door. He was dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt. Even when he looked like he had just gotten out of bed, he was still incredibly handsome. 

“Hi,” you said back. 

“Come on in.” 

You entered his flat, and you were immediately taken aback by how clean it was. Everything seemed like it was in just the right place. You had never seen a guy with such an immaculate place. You wandered around the living room, looking at the pictures of Lucas with his family and friends that lined the mantle.

“Wow, your place is beautiful,” you said, as you turned back around to look at him.

“Thank you! I’ve been here for ages. Can’t imagine living elsewhere, to be honest,” he answered, taking a seat on the sofa and gesturing for you to do the same.

“Sorry for dropping by unexpectedly. I thought I’d finally take you up on that offer for a date,” you said, smiling shyly. 

Lucas grinned. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten about that.”

“Unless you have other plans today, of course,” you added quickly.

Lucas shook his head. “Today, I’m all yours. Where do you want to go?” 

“I’m not sure. You pick,” you said. “Surprise me.”

“Alright, I see how it is, putting all the pressure on me,” Lucas chuckled. 

After a few more minutes of back and forth, the two of you headed out. Lucas took you to one of his favorite lunch spots across the street, where the two of you swapped stories about growing up, your favorite sports moments, and your lives in Paris. 

“So, what made you want to become a football journalist?” asked Lucas, as the two of you made the short walk back to his apartment after lunch. 

“My whole family’s huge football fans. I grew up watching the sport everyday,” you answered casually. This was a frequent question that you got, and your response had become almost second nature at this point. It wasn’t common for a little girl to want to grow up and become a sports reporter, so people often had a lot of questions about it. “I always wanted to play professionally, but I busted my knee pretty bad when I was a teenager. I took journalism in school and was pretty good at it. I love talking to people, as you can probably tell.” You chuckled. “So, I decided, why not become a sports reporter? That way, I get paid to talk to people about my favorite thing in the world.” 

Lucas smiled at you. “And look at you now. You’re one of the top sports journalists in the country.” 

Your cheeks began to flush. “I don’t know about that. I feel like I still have a long ways to go.” 

“Well, if I know anything about this business, it’s that passion is everything. And you sure have a lot of passion.” 

The two of you headed into his apartment, where you spent the rest of the evening watching movies and cuddling on the sofa. Cuddling quickly turned into something more, and before you knew it, you were waking up the next morning in bed with Lucas.

Shit, you thought to yourself as you woke up that morning, realizing where you were and who was in bed next to you. It was early, and Lucas was still fast asleep next to you. You grabbed your phone - and, in the process, realized that you were completely naked - and began texting Lila. 

You’re never going to believe what happened last night.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: an expanded edition of percy and annabeth's underwater kiss.  word count: 1073 words a/n: even without looking it up, i can guarantee that there's hundreds of fics about this scene. i wrote my own anyways though because i wanted to. taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @jedi-nurse {if you’d like to be added to my percabeth/pjo taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

My Weak Spot

 I'd like to say my first instinct wasn't my own survival. It would be a cute story to tell those catty little gossips from the Aphrodite cabin if I could say that after our fellow campers tossed us in the lake, I pulled myself right down into Percy's arms, drawn to him like a magnet— or something more poetic, I suppose, like a flower growing towards her sun, or two stars being pulled together across galaxies, planets caught in a celestial dance, meeting their climax in a glorious supernova that sends a spark across the universe.

 Maybe that all makes sense if you're a child of Aphrodite. And maybe if you're one of Posiedon's kids and can breathe underwater, sure, why waste another second just for something like oxygen? But, I guess I was just cursed with being a daughter of Athena, and actually having to think things through and pay attention to little details like breathing.

 So, as soon as I went under the water, my first priority was, well, to not be under the water. I started swimming up, and would've poked my head out from under the canoe lake immediately, but I felt something pull on my hand, bringing me back down to the lake floor.

 Before I had a chance to object, I felt the air return to my lungs. I opened my eyes to see Percy, a familiar smile on his face as he pulled me closer to himself. A bubble of air surrounded the both of us, from the top of our heads down to the bottom of our camp t-shirts, though I really hoped that whatever miracle kept Percy dry when he left the water would also dry out my favorite green utility shorts when we resurfaced.

 "We don't have to swim back to the surface quite yet," Percy said, "and this is probably the only place in all of camp half-blood where we can finish the conversation we were having without everyone else eavesdropping."

 "Oh?" I asked with a smile, "and what more did you have to say?"

 Percy always had this way about him of looking cuter than normal when he was flustered— usually because it made him talk less, so his stupidity wasn't counteracting his looks as much as normal. Right now was no exception, and the increasing red flush on his cheeks, illuminated by the underwater moonlight, made his whole demeanor more appealing than it usually was.

 "I, uh," he scratched at the back of his neck, "it's not as much about what I have to say. I think I've been saying it for a while already, even when I didn't realize, and even when you didn't make it all that easy for me." He took my other hand in his, then added, "I really like you, Annabeth."

 "You're not so bad, yourself," I teased.

 "Wow," Percy rolled his eyes, "that's still probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

 "No," I said, as half a dozen genuinely kind things I'd told him came to mind, "the nicest thing I've said to you is this: I really like you. I don't think we've ever exactly been 'just friends,' but I want you to know, I never want us to be, either."

 Percy smiled, "and when did you tell me that?"

 I let go of his hand and shoved his shoulder, playfully and lovingly, but not too gently.

 "Right now, Seaweed Brain," I said.

 "I know," he laughed, and I felt his free hand— his hand that wasn't still holding mine— on the back of my neck, "and I want to be more than just your friend too."

 "And what does that mean?" I asked.

 "For right now," he said, leaning closer and pulling me closer to himself, "it means I can do this."

 Percy had never kissed me before. I'd kissed him on the cheek when we won that chariot race together, and I kissed him last year before he blew up Mount Saint Helens, and I kissed him a moment ago on the pavilion before we were so rudely interrupted, but he'd never been the one to kiss me.

 That is, until now.

 His lips met mine, gently, almost as if he was afraid I'd pull away if he moved too fast. I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about anything else besides this kiss, and Percy, and the fact that we were here, together.

 I'd survived, despite my injuries, in the battle for Olympus.

 He'd survived his sixteenth birthday.

 I didn't have to worry about Percy's feelings for Rachel, or anyone else.

 And Percy didn't have to worry about me and anyone else, either.

 As I pulled myself closer to him, my soaked sneakers dragging through the wet sand, my fingers dragging through his magically-dry hair, my lips dragging across his, I knew this was all I'd ever need— that Percy was the only boy I'd ever need in my life.

 My fingers trailed down to his neck, and I thought I heard a softly whispered "oh," like you'd read about in all the old love stories, and he kissed me with all the more fervor.

 My fingers ran further down his back, but his whole body suddenly tensed, and for half a second he pulled away from me.

 I opened my eyes, about to ask if everything was alright, but he pulled my lips back to his before I could say anything.

 His arms wrapped tighter around me like he was scared he might lose me, his fingers gripping my side like I was the one thing keeping him tied to this earth.

 "Oh yeah," I remembered, "I am."

 Percy had bathed in the river of souls, given himself invulnerability— and as a result, he had a very sensitive spot where I'd just touched him on the small of his back.

 "I'm sorry," I whispered.

 "About what?" Percy asked.

 "I forgot about your weak spot," I said, my fingers tracing nervously near it, but not too close.

 I felt his lips curve into a smile, and he whispered back, "Annabeth, you are my weak spot."

 As corny as it was, I giggled a little.

 He then pulled me even closer than we already were, his hand on my neck so firmly that I couldn't've pulled away if I wanted to.

 And why would I want to pull away?

 This was the best underwater kiss of all time.

[i-am-still-bb]

FiKi Week by @gatheringfiki - Day 2 - 06.23.24

“Love doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints; it takes and it takes and we keep loving anyway.” 

NEW AU - Outlander (1940s) AU

“So what will you do today?” 

“Probably just read, and take whatever tea and treats that Mrs. Baird offers. And I might go out for a walk to look for that henge that Thorin mentioned last night.” Kili sat in the upholstered armchair in the corner of their room. His feet were tucked beneath him and he was curled forward around his book. It always reminded Fili of when they first met. Kili had been sitting in such a position, shoes off, and bare toes wedged between the seat cushion and the arm of the chair. Fine if it was your own chair, but decidedly not fine when said chair was in the University library. Fili had been instructed to inform this wayward patron that he needed to collect his things and leave and not to plan on returning unless he was going to remain fully clothed. 

“Stone circle,” Fili corrected absently. He was doing up the buttons on his white shirt. 

“What?”

“It’s a stone circle, not a henge. A henge is a circular earthen wall or ditch. A henge can have a stone circle, but you can have either without the other. Stonehenge has both.”

There was a spark of sarcasm in Kili’s reply, “Interesting.” He was decidedly more interested in how the circles were used and decorated than how they were constructed. 

“It is,” Fili responded earnestly. 

“I’ll go looking for a stone circle then.”

“Just don’t get lost. I can join you if you care to wait.”

Kili snorted.

“You’re right,” Fili acknowledged. “But do ask for directions, please? You’re as bad as Thorin.”

“I am not.”

“You both got lost on a street that had no intersecting streets. More than once.”

“I promise I’ll ask for directions.” Kili turned back to his book. 

“Good.”

“I’ll see you later,” Kili said, not looking up from his book. “Don’t stay out too late looking at old and moldy papers.”

“I won’t,” Fili straightened his tie. “Don’t forget to eat something,” he teased. 

Kili hummed and turned his face up for the quick kiss that he knew was coming without tearing his eyes off the page of his book. 

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—

“Kili!” Fili shouted into the rain. His voice was echoed by DI Fundinson and the handful of constables that he had been able to gather for a search party on such short notice.

Mrs. Baird had not seen Kili since he had gone out shortly after midday. When the hour had gotten late and the rain had gone from a gentle mist to a pounding deluge she had assumed that he had been with Fili at the Manor House. It had not been until Fili returned, dripping and cursing and willing to murder for a cup of hot tea, that anyone had realized that Kili was missing and had been for hours.

The locals knew the location of the stone circle that Kili had gone in search of. And one of the constables had quickly spotted the bicycle that Kili had borrowed leaned up against a tree near the main road out of town. 

“Kili!”

Fili’s hair dripped in his eyes. His torch lit a small circle that was tightly enclosed by fat drops of rain. 

“KILI!”

Mud sucked at his shoes. Heather and low hanging branches pulled at his clothes which were soaked all the way through. 

He shouldn’t have let Kili go alone. He should have put personal projects and genealogy aside to indulge Kili’s interests.

Fili did enjoy seeing the old stones, looking at and trying to puzzle out what animals or figures  had been carved into the stones. Carvings that were interspersed with far newer scratchings of dates and initials that simultaneously amused and annoyed them both. But the stones did not hold his interest as long as they held Kili’s. Kili had notebooks filled with the painstakingly copied designs. His letters during the war frequently had at least one doodle in the margins, sometimes that doodle would take up an entire page or more as Kili worked through visual problems. Fili saw them so often that he even began to draw them when his mind drifted during some interminable meeting or another. 

Fili could not see far in the rain. He did see other lights bobbing in the distance appearing and disappearing around trees, other searchers, or a low hill. It was dark in a way that Fili had hated for many years. The dark that seemed to suck and absorb any light that someone dared to put forth. He preferred to stay under the streetlights of Inverness, London, or any other city. But now that darkness made the search even harder.

Kili. 

His voice was raw with shouting when a hand gripped his shoulder.

“They’re calling it a night, lad.”

“Did they find him?” Fili looked over Thorin’s shoulder where he could see the lights gathering together.

Thorin shook his head, flicking rain from the brim of his hat. “Dwalin said that he will have men out here with the first light. With as dark as it is we would only be feet away from him and we wouldn’t see him.”

But he’d hear us. Fili did not say that. Because if Kili could not hear them that opened the door to a whole host of possibilities that Fili did not even want to consider. “I should stay. Keep look—”

“You should go home,” DI Fundinson gruffly interrupted. “You’ll be no use to anybody if you are dead on your feet.”

Fili started to protest.

“Stay at the Manor House,” Thorin said. “It is closer.”

—

The next day brought sun.

But no sight of Kili.

They did find his old jacket with the frayed cuffs that he refused to replace inside of  the stone circle.

—

After a week of no new information DI Fundinson had trained dog handlers brought in from Edinburgh.

—

“I have more in my other account, but I’d have to go down to Oxford to access it.”

“That is a handsome sum,” DI Fundinson said. “I wouldn’t offer too much otherwise you’ll start to attract all kinds of malarkey. As it is, most of the calls won’t lead us anywhere.”

Fili roughly ran his hands through his hair and paced the study in the Manor House. He was aware of how he looked. He hadn’t properly slept in over two weeks. He could barely eat. He was wearing his belt a notch tighter than when he and Kili had arrived what seemed like an age ago.”

“I would give everything I have to find him.”

“Dwalin’s right,” Thorin said. 

“We can always increase the amount in the future. It’s harder to decrease the amount.”

“Why would I want to decrease the reward?” Fili snapped.

Dwalin and Thorin shared a look, but said nothing. 

—

“They’re saying that if I don’t take up my post with the new term then they’re going to find a replacement!” Fili shook the letter on the University letterhead.

Thorin looked up from his book. He closed it on his thumb. “It has been two terms…”

“But we haven’t found Kili yet.” Fili dropped into an open armchair. Most of the flat surfaces in the study were covered with books, papers, and other detritus of academic life. He scowled and stared out the windows at the snow capped hills and the low clouds that threatened more.

“There’s nothing to do but wait now.”

“I still look!”

“Those hills have been scoured. You can wait for news just as well at Oxford as you can here.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll keep you up to date. I’ll send along any news no matter how small. You need to start living again. Refill yourself a bit rather than just pouring yourself into this search. I know you love him, but you can’t just stay like this forever.”

Fili’s voice was small when he spoke, “I don’t know how much more I have to give.”

Thorin does not push him to explain.

—

Fili leaves in the end.

He moves into the small flat above the bakery that they had picked out together. It was a short walk for the college where Fili would be teaching and only a handful of steps from a grocer and a pub, and a bit further along there was the library and the green.

Kili had been excited to begin exploring the town; absorbing inspiration for his work from the architecture.

—

Fili did not jump up when the phone rang.

He would have leapt to his feet when he first arrived here. But he’s well settled into his faculty apartments at this point having been teaching for several terms already. The snow doesn’t stick around for long here. But even those dustings have ceased now that  spring has started to creep in. The apartment is less cold and drafty than it was a few weeks back.

But he sat down heavily when he heard the words that came down the line.

“We found him. He’s here.”

“Is he…?”

“He’s alive.”

—

Fili was on the next train north. 

He thought that this was the end. He thought he had given all he would have to give.

But it was just the beginning. 

Fili would give and  he would continue to give until he was no longer breathing.

--

Everything @silvermoon-scrolls @metztlilua @I-am-pinkie

Fili/Kili @dubhlachen

[undiscovered-horizon]

Why there are no phones or clocks in dreams:

(Morpheus x Reader)

The Sun always rises is usually used as a cheesy inspirational quote but there are times when it seems more like a curse, really. When the Sun rises, as one might assume, the night must end and with it, all Nyx's gifts: peace, rest, and most of all, dreams. Therefore, people can generally be assorted into two categories that already reveal quite a lot about their personalities. There are those who think of the night as an inconvenient but necessary transition between days. The other ones think of daytime as the agonizingly long hours separating them from the dreams that they crave so severely. You, little lamb, fall into the latter as far as I know:

Morpheus deserves credit for the level of detail he incorporated into parroting your own bedroom in your dreams. Or, you should be the one praised for your outstanding memory. In any case, the room you and he are in, looks uncannily like the original, making you ponder, somewhere in the back of your mind, whether you are actually asleep in the first place.

But would he appear this tender anywhere outside his realm, somewhere not only you can hear him? His sweet whispers, although welcomed warmly, are flustering and you finally realize what it actually means that he's the patron saint of enlightenment or inspiration - not even poets can speak so beautifully and yet fearfully about love. Dream's long, skinny limbs are tightly wrapped around you. The material of his robe is a lot softer than it looks, gracefully flowing off the lanky body underneath. Although you know that he'd be cold to touch, the thought of his pasty, thin skin can only make you feel warm. His neck smells like exotic fruits wrapped in antique parchment and you can't help but wonder why the entire world isn't soaked in this wonderful scent. Adoration is such a strange affliction.

His hand stops its soothing movement against your back when you shift on top of him, turning your head to look at the clock hanging on the wall - 6:30 A.M. Is it really ticking or just laughing at the lovers before it? The Sun peeks over the eastern horizon. Should you want to, you could just turn your head to the other side and admire the dawn but compared to the man brushing his lips against your cheek, it would be a terrible waste of time. Morpheus whispers something delightful into your ear again, bringing your attention from to clock to him - right where it should be. When morning comes, you'll leave his side but it made no sense to worry about it while there were still thirty minutes left.

Accidentally or not, he pecks part of your neck that tickles, making you giggle quietly. In a strange turn of events, Morpheus treats it as encouragement. Trying to get away from him, you squeal and squirm but his bony arms seem to be stronger. His lips, cold yet gentle, move towards your jaw and cheeks. Something changes about the way he presses his mouth against your skin like he, too, feels the time slipping through your fingers. The intensity of his kisses is almost desperate.

The alarm clock rings. It's loud and irritating, making the world of dreams fuzzy. With each second the sound resounds in the your-but-not-your bedroom, the more this delicious reality is turning muddy and unreadable. By all means, you're not ready to let him go just yet.

Reaching for the phone on the bedside table, you're ready to do something equally satisfying and stupid. "Oh, screw this," you murmur more to yourself than Morpheus. Swinging your arm as far as you can without getting up from your comfortable spot on top of him, you throw the phone right at the ticking clock, silencing both of them forever.

"Are you sure about this?" Morpheus asks. Quite literally, it's the first thing he's said in a few hours that isn't embarrassingly lovesick. You've almost forgotten he can be serious. The 'real world' may be calling out to you but, despite the consequences, you're more than happy to let it go to voicemail.

"Are you that eager to kick me out?"

He knows you're joking but that doesn't stop him from giving you an honest answer. "There's nothing I want less."

"Good," you answer. Somewhere between tender kisses, you manage to whisper: "'Cause I made up my mind ages ago."

Your phone in the waking world, however, is still ringing but at the moment it sounds like the annoying melody is played on an old radio two blocks away. A little too lost in the softhearted whispers and caresses, you don't even notice when it, too, silences. The next night, when you step foot into his kingdom again, you probably won't even notice the strange lack of clocks and alarms.

[tea-with-eleni]

Do not forgive me.

From Ludmilla's point of view, to Ireena. My players, you currently know about as much as Ireena, so this has some spoilers under the cut about Volenta's backstory. You have been warned. Others, this is mostly not-exactly-canon stuff of my own invention. Steal it if you want, though.

I owe you the truth, dear one. You are determined to believe I am better than my husband. I am honored by your trust, but I cannot accept it. Not until you know the full extent of who and what I am… and what I have done. I am not good. I am not you.

You have forgiven me thus far because you have not known the extent of my actions.

Dear Ireena, Volenta did not tell you everything. She told you what she feels are the important parts of her story. Please remember, however, that Volenta is dead. Volenta Popofsky died about three centuries ago. The person who told you her story is what Strahd and I made out of that poor dead girl. I love her, and I am quite certain that she would not condemn me, but death changed her. Our curse changed her. The girl she was did not want this existence.

Volenta was, in life, a cleric, I think. I do not know which god or goddess she served. She never said. I doubt the names would mean much to you or to me, at any rate. We’re from different worlds. Different worlds have different gods. That was the problem. Her god does not exist in Barovia. Have you noticed? I am not sure there are gods in Barovia.

People in Barovia, like you, like the saint whose bones hallow the Vallakian church, can be good. People can be holy. I am less certain of gods. I know that there are no good gods, at any rate. Are the dark powers sealed inside that forsaken temple gods? They might be. They certainly seem inclined to act the part. Volenta learned this all too well. It was upsetting enough to realize that her god was gone and she may never experience them again. It was infinitely worse, I think, when she realized that Vampyr was the one accepting her prayers in her god’s stead.

The realization drove her to despair. I gathered that Vampyr tried to claim her for itself, likely through a similar bargain to the one it offered my husband. Volenta did not want to accept its bargain, but she did not know how long she could resist.

She tried to trick it. She offered it service, but she sought her own death instead. I believe she wanted to try to kill me or my husband in the process, so that she could at least die a martyr. She had her own loved ones to protect.

That is the girl who arrived at Castle Ravenloft. Do not picture the Volenta you know. Picture, instead, a broken girl whose faith in her god and herself was utterly shattered. She was not well. She was not fully coherent. She could not even follow through on her plan to die fighting. She knelt in the Ravenloft courtyard and begged my husband to kill her.

I do not think Volenta knows what Strahd initially wished to do with her. He was willing enough to grant her wish, yes, but I know how he thinks. I know how he toys with the outsiders who think to invade his lands and slay the vampire. Dear Ireena, he intended to turn her into spawn and order her to attack her party. It did not matter to him who won that encounter; either a spawn he neither knew nor cared about would die and demoralize her party, or she would triumph and rid him of a nuisance in the process.

She told you what happened instead. I was not kind. I did not let her truly die, as she wished. I persuaded Strahd to grant her true vampirism instead. I argued that we needed to understand the curse better, since he would want you forever by his side, as yourself rather than as his slave. Strahd agreed. We drained Volenta to the point of death. She drank from us in turn. She accepted the curse. Strahd left her with little choice.

She was not the same as she was before. The curse severed her permanently from her former divine gifts. The girl who came to us would have been distraught. The remade Volenta did not seem to mind. She seemed grateful, even joyous, in her rebirth. Vampyr was her new patron, and now she accepted it gladly. You have seen her use its dark gifts.

Her party found her eventually, of course. She did not mention to you that their number included her sister and her betrothed. It matters little to her now. She slaughtered and drained them all. She was not upset by the deaths. She knew that she ought to be, I think, but she still does not seem to feel regret or remorse. Volenta may not be capable of feeling those things. Those emotions seemed to die with the girl she was before.

My dear Ireena, I love Volenta. I am selfish enough that I would condemn her party a thousand times to keep her in this world. She enjoys her existence more often than not; she cannot feel the pain my selfishness and the resulting deaths should have caused. She cannot judge me. You can, and should. Of course, there is still more.

I know that you loved Vaclav Vallakovich once, lifetimes ago. I heard Strahd condemn the man for daring to love you. I may not have recognized him when Doru Donovich came with the mage’s rebellion, but it makes little difference in the end. I did not think. I was too angry to take care. I made him into spawn. Ireena, I am sorry. I have apologized to him. I owe you the same apology. I know better than anyone else in Barovia how inadequate that is. I know what I have condemned him to. I have forced both of you into a terrible situation — both of you, but especially him. A spawn is a slave. If he never sees me again, never hears an order from me, if I ignore him utterly, he will have a semblance of freedom. It is not true freedom. It never will be while I endure. We are connected, and I can pull on that connection — those puppet strings, please understand — at any time. I have tried to let him believe that there is safety in distance. Please add lying to my list of crimes. It is the least I can do.

I was Strahd’s spawn, Ireena. He is an intelligent man and prone to experimentation. I have said before that it is better to be dead than spawn. A vampire controls, or can control, their spawn completely on a physical level. No enchanter’s magic is so complete, nor so irresistible. You know as well as I that my kind are naturally enthralling. You know that effect can be resisted. Spawn cannot resist their creator. The bond is deeper than magic and far more cruel. I inflicted it on a man you once loved. I dare not free him, since that may well kill some essential part of his nature. I dare not free him, because I do not know what he would become.

I am a hypocrite. Despite my experience, I made the spawn for the feast of St Andral. I will only say, in my defense, that we made them from the condemned. We did not order them to kill, only to create chaos. It’s a pathetic argument: I knew they would kill and could not control their thirst. At the time, I did not care. I needed to convince you that Vallaki was no safe haven. I needed to see you.

You knew Vallaki was unsafe without my help. You recognized Vasili. I did not need to do anything. Do not forget what I have done.

I am grateful beyond words that you have chosen to accept my protection. I will give you everything I am capable of giving. You deserve better than Barovia. You deserve better than me. I am as much of a monster as any of my kind. I try to pretend otherwise, but do not forget or forgive my actions.

You should not trust me, dear Ireena. You do not know what parts of me are missing. I don’t know myself, and none remain who could tell me who I was. You are alive and whole, no thanks to me.

You owe me nothing.

[khoipyan]

shaken and stirred!

(GI) diona!like reader x octavinelle trio

(diona is a character from genshin impact. for more information, you refer to this wiki page.)

warnings; gn!reader, reader is not diona herself, just similar. READER WILL NOT BE A CHILD LIKE DIONA! can be seen as platonic or romantic, im not writing about diona!reader's daddy issues im sorry :sob: reader is not stated to have cat features in this (ears, tail), sorry :( i can write for a partial cat reader sometime else though ^_^

notes; im very tired and sleepy skull BUT I LIKED THIS IDEA TOO MUCH TO PASS IT UP LMKODHIUHD i got a bit too self indulgent in azul’s whoopsies ALSO THERES AN OMORI REFERENCE IN ONE OF THE PARTS!! see if you can find it >:)

azul ashengrotto

you can... mix anything into a drink and it'll still taste good? even butterflies, conches and lizard tails..? well, you know... if you need a job—

first thing he does once he hears about this is try to get you to do a contract with him, of course! you don't want your magic, and he can give you something you actually want. however you just narrow your eyes at him, cross your arms and sigh. this isn't magic; it's actually a curse.

is appalled at the fact you could call such an ability, a skill! a curse. he would die to have that skill. however, he softens just a bit when he hears your story.

"when i was younger, i believed in the spring fairy. i spoke my feelings and poured out my soul to the moon reflected on the water's surface... on my seventh birthday, i heard a voice talk to me. surprise surprise, it was the fairy herself! that was the day i received the blessi— i mean, curse." you explained.

it was silent for a few seconds.

"you don't have to believe me, but you're the one who aske— STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!"

besides your curse of making the best drinks ever, your tsundere-like personality really confuses him. VERY.

you offered to walk him to his dorm one time while you both were hanging out in the library, fearing that he may get lost or something of sorts. when he told you that he was fine by himself, you shot him with a:

"whatever! i wasn't worried at all, i just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you so that you wouldn't blame me."

...????././??

azul has yet to understand by what you mean with your confusing and contradicting sentences, but he's willing to try! after all, you seem to care for him with actions, not words.

jade leech

you picked the wrong guy to be a tsun-tsun with, i'm telling you that.

picks up an interest with you right away, but keeps it confidential to himself for a week or two before approaching you to learn more.

the first time you two met is when he caught you scheming how to take down the wine industry... in which you told him to leave immediately.

“oh? what do we have here?”

"H-HUH? DON'T LOOK AT MY PLANS! AAAGHH, GET OUT-"

although he knows it’s probably not possible, jade has to admit that he admires your burning rage passion in taking down the wine industry.

haha, remember what i said about him being the wrong guy to be a tsundere with? well, he teases you SO much and pretends to be a complete saint about it. you absolutely CANNOT catch a break from him but hey, you brought this upon yourself!

(not really, but we all know how jade is…)

he notices very quickly under all the light slaps to his arm and the ‘cross arms and turn away’ motions that you seem to care about him very deeply. how interesting.

and for this, this must be what he loves the most about you.

…

oh well, it’s a shame that the show must go on. after realizing this (which doesn’t take too long), he uses it as even MORE material to tease you with.

jade feigns sadness, but it’s getting hard not to crack a smile at your exasperated expression. “i thought you were concerned about me getting hurt just now, were you not?”

“SCREW. YOU! I HOPE A PIANO FALLS ON YOU!”

“ouch. so hurtful… at least you didn’t wish that i had fallen down the stairs.”

floyd leech

just like his twin brother, floyd's interest with you is almost instant. you can make beverages out of anything? even the most nastiest things to ever exist? and your personality makes you even BETTER for him to target you.

when he heard about your ability, he absolutely convinced you to make drinks with him and give it to the people at mostro lounge. one, he wanted to see if it was true. two, MAYBE he needed an excuse to slack off from work.

to floyd’s surprise, it was true; anything you made into a drink was surprisingly delicious. floyd even had to try it for himself, because even he doubted you for a second.

tries convincing you to join mostro lounge. aww, why not?? come ooon! you can make money, make delicious drinks for customers AND he gets to mess around with you on shifts!

he laughs when you tell him about your plans to destroy the wine industry.

what’s so funny, floyd? stop laughing! this is a serious matter—

so playful yet teasing with you, especially seeing how annoyed and frustrated you get when he does something that even slightly inconveniences you.

“give me my textbook back!” you’re chasing after floyd in the halls. it’s bad to run, but you need your book back!

“when you catch me!” floyd responds, running at a fast pace.

ultimately thinks it’s so cute to see you deny how you care for him. floyd is smarter than he makes out to be, he knows. he acknowledges the times you get flustered when he compliments you, or the worried glances you spare him when he’s having a bad day.

he appreciates you so much! even if you do punch him a bit hard sometimes, he’ll always be sure to playfully bite back (but be more gentler, of course).

— due to be edited at anytime —

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

hi miss L, i have a spiritual/religious question and i don't know anyone else who could answer it.... since i was a kid i've been attracted to tarot, spirituality, mystical explanations of the worlds workings, astrology, all that good stuff. i never used to connect my spirituality to a single higher power, and i never had any issues with this. for a few years i've been wanting more than just a disturbingly accurate tarot spread and i feel compelled towards god. i'm not sure how to word it honestly! i keep getting messages all around me telling me the saint that watches over me, and that god is there too. so here's my issue.

whenever i reach out and pray or do any kind of ritual or reach out specifically to god or a saint, my life immediately starts going haywire. yesterday i set up a small shrine in my room for my dead kitty since i've been feeling better about her passing and i prayed a little. i asked for sign that i was going in the right direction, and hours after i prayed, our sink plumbing got clogged, my cat (living) ran out and had to be caught, my mom dropped a whole bowl of food, and i wasn't able to pick up groceries bc the bank cards wouldnt work. this never happens in my household, we've been joking that we're cursed. this happens everytime i try to reach out to god. the worst time was when my mom lost her job, dad crashed his car, and i kept having panic attacks out of the blue for a week. i freaked out and took everything i said back and bathed in salt water for hours hoping i could cleanse whatever happened to me. it worked and my life was back to normal the next day.

do you have any advice? i would love to put my trust in a higher power as i've never been religious before, but smthn is going wrong somehow.

thank you for reading, i love seeing you on the dash and your music is so soothing and nostalgic. much love!! <3 <3 <3 <3

so sweet, and caring, thankyou u//u...im sorry things have been difficult :< The following message does not in any way endorse the claim that i understand God, that God could ever be understood, or that any one of us should every try to understand the -inner workings- of God ! purely my feelings v v v

i relate to ur background cus i grew up w no religion, my parents didnt talk about any kind of woo-woo stuff, my dads dad was woo-woo AF and my dad haaaaated it so he rejected all of it so i was pree much just a blank slate. but for some reason i was just REALLY obsessed w magical thinking and the like. believed in god spirits nature deities angels demons magic aliens and i was totaly engrossed in ~my secret world~. i was kinda scared of religion tho i viewed it in a bad light since i was learning about it during the george bush post-9/11 era & for some reason my child self was rly interested in consuming critique of america , iraq war / westboro baptist church type stuff , from an outsider's perspective i saw religion as something american people used as justification for committing atrocities & crazy power trips , which, i mean.. anyways

it didnt help me trust God xD but many of my beliefs remained into my teens i just didnt have any outlet for them. so i got into astrology around 15/16, started learning more about tarot & occultish type things, crytstals, all those subjects intrigued me very much. but i felt the same way as you, like, something was still lacking from it, even when i got these super profound tarot readings, or read my birth chart a million times over looking for clues about ~wtf is this stupid life for~ , i never felt safe. never felt assured, never felt i could trust myself or my future. it was an odd period, early 20s. but then kinda same as u, as my knowledge on these topics expanded i started to notice the quality of Holiness a lot more. the more i learned about different religions the more i realized how connected it all was, and how religion connects to "the occult", and magic, light and dark, i find it very hard to put into words. i just started to find myself actually really earnestly believing in God in a way i never thought i could? Like reading the bible & being completely enthralled, i NEVER woulda thought. i started to feel way safer in the world even tho im still not "christian" technicaly. but i believe in jesus now and it makes me feel safe on a cellular level.

i believe the real jesus was wholly non judgemental and loved everyone no matter what, the thing that susses me out about Religious Institutions was always the judgement that can spawn from it. misses the point of everrything in my opinion.

its kinda wild actually cus when i used to be into like, trash reality tv ghost hunting shows, i remember there was one ep where this psychic was talking about how she always prays to jesus for protection before doing a reading or entering a haunted place. that really intrigued me cus i thought jesus and psychic automatically cancelled each other out. i think that moment rly opened up the rabbitehole and it was so mundane like wtf. still rememebr it tho!

sorry im really in a typing mood tonight.. So my next point was gonna be that, just because i started to really believe in god and jesus and really PRAY for protection & guidance, my life did not get easier xD like i would say the past 6 years have been nothing short of a shit show. my life was fucked before that too tho so its hard to compare, but still, its safe to say my shift in perspective actually brought a lot of chaos into mylife. the point of it, i feel, is that i had to dismantle it in order to truly Live in the frequency of trusting God. because this was new to me! i wanted to trust God, i put out the energy of seeking God, and God was like ok hold on tight..

So now i'm here all these years later like, oh yeah God is real and i love him and it's all real. it's CEMENTED into me lol. When i used to say i trust God it still felt like i was asking permission to be able to feel that way. but now i really really do. And messed up stuff will keep happening forever because there needs to be light & dark, there can't b one without the other. But now i have faith in a really personal way that i wld never attempt to transfer onto another like even by talking about these experiences & concepts i still feel like i don't want to prove anything. except that it's worth it to keep trying, i guess :]

and OK this is really just how i feel like take it with a grain of salt , but from what i've gathered, if you believe in energy entities & astral happenings & whatnot, well. it's my opinion that the invisible low frequency parasites that feed on many ppl's dread & fear, when they're attached to u and u begin to raise your vibration, they get very upset and throw a fit. like think of a demon being exorcised, u know, u imagine it having a total fit in a desperate fight for it's life. if ur appeasing the demon and letting it use you then of course it's going to keep things on an even keel, u kno?

taking a salt bath was a good thing to do tho like one of the best things <3 its also good to have crosses or your holy item of choice around the house, light white candles, organize clutter. pray a lot like every time u feel happy and safe or notice something beautiful say thanku to God.. talk to your angels and encourage them i pray a lot specifically to strengthen them, upgrade their armor n shih...i ask them to work for my loved ones, i try to be concentrated on them, visualize them around me all the time, visualize them standing guard outside every door. i feel this kinda stuff increases ur Holy EXP and over time your spiritual armor gets stronger, bad entities move on and things in life start really flow. the trust just has to b there first, and it will be, so long as u allow it <3

it just takes time, and like i said i dont want to prove anything or be The Convincer, but if u were already having feelings to go down this path i recommend not giving up and let God carry u through those tough situations instead of seeing them as an absence of God or God's Wrath. just keep praying cus it can't hurt right, even if it's just a way to occupy your mind with kind thoughts about your friends and family, there's no downside to prayer. its your own journey so u just gotta live it and feel it out ^^ but pls dont feel u are being punished by God or demons or anything else! So many "bad" things that happen end up being neutral or even "good" in the long run. We can never foresee the reasoning behind God's plan ~~~

yeah, this was a long one, wow...i drank a energy drink 12 hours ago i think it made me hyper.. well have a swell evening if ur reading this anon!! o also i liek to listen to psalms before bed to help me feel calm i feel like it helps bring in angels. i think i will do so now, thanks for the Q i hope things improve for u very soon. Good night anon < 3 3 3 PMD 9