#((trying to keep each one around 2k words just to keep the pace))

[venmondiese]

A KING’S FAREWELL

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: As King Aegon II prepares to fight at Rook Rest, you accompany him before he departs.

✧Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female Reader.

✧word count: 2k

✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v, fluff and angst, reader is aegon's mistress, slight foreshadowing to aegon's fate, aegon depressed for jaehaerys.

✧NOTE: i saved these from drafts, this was supposed to come out after episode 4, so all the events are from ep 4.

AEMOND'S PARALLEL ONE SHOT: A prince's farewell

“Fuck” he grunts, as his hips pound into yours, again and again. Aegon was a greedy man, and you were his favourite thing ever. 

Perhaps it was your gentleness to him that nobody else cared to show to him, or maybe it was your beauty. Not even he could know why you had him wrapped around your finger.

He knew one thing; he loved your cunt. 

As the carriage goes on and on, the King just pounds into your pussy, fucking you hard as your little wanton moans fill the carriage. He is King, and he will do whatever he wants, even if that means fucking his mistress whenever, wherever and however he wants.

Right now, it was you accommodated on the seats of the carriage, trying to hold onto the walls, the pillows, anything, as his cock entered again and again.

“Fuck, Aegon-” your little whine turns him on so badly, he grits his teeth as he practically hisses, feeling your cunt clenching around him so hard, it was driving him insane. 

Aegon was a hungry man, and he loved the pleasures of the flesh. There was probably nothing you haven’t done with him, and it pleased him very much. He loved you for it, and you loved him as well.

“I want to hear you moaning my name while I fuck this sweet dripping cunt” he mutters, picking up the speed as the lewd words fall from his lips naturally.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoing on the carriage, his hips rut more and more animalistic against yours. His hand is curled against your hip, applying the right amount of pleasure to keep you still, fucking you as you take his cock. 

“Aegon… Oh, gods…” Your moans are delight for his ears, as he groans and moans. He has never been one to be silent when fucking; he never held any sound for himself, more so when he knew you like hearing him as he liked hearing you. 

He was obsessed with every part from you. Your body, the curves of your ass, the way they sway invitingly for him, your breasts, your cunt… But, also, your mind. Aegon has never truly loved someone’s mind, and it was an odd yet comforting new feeling. 

“Fuck, you feel divine” Aegon says, biting his lower lip, as he increases his pace as he pounds into you. 

“My King, we have arrived-”

“Not now” He grunts as the servant tries to open the door of the carriage. 

You can hear the little sounds of the carriage moving, creaking at the weight and movements, Aegon’s hand roaming on your flesh as his shaft is deep inside you, and by the way you moan, your mouth wide open as your eyes are closed shut, the little drool falling from your lips… Aegon knows you are about to cum, feeling your tight cunt clenching around him, making him follow your release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” your desperate noises are a delight for his ears, only serving to fuel his orgasm. 

“Yes, just like that” he snarls, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he cums as well, groaning in delight as he comes inside you. He holds you still; as his hips slowly try to move deeper and deeper inside you, as his cum fill your womb.

You both were used to trying to make each other presentable, as he tries to comb and flatten your hair aftermath, and you pulled his breeches up for him, making sure his belt is not open and such. It was lovely, you realise, and it was something so familiar for both. 

It is your duty to entertain him as he is being equipped with the armour. The very same that the conqueror used at his time, and you smile fondly at him, trying to let his mind wander and not making him drown himself on wine before riding Sunfyre.

“Come” Aegon says as the Dragon keepers take Sunfyre out, pulling you closer to the dragon, and you chuckle a bit. Sunfyre wasn’t massive as you thought, but he was beautiful. 

The dim lights that entered the pit made his scales shine, as he was quick to come closer to Aegon and try to boop him with his nose and snuggle his head into his chest.

Aegon laughed, as he lets go of your hand to caress Sunfyre a bit more. It’s genuine. He’s happy, meeting his dragon, as Sunfyre plays some playful antics for his rider. You think it’s rather cute.

“He doesn’t bite” Aegon say, extending his hand and you slowly take it. You don’t doubt that he can, but you are sure he won’t.

“I’m pretty sure he can”

“He won’t bite you” He corrects himself as he rolls his eye, but you giggle. 

His scales are unsurprisingly warmer than you thought, as Aegon is still hugging him softly, smiling as he sees you caress his nose softly. Sunfyre seems to like your attention. A beautiful dragon -the most beautiful- was used to attention, you thought, but he craved yours, apart from Aegon’s. You smiled as you look at Aegon so comfortably hugging Sunfyre.

“He reminds me of you” you say softly “Craving my attention” your hand moves away but Sunfyre is quick to follow your touch, asking for more. “A needy thing”

Aegon smirks, looking at Sunfyre begging for more. “Always. When it comes to you. Sunfyre can feel it as well”

It was a soothing fact. Of course, being the King’s favourite had its privileges. Great dresses and position at court, for your kin as well. Your father knew well what he did, sending you to be one of Helaena’s ladies in waiting, as you later realized his motives. Yet still, Queen Helaena was so beloved, adored by everyone that it made you look bad. For stealing her husband from her. You didn’t hate her one bit, how could you? She was beloved to you as well, and she never had problems with you around. She was kind, and as mysterious as she was to everyone. You always felt bad until she reassured you the contrary, that she didn’t mind and she held no other love than sibling love to Aegon.

You smiled at Aegon. 

“Convenient” it were your words that had him smirk faintly, as he didn’t seem quite ready yet. 

You knew him well, to see the expression of his face, all his doubts, fears and expectations. He craves to be good. And to your eyes, he was more than perfect. But to your pity, that view didn’t extend to many people. 

As he gets ready, you take the helmet from the squire’s hands, and follow him from behind as he walks over to Sunfyre, who sings softly in the way that Dragons can. It’s melodic and beautiful, you soon realize. Aegon sings too, when he was drunk, or when he was in a good mood. When he was with you and….

Well, when he was with his kids. Now, you heard him sing with his only kid. You remember it, as Helaena was inconsolable; you played with Jaehaera and helped her to be the innocent little girl she was. Aegon, after finishing the business with both the golden cape and the Rat catchers, came to see her. So unlike him, yet he just sat Jaehaera on his lap and took Balerion on his fingers and played with her, singing some songs as they played without any words. 

You were a stranger to his family. You knew it. Yet you settled in, strangely. A friend to the mother, a weird aunt to the kids and a lover to the father. It isn’t like you don’t enjoy it. 

“You look adorable in that armour, though” you say smiling, taking a step back to watch him. He was extremely cute like that. The conqueror should have been taller, you imagine him as tall as Aegon’s grandsire. And Aegon wasn’t so tall, but you adored that

“I am supposed to be fearsome, not adorable” he says, moving to grab his cup of wine again.

You shrug, taking the cup from his hands and gulping the wine yourself. 

“Well, between you and Sunfyre, you’d make a beautiful pair. Fearsome… can be arranged for other occasion”

Aegon scoffs, taking the helmet with the conqueror’s crown on it, and he hesitates before pulling it on. 

“Wait, don’t be a brute” you say taking it from his hands. You were the only one to talk to the King like that, bossing him around as if nothing and he’ll follow your every whim as Kings follow the Gods.

You make him lean his head a bit as you accommodate his short and platinum hair, helping him to put it on the helmet on his head as you can hear Sunfyre sing on the back, waiting for Aegon. 

“I have a perfect view of your tits right now” he says, you can practically hear the smirk on his face, his head on the perfect angle to see your tits pressed tightly on your dress.

“I believe you do”

Once the helmet was on, you watched him with an endearing smile. It was so unlike him, to wear armour when he wasn’t a skilled fighter as Aemond was. But as the King, he repeated again and again that a Ruler should be fighting by his men's side, not cowering on a castle and waiting for the job to be done. 

“Be careful” you say to him, almost afraid. Aegon knows of the womanly worries, a Helaena had asked him the same: to be safe. 

“I’ll be. Sunfyre is there to protect me.” He says, trying to be nonchalant. 

“I know he’ll protect you, and you’ll protect him” 

Aegon nods, a bit lost in thought. “I want for them to trust me. I will fight by their side, and fight for my claim. I will learn how to be a proper ruler”

You nod, your hand searching the skin that his armour let out. You soothe him, and he allows himself to be vulnerable for you. “You’ll be."

"No one believes I do. My mother, my council, my grandsire... even Aemond..." It seems that the betraying of his brother is what hurts him the most. Even if Aemond was his political headache as of late, he was still his brother.

"You have me by your side. You have Helaena and Jaehaera-”

“Protect them” he interrupts you. “If anything, shall ever- If they come back…”

You understand his worry. Blood and Cheese. Even if both killers were dead, he was talking about the Blacks.

“I’ll do” you promise. “I’ll be with Jaehaera. And I’ll sing her the songs that you sang to her, so she doesn’t feel lonely”

“She has lost her twin. She will be forever lonely” he says, a bit gloomily.

You remain quiet for some moments. Aegon was different since that night, and you saw it on him every day. You held him as he cried, you comforted Helaena and Jaehaera. But Aegon just drank himself numb to forget the pain of his little son murdered.

“She has you” you remind him. “And I swear to you, by the old gods and the new, that I won’t let anything happen to Jaehaera. Anything. I promise”

That seems to calm him. “And I promise to comeback” he says walking closer to Sunfyre’s mount. “Even if it is with a few ugly scratches”

You roll your eyes amused, and look at his face. “You’ll be handsome even with some scratches.” you insist, as if the idea disgusts him, yet he is willing to get some scars to prove himself. “And I’ll take your hand as the Maester cures them. And I’ll kiss the little marks to make sure they heal”

Aegon smiles, looking at you as he leans to kiss your cheek. A tender gesture from him; Aegon wasn’t afraid to show displays of affection, at least not with you. You knew that Helaena wasn’t fond of them, but with you and his kids, he’ll make sure you are pampered in love. 

“Thanks for the words. They are well appreciated, and your love is all I needed. And this proper farewell too.” 

You smile, nodding as he climbs Sunfyre. It is not the first time you have seen the dragon; he once took you on flights, and the other time you had helped him to get Jaehaerys and Jaehaera on the mount, making sure they won’t fall, as they squirmed excitedly. 

“Pray for our win.” He says loudly, looking down at your figure “For the throne shall be ours, and for good” 

thank you for reading!! reblogs, likes and comments are not necessary but well appreciated♡

[goldfades]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 ─ LH⁴³

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested ! can u write rough car smut with luke hughes please 🫶🏻🫶🏻 -> luke storms out of your friend's party because of a "good-natured" comment, causing you two to get into an argument in his car but quickly make up.

─ word count | 2k

─ warnings | SMUT with teensy bit of plot!!!!!!! slight angst, car sex (obvs), jealous!luke, rough!luke (not too much tho), unprotected p in v, no prep, dumbification (pls idk if this is the right word for it) but like VERY LITTLE, praise, luke being PUSSY DRUNK, choking (but not really), and pretty sure nothing else.

─ taglist | @dancerbailey @maryleclerc @valluvsu @bowen-power @bunting58 @daisysnhl @daisysthings @hearts-4-luke @iminlovewithtz11 @jackhughesily @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvelyzoe @ru-kru

─ ev's notes | this is quickly turning into a luke hughes fan-page (even tho i'm supposed to be in MY QUINN HUGHES ERAAAAA) request some stuff!!! my requests are open rn!!!!!!!

ALL IT TOOK WAS one backhanded comment and Luke was out of there.

He was practically dragging you at this point, his hands gripping yours as he walked out of the room. It didn't take a whole lot to realize he was angry ─ he was fuming. His jaw clenched, and his steps were sharp and quick, he needed to remove himself from the situation before he said or did something he might later regret.

You struggled to keep up with his fast pace, feeling the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. His grip on your hand was almost painful but you knew better than to protest or try to slow him down. When Luke was in this mood, it was best to let him cool off on his own terms.

You reached the car and he dropped your hand, opening the driver's door and getting inside. He didn't bother saying anything as he started the car as soon you got into it. You wanted to say something but you knew if you did, you will never hear the end of it.

You and Luke had gotten invited to one of your friend's get-together. Now this would be a normal occurrence if it weren't for the fact he strongly dislikes your friend. You knew why but it honestly didn't seem that big of a deal ─ your friend wasn't really a big fan of sports.

You knew the root of Luke's dislike for your friend stemmed from their differing interests. Luke, being a professional hockey player, lived and breathed the sport. It was his passion, his livelihood, and his identity in many ways. On the other hand, your friend couldn't care less about sports.

Now this all would not be a problem if your friend had a weird thing with teasing Luke. He really enjoyed getting a rise out of him but it wasn't like he targeted Luke, that was just how he was.

As the car hummed along the road, the tension inside it seemed to thicken with each passing mile. Luke's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack.

"Luke, we need to talk about this," you spoke up (despite your better judgement). You couldn't really find the words to put it lightly. He was being too sensitive, you wanted to say.

But of course, you couldn't. That was mean. You glanced back at the brunette, sympathy written all over your expression.

Luke shot you a sharp glance, his eyes flashing with anger. "What's there to talk about?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "Your friend was out of line, and I'm not going to stand around and be disrespected like that."

"He wasn't trying to disrespect you, Luke," you countered, your voice rising slightly. "He was just joking around, like he always does."

"Well, maybe his idea of a joke isn't as funny as he thinks," Luke retorted, his grip on the wheel tightening even further.

You shook your head, feeling your temper flare. "You're being too sensitive," you shot back, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. "He's my friend, Luke. I'm not going to just cut him out of my life because you can't take a joke."

You knew you'd stepped over the edge, crossed a boundary you shouldn't have. Regret seeped into your expression as Luke's anger seemed to triple, if that was even possible. Your mouth hung open, trying to say something, anything but nothing came out.

Luke's expression darkened at your words, his jaw tightening even further as he processed your response. The silence in the car grew heavy, suffocating, as both of you grappled with the weight of your words.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Luke spoke, his voice low and laced with barely-contained fury. "So that's how it is, huh?" he muttered, his gaze burning into yours.

"Luke, I'm sorry... I just-" You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. "I just..."

But before you could finish your sentence, Luke's words cut through the air like a knife, his anger now laced with a bitter edge.

"He's a little bitch, why are you trying to defend him so badly?" Luke's gaze bore into you as he spoke. "I bet you he can't even skate correctly and he's over here talking about hockey like he knows anything about it."

As he continued to speak, his voice was filled with something more than just mere anger. You could practically feel the jealousy radiating off of him and finally, it made sense ─ he was jealous. Your heart almost did a flip, it was... kinda cute.

Despite the venom in his words, your lips began to curve into a small smile. Luke looked over and his anger seemed to turn into utter irritation.

"Why are you smiling?" His words came out harsh but you just shook your head.

You shook your head, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across your lips. "I'm not laughing at you," you assured him, though your tone was light. "It's just... you're cute when you're jealous."

"Jealous?" He repeated, angry coursing through his body. "Of him? Why? It's not like he stands a chance against me in anything. Jesus, Y/N. Jealous?"

"I didn't mean it like that," you said quickly, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of reassurance. "I just meant... it's cute when you get all protective. Like you care about me."

Luke's expression softened slightly at your explanation, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. "Of course, I care about you," he said gruffly, his tone still tinged with irritation. "I hate that guy. So much, I don't think I've ever hated anyone more. And seeing him flirt with you-"

"What?" You interrupted. "Luke, he's not flirting with me."

Luke glared back at you, trying to suppress an annoyed groan. "Trust me, Y/N. I can fucking tell. You're just too friendly to get it. But you're my girl, I don't why he wants to one-up me. You're already mine."

"I am, I am yours." You repeated, your gaze softening slightly.

Luke looked back at you, his gaze filled with smugness and a maybe even desire. "Yeah," he replied breathlessly. "You fucking are." His voice was low and you felt his voice go right down south.

He pulled over the car and you felt your whole body burn up. He put the car in park and looked over at you, his gaze filled with desire. You knew you couldn't have him waiting so you just crossed over to him and straddled his lap.

Luke didn't waste any time ─ he grabbed your jaw and kissed you harshly. You let out an uncontrollable whimper at that, his touch almost bruising on your jaw. His lips drew lower, letting go of your jaw as he began kissing your neck.

You couldn't help but let out quiet whimpers, letting your head fall back.

"Mine," he mumbled against your neck with each kiss on your neck. You began grinding your hips against his and you felt his hard-on right on your clothed cunt, your whole body shaking with desire.

He stopped his actions and you let out a huff of disapproval. He gestured for you to move in the backseat and you did with no question, laying back as Luke got on top of you.

He slid your hips upward before taking ripping your leggings off. His touch was harsh but you didn't mind ─ Luke usually took his time with you and was much softer but you knew his mind was racing with jealousy. And you didn't wanna admit but you were kind of hoping for this outcome when you had first got into the car.

He pulled down his sweatpants and you could see his cock bulging out of his boxers. His head fell back in pleasure as he pulled himself out, the tip an angry red as pre-cum was leaking out of it. Luke let out a groan as he gave himself a few pumps before he slid your underwear to the side.

Usually, Luke was patient enough to stretch you out with his fingers but not tonight; he just needed to fuck you dumb, til your legs were shaking the only thing playing in your was him.

He leaned forward so he could pull you into a needy kiss before he slid his cock inside of you slowly. His kiss was sloppy as you let out a moan into it as he slowly bottomed you out. You felt the burn, Luke was pretty big and the lack of prep added some pain but you knew it would dissipate.

"Ah, fuck." Luke moaned into the kiss before he pulled away. He bottomed you out pretty quickly, you were so wet that he just slipped right in. "Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good."

You whimpered in response before Luke slid his hands up to your neck, holding you tightly before he began thrusting in and out. His other hand was planted right on your hips, his grip firm. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you arched your back in response, the previous mentioned pain quickly turning into pleasure.

"You're mine," he grunted as he quickened his pace. He pulled your legs all the way to rest on his broad shoulders, fucking you from a new angle.

He was hitting in all the right spots, you could barely see straight. All that was coming out of your mouth were moans and unintelligible strings of praises and curses.

"Feel so fucking good, Jesus." Luke felt himself slip, your pussy felt so good and knowing that you were only for him, that he was the only one who's ever been this deep inside of you, made his knees weak. "Ah, fuck baby."

He began fucking you into the backseat, harsher and rougher than before. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your cries louder and your legs shaking as he did. Luke felt like he was on cloud 9, you were squeezing him so good and you were so perfectly made for him, not to mention how fucking beautiful you looked; your eyes closed, your head back, your face sweaty and your mouth slightly open as you took him ─

God, he was so fucking close. He closed his eyes because he knew if he kept looking at you, he'd cum. Luke held you down by your neck as he brought down his fingers to rub on your clit harshly and before neither of you knew it, your orgasm hit you like a truck.

Your cunt tightened against him, he let out a loud groan as he head fell back. A few more deep, messy and harsh thrusts and he was spilling inside of you. He fell on top of your heaving chest, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

Your fingers found his curls and you began to run your hands through them. Sure, it'd make them all frizzy but you knew it made Luke relax. The whole car was fogged up, making your lips curve up into a lazy smile.

With a gentle sigh, you pressed a warm kiss to the crown of Luke's head, relishing in the quiet intimacy of the moment. "I love you, I'm sorry-"

"No." He interjected, finally sitting up so he could face you entirely. "I'm sorry for... being all being all possessive and jealous back there. It's not fair to you, especially when you've done nothing wrong."

You reached out to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubbled jawline. "It's okay, Luke," you reassured him, your voice soft. "If I'm being honest, it was kind of hot."

"Yeah, I figured." He smirk as gestured to your legs as you rolled your eyes in amusement.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, feeling a warmth spread through you at the sight of his playful expression. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice tinged with a teasing tone. "I mean, it's nice to know you care so much."

Luke's smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, his eyes sparkling with desire. "If being jealous always ends in us fucking like that, then maybe I should do it more often." he quipped, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. You giggled as he did so, relaxing in his touch.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[aaizawashouta]

So This Is Love

pairing: naruto x fem!reader

word count: 2k

summary: he’s more than a war hero, your personal sunshine

warnings: none

Lazy fingers trail over warm skin. Early morning light pours into the bedroom, dancing with the sheer curtains that billow in the breeze. You forgot to shut the window last night, but summer was sneaking up early this year. A soft smile touches your lips as you trace over familiar scars. Naruto sleeps next to you, sheets pooled at his waist and snores slipping from his mouth. The sunlight warms his skin, making him glow. He looks ethereal, your very own god. Pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder his own lips twitch at the feeling.

Your eyes meet sleepy ones when he catches your hand. Lips parting when he brings it up to his mouth, placing light kisses to each of your fingertips. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, fingers tingling. His smile is blinding as he stares at you. Blonde hair, a golden halo around his head and blue eyes you’d surely drown in if you stare too long.

There aren’t many days like these. Where you get him only to yourself. The war may be over, but his dreams are just on the horizon. Naruto turned out to be a very important man and you couldn’t be more proud. Smiling at him you tilt your chin up, eyes meeting his as you gently place your lips against his. You can’t help the head sigh that escapes you when his hand weaves into your hair.

“Good morning.”

“Mhm.”

Naruto laughs when you pull away from him. He loves how easy it is to get you all flustered. Some days treating it like a game, trying to beat his personal best. You roll your eyes, ignoring his grabby hands and make your way to the kitchen. It doesn’t take him long to follow after you.

It’s something about the way he watches you. His eyes devour you from where he sits at the dining table, elbow on the table, chin in hand. He grins at you, his whole aura almost as blinding as the sun peaking out from between the drapes as you bring him a cup of tea. He takes the cup from you, calloused fingers lingering on your own. Eyes trailing as the cup lifts to his lips, and down his throat. Licking your lips at the bob of his adams apple.

“Honey, you’re staring.”

Your eyes meet his. “So?”

A yelp escapes you when hands wrap around your thighs and lift you to the table. You glare at him when your ass collides with the mug, almost tipping it over. Naruto only smirks, leaning in to capture your lips with his. Your stomach clenches, the taste of him and your favorite tea almost drowning you. The feeling of his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your inner thighs, the only thing keeping you afloat. Tipping your head back when his lips leave yours, leaving a burning trail down your neck. The pace is slow, lazy, matching the tone of your morning. Naruto’s thumbs keep rubbing into your skin even as his hands rise higher, finding themselves underneath his shirt you had picked up from the floor earlier.

“You’ve got studying to do, Naru.”

He grumbles against your shoulder. Iruka makes sure to come by every so often while Naruto is on missions. That way you can help keep him updated on how he’s doing with his work. He has to do the work, if he wants to be hokage. He won’t let Kakashi keep the title forever.

“I don’t want to.”

You can’t help but snort at his pouting. “I know, but I can help, yeah?”

You keep your eyes trained on the sketchbook in your lap, attempting not to be conspicuous when you look up to study him every now and then. The idea makes you snort. As if your staring has ever bothered him. You stared so hard when you first met him that you hadn’t heard a thing he said to you for about three minutes. It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to you, but hey, he thought you were the cutest thing.

Once he figured out you truly weren’t an idiot. It all worked out.

When he looks up at you now and catches you lost in thought as you admire him, his lips tilt up into a teasing grin. You wink at him before looking back down at the book. You’ve drawn him a hundred times before. This one is probably your favorite. Him at home, content with you. Holding the piece back a bit, you study your favorite parts. The gentle way his lashes rest against his cheeks. The slope of his nose. He looks peaceful. Godlike.

“What are you drawing over there, honey?”

You don’t have to look up from the sketchbook to know that his smirk has turned more haughty than before, and when he leans forward a little, you lean back at the same time to keep your sketchbook out of his reach.

He knows you draw him. He’s seen a few of them. He’s seen almost all of your artwork. In fact, he has one of your drawings tattooed on him. He got it while on your honeymoon. You thought he was crazy but he thinks he was being romantic. Whatever. But this one, it feels different. More personal. It’s not him being vulnerable on the page, but you as well.

“Just the garden,” you lie, with a little shrug, looking back out the window for added effect, scrunching your eyes slightly as if to examine it in depth.

“The garden,” he repeats. He doesn’t believe you. Not like he has to. He knows without a doubt you’re lying. “That why you keep looking at me?”

“Maybe I just missed you, ever think of that?” You counter, but it comes out in a harsh whisper, like you're trying not to cry. Closing the sketchbook quickly, you nearly jam your finger in between the pages. His gaze burns over you, taking you in from your averted gaze, hands clenching your sketchbook, your rigged posture, back pressed so hard against the chair, as if purposely trying to keep a distance from him.

“Honey, I’m right here.”

You huff. As if you don’t already know this. As if you haven’t had your eyes on him since you crashed into him in the living room when he walked in last night, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He’d been gone for almost a month. It’s why you couldn’t sleep last night — because he’s home. He’s here and all you want is him close. You want him with you. You want him living inside you where he can’t ever escape; where the thought of losing him is only a nightmare. Your eyes have gone misty, something you can’t hide when you glance up at him when you feel a finger lazily drag up your arm. You raise your brows trying to feign innocence as you place the sketchbook on the other side of you. He could easily reach it if he wanted to, you’d have no chance at keeping it from him, but it seems that he can sense the anxiety radiating off of you. Naruto’s smirk falls into something softer, gentler. Something you’ve only seen a handful of times �� something that he saves just for you.

“Dance with me.”

You hesitate for a small second. “What?”

His eyes brighten as he pulls himself up into a sitting position. He grabs your phone that’s sitting on the coffee table and raises the volume. Suddenly, it’s two years ago, the beginning of June and you’re standing in the middle of a crowd — all of your loved ones there to celebrate the two of you. The song tugs on your heartstrings more than it ever has before. Naruto’s eyes slightly crinkle with his smile.

“Dance with me.” he says softly as he extends his hand out for you to take.

Without much effort you're in his arms, swaying to the song that played during your first dance as a married couple. You can’t seem to stop the tears that fall from your eyes. You aren’t sad, but this feels like a lot. He’s got you wrapped up in him. One arm wrapped around your waist holding you to him, while the other is cradling your head, fingers weaved through your hair. Your head rests on his shoulder, hands tight around his waist, both of you lost in each other, in the magic of the radiant sun, the silence of the early afternoon.

“Do you regret marrying me?” Naruto whispers in your ear.

“No.”

“You’d choose this life again?”

“I’d choose you every time no matter what it meant. I can deal with this, Naru, as long as I get you back every time. Every time.”

His eyes rest heavy on you, and your pulse starts to race when the soft light in his eyes slightly darkens into something else. His gaze lingers on your lips long enough for you to tilt your chin up, bringing your mouth closer to his, and when his lips realign to that familiar smirk you know, like always, he’s more aware of the effect he has on you than he should be. Maybe you should be embarrassed by that, but it makes things easy. You never have to ask, he just knows. Like how you’re standing here with the electric hum of excited energy flooding your veins already, desperately waiting to feel his mouth on yours. He lowers his head slowly, eyeing you with a playful gleam telling you that he’s teasing you — that he knows his slow pace is driving you crazy. But it doesn’t last long, the moment you run your tongue along your bottom lip, his playful attitude breaks, and his lips collide with yours. You pull him closer as his hand slips down to grab at your thigh. Without much thought you jump, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you back to your bedroom.

With Naruto, kisses are more than just feeling his lips against yours. It’s his calloused fingers slowly brushing the inside of your thighs, in a slow teasing motion, that drives you crazy until you're grinding against him. Desperate for him to touch you, really touch you. It’s the taste of his spearmint tongue brushing against your own, sending white-hot jolts of pleasure straight down to your core. It’s the smell of him — intoxicating, mouthwatering, enough to make you weak at the knees. But more than anything, it’s the sound of him — of the deep exhales when your fingers dip into the band of his pajama pants to tease him, the throaty groan when you grind your hips down into his, the position of you resting over him on your bed one of power, one he gives only you. It’s the surprised laugh that echoes from him whenever you nibble on his bottom lip or pull away to catch your breath.

Your seconds away from doing that when he breaks away from the kiss, grinning up at you like he knows you weren’t breathing. He probably does. The man knows you like the back of his hand from the moment you met. Naruto only shakes his head, a soft laugh pouring out of him, his thumb running along your cheekbone. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars and the moon. But that can’t be right, can it? Not when he’s magic, a myth. Something you can’t really phantom. A god in your bed, carved marble under your fingertips. He is the earth and you, it’s lone moon, never far and always following closely behind.

There’s more studying to be done. Another mission that’ll take him away for who knows how long. But in a world of peace, for now, you’re willing to share him. Willing to be placed to the side so he can conquer his dreams. Willing to do anything and everything to help him.

His finger taps your nose, causing you to scrunch it. He grins down at you before bumping his nose against yours. “You’re everything.” He says it so softly, as if mirroring your thoughts. Assuring you in a way that baffles you always. How does he know? But that’s the magic of him, you think.

This is love, on a Sunday morning.

[runariya]

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 3

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn fic rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: attempted murd€r, foul language, detachment, inner conflicts bordering on schizophrenia, fluff, slow burn, please lmk if I forgot something word count: ~ 5.1K

a/n: okay, so here's the deal...I've successfully and irreversibly deleted 2k words of this chapter while editing *yey* And I'm not capable of writing it again, so this chapter's a little shorter than intended. Hope you're enjoying it despite its short length...here goes nothing...🥲

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

The night around you feels charged as you move along the shadowed path, the whispers of Suyeomggang River just below the ridge line of trees. The moon hangs heavy and swollen in the sky, a pale sentinel casting a sickly cold light over the riverbank, water lapping against the railings with an almost lazy indifference, a black mirror that reflects the stars in shattered fragments. You can feel the cool breeze off the river, taste its dampness in the air, hear its calling darkness from its depth.

You’ve been preparing for this for years, it’s like tonight everything falls into place, as if everything is perfect, the night wrapping around you like an invisible cloak, the silence so deep it feels like a part of you, an extension of your being grasping in every direction. The training, the planning, the sleepless nights spent perfecting every detail—all of it has led you to this exact moment. You slip through the darkness underneath the canopy of overhanging trees, the leaves whispering above you as if they know what’s about to happen and are trying to keep the secret within themselves. Every step precise, measured, the ground beneath your feet making not a single sound as you follow the trail of Kim Sangwook, the first name on your kill list.

It had to be him. You chose him with the precision of a surgeon’s blade, the first man who laid his filthy, despicable hands on your mother. His crime, as well as Park Dojin’s and Kim Chulsoo’s, wasn’t just physical; it was spiritual, an affront to the very blood that runs through your veins, poisoning it to its DNA. 

For months, you’ve watched Sangwook, studied his habits, learning the cadence of his days not to avoid him, but to calculate his weaknesses. He’s arrogant, unafraid, too comfortable in his routines to second guess himself and his safety. You know exactly where he’ll be most vulnerable, and it’s here—this river trail, this desolate stretch of night where no one comes after the sun has set, where only the distant sound of the city and nature bears witness to what will transpire. 

You have been patient. You are always patient. And tonight will be no different. 

You’re dressed in black, a second skin tailored to your body, slim-fitting and functional, with hidden pockets for your shurikens and whip coiled at your side. You considered a face mask but knew better—too easy to lose in a fight. Instead, you’ve sewn yourself a sleek, fitted mask that covers only your cheeks and brow, leaving your mouth and nose exposed to breathe freely, knowing better than to weaken yourself. 

Ahead of you, Sangwook walks, oblivious. He’s whistling—a tuneless, off-key noise that grates against your nerves, but you force yourself to block it out. His pace is lazy, his stride confident. He doesn’t look behind him, doesn’t even suspect that he’s being watched. You follow him like a shadow, each of his steps mirrored by yours but cloaked in silence. The trail curves ahead, leading to a darker stretch where the trees thicken and the river slips out of view. You know this spot—it’s where he’ll be most isolated, most vulnerable.

The darkness inside you twists and writhes, a beast of malice that groans and growls, aching for the taste of blood, its hunger a throbbing force that drowns out any shred of gentleness that lives inside you, pushing it so far down that it might as well have never been there at all. There is nothing left within you now but cruelty, sharp and ruthless, devouring the softer parts of your soul, leaving behind only the savage desire to destroy, to break, to consume without mercy.

You crouch slightly, bending your knees as you brace yourself to pounce. Every muscle in your body is taut, ready to explode into motion with your command. You’re so close now, your fingers twitching with the anticipation of wrapping your whip around his throat, of pulling him into the shadows where he belongs and never will escape from. The moment stretches out before you, the world narrowing to just you and him, to this moment, to this beautiful, beautiful moment. 

But then—hands, strong and cold, seize you from behind, and your breath stutters. Your instincts scream danger, but you’re too late. Your body is wrenched backwards, your planned attack on Sangwook slipping through your fingers like air, as he continues his walk, unaware, disappearing into the black abyss of the night, saved by sheer dumb luck.

A grunt of frustration escapes your lips, but you push the sound away as you focus on the here and now. The arms around you are like steel bars, locking your movements, restricting you, but not for long. You twist your body violently, your elbow driving backwards into your captor's ribs with full force. The impact reverberates through your bones, but the man barely falters, tightening his grip even further. Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as you struggle, thrashing against the strength that holds you, your heart racing by pure survival instinct. 

With a quick shift of your weight, you slam the heel of your combat boot down hard against his instep, and finally, you feel him flinch. It’s just enough. His grip loosens, and you slip free, stumbling forward but catching yourself before you fall to the ground. You whip around, panting silently, every muscle ready for the next strike.

Before you stands a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in black from head to toe, a black face mask covering the lower half of his face, his eyes squinting at you with angry intensity beneath the brim of a equally black cap. His chest heaves slightly from your brief struggle, but you can tell by his stance that he’s no amateur, even though his face mask tells a different story.

“Who the fuck are you?” you snap, your voice cutting through the night, sharp and impatient after your plan so gracefully failed. 

The man scoffs, clearly unimpressed by your question. "I’m Pulse," he replies, his voice low and gravelly, laced with arrogance. "And with whom do I have the pleasure?"

The name rings a bell, and your mind clicks—Pulse. You’ve heard of him before, the so-called ‘hero’ who stalks the streets of Busan, swooping in like some self-righteous crusader to save the day. A ridiculous figure, some holier-than-thou idiot who thinks he can make a difference in a world that’s long past saving. You can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes your lips, suppressing a role of your eyes. He’s nothing more than a man playing dress-up, chasing glory under the guise of justice.

“Stasis,” you say through a mocking smile full of teeth, your tone dripping with derision. The name you gave yourself and the one you call him are a joke, a reflection of the absurdity of this whole pointless situation and himself. “Nice to meet you, Dulls.”

His eyes narrow further above his mask, gaze burning into you with his wounded ego. He clearly wasn’t expecting to run into someone like you tonight, and so he takes a step closer, his voice steady but laced with warning you can’t seem to take serious at the slightest. "This isn't how you make the world better. You shouldn’t be hurting people."

You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips, can’t help but to keep mocking him. "You don’t say."

Silence falls between you as your words reach him, as if he’s weighing his next words carefully, shifting through his thoughts, unsure of what to say next. Meanwhile, the beast inside you bares its teeth, gnashing against the cage of your control, howling for blood, demanding that you kill him right here and now. But you force it down, force yourself to remember that there’s a time and place for slaughter, that not every impulse of it deserves to be fed, not every throat needs to be torn open—only those who’ve earned it. 

Pulse’s anger seems to dissolve into the night, slipping away like smoke, as if he’s sensed the monster stirring within you, as if he’s frying to soothe it with patience and understanding.

"I won’t hurt you."

Despite better judgement, you straighten at that, as Pulse’s voice carries a promise that you know better than to believe. It drips with false reassurance, and you’ve long since learned that such words are nothing but bait. You don’t trust him, won’t allow yourself to be lulled into a sense of security that clearly isn’t there. Instead, you begin to circle him to gain back the control he tried ripping out of your hands, testing the resolve behind his words, scanning him for weaknesses, pushing at the edges of his composure. 

He stands rooted to the ground, immovable, like a tree whose roots have burrowed deep beneath the earth while the silent dance of power shifting back and forth continues. His cap shadows over his eyes, but you can still feel the burn of his gaze, still feel him asserting you. He watches you with an intensity that you don’t need to see to know; it lingers on your skin, prickling violently in the danger that he is to you.

„What are you doing?“ he finally says, his voice as soft as the night wind.

There it is. That kindness. That unbearable warmth that radiates off him like heat from a furnace, the same warmth that makes you want to recoil. His question is laced with the assumption that you can be saved. He speaks to you as though you're redeemable, as if you're nothing more than a misunderstood soul. As if the rivers of blood on your hands could be washed away by words alone.

„What does it look like I’m doing?“ you let the question hang in the air, more for your own amusement than any real attempt at conversation.

As you keep circling him, you take in every detail. He’s fit, his posture straight and sure, radiating confidence without arrogance. He seems young—perhaps the same age as you, or a little older, but it’s hard to pin down. His body speaks of strength, of long-honed discipline, but what bothers you is the life in his eyes, the youthfulness that disgusts you. There’s something unbearably naive in the way they looked at you before he hid them behind his cap, something untouched by the darkness you’ve come to know so well. Innocence like that has no place in your world. It’s a weakness, a flaw, and yet… he wears it as if it’s armour, shielding him from the filth around him.

You search for cracks in that armour, scrutinising his stance, looking for even the slightest imbalance—a weight leaning to one side, a twitch of muscle, any tell that would betray a vulnerability. But there’s nothing. His body remains steady, a fortress devoid of weakness. He doesn’t flinch as you move, doesn’t tense, not even when you brush close enough to feel the heat radiating off his back’s skin. His breathing is even, his pulse—steady.

Your eyes land on the faint rise and fall of his carotid artery, barely visible beneath the skin of his neck. It beats in a slow, calm rhythm, betraying no sign of fear or anticipation. It unsettles you. Every instinct you have is honed to control, to find the weak points in others, to bend them to your will with a word or a glance. But with him, nothing breaks. Nothing shifts. He stands as though the world could crumble around him and he’d remain unscathed.

„You don’t have to do this. You can stop, Stasis. There’s still time to change.“

Your frustration grows, curling like cigarette smoke in your chest. You’ve played this game before, unraveling the minds of those who thought they could stand against you. It’s a dance you know well—watching them falter, unravel, as the fear begins to claw at their insides, instincts kicking in. But with him… it’s as if you’re circling a stone, lifeless and unaffected by the tempest you try to stir.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t break. 

You tilt your head slightly, studying him as he turns his eyes to follow your figure for the first time. And you see, that he’s truly like this—believing in the good in people, believing that change is as simple as a choice, as though it’s something that can be made over tea, some crackers and kind words. You almost admire his naivety. Almost.

"Change?" you repeat, a thin smile curling at the corner of your lips. "You speak of change as though it’s some inevitable truth. Some law of nature." You stop a few feet before him, being wiser than to drain your energy by pacing around him. "But nature is indifferent, Dulls. Things end. People die. No amount of hope can alter that."

He looks at you with those eyes again—those damnable eyes filled with that persistent, maddening compassion. It's almost enough to make you laugh out loud again.

„That’s not true.“

You tilt your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. "You know that it’s only your god complex speaking out of you, right?"

"God complex?" he echoes, brows furrowed, disappearing behind his cap.

You ignore his question entirely, the words meaningless to you now after everything’s unraveled so spectacularly, your plans detonating in your face like fireworks that left nothing but failure in their wake. Without a second glance, you turn on your heel, your patience worn dangerously thin, dismissing him as you throw over your shoulder, “Don’t waste your time, buddy.”  

But he doesn’t let it go. “I know you’re not like this. I know there’s good in you, Stasis. You don’t have to be this person.”

You pause, something in his voice forcing you to stop, and with a soft, humourless laugh, you turn your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral, a shadow of a smile playing at your lips. “You still don’t get it, do you?” you murmur, the words laced with barely concealed disdain, with the cold, hard truth. “Some people are beyond saving.”

For a moment, he looks like he might argue. Like he might push harder, fight against the walls you’ve built around yourself. But then he stops. The tension in his shoulders eases, and he sighs, long and deep, as if the weight of the world presses down on him.

Without another word, you step back into the shadows, your figure melting into the darkness where it belongs. The moonlight barely touches you now, your body nothing more than a fleeting spectre in the night. You hear Pulse behind you, his footsteps hesitant, as if he’s debating whether or not to follow.

But he won’t.

You know he won’t.

Sitting at the small dining table in your shared dorm with Taehyung, the morning feels sluggish, lethargic in its stillness of early hours, sun barely peeking over the horizon just yet. Both of you and Taehyung eat breakfast—just some half-hearted cereal from the bottom of the box which expiration date you rather not learn, the crunch of each spoonful drowning out the low noise of a morning show called ‚Good Morning Busan‘ playing in the background. Taehyung, barely awake, eyes half-lidded and tired, mindlessly munches his way through his bowl while you absently stir your spoon through yours, your mind still circling the failure of the night before like you did to Pulse.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung grumbles through a mouthful of cereal, voice still thick with sleep, his curiosity nudging through the haze. “You came back pretty quick last night. Weren’t you successful?”

“No,” you reply with a dramatic sigh, your tone flat, biting back the frustration that’s been bubbling under your skin like boiling water since your plan failed miserably. “Got interrupted.”

He pauses mid-chew, eyes opening just a little more as he frowns. “By whom?”

“Pulse.” The name alone is enough to make your eyelid twitch with irritation. “That wannabe hero.”

A sleepy chuckle escapes him, the sound half-amused, half-groggy. “Wannabe hero?” Taehyung repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You sound pissed.”

“Of course I am,” you snap, the frustration rising to the surface again, until it spills over. “I’ve been planning this for months, Tae, and he just… ruins everything. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than patrol around to feed his ego?”

Taehyung snorts at that, choosing not to poke at the simmering frustration in your voice, knowing it’s better to let you vent than to fuel the fire. He knows you well enough by now to understand that there’s no point in trying to reason with you when you're like this, so he just lets you stew, quietly eating the rest of his cereal. 

The silence deepens once more after your short outburst, as you finish eating as well. With an irritated huff, you stand and shove your bowls into the dishwasher before grabbing your bag and shoes, preparing to head to class. Taehyung follows, equally silent, slipping on his shoes as you grab the remote to turn off the TV. But just as your finger hovers over the power button, something on the screen catches your attention, halting your finger mid-press.

It’s him. It’s Pulse. His face, or rather his eyes, open and earnest, fill the screen as he speaks to a reporter, full of the kind of naive kindness that makes your skin crawl. “It’s not about honour,” he says, voice calm and oh so friendly. “It’s just doing what I can to help the mayor and police and keep the city safe. Protect its people.”

His words grate against something inside you, that calm righteousness sparking your anger all over again. You want to scream, to throw the remote straight into the TV and smash his sanctimonious face, but all you can do is stand there, teeth grating violently against each other, and turn the TV off with an aggressive jab of the button, yeeting the remote right after somewhere onto the depths of the couch. Without a word, you push through the door, Taehyung trailing lazily behind you with his loafers worn like slippers, as you both step out into the cold morning air. The chill brushes against your face in an instant, cooling your burning blood, and helping to dull the force of your fury.

After a few moments of quiet, Taehyung breaks the silence with a low chuckle, fully awake now from the brisk air. “I take it back,” he smirks. “Didn’t realise Pulse was so chummy with the devil.”

“I told you,” you mutter darkly, still fuming faintly, “he’s just another egotistical nitwit who doesn’t even understand what he’s protecting. Doesn’t understand that he’s part of the problem.”

Taehyung hums in agreement, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “So, what are you gonna do about him?”

You sigh, the weight of the question sinking into you. For a moment, you think about just ignoring him, writing him off as a nuisance who managed to catch you off guard this once but won’t be an issue again. “I don’t know,” you say with a scoff, the frustration still clinging to your voice. “Maybe I’ll just ignore him. He caught me by luck, anyway. It’s not like I’ll see him again… either way, I need to focus on taking down Sangwook and the others.”

Taehyung only hums at that, but you can’t seem to slow down just yet.

You scoff again, shaking your head in disbelief. “Pulse.*What kind of a name is that? He should call himself Blip. Stupid moron.”

Taehyung bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the empty street, probably waking everyone in the neighbourhood, and the absurdity of it all finally cracks a smile on your face, too. “You know, I called him ‘Dulls’ last night. Didn’t go over well.”

Your laughter rises to match his, tears collecting at the edges of your eyes as you share the only moment of triumph, your tension slowly easing away with every breath.

Just then, Jungkook jogs up to join you, his soft hair bouncing with each step, and he grins at the two of you as though he’s been part of the joke all along. His presence is like a fresh breeze cutting through the remnants of your irritation, lightening your mood even more.

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice bright and curious. “What’s so funny?”

“She’s bashing Pulse,” Taehyung responds, barely holding back his laughter.

Jungkook’s smile falters, his brow furrowing as his gaze shifts into mild disapproval. “Why?”

You shrug, your mood already too high from the shared humour. “I don��t like do-gooders who have no idea what they’re doing,” you explain simply, dismissively, hoping to steer the conversation away from the topic before it stirs more irritation.

But you catch the slight tick in Jungkook’s jaw out of the corner of your eye, that tiny tightening that tells you he doesn’t see things the way you do. He’s too kind, too gentle, to understand the cynicism you’ve earned through scars on your mind and body. He probably sees Pulse as some noble protector, someone fighting for justice, unaware of how useless that brand of idealism is in the face of real, disguised evil. Sensing the shift in his mood, you deftly change the subject, not wanting to get into an argument so early in the day. “So, do you think med ethics will be any less torturous this semester?”

Taehyung sighs dramatically, rubbing his face with a groan. “I’m just trying to get through it. If I can pass and collect my attendance points, that’ll be enough.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. „True,“ though there’s still a trace of unease in his eyes, his smile not quite reaching them. You all fall into a quiet rhythm as you walk, the campus and some students coming into view as the conversation shifts to lighter things. And when you finally reach the lecture hall, you immediately spot Yoongi and Hoseok seated in an empty row, deep in conversation. They acknowledge your arrival with a brief glance, uninterested in breaking their rhythm as the three of you head towards them. Taehyung leads the way, his eyes scanning the tables before stopping just short of sitting down, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, where’s the coffee? Whose turn was it?”

Hoseok glances up, barely holding back a grin. “Jennie’s, but I think she’s late again.”

Just as you’re about to step into the row as well, hurried footsteps echo from behind. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Jennie dashing around the professor, a tray of coffee in hand, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. Before you can fully process it, she’s yanking Jungkook back by his shirt, latter letting out a short yelp while she squeezes past the narrow gap between him and the tables, bulldozing her way through without much care. She brushes by you too, nearly crushing your thighs against the hard edges of the chairs, mumbling a half-hearted “sorry” that you know she doesn’t mean, before plopping herself down beside Taehyung with a satisfied grin. 

You exchange a bewildered look with Jungkook, his expression mirroring your own disbelief, while Taehyung, completely unfazed, is already deep in hushed conversation with Jennie, grinning like he’d been waiting for her all along. Yoongi and Hoseok lean over Taehyung to grab their coffees, neither of them paying any mind to personal space.

“Alright, if everyone could please sit down, we’ll begin,” the professor calls through the room, and you quickly slip into the seat beside Jennie, Jungkook sitting down right next to you still fixing his shirt’s collar. Both of you pull out your laptops in near-perfect synchronisation, and after handing Jungkook a coffee, you quietly sip your own as the lecture begins. 

It doesn’t take long into the lecture, when Jungkook nudges you softly with his elbow, a small, warm pressure that disrupts the stillness in your thoughts and concentration. You nudge him back, acknowledging his presence, though your gaze remains forward, fixed on the professor, though you're not really seeing him now.

Jungkook leans in slightly, his voice so low it barely reaches your ears. “You know, I’ve been thinking about yesterday… and I just wanted to let you know, it’s okay if you don’t want to date me or anything. Don’t feel pressured or anything like that…” His voice trails off into uncertainty.

For a moment, you're stunned, not having expected this. Your thoughts reel back to yesterday, to that quiet moment shared over coffee. It was one of the few times you’d felt at ease, like you belonged somewhere, even for a little while. Jungkook had made you feel… seen. Appreciated, even. There was something about the way you looked at each other, listened to each other, that made you feel like you weren’t just playing a part in someone else’s story, but actually living in your own. 

You realise then, that you long for such a connection. Long for a connection with him. You’ve denied it for so long, convinced yourself you didn’t need it, didn’t deserve it. How could you, after everything you’ve done and everything that you plan to do? Building something with Jungkook on a foundation of lies feels reckless, not fair even. How could you let him get closer, knowing he doesn't know the real you? No, not the real you, but a part of you. A part, that feels like poisoned soil where he tries to plant a garden. 

Yet, there's another voice inside you, quieter but insistent: Why should your dark side dictate your life, your future? Why shouldn’t you let yourself have this light, this chance to be happy? You aren’t made of shadow entirely, you never were, and something in you yearns for Jungkook like a flower aches for sunlight. What if—just even for a while—it doesn’t have to matter?

“I would love to go on a date with you,” you whisper softly, your voice barely louder than his, wanting to take the chance for once. You feel warmth blooming in your chest and cheeks, a rush of blood that you haven’t felt in so long, and you fight to keep a smile from overtaking your lips.

And despite the mutation that shields you from physical pain, the storm of emotions coursing through you is undeniable proof of you still being alive—an inescapable, aching force reminding you that you are not the hollow shell you sometimes wish to be, but simply a feeling human. Every emotion—fear, joy, longing—rattles through your bones like a sized twelve earthquake, shaking you down to the foundation. You realise, that with your agreement, the gates to the warmth has been pulled open completely, flooding your veins without mercy, though the warmth is something different, something brighter. It spreads slowly, like the glow of the sun rising after a long, brutal night. 

Love and hope, fragile and intoxicating, winds its way into the dark crevices of your being, a sensation you’ve craved for so long that its presence is almost overwhelming. It’s everything you lost, everything that was ripped from you when your childhood was robbed from you, leaving only jagged fragments of yourself behind. And now, against all odds, it’s here again—this feeling of belonging, of connection—and it fills the void that has festered within you for years. It is what you’ve longed for since the day your innocence was stolen, and though it terrifies you, it also makes you feel more alive than you have in years.

A disbelieving, but happy puff of air escapes Jungkook’s lips. “You mean that?” His words carry a hopeful surprise, as if he hadn’t truly expected you to say yes.

For a brief moment, evil, dark doubt creeps back in, whispering that you should push him away, that your darkness will only hurt him in the end. But then, another thought pushes through the shadows: maybe this is your chance to follow the light, to give yourself permission to feel something real, something good. And for once, you let that thought win. “Yes,” you murmur softly, surrendering to the happiness with a silent sigh.

Without a word, Jungkook’s hand finds yours where it rests on your thigh, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. The warmth of his touch settles you, like a calm wave washing over a restless shore. He draws your connected hands over to his thigh, letting them rest there, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring circles across the back of your hand. “We’ve got classes all day,” he murmurs, his voice light with excitement, “but do you want to go out tomorrow night?”

“That would be great,” you whisper, glancing at him briefly. The smile you’ve been fighting finally breaks free, curving your lips as a soft tenderness spreads through you.

Jungkook beams, his own smile bright and unguarded as he strokes your hand with his thumb. “Cool. Tomorrow it is,” he nods, his voice light with pure, innocent joy. “I’ll pick you up.”

And in that moment, you feel truly happy, in a way you haven’t allowed yourself to feel for years. It’s a strange feeling, both exhilarating and terrifying to its core, like standing on the edge of a cliff with your toes hanging over, unsure if the fall will break you or set you free. But it feels good. It feels right. It feels as though there might be a future for you after all—one not swallowed whole by despair and darkness. 

Yet even as you savour the warmth spreading through and around you, a small whisper of uncertainty lingers. You don’t know if you’ll regret this, if letting Jungkook into your life will end up being the worst mistake you’ve ever made. But for now, for this fleeting moment in your short life, as your fingers remain intertwined with his, you let it wrap around you, and allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s still some light left worth saving in you after all.

prologue • 01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

taglist: @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @jksusawife, @jayhoneybeecomb, @kookienooki, @hagridshaircare 

[maraschinomerry]

Distracted part 2

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Summary: after Lockwood tells Lucy and George about his encounter at the auction, the three of them set out to find you and the book

Content: making out, deep conversation, mention of manipulation

A/N: thank you all so so much for the love on the first part (which is here, originally requested by @superpositvecloudshipper) and thank you for being patient with me for the follow-up, hope you like it!

Word count: 2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear + @rinisfruity14 @tigerthealien @honey-with-tea @frogmanfletch @ayoitsmickey

George paced furiously around the kitchen. Deep shadows crossed his face every time he turned away, the blackness of the night beyond the window not providing a single speck of light. "I can't believe you lost the book, Lockwood. Jesus, Barnes is going to kill us. We're screwed."

Lockwood heaved a sigh from the table, where he was scribbling something about you, the mystery woman from the auction, on the Thinking Cloth. "It's not my fault, I got trapped with this relic hunter and she pinned me down and stole it."

The thudding of George's footsteps ground to an abrupt halt and Lucy, on the other side of the table, snapped to attention. Lockwood almost squirmed under their scrutiny.

"She?" George frowned.

"We need to find her. What did she look like?" Lucy listened as Lockwood rattled off a remarkably detailed description of you and fought to keep her expression neutral. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes. Wait. No. I mean-"

Lucy burst out laughing while George stared in horror. "Oh my god, so when you say she pinned you…" Her face split into a mischievous grin.

George slammed his hands onto the table, making everyone's teacups rattle. "Do not finish that thought. But as much as I really don't want to say it, Lucy's right. We do need to find her and the book. And I think you know how we go about it."

—

"You never fail to surprise me, Locky."

The trio were down at the wharf in the early rays of morning, trying to find out if Flo knew you or your whereabouts. Much to Lockwood's chagrin, the other two were more than happy to divulge every detail they knew. Lucy had even put aside her disdain for the other girl to be able to fully participate in the gossip.

"I know, I lost a fight, these things happen. It was a very crowded space."

"I was talking about you finally being intimate with someone."

Lockwood blushed. "I wouldn't exactly call it-" the words died in his throat as Flo threw him a knowing glare. "Okay fine, but that's not why I- why we need to find her. She stole something important, and we have to get it back. Please, Flo."

"Fine. But I'm not coming with you. Being a relic woman was my thing until she decided to steal the idea, along with a bunch of my sources. It won't be pretty if I see her again."

—

Someone was coming. More than one someone. The sounds of multiple sets of feet and muffled voices echoed off the concrete walls of the place you called home, a disused undercroft in South Bank. You tucked yourself behind a pillar, pulling a knife from the holster on your leg.

"Hello?" The voice that called out was deep, but not deep enough to be a man's, and oddly familiar. "I'm here for the book." Oh.

You slipped out from your hiding place to see the boy from the auction flanked by a bespectacled, curly-haired boy dressed all in orange and a pretty brunette girl in a practical blue playsuit and leather jacket. They were both a little shorter than him.

"Hello darling," you flashed him a smile, noting the way the other two people glanced at each other behind his back. How much did they know? "I'm afraid you've wasted your time, though I'm sure I can make it up to you." Knife still in hand, you stepped a little closer. He didn't move, just looked you up and down, but the girl switched from behind his shoulder to in front. He murmured something to her, and you caught the name Lucy.

"You can make it up by not lying to me again."

"Okay, first of all, I never lied to you. I did have fun and you definitely seemed to. Secondly, what makes you think I'm lying now? I don't have the book."

"You're too smart to get rid of something that valuable. Personal insurance, didn't you say?"

"My my, you've got a good memory. Either that or you've been really thinking about me."

"We are still here, you know," the other boy interrupted. "Any time you want to let us know what's going on would be great, or shall we leave you to it?" The girl, Lucy, waggled her eyebrows a little. She definitely knew the whole of it, then. The taller boy pondered for a moment before giving them an apologetic smile and saying it was perhaps best.

As soon as they were gone, you sheathed your knife and took the boy by his tie. He gulped as your fingers ran up and down the smooth silk - not pulling, not forcing, just reinforcing the fact that you were unarmed and right in his personal space. His hand came up, ghosting across your shoulder, before it dropped and he cleared his throat.

"So, what exactly do you need personal insurance for?"

"Oh please, don't say it like you don't know. You're friends with that Bones girl, you've probably dealt with tons of relic hunters. It's just another part of the lifestyle."

There was something soft and sincere in the way he looked at you, a far cry from the angry, passionate boy you'd met the first time. He sat on one of the hard concrete benches and held out a hand. "Then you know you can trust me with it."

You refused the hand, but in spite of yourself sat down next to him with a huff. The last thing you wanted was to go churning out some sob story, especially with a fling so quick you still didn't actually know his name, but if that was what it took for him to leave you alone then so be it. Although, you had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was pleased he'd come looking, that you'd got the chance to see him again. He seemed nice. Sharp enough to go toe-to-toe with you yet caring enough to know when to stand down. Your world would eat him alive.

"Nothing good comes from trusting others." You half-expected a snappy retort, a speech about the healing power of friendship, but he must have sensed the weight behind your words because he said nothing, simply waited for you to elaborate. So you did.

The long and the short of it was that you'd been an idiot. When you first became a relic hunter, you had only just lost your Talent and had no idea how to navigate the world without it, so you'd fallen in with a more experienced guy a few years your senior. He taught you everything you needed to know, helped get you on your feet and fending for yourself, but he also used your loyalty against you and tricked you into an obligation to give him a cut of anything you earned on a hunt. It wasn't enough that you couldn't afford to eat or anything, but just enough that you'd never be able to break away and gain your dependence from him. The book was your insurance because technically you hadn't got it on a hunt, so it was your nest egg for when you finally got the confidence to break free from him.

"Not that I think I ever will," you added bitterly. "It's too late for me."

"No. I don't believe that." The boy was almost choked up, watching you with the most pained expression.

"It's that relentless optimism that left you without the book in the first place."

"I'm not being optimistic, I'm being realistic. Come with us, we could help you."

"Look, you're sweet and all, but don't mistake me thinking you're hot for me liking you."

He raised an eyebrow and gave you another of those irresistible grins like he had when he first swiped the book. "At least you think I'm hot."

You laughed, genuinely, and it startled you a little. "Stop being so smug and get over here before your mates get impatient."

He was on you in seconds. All the despondency of the conversation evaporated in the sudden heat between you as he dragged you into his lap. You moved with agility, knees either side of his waist and feet between his knees, and twisted your hand into his hair to hold yourself close. He moaned into the kiss and clamped his hands firmly round your waist. Still tasted like bergamot. You savoured him, drank him in, then decided to get a little experimental. Letting go of his hair, you took both hands to loosen his tie and undo the top couple of shirt buttons. The second his skin was exposed, you ducked down and worked a blossoming bruise into that perfect neck. To your delight, he tilted his head back to grant you further access. Once you considered him suitably marked, you trailed kisses up towards his jaw, and he brought his head back down to catch your lips with his. The hands on your waist moved in opposite directions: one up and around your back, the other down over your hip, lower and lower. You shuddered in excitement, but the movement jolted his teeth a little too hard against your lower lip and made you jump.

"Sorry!" he whispered, already deep voice made even huskier by desire and shortness of breath. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," you reassured him, "but maybe it's a good time to call it quits while we still can."

You disentangled from one another, the tension of unresolved intimacy thick in the air that grew between you as you moved apart.

"You know," he began without making eye contact, "the offer still stands. We could make it work."

"I know. But no, we couldn't." Part of you desperately wished it weren't the case, but you understood deep down that you could never return to his world. You suspected he knew it too. He began to move away. "Wait, what about the book?"

The smile he gave you lacked any of the electricity it usually did, but still had the same depth of feeling. "Keep it. Consider it proof that trust can get you something." He was almost at the edge of the undercroft now, almost out of sight.

"Wait!" you called again, louder this time. Inwardly, you cringed at how needy you must have sounded.

"If you don't want me to go, just say so." That spark was back in his smirk.

"No, I just… I still don't know your name."

"Lockwood. Can I ask for yours?"

You smiled softly, trying so hard to keep up the confident snarky persona but feeling it crumble by the second in the face of his utter sincerity. "Maybe next time, darling." And then he was gone.

—

The letterbox of 35 Portland Row rattled. That was odd. The postman had already been by today. Lockwood pushed himself wearily out of his armchair and made his way into the hallway. On the mat was a single scrap of folded paper. Frowning, he picked it up. The handwriting was unfamiliar, messy with haste.

'Behind the wall'.

There was nobody at all on the street, no matter which way he looked. Whoever had delivered the note had made a point not to stick around. Tucked behind a small bush in the front garden, leaning against the wall as promised, so well concealed nobody could possibly know it was there without being told to look, was a rectangular block wrapped in brown paper. Tucked in the front was another scrap of the same paper, with the same handwriting.

'Lockwood, darling. Proof trust goes both ways. Until we meet again, (name) x'

Blinking back tears, Lockwood peeled back the paper with shaky hands. Hands that were holding the book.

[imnotjaesblog]

Part 1: The Liar

Part 1 of 10

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

Featuring: Dong Si Cheng

Summary: Si Cheng decides he can get everything he wants in this life if he has you. He can be successful, appreciated and most of all accepted in society if you are by his arm. Only when you blow him off does he feel that delusion shatter. In order to keep his dreams and pride unharmed he creates a lie saying he slept with the most unreachable girl on campus.

This results in you fucking every single last one of his idiot friends just to teach him a lesson.

Lying is wrong and you should only say things that are the truth.

Shit gets crazy after Part 1

Warnings: None

Part one has no smut just angst.

MINORS DO NOT READ!!!!

Words: 2K

7:49 pm

Your pencil tapped on your paper as you briefly checked the time. The exam had started an hour ago yet here you were now still stuck on the tenth question. Why wasn’t anything you studied on the exam? You asked yourself checking the clock again. You felt the heat pick up on the back of your neck. Beads of sweat form as you reread the question in your head.

Then you saw the word dinner and remembered in a few minutes you had to meet that boy from last week for dinner.

After meeting him at a frat party and being his beer pong party he whispered to you he’d take to dinner if you both won. It was Friday night, the day he said he’d take you and you were stuck in a classroom taking an exam.

-

Si Cheng waited outside the restaurant checking his watch. He arrived earlier than you did just so you wouldn’t believe he stood you up. Seeing eight slowly approaching he checked around to see if you were there. When he failed to find you he sat outside the restaurant on his phone.

He figured you’d arrive at eight, possibly a little after.

-

9:01 pm

You have finished the exam. Place it on your professor's desk and leave it in your car. The restaurant was only a few minutes away from your university the drive was only seven minutes long. When you arrived you saw WinWin sitting on a bench leg bouncing. You sighed debating on whether or not to drive off.

Si Cheng wasn’t the first guy to ask on a date. There have been many guys before Winwin who obsessed over you and your looks. The guys that kissed the ground you walked on. You were used to the Si Cheng types, guys that tried to make you feel like you owed them something because you were attractive. You rolled your eyes at the thought. You stopped your car deciding to let him down easily.

You didn’t need to rehearse the right words to say like a girl in the mirror breaking up with her boyfriend. You would say the same thing you always did, the truth at least part of it.

You were going to tell him it was because of your exam. However, you were also going to tell him you can’t stay out to do anything else since you had class in the morning even though you don’t have class on Saturdays. Walking over to him you noticed his outfit. Dressed in a black button-up and slacks that wrinkled from all the pacing he probably did at some point.

He looked up from his phone shaking his head. He stood up from the bench shoving his phone in his pocket. He walked over to you upset about your lateness. You sighed telling yourself in your head to do this quickly, your show was starting soon.

“Look I’m sorry I’m late, my exam went-“

“Save it. I don’t want to hear some lame excuse. Just tell me the truth,” he said frustratedly. You sighed trying to hide your smile. You shook your head licking your front teeth in bubbling annoyance. You two barely know each other and he’s treating this like some breakup.

“Look my exam went on for longer than I thought, okay? Now if you excuse me I don’t need to explain the rest to you,” you said turning to walk away. Your foot barely reached the pavement before his hand grabbed your elbow. “Wait a minute don’t go. You owe me a date,” he said turning you around to face him causing your purse to slip from your arm and onto the ground.

He bent down to help you but you prevented him from touching anything.

“Uh I don’t owe you anything,” you said pulling away. You took out your hand sanitizer from your purse opened it and rubbed the liquid into your skin. You closed the cap putting it away. Take out your pink lip gloss and place it on your lips. You closed the top as you spoke to Si Cheng.

“And if I remember correctly you offered to take me out. I can say no whenever I want and because you're being a dick about me being late then I’m just going to go,” you said trying to hide how annoyed you felt. There is no reason for you to be wasting energy on this guy who you’ll avoid for the rest of your life. He scoffed this time not chasing after you as you walked away.

He nodded his head seeing you disappear into your car and drive off. “Okay then…then I’ll remember this my way,” he said to himself as he walked over to his car driving off to a lingerie store.

He walked into the store finding a pink pair of panties. He purchased the clothing immediately removing it from the bag once he sat in his car. He pulled your small bottle of perfume out that fell from your purse. He sprayed the black bottle twice on the panties waving them around. He sprayed your perfume in the back seat of his car, as well as his shirt. He undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt, running a couple of fingers through his hair as well.

Once he looked fucked out he drove off back to his apartment that he shared with his friends.

“Heyyy how did it go?” Jaehyun asked the minute he saw Si Cheng walk in. Si Cheng smirked taking off his shoes and placing them near the others. He removed his jacket as well throwing it behind an empty chair. The other boys slowly started to gather around all waiting for Si Cheng response.

All of them had came over waiting for him to come home just to hear the details of the date Si Cheng claims you agreed too. The men in the room weren’t fully convinced you said to him. The boy, like many others had been drooling over you since orientation two years ago. He waited of his moment with you, and especially after discovering who your father is he had to rush in before someone else took his spot.

He sighed still feeling the sting in his chest. You not only rejected him, but embarrassed him and he was upset. However he couldn’t tell his friends. He couldn’t go back to being some loser. You were his one way ticket to the top. He wouldn’t let whatever status you had ruin it for him, even if he had to lie.

“Well I took her to that new Italian spot that just opened up. Not to far from the school,” he said seeing all the boys enter the room. Jaemin lighting up on the couch as he listened in on the story.

“La Villa right?” Johnny asked leaning against the wall. Si Cheng nodded looking his direction. He turned away looking back at the living room. He pulled back a chair sitting down and facing the room. “We spent some time there. We talked about life and her dad’s company. She said she could get me a job,” he said lying straight through his teeth.

Jisung’s eyes widened raising up from beside Haechan, Doyoung doing the same. They both shook their heads. Doyoung speaking up first. “No way. I’ve been trying to intern there for months and you get a job? Unbelievable,” he says falling back in his seat. Haechan chuckles mockingly beside Jisung.

“I’m sorry?” He raises a brow. Everyone turned their heads to him. “So all of sudden Y/n the hottest girl at our school not only agrees to go on a date with you, but also just gives you a job?” He questions a smirk on his lips as he licks his teeth. He shakes his head hands falling with a clap to his knees. “I’m sorry I just find that hard to believe. I mean if Jaehyun didn’t even have a shot what makes you believe you do?” He asked. Si Cheng felt his cheeks get hot. The same anger and embarrassment he felt earlier tonight still boiling inside him. Haechan always knew how to stir his pot.

“I mean let’s be so for real guys. She’s never been with anyone and all of sudden she puts out for him,” he points directly at Si Cheng, the spot light beginning to burn. He chuckled darkly looking back at the boy with the red cheeks. “There’s absolutely no fucking way,” he says causing Jeno to step up.

“He does have a point. No one here has ever even walked her home. The Y/n were all talking about would rather walk home in the dark then let anyone walk her home. I’m sorry Si Cheng I gotta agree with Haechan here,” he says with a sigh.

Most of the boys start to lose their faith. In a moments panic Si Cheng takes out the pink underwear from his pocket. “Not only did we go on a date, we fucked,” he said holding the panties out. The guys came closer rushing to the pink cloth. “No way,” YangYang says brushing his fingers on the cloth.

“Of course the virgins believe you,” said Yuta from the corner. He had been standing there the whole time. “It’s true. It even smells like her,” he said lifting the underwear to Taeyong’s nose. He sniffs the cloth eyes wide. He nods his head furiously. Causing Mark to take a whiff.

“It’s hers, it smells exactly like her perfume,” Mark says handing it to Doyoung. Doyoung takes a whiff humming in satisfaction. “It’s her perfume. Smells like Calculus,” he said closing his eyes picturing you at your seat sitting in front of him during class.

Jaehyun walks over snatching the panties from Doyoung’s hand waking him from his fantasy. He pouts seeing the cloth fly away. Jaehyun brings it to his nose. “Yeah this is definitely her perfume. No way Si Cheng could afford to buy a bottle of this,” he says holding the underwear up. Haechan takes it smelling it as well.

Everyone awaits his reaction. Having no choice but to give in he nods. “Okay okay It’s hers,” he says.

“I told you. We fucked my whole car smells like her,” he said seeing some of the thirsty boys run to his car. Opening the door and taking in the scent of your perfume. They were truly obsessed with you.

“You know this means your like a fucking king?” Mark asked Si Cheng. Si Cheng smirked to himself arms crossing over his chest as he stuffed the panties back in his pocket. Johnny walked over placing an arm around Si Cheng shoulder ruffling his hair. Si Cheng chuckled seeing the boys close his car door running back to the house.

Jisung sat in the same seat he did before. Something still felt so off to him. All of sudden you were interest in someone, and of all people interested in Si Cheng? It just doesn’t seem to make any sense. He frowned chewing on his lips as he watched his friends turn into animals at the very smell of you. All fighting to see who gets to keep your underwear.

He turned away walking into his shared room with Haechan. He closed the door behind him laying on his bed and turning on his phone. He opened Instagram scrolling through different post. Then you showed on his screen. He smiled liking the picture. Even if he didn’t know you very well, he couldn’t deny the obvious you were very beautiful. Like a breath of fresh air.

He wished he was the one to take out you. He sighs smile fading from his lips. You didn’t have to kiss him or even hold his hand. He just wanted to get to know you, take you out and listen to what you had to say. It can’t be easy always being chased around like a piece of meat. A part of him feels bad, for not only hearing what they say about you but not doing anything about it.

Starting to feel the pity swallow him up. He closes his phone placing it on his nightstand. He drifts off to sleep with only you in his mind.

While Jisung drifted off to sleep Si Cheng stood out in the living room drinking with his friends celebrating what he thought would be the start of the best day of his life.

If only he knew the worst was yet to come.

———

You walked down the hill outside your apartment building. Walking past the fountain full of birds chirping. Passing by an older couple sitting on a bench enjoying the warm weather. The sun is out and not a cloud in the sky. The breeze was cool, the warmth only adding comfort. Your dog sniffed around looking for her favorite spot. You held a coffee in your hand and shades concealing your eyes. The perfect day you thought.

You decided to follow in the couple's footsteps and sit on a bench just under a tree. Small bugs fly by buzzing around. A butterfly landing on a pink flower. You smiled pulling out your phone to take a picture. As your camera snapped you saw an incoming call from your closet friend Wendy.

You picked up the call quickly. Wendy never called you this early unless you were meeting for pilates, but your class wasn't until the evening. "Hello?" you answered her call.

"Y/n omg," she said voice full of relief. "Is everything okay?" you asked her holding on tightly to your lease so your dog wouldn't take off. She let out a shaky breath. "No exactly," she said.

"Why? Did you get pregnant?" you asked eyes wide. You were genuinely worried for her, her taste in men was so poor. "Fourtaunley no," she responded with relief. You picked up your dog and placed her on your lap. "What's up?" you asked looking in your small bag for a snack.

"That Si Cheng guy from Jaehyun's party is telling everyone you guys fucked," she said annoyed. You scoffed unbothered, What's Si Cheng to you? Some boy that you'll never have to see again.

"So?" you questioned with a shrug placing a grape in your mouth. You placed your dog on the bench bringing one leg over your knee. You sat back taking in the sunlight. "Who cares? It's not like anyone believes him," you said nonchalantly again used to the behavior of men.

"Doesn't seem like it. He's claiming you did, saying you left your underwear in his backseat as proof," she responded. Your laughter died but you weren't worried. You shrug slipping another green past your lips. "That can be anyone's. Besides, you know he's not my time," you said disgusted. You start to have doubts, did Wendy believe him over you?

"Yeah I know, but a bunch of guys went over to his house. They smelled your perfume all over his car," she said trying her best to make you understand how serious this is. You instead remained calm, this didn't have to become a huge problem when it stems from such a short issue. One phone call to your father and you could have this whole thing taken care of.

"That's impossible. The company from the perfume I own only sells twelve bottles a year. No way he could afford to get his hands on that, it's more than his tuition," you said still unfazed.

"Y/n he told the whole school. Everyone believes him, he's on a fucking high right The boys I practically kiss his feet, and even some of the professors are nicer to him. He's even telling people your father is giving him a job," she said finally getting your attention.

She sighed. "Whether you fucked him or not it's completely getting to his head. We gotta do something about this," she said determined to help you. You thought about it for a moment. Letting your leg swing and your lip pouting helps you think.

He thinks he can lie and get away with it. Use you to get to your family and walk freely while you suffer the consequences of what? Being a woman. That's not fair and you knew you had to do something about it.

"Hello? Y/n are you okay?" Wendy asked.

You smirked a hopeful feeling in your chest. You nodded looking back at the butterfly from before. You watched as it flew away.

"Wendy, can you get me a list of all of Winwin's friends?" you asked but you were telling her. "Why what are you planning on doing?" she asked a hint of mischief in her voice.

"I am gonna fuck every last one of his friends. Teach him lying is bad and then watch him fall apart," you said feeling high off the confidence that flowed through your veins. A part of you is still disappointed in men and angry with their ways.

"I found his friends, I'll send you the list," she said. You heard your phone bing. Checking it you opened notes seeing the list of names.

Park Jisung.

The dork from your anatomy class.

To be continued…

Hope you enjoyed part one of my Easy A series and see you soon for part two!

Tags: @sexygrass @scarfac3 @jakiki94 @90s-belladonna @soobiverse @chazzthecannoli @kyungsooislifeu

[metalmonki]

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 12

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

That night, I found myself in Dean's bed. After finishing my bath and changing into my pajamas, I made my way down the hall to his room. He was lying sprawled out across the bed, relaxed in nothing but a black t-shirt and boxer briefs. Taking a steadying breath, I lay down beside him, feeling a little out of my element but strangely comfortable.

Dean wrapped an arm around me, his fingers absentmindedly weaving through my hair. I found myself inching closer, resting my head on his chest, my hand splayed over his stomach, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall as he breathed. Just as I started drifting off, I felt the soft rumble of his laughter under my cheek.

“This is freakin��� weird,” he murmured, half amused, half uncertain.

I yawned, my own voice drowsy. “Tell me about it.”

A silence settled over us, but it was comfortable—almost warm, even with the lingering strangeness of sharing a bed. He shifted, pulling me a little closer, and his breath brushed against my hair.

“Guess we’ll have to get used to it,” he said softly, almost to himself.

There was something in his voice, a hesitance or a quiet vulnerability that surprised me. Dean wasn’t usually the type to dwell on emotions or look too closely at things that made him uncomfortable. I wanted to ask what he meant, but his fingers resumed their soft, steady rhythm through my hair, and I found myself sinking further into the quiet safety of his embrace.

Eventually, Dean’s breathing evened out, and I realized he’d fallen asleep. I stayed awake a while longer, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

The next morning Dean and I were up and pacing at the hatch waiting for the groceries to be delivered. Sam, Theresa and Bobby had stopped answering our calls weeks ago. Hell, I was convinced we could be dead and they probably wouldn’t come checking on us. The creaking of the hatch sent both of us running to be the first one at the hatch.

Sam stood on the other side of the hatch, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You two done yet? Or do I need to leave you in there another week?"

Dean glanced at me, a mix of frustration and reluctance clear in his eyes. He’d never been good at talking about feelings, and being forced into it? That was a nightmare. I felt his hand twitch slightly, the tiniest hint of tension under his cool exterior.

“We’ve dealt with it, okay?” Dean called out, his voice taking on that half-annoyed, half-pleading tone he used when he was trying not to lose it. “Just open the damn door.”

Sam’s skeptical laugh filtered through the small space. “I’m not buying it, Dean. You’ve been dancing around this for months, man. What makes you think I’ll believe you after a couple of weeks stuck together?”

I sighed, stepping closer to the hatch. "Sam, it’s not about the time we’ve been locked up. We talked. We... figured some things out." I glanced at Dean, who gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We know where we stand now."

Sam's footsteps moved closer, and his voice dropped lower, more serious. "And where’s that?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably beside me, running a hand through his hair. "We're good, alright? You can let us out now."

"Yeah?" Sam’s voice was filled with suspicion. "So, what’s the plan then? Gonna keep pretending nothing happened, or have you two finally admitted you’re crazy about each other?"

I blushed at Sam’s bluntness, but before I could respond, Dean stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "We’re done pretending, Sam. Now, can you let us out or do I have to kick this door down?"

A long pause followed. I could practically hear Sam’s wheels turning as he debated whether we were telling the truth or if this was just another one of Dean’s deflections.

Then, finally, the sound of keys rattling echoed through the hatch.

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh. "But if I find out you’re still avoiding this… next time, I’m locking you in for a year."

The hatch creaked open, and the sunlight streamed in, hitting us both like a slap to the face. Dean shot me a sideways look, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

"See?" he muttered, nudging me lightly. "Told you we’d get out."

I smiled back, rolling my eyes but feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. Maybe we weren’t entirely done figuring things out, but one thing was for sure—we weren’t pretending anymore.

As we stepped through the door, the sudden brightness of the outdoors made me squint, but Dean’s hand in mine kept me grounded. His grip was firm—steady. For all the tension and frustration that had built up over the days, that simple touch felt like an anchor.

We looked around, expecting to see Bobby or even Theresa. But to our surprise, it was just Sam, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching us with that annoyingly knowing expression.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s everyone else?”

Sam shrugged, pushing off from the car. "Just me here. Bobby and Theresa are waiting back at his place. Figured they’d leave me to deal with you two first.”

Dean huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Of course they did." He gave me a look, half-exasperated, half-amused, then started toward the Impala, pulling me along with him.

“You sure this isn’t some other test, Sammy? Locking us up wasn’t enough for you?” Dean teased, though his voice had a sharp edge to it.

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in the car, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean let go of my hand long enough to open the passenger door for me, his fingers brushing mine again as I slid into the seat. There was a certain comfort in the familiar scent of the leather, the faint smell of gun oil and coffee that always clung to Dean’s car. It felt like slipping back into something safe, even though we both knew things between us had shifted. Maybe for the better, maybe not, but we’d figure it out.

Dean climbed in beside me, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Sam, of course, got in the backseat like it was his right to act all high and mighty.

As Dean started the engine, the low, familiar rumble of the Impala washed over me, sending a shiver of nostalgia down my spine. It was almost as if nothing had changed—except, this time, Dean’s hand found mine again, even as he steered the car down the gravel road.

Sam didn’t miss it. His gaze flickered to our joined hands, but he didn’t say anything. Just smirked that knowing smirk of his.

The ride to Bobby’s was quiet. I could feel the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the way he gripped the wheel a little too tightly. Maybe it was because we were driving back into reality, back to where things were messy and complicated. We’d had time in the house to confront some things, but the real world? That was another story.

After what felt like an eternity, the Impala pulled into Bobby’s driveway. The old house stood like a sentinel, the weight of all the memories, good and bad, hanging in the air. Theresa’s car was parked off to the side next to my Impala which one of them had clearly driven here, and I could already see her and Bobby waiting on the porch.

Dean cut the engine and exhaled slowly, his fingers still intertwined with mine. He glanced at me, his expression a mix of reluctance and resolve. "Ready for round two?" he asked quietly, though his voice had a teasing edge.

I smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "As long as you are."

Dean’s mouth curved into a smirk, and he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before we climbed out of the car. Sam was already out, walking toward the porch where Bobby and Theresa stood waiting, arms crossed, looking like they had their own set of questions ready to go.

Whatever came next, Dean and I were in this together now. And maybe, just maybe, we could handle whatever round two had in store.

As soon as we stepped out of the Impala, Bobby and Theresa descended on us like we’d walked straight into an interrogation room.

Bobby’s gaze was sharp, arms crossed over his chest as he stood on the porch, his eyes flicking from me to Dean and back again. Theresa, standing beside him, had her hands on her hips, her expression unreadable but clearly sceptical.

“Alright,” Bobby started, his voice gruff but laced with that tone that let you know he wasn’t buying any crap. “You two better not think you’re off the hook just because you’ve been let out. Sam might’ve let you out, but I need to hear it from you.”

Dean gave me a quick side-eye before stepping forward, but before he could say anything, Theresa cut in, arms dropping to her sides as she took a step closer. “Are you really done pretending? Or is this just some act to get out of that house?”

I could feel the weight of their stares. Dean had tensed up beside me, his jaw clenched, clearly not in the mood for another round of questions, but we had to deal with this.

“We’ve worked it out,” I said, speaking up before Dean could snap back with some sarcastic comment. “We’re not just playing along. We know it probably seems like that after all this, but it’s… different now.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. “Different how? You’ve been avoiding this for years, and now all of a sudden, a few days locked up together, and you’ve figured it all out? I ain’t buying it.”

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re not saying everything’s magically perfect, Bobby. It’s not. But we’re done running from it. Done pretending like there’s nothing going on."

Theresa folded her arms, her expression softening just a bit as she tilted her head at me. “And you? Are you done pretending? Because this only works if you’re both all in.”

I felt Dean’s hand brush mine again, a small, subtle reassurance as I looked from him to Theresa. “Yeah, I’m done pretending. We both are. It wasn’t easy, but we talked. And we’re going to keep talking. We know where we stand now.”

Theresa studied us for a long moment, her eyes lingering on our joined hands. “You better,” she finally said, her voice gentler but still firm. “Because if I find out you’re back to ignoring each other, I’ll lock you both up myself. And believe me, it won’t be as nice as Sam’s version.”

“If I had my way all you would have gotten was a blanket on the floor and a pot to piss in” Bobby grunted in agreement, stepping forward with his no-nonsense look firmly in place. “You got a lot of history between you. I ain’t saying you gotta figure it all out today, but you better not go back to pretending none of this exists.”

Dean nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’re not going back to that. We’ll deal with it—together.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a shift in the air, like Bobby and Theresa were finally starting to believe us, even if only a little.

Theresa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides as she exchanged a look with Bobby. “Alright,” she said, her tone a little warmer now. “We’ll hold you to that. Just… don’t mess this up.”

Dean smirked, a bit of his usual confidence sneaking back in. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bobby shook his head, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he muttered, “Well, let’s hope you’re telling the truth this time, or I’ll find a way to make sure you never leave each other’s sight.”

Dean squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that we were both ready for whatever came next. We weren’t done dealing with everything between us, but for the first time in a long time, we were on the same page. And that was enough—for now.

[thecoramaria]

Hello! I was wondering if you could give some tips on how to make fanfic chapters longer. I see a lot readers tend to like chapters around the 4k word mark or even more, but it's a feat if I write a chapter longer than 2k. The content I write is still good (imo) but I want to do more and am stuck on what to add that would benefit the fic and not be pointless filler. Thanks 🩷💛

Hey, Nonny!

First I'd just like to say that chapter length preferences among readers depend a lot on things like the type of fanfic and the platform you post on. For example, short chapters and frequent updates tend to be the standard on Wattpad. They're also pretty typical of episodic and/or slice-of-life stories. Because they rely on pre-established stories or worlds that the characters are familiar with, you just don't need to use as many words to move the plot forward every chapter (and in the case of an episodic story, you don't need to move an overarching plot forward at all, but from your ask, I don't get the vibe that you're trying to write that kind of thing).

Point is, sometimes short chapters work better for the story you're trying to tell, and they can also serve to make your story more binge-worthy (since it's easier to justify reading one more chapter), but they could lessen the experience for people following update-to-update, particularly if you don't update often. It's like the difference between being given a single piece of chocolate vs a full bar, you know?

If you really are set on posting longer chapters and believe this will make your story better, then here are my tips:

Figure out why your chapters are short in the first place. Is it because you make each scene its own chapter? Is it because your pacing flies past? Is it because it's light on details, or doesn't get specific enough? (E.g. "He set a tasty breakfast before her. She dug in with gusto." vs "He set a plate of steaming sunny-side-up eggs and crackling bacon before her. One wiff of the smokey, savoury aromas, and she snatched up her fork, shovelling it in. The salty crunch. The burst of creamy yolk. It was heaven.")

Combine chapters. If two or three chapters tie together nicely because they're part of the same arc, or take place in the same location, picking up where the other left off, those are good candidates to combine. Also if a chapter has an ending that doesn't give the reader a good reason to keep reading, but the next scene adds a jolt of tension back into the plot, that's also a good candidate for combining scenes/chapters.

Ask yourself what you can add to enhance what you already have there. For example, if you have a plot twist planned, is there a way you can include more foreshadowing? Is there an opportunity to flesh out your characters more? (If we mostly see a character put on a strong front, it'll tug our hearts when we see them show some vulnerability.) Is there an aspect of your worldbuilding that could use some explanation or showing off? (For example, if your plot involves saving the world, it's definitely a good idea to get your readers attached to said world.) Are there more obstacles you could add to the story that might also serve the previous purposes? Do you have a lot of high-tension back-to-back scenes that could use some quiet breather scenes in-between?

When editing, I've adopted the philosophy of "Cut as much as possible without sacrificing anything that enhances the story" as well as "Concise and precise" which means "say The Most with as few words as possible. To me, this is the key to avoiding filler in my own work, and how I create long stories that don't drag. I think that as you make your chapters longer, these are the ideas you should keep in mind, as these will help you determine if you're lengthening your story will pointless filler or adding something with value.

If you still struggle to make that distinction though, maybe find a beta-reader or a buddy who doesn't mind being spoiled for your work. You can soundboard your ideas with them to get a second opinion, because sometimes that's what you really need when you feel like there's something "wrong" with your work but you can't quite put your finger on it.

[sam-glade]

My Editing Process 

Part 1/3 - Big Picture Stuff

This is what I do to a novel or a novella before showing it to anyone (including beta readers). I’m posting it in hopes that it will help someone, and I’m not expecting it to work for everyone. Take any parts that help you!

Two things up front:

‘Imperfect’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’. Good writing can have imperfections.

The goal is to get the manuscript to a stage where the imperfections won’t be distracting to beta readers.

Baseline

This is my process for novella- or novel-length projects (so around 40-100k words). I don’t write short stories, so I don’t know how applicable it will be. I’m currently editing Gifts of Fate, trying to shave off a couple of thousand words, and I’ll be pulling examples from it.

I’m a pantser and an overwriter who loves checklists. I know that my early drafts include scenes that explore the characters and the setting, but don’t contribute enough to earn their keep – this isn’t applicable to everyone. I also write in 3rd person multi-POV, hence references to switching POV.

In this project, I also aim for a crisp, direct style, with minimally flowery descriptions.

I start this process when my draft is in the following state:

After I’ve replaced all [[foreshadow this]] and similar comments, added all the skipped segments, etc.

After I let the manuscript rest for a couple of months

When the overall plot is highly unlikely to change. I.e. the sequence of events/plot beats is set in stone. I may consider reframing them or rewriting from someone else’s POV, but I won’t change the direction of the story.

Big-picture stuff first

I can’t stress this enough, do this before you get into the nitty gritty line edits. You don’t want to pore over a chapter for hours, only to realise it has to be cut – and all the effort you put into editing will be thrown away.

The goal of this pass is to bring out the best parts of the story, make the focus crystal clear, and make sure everything gels together.

I make a copy of the manuscript and make sure you have the old one stored away. I often refer back to it, to see if I like how a chapter has changed.

The outline

I write a bare-bones outline, no more than a phrase per 2k words – the shorter the better.

The way I do it is to put that as the title of each chapter – chapters for me tend to average just over 2k words. E.g. in GoF, the first few chapter titles are: ‘The Rupture’, ‘The Sword’, ‘The Cutthroat’, ‘The Sergeant’, [redacted], ‘The Windmill’, ‘The Threat’, ‘The Investigation’, ‘The Plan’. Not catchy, but pinpointing the focus of each.

It’s important that each point corresponds to a similarly sized chunk of text, so that I can spot when there are long sections where not much or too much happens – this will highlight issues with pacing.

If I’m not sure what to put in the title, it’s an indication that it might be one of those meandering, unfocused chapters. I gather a list of those, to pay more attention to them.

It also helps me identify the goal of each chapter. This is the part where I’d consider reframing or even rewriting a chapter from someone else’s POV, if the current structure shifts the focus away from what it’s supposed to be about.

Two examples:

In one chapter, I had a regular POV character (Ianim) check in on the protag’s family, and the protag’s sister (Marta) filled him in on how her magical powers had manifested a few days earlier. The intended goal of the chapter: tell the reader about the powers. What it ended up being: by framing it as a conversation between them, the focus was on their dynamic. Solution: rewrite the chapter from Marta’s POV and present the events that led to her powers manifesting as they happened, rather than retrospectively talking about them.

Later on, the protag (Lissan) is on the run and struggling to survive, while feeling that he should be saving the world, not just himself. He gets a stern talking to from an old man. The intended goal of the chapter: Lissan gets over his dilemma, and makes a decision to save himself, then make the world a better place. What it ended up being: the old man’s backstory stole the spotlight Solution: spend more time on the dilemma, especially before the storytime, and less on the backstory – I want to keep it, because it serves a subplot, but I can shorten it by a few sentences. 

Meandering Chapters

With that done, I read over the manuscript one more time, focusing especially on the chapters identified as meandering, and skipping the ones with clear plot beats. I know events like the big fights, first meetings, etc. definitely won’t be cut.

In my case, a lot of these are consecutive chapters composed of 2-3 vignettes, which come up when characters spend a period of time in one place, e.g. taking time to train or make preparations. They’ll be composed of scenes with low-stake actions, some exposition, and some exploration of characters and their dynamics. I want this project to be a fairly fast-paced fantasy adventure, but these slice-of-life scenes slowed down pacing too much. They are usually identified as meandering, since each scene/vignette has its own goal, but they aren’t strung together.

I Marie Kondo the hell out of them. I list what’s the purpose of each scene, and what I lose if I cut them out – this can be a mental exercise. Will cutting each one in turn leave the reader confused? Sometimes, all the reader is losing is an additional bit of characterisation. This is how I discovered I had two chapters showing the same two characters spar, each from one of their POVs, and the only purpose the first one fulfilled was to show that one of the characters didn’t like cold weather. Yep, that got cut.

Then, anything that's set up but doesn't have a pay off UNLESS it's a deliberate red herring. The length of the set up should be proportional to how crucial to the main plot is the pay off.

E.g. I had two conversations where in the first one the protag was told that demons react to the colour red, and in the next one he found a red ribbon to put on his Sword. And that was the last mention of it. The first mention stayed as flavour, the second conversation got cut.

And I know I need the red ribbon there in the second book of the trilogy, but it really can appear closer to when it's needed – i.e. in the second book. In general, I'm weeding out set up for later instalments which are easy to forget.

Repetitive Chapter Structure

I group chapters by structure, especially paying attention to the cases when:

Characters sit around discussing a plan, with the dialogue being a civil discussion all the way through. I know I have a tendency to do exposition through pages of dialogue. I don't want to have more than 2-3 of these across 50 chapters, and I want them spaced out.

A character fills others in on events they don’t know about. This can be either 'you weren't around when this happened to me' or 'this is a legend you (and especially the reader) needs to know, to understand the rest of the story'. I want to make sure there’s at most 1 of these in my novel.

How many of each you want in your manuscript, depends on its length and genre – I’m going for a fantasy adventure with a fair bit of action, so I cut down on the dialogue-heavy or research chapters, in favour of action scenes.

If in either of these categories I have more than what I want, I try to change the setting, or sprinkle in some action – for example, talking while doing shopping or renovating a house. Sometimes, a large chunk of the conversation can be skipped with a 3-5 sentence summary paragraph – and yes, in cases like this exposition might be the lesser of two evils. I also make sure the similar chapters are spaced out, with a change of pacing or setting between them.

This is where I stop tinkering with the story on my own – if I go on further, I don’t have the confidence that my changes are making it any better.

Part 2: Ctrl+F'ing the manuscript

Requested tag: @galactic-mystics-writes

[thevoidwatches]

The following is a long, rambling story about my difficulties writing prose fiction in the last few years. If you want to skip to the end, it's that I'm taking the plunge into writing again and have started work on a queer erotic novel currently titled Melting in her Mouth. Snippets may be forthcoming as I write.

It's been a long time since I did any creative writing - well, unless you count superhero RP servers as creative writing. Let's just say that it's been a few years since I've done any prose writing. And it's been even longer since I wrote any original prose - the last long-form thing I wrote was a MHA fanfic, Breath of Life, which has gotten one update in the last four years but which I swear I will finish some day! Before that it was a series of original superhero novels that I got two-and-a-bit books into (can you tell that I like superheroes?) called Paternum, which I'm sorry to say I probably won't be going back to. If I ever do, it'll probably be a complete rewrite as I'm no longer satisfied with the pacing of my plot outline.

In these last few years, I've done a lot of other creative stuff. I've gotten a lot better at drawing (although like most artists I'm still never satisfied with my work). I've gotten a lot better at guitar (although I'm still not brave enough to try writing my own songs). I've done a lot of gamemastering, as the aforementioned RP servers were living worlds.

Mostly, though, I did RP. I did an awful lot of it - my records (because I'm that kind of nerd) suggest something like 2 million words, as a conservative estimate. That's a hell of a lot of writing. It's likely more than all my prose put together - Paternum totals to something like 400k, Breath of Life barely tops 100k, and none of my other non-public works like the Court Magician or Ruins of the Empire match up to either in length (around 60k but finished, and only 30k and abandoned, respectively). Even my early-early works like the Family Trade and Time Until Death (abandoned in college and finished in high school) won't tip the scales. I'm not even going to count story concepts that never got off the ground, like Starlight City Champions or the Empyriad.

Given that the vast majority of my output, now, has been collaborative RP - and that all of my recent work has been - it probably shouldn't be surprising that I find myself nervous at the idea of going back to prose. I have to write the whole thing?? All by myself?!? That's scary! Not to mention that these days I'm used to long, long-form stuff - stories with no set end, designed to continue immediately.

And that, of course, is a fear of its own. It's happened to me multiple times at this point - I come up with an idea for a story and start outlining it, and the outline just... keeps going. And going. And when I finally cut it off, at what seems like a reasonable point, I realize that it's actually unreasonable long. That's why Starlight City Champions is unlikely to ever happen - I outlined 6 books, then realized that each book was likely to be at least 300k words which, at a conservative estimate of writing around 2k words a week (the rate at which I wrote Paternum), would have taken almost two decades!

But the thing is, that fear - the fear that I'll never finish anything - was pushing me to never even start anything. If I never started, I would never disappoint myself by not finishing. But... either way, I wasn't putting out anything complete.

I've made a resolution to myself - I'm going to start a story, and I'm going to finish it. I'm starting small - a romance novella - and I'm starting self-contained. No room for sequels, no big overarching plot to spiral out of control, no huge cast of characters that all need development. A simple story with a straightforward outline.

I've prepared myself, I hope. I read Gwen Hayes' Romancing the Beat to make sure that my plot outline would work. I read some romance novels that I find inspirational - and aspirational - like @bibliosphere's Hunger Pangs and @unpretty's Unprofessional Behavior (can you guess that my novel is going to be erotica as well as romance?). I passed my outline to friends online to get feedback, and went through a handful of revisions before I told myself that it wasn't going to get any better by stalling longer.

I started writing Melting in her Mouth (working title, it may change) this weekend. After some false starts, the words are flowing again. I feel good about this. I feel hopeful.

If you take anything from this long, rambling meditation on nothing, let it be this - don't let your fears stop you from doing the things you enjoy.

Oh - and that I'm working on a queer erotic romance novel. Snippets may be forthcoming as I get farther into it.

[iris-ren]

the priest of styria

chapter one

vampire/priest getou x reader

wc: 2k

tags: talks of death and female arousal // not beta read or edited

________________________________

you caught news that there was to be a priest in town to take over at the cathedral after father issac’s untimely death. you had yet to see the man, but if he was anything like father issac, you figured his sermons would probably be quite boring and drawn out. apparently the new priest that is taking over the reigns is from a faraway place. a place that no one had heard of.

your ladies maid discussed the matter with you while brushing your hair behind you in the mirror. ophelia smiled while admiring the intricate braid that she was weaving into your hair, listening to your incessant questions.

“oh please! ophelia it’s been ages since something interesting happened around here. you must tell me what you’ve heard! there’s no need to act coy with me. how long have we known each other again?”

ophelia let out a sigh for dramatic effect and met your eyes in the mirror, “since we were in diapers my lady, but you must hear me now, when i say that i know as much as you! the man is a mystery to us all.”

you couldn’t help but pester your old friend, it was true what you said. father issac’s death stirred up all of styria, and with the news of the replacement priest arriving soon after the fact, brought pandemonium to the town.

“it’s unheard of really, how is it possible for not a single soul to know what the man looks like, or where he hailed from?”

ophelia shrugged her shoulders.

you rolled your eyes at her in the mirror, “well let’s hope that his sermon’s are more lively than poor old father issac’s.” you said with a chuckle. ophelia pinched your shoulder and you shrieked in faux pain. “you mustn’t be so crass my lady.” she said, trying to conceal her own laughter.

“you are a nasty little spinster, ophelia!” you yelled while trying to pinch her back. she swiftly swatted your hand away and grabbed onto your shoulders to still your movements and continued to work on your hair. “you’re one to talk my lady, are you not almost a spinster yourself?”

you gasped sarcastically, “how cruel of you ophelia! how could i be blamed for the lack of options offered to me? it is not my fault that no one in this village is worth a damn. besides, they’re all just interested in the fortune mother and father left to me in the will; i’d rather be a wise old spinster than a young wedded idiot.”

“you have such a way with words.” ophelia jutted, while putting the finishing touches on your hair.

-

it was considered most improper for a lady of your stature to be out running errands with your ladies maid but the judgemental stares from the town’s folk stopped weighing on you not long after your mother and father’s passing. ophelia and yourself strolled comfortably through the cobblestone streets after spending a good portion of the day collecting various meats and breads from street vendors. the two of you needed to stock up on as much as possible to prepare for the cold weather that was surely on its way to styria.

styria experienced year-round melancholy weather, though you wouldn’t describe it as such. the grey sky’s and chilly winds were all you knew. you hadn’t experienced many sunny days, so the lack thereof did not take a toll on your emotional state. the same could not be said for the rare tourists that came to town, they would often experience large bouts of depressive episodes before finally deciding to leave and never come back.

you wondered how the new priest would take to the dismal climate. maybe he would be like the rare tourists and run away as fast as he could to get away from this sad little town. you shrugged the thought off, figuring that it didn’t matter much. you weren’t much on religion anyways, you only attended sunday service to keep a somewhat decent reputation.

“make haste!” ophelia yelled as she picked up her pace on the cobblestone street. your maid pointed to the dark clouds forming above the roofs, “a storm’s rolling in! we need to make it back before all this gets ruined!” she lifted the bags full of food in an upwards motion and began to run as the rain started to come down. you did your best to pull up your skirts to keep from ruining your hem, while also keeping the bags gripped tightly between your palms.

the two of you screamed when the rain began to pour, by the time you arrived back to the estate the two of you were sure to be a pitiful sight. ophelia helped you out of your wet shoes in the foyer, before removing her own and moved to the sitting room to start a fire. you let out a sigh when you saw the weather growing much more volatile outside the window.

the branches on all the trees lurched back and forth angerly in the wind, while lightning and thunder boomed across the sky. you felt wholly grateful to have made it safely indoors when you did. you moved into the sitting room when ophelia had successfully created a large crackling fire inside the hearth.

the two of you sat in silence, letting the warmth of the fire dry your damp clothes. it was important to dry yourselves in the sitting room, to not drag mud and water throughout the whole house.

you perched yourself on a chaise lounge near one of the large windows and removed your shoes. ophelia did the same, except she sat much closer to the fire, you gathered that she was on the verge of catching a chill which would explain her close proximity to the fire but you didn’t want to break the peaceful silence to ask her why she felt the need to practically dip her toes into the red hot flames. instead you turned your head back to the window to watch the erratic weather.

the calming warmth from the hearth, and the sound of rain hitting the window quickly lulled you to sleep. you weren’t sure how long you were out when you were awoken by an unpleasant noise out beyond your window. you heard what sounded like one hundred horses galloping on the road leading into town just past the trees lining your estate.

you would have thought the sound to be thunder, if the rain had not already ceased. your brows furrowed as you leaned closer to the window hoping to get a better look beyond the trees. the moon had risen during your slumber and you found it completely impossible to see beyond the greenery.

“who on earth would be traveling at this hour?” ophelia said from behind you. having not realized she was there, your shoulders jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of her voice. “and what is the hour?” you grumbled rubbing your puffy eyes.

“a quarter past midnight my lady, we best be getting you into bed now. for a proper rest.”

you nodded your head, allowing your friend to guide you by candlelight back to your bedchamber. sleep was hard to come by that night; you weren’t sure if it was due to your late evening nap or if it was the fact that your mind was plagued with wandering thoughts as to who was charging into town at such a late hour.

images of the large black horses stomping angrily through the mud carrying a gothic carriage filled your mind. you weren’t sure why the sight filled you with such terror, but also curiosity. It had to be someone wealthy, a common person could not afford to travel in such style.

could it be the new priest? you wondered. you blinked up at the canopy above your bed, no. you shook away the thought. what messenger of God would travel with such a lack of humility?

you decided it must’ve been a passerby, traveling to the capital perhaps. with your thoughts finally settled, you allowed for your mind to rest.

-

the stranger inside of the carriage found himself growing weary of the long ride. he sighed, pulling aside the velvet shades covering the window. his pupils dilated at the sight of the bright moon. it was full. many night creatures would be feeling the effects of the full moon. including himself.

he licked his lips, finally taking notice of just how insatiable his hunger truly was—-a hunger that even the finest of meals could not satisfy. the man idly rolled the black rosary through his fingers, remembering the role he would be playing in his new home. it would be much too suspicious if people began to drop dead the same night that the new practitioner of God arrives in town.

-

the days passed quickly leading up to sunday. you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity as you usually did on sundays, once again allowing ophelia to work her magic on readying you for the day. it was no easy feat on her part, you were sure. she chose to dress you in a simple white dress, conservative enough to attend the service. it covered the important things, while hugging your curves in the right places.

ophelia was busying herself with fixing the lining of your dress when the horseman arrived with the carriage your family passed down to you in tow. the ride to the church was pleasant enough. you found yourself enjoying the silence between you and your maid, and nodding when she commented on how dreary the weather was.

when entering the church the two of you exchanged pleasantries and smiles at the other townsfolk while moving to take your seats. the two of you sat in the front row of the old gothic church and waited for the service to begin.

“i’ll bet you four shillings that this priest, is an old goose just like father issac.” ophelia quipped into your ear. before you could chuckle at her heinous comment, the congregation began to rise at the entrance of the new leader of the church.

the energy in the room grew heavy with each step he took. a sea of darkness followed his tall lean frame. the man rounded the podium and swiftly cracked open his bible, not once looking up to face the crowd. it was as if he couldn’t be bothered with gazing upon the boring faces of the congregation.

you couldn’t blame him much, if you had features such as his you’d probably be just as uninterested as he. his sharp eyes eventually rose from the religious text that he was reading allowed to scan the crowd. your spine straightened anticipating his gaze.

your heart screamed for him to look your way, as a thin stand of raven hair fell across his face. your chest deflated when his eyes moved back down to the text, while pushing the strand away from his eyes. you pressed your thighs together, and determined yourself to pay close attention to the program pamphlet resting in your lap. anything to take your mind off of the man at the altar.

getou could sense your frustration, and was internally amused at how you hadn’t changed a bit—no matter how many lifetimes had passed since the last time he laid eyes on you. you were no immortal being like him. he could not blame you for not remembering him, and the love the two of you shared—but it didn’t stop the knot that formed in his cold dead chest.

the man had spent centuries searching for you, in your past life you promised him that you would meet again. getou spent the first hundred years following your untimely death by burning down and sucking the blood out of a handful of kingdoms. the next few hundred years his anger became a dull blade prodding his chest, and it allowed him to exist in society in whatever way he could to bide his time.

many years had passed. empires rose and fell, all while getou seeked to avenge your death and hoped for your reincarnation. oceans of time had passed and finally, you were all his.

________________________________

[kitkatpadywaks]

In Another Universe

Mini-Series: Part 3/?

The Meeting.

Pairing: Morpheus x Fem!Reader

Story: Dancing With The Devil (Alternate path from the end of part 2 of the story onwards)

Warnings: Third Person. Will Mostly Be Referred To As She (Called Y/N When Her Nickname Is Being Used And Will Occasionally Be Called By Her 'Angel' Name). She Has Kids. Daddy Issues. Some Angst. Tension (She's Keeping Secrets and Morpheus Knows It).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Major Spoilers for the Story (Klaus Mikaelson fic), like this existing spoils the mystery of who my character is as well as her character arc.

This will also be posted to my Wattpad.

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Y/N spends the next few weeks waiting. Waiting for the inevitable moment when she's face-to-face with him again. She waits for the Kindly Ones to tell them how to get into his realm, Dream's realm.

His name makes her shiver as she paces around the apartment. Like she had been doing since she got back from meeting Raphael's history professor friend who isn't a friend, Hob Gadling. Who she could tell was hiding something. Which she hopes is something painfully human as she knows her brother likes him, if his constant blush was anything to go by.

Oh fuck, I hope I don't look like that when I'm around Dream. She pauses her pacing when she hears the door open and close, looking at her brother in confusion when he appears in the kitchen where she stopped her pacing. "I thought you where staying with Hob for a bit longer?"

Raphael stares at his sister not knowing what to tell her, before deciding it's best to just tell her the truth, "I was, but an old friend of his turned up and I wanted to let them catch up."

She eyes her brother knowing there's more to the story, "But?"

"It was him..." He watches the confusion cross her face, then the understanding "Yeah, it was an awkward and long conversation. Cause it turns out, Hob is immortal and they've known each other for over six hundred years!"

She barely processes the information before Raphael is speaking again.

"And the Kindly Ones said to follow your instincts and they'll lead us to Dream's realm."

"Okay..." she stops him from walking away, "what happened with Hob? Did..."

"I kind of just went, 'Huh' and walked away. Then I ran into the Fates and came back here."

"You need to talk to him." She holds her hand up to stop him from interrupting her, "But for tonight, we'll eat, watch some films and then you're going to bed. Okay?"

Raphael nods, "But what am I going to tell him? 'Yeah. Hi. I'm your soulmate but get this. I'm from another universe so our relationship is doomed.'" He throws his hands into the air, groanng.

She snorts, ignoring the sting of their reality as her eyes tear up. "Maybe not that." She grabs his arm, dragging him into the living room. "Choose what we're going to watch, I'll grab the snacks."

She walks back into the kitchen and leans against the fridge as she tries to stop the tears from flowing down her face. After taking some deep breaths, she composes herself and grabs the bags of snacks she picked up from the shop on the way back from the pub. She walks back into the living room, determined to forget their inevitably doomed relationships.

The siblings decide to wait a few days before attempting the journey to Dream's realm, mostly based on Raphael wanting to be in a better mood and therefore more polite. Y/N gives him that as she knows it will be needed and she will be her usual self no matter how much time she may take to try and be otherwise.

She waits in the alleyway near their apartment for her brother, kicking around a can as she had been doing for the last five minutes, tensing up when she hears footsteps coming down the alleyway and relaxing when she sees her brother.

"Ready?"

She raises an eyebrow at him to which he just shrugs, releasing his grey wings from his back. She does the same, putting up a hand for him to wait as she takes a deep breath, trying to allow her instincts to take over. She stretches her wings briefly before taking off into the sky, Raphael following close behind her as she just flies, not thinking as she lets her wings and instincts lead the way. She closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind flowing through her feathers and her braided hair. Her eyes flutter open as she feels herself going through something. The feeling is not unlike when she goes through the rifts she makes to travel through universes, but softer, almost.

"Woah."

Her brother's quiet voice reaches her ears as she takes in the same thing he's seeing. The vast colourful land and the endless black beach, separated by gates that look giant even high in the sky. Raphael gestures towards an area of the beach that sits in the middle of the two different gates. She glides down onto the black sand, her powerful wings making it fly around her as she lands.

"Which one do we take?" Her brother asks as he lands behind her.

Their wings recede into their backs as she leads them to one of the gates. It opens as they draw near, revealing a woman with dark skin peering at them over round spectacles.

"Welcome to The Dreaming." She greets them with a polite smile.

They walk the long distance to the palace with the woman who introduced herself as Lucienne. The siblings walk along the path, greeting and being introduced to The Dreaming's residents they come across. Lucienne tells them about The Dreaming as they go, including what the function of the two gates is. The pointy-eared woman lets them know that the gate they went through, the gates of Horn, tells Lord Morpheus that they mean no harm to the realm and its resident. Which would have told him the opposite if they went through the other gates, the gates of Ivory.

She exchanges a look with Raphael, both finding it amusing that she had implemented something similar in Hell nearly twenty years ago so she could weed out who would be a threat to her daughter, Evie, who she was forced to raise in Hell, away from her little sister and her father.

They walk under the front gates of the palace, the siblings looking up at the living stone guards, the Gryphon, the Wyvern, similar looking to the one that watched over and protected her daughter in her universe, and the Hippogryph all watch the siblings walk into the home of their sovereign.

Lucienne leads them through the palace, through all the corridors until they stand in front of a set of doors, which open on their own when Lucienne knocks. They enter a large room, Raphael taking in the structure as Y/N stares at the man standing on the stairs leading up to a throne. They stop in front of the stairs, the siblings bowing simultaneously, feeling his inquisitive gaze. She locks eyes with the man she now knows as Dream or Morpheus, searching his expressive blue eyes while his face remains emotionless, much like her own. She is only distantly aware of Lucienne introducing him, coming back to the present when his gaze drifts over to her brother, her head turning to look at Raphael.

"It's an honour to be welcomed into your realm, Lord Morpheus. I am Raphael and this is my sister..." he hesitates

"Lucy. We've met." His eyes flicker to her and then back to her brother.

"Right." Raphael chuckles, Morpheus's intense gaze making him shift on the spot.

"Why have you sought an audience with me."

She looks up at Morpheus, "The Kindly Ones told us you may be able to help us."

He looks at her, a shiver going down his spine from hearing her voice for the first time. "And how might I do that?"

"We're looking for our father." Raphael buts in, "He's been rather difficult to pin down."

"Your father?" He questions, "Why?" Morpheus narrows his eyes at her, taking in her caution, and her pain. The pain he's felt since he first laid eyes on her, that he didn't realise was hers until that very moment. He could feel how cruel life had been to her.

She takes a deep breath as she looks at her brother. He returns the look, letting her decide what to tell him. She lets her instincts take over, glad that they don't seem to be marred by Morpheus. "Well, the short version is, he's dangerous and powerful. And he will do anything to keep that power, he has and he will threaten people and he'll kill them if he even thinks they're a threat. He won't stop, not unless we find him and bring him to justice. For everyone's sake. For every universe's sake."

"Every universe's sake?" Lucienne speaks from her position next to the stairs.

She looks at Lucienne, "We're from another universe. And we've been chasing our father across... I don't even know how many, universes. What I do know is, we have to be careful. If he knows we're in the same universe as him, he will move on and we'll have to start all over again."

The silence that follows makes her nervous, even more so when there's a tug in the back of her mind. She blocks it, glaring at Morpheus as his eyes momentarily flash silver, telling her that he knows she's holding something back.

"What do you need from me?" He asks hesitantly, letting her keep her secrets. For now.

Raphael opens and closes his mouth as he tries to think, frowning at his sister when he comes up with nothing. The Angels had no idea why the Kindly Ones had sent them to The Dreaming.

"What do you do? What are your powers?" She asks, figuring it was a good place to start.

"I hold the collective unconscious of every living being capable of dreaming. Controlling their dreams. Watching over them as they sleep. Though I'm not sure that includes your father, if he's anything like you described."

The sibling raise their eyebrows at him, as neither of them expected that answer.

Y/N's mind whirs around with thoughts, "It shouldn't need to." She ponders out loud, turning her head to look at her brother to see if he's on the same line of thought she is. He isn't, judging from the confusion on his face. "Our father can't resist boosting his own ego."

Raphael's face lights up with understanding.

"Miracles." The siblings say simultaneously.

She looks at Morpheus once again, "Has anyone been dreaming of, friends or family's miraculous recoveries from illnesses or someone saving them from certain death. Stuff like that."

There's a beat of silence, "I can't recall anything you have described."

She purses her lips, Morpheus's eyes flickering down to look at them. "Is there a way I can search through the dreams? I may be able to spot his influence where you can't."

He looks at her incredulously, "And what makes you think I would allow you to enter the minds of the dreamers?"

Her pride bristles at the question, before her common sense kicks in and she deflates. He has no reason to trust her, whether she passed the test at the gates or not, he knows she's hiding something, something big. She knows he can sense it, thanks to their bond, even if it has yet to be completely fulfilled.

"Because of what you feel..." Raphael blurs out, hoping his sister is right about them being soulmates, even if he doesn't believe it as he remembers when Klaus died. How much pain his death caused her, how much she went through to see him one last time, physically and mentally.

Morpheus's head snaps towards Raphael, his face darkening.

"The way every nerve lights up when you're in the same realm, the way you can't stop thinking about him... her!" Raphael's face flushes slightly making his sister smirk at him, "You know she doesn't mean any harm to your realm or the mortals. We're just here for our father and then we'll leave and you don't have to see or hear from us ever again."

The silence that follows weighs heavily on everyone in the room, even Lucienne starts shifting in place. Y/N examines Morpheus's face as he continues to stare her brother down, feeling as he tugs on their connection, as he confirms what he refuses to admit to himself, what he knows to be true.

"I will consider it. For now, you may search for your father in the library." Morpheus doesn't voice his displeasure at the thought of her leaving, of never seeing her again. His heart constricts as he thinks about how he can extend her stay, if he even should.

The siblings don't voice the question on the tips of their tongues, instead, they bow in respect and follow Lucienne as she leads them through a side door in the throne room, Morpheus's burning gaze following them until they're out of sight.

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Thanks for reading!

[thatphantomtroupelady]

~HIS SHADOW~

An x Unlikely x Alliance

Hanako- rescued from a travelling circus at a young age- dedicated the rest of her life to her savior and older brother, Hisoka. However, she eventually realises there are worlds beyond the one her brother rules in. Will she be able to escape his shadow by being a hunter?

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Word Count: 2k

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This year's exam-site was a large area of land, bordered by tall electric fences. Long blades of grass that reached upto her waist went on for acres, interrupted only by a tall tower in the middle of the field. It reminded her of a lighthouse, painted a faded red and white.

"Do you think he's the examiner?" Hanako stared at the short man standing atop the tower, hands on his hips.

Hisoka only hummed in response, wide eyes dancing across the examinees. Of course.

"What do you think the exam this year is going to be?" She nudged his leg with a knee, annoyed.

"Who knows~" He continued his nonchalant assessment.

"You're in a mood." She scoffed. "What? Nervous? Excited? Or... bored?"

Hisoka tilted his head up to the skies, lost in thought. "Who knows~" He repeated, smiling down on her.

"Huh?" She glared up at him. "You're only doing that because you know it pisses me off."

"Who knows~" He patted her head in a mocking show of affection, walking away. When she began to follow him, he paused. "You know you can go off somewhere without me too."

"But- you like it when I'm with you... don't you?"

"Who knows~" He shrugged, continuing his pace.

"Fine." She rolled her matching golden eyes at his retreating figure. "I can manage on my own too, you know. I don't need you." She made an effort to say the last part louder, only getting more frustrated when he refused to 'grace' her with a reaction. Narcissist.

Before she could recover from that blow to her ego, a short stout man with a poor excuse of a friendly smile began to approach. Bad timing.

"Oh hey!" He babbled. "You know that guy? He looks pretty intimidating, huh?"

Hanako crossed her arms, turning away. "Who knows."

The man blinked stupidly before regaining his composure. "Right... I forgot to introduce myself. How rude! My name is Tonpa-" After a judging pause, he proudly added, "-and this is my 33rd attempt at the hunter exam."

"Psht. Thirty-three? You're really that weak? I mean you look weak, sure but... that's a bit too much."

She could sense Tonpa's aura flaring in suppressed anger as he gave her a nervous laugh. He can use nen? But no... his aura isn't strong enough to have been trained. Maybe he doesn't even know about it himself?

"If you keep failing so much, why keep trying?" She attempted to prod.

"Well," He smiled, scratching the back of his head with one hand, "I guess I'm a bit addicted to it."

"Sure." Hanako was unconvinced.

"Hmm... I'd say we have a toast to friendship!" Without waiting for an answer, he sets his rucksack on the ground and begins to go through it, careful to hide the remaining contents from her sight.

Is his plan now to team up with someone strong to pass? She wouldn't mind playing around with him really. At first notice, he appeared quite simple and week. Yet, she could sense something brewing under the surface, a potential waiting to be unlocked. After all, finding the exam site thirty-three times and not dying in each of his thirty two attempts so far has to count for something.

"Here!" He pulled out two cans of orange juice, holding one out for her.

"Cool." She mumbled as she accepted. She was thirsty anyway. The moment she pressed her lips to the can, Tonpa's aura shook with glee. Something was wrong. She pretended to take a sip.

"Like it?" He grinned.

Hanako shrugged. After a moment, she continued. "You wanna team up?"

Tonpa's eyes widened. "Wanna what?"

She shrugged once more. "Team up. I doubt it's agains the rules or anything."

"Why would you wanna team up with me?" He was on high alert.

"Maybe I just wanna see you pass." She glanced at the examiner high atop the tower, so high in fact that she could barely discern his appearance. "Who knows~"

Tonpa gulped. "Fine." He sounded more serious now. As the two shook hands, Hanako attempted to agitate his aura. He only frowned, pulling away a bit early.

"So... what's your name?" Tonpa asked, slightly more at ease.

"Just call me by my number. I don't like giving out names unless I have to."

"Sure." Tonpa read out the tag attached to her bright orange hoodie. "Number fifty-one. It's gonna be quite a while before the others arrive, huh? How about we find a nice place to sit?"

"Uh huh." The two walked on for a bit, before Hanako decided to settle down against the tower, placing the still-full can of juice next to her. At least the grass was shorter there. As she pressed the side of her head to the wall, however, a faint rumble shook her brain. What?

Backing off, she pressed her hands to the wall instead. A series of faint rumbles. Some over the other. A lack of a pattern. Couldn't be a machine.

"Hey," She frowned at Tonpa. "What do you think could be-"

"ALRIGHT!" The sudden announcement from above rattled her. The microphone sizzled before the examiner continued, "WELCOME TO THE TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY SIXTH HUNTER EXAM!" Shit. The stupid speaker was only a few feet above her. She ran a good few metres back with Tonpa at her heel before stopping to glare up at the examiner.

"I will be the examiner for your first phase, that shall begin in ten seconds. Survive to pass!" With that, he began counting down. "Ten! Nine! Eight!" Everyone took a wary fighting stance as one side of the bottom wall of the tower began shifting up to reveal metal bars. A cage? "Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three!" As the door stopped extending, the entire cage came into view. Beasts of all shapes and sized snarled inside, restless for blood. They were somewhat trained though, Hanako noticed. Despite being crammed into such a space, none of them were attacking each other. "Two! One! ZERO!"

More than half the examinees let out panicked cries, running away from the tower as the metal bars suddenly disappeared at 'zero'. Tonpa, too, was about to break into a run, before Hanako grabbed him by the collar. "As long as you stay close to me, I'll protect you, yeah?"

Trembling with fear, Tonpa nodded. The idiot was already trusting her with his life. Fine.

A big frog with wide blurry gray eyes took ridiculously high leaps towards them, Hanako's aura flared. Already, two examinees had been crushed under its weight, blood and gore stuck to its belly and feet. Suddenly, Hisoka's words before they entered the exam site echoed in her brain. "Don't show off your nen." Fair. The beast was not using any extra, so why should she?

Beside her Tonpa shuddered. "You'll take care of it, r- r- right? Because I sure as hell won't be able to."

"Of course." She took out a small but deadly sharp knife, previously hidden in her right boot. Amidst the chaos and the anxiety of the beast almost upon them, she focused. Using Gyo should be fair game. It was always useful in figuring out the weakness of the opponent. There was a complete lack of aura in his eyes. The stupidly big frog was... blind.

"Come on." She grabbed Tonpa's hand, forcing him to run along.

"Didn't you just say-" He began, panting with both mental and physical exertion.

"We don't have to fight it." She explained as they kept running towards a more emtpy area. She had stopped flinching over dead bodies a long time ago, but the amount of blood, gore and screams strewed around still kept her uneasy. The examiner was certainly a sadistic one.

Suddenly, an enlarged decapitated head of a... tiger? began rolling towards them at a great speed. The hell? It has only a single big eye where two should be and red bubbling drool oozed out of its mouth, spilling around in its trail. Where its neck should be was only a seemingly-thick layer of dark red skin. Its creepy eye was locked onto her, leaving her with no doubt that this one could in fact see. Fine then.

Leaping forward to take it head on (pun intended), she held the knife out in front of her, bringing the blade down just before she landed on its head. The beast screeched out, drool splashing in her general direction. Pulling out the knife from its eye a little too late before she jumped back, a few drops of the liquid landed on her collarbone, sizzling the skin there.

"Hisoka!" She cried out without thought as the chemical rapidly ate away at her skin and flesh. Through adrenaline blurred vision, she saw the creepy tiger head blindly rolling towards a stunned Tonpa, as she landed back on the ground. Shit. Bracing her body for a run, she- stopped.

A

 blur of motion and two cards were lodged at the side of its 'neck' ended. Before she could realise she was slipping, a strong hand was supporting her back. Hisoka. The moment her brain said his name, his smiling face came into view.

"Relax," He said softly, but she knew it was an order. "The chemical has cooled down. There's not much damage, except to your shirt, if you count that." With a dramatic sigh, he added. "When I said you shouldn't use nen, I meant your nen ability. Not things like Ten and Ren. Don't disappoint me." Abruptly, he let go and disappeared in another blur of motion.

Hanako struggled to catch her breath, wide eyes searching for Tonpa. There. He was crouched down in the grass, trembling arms over his head. The now-unmoving tiger head lay dead at his side.

Don't disappoint me. Hisoka's words played over in her head as she looked for another target. Since so many examinees were dead or fatally injured by now, there were less beasts running around and more feasting on their prey. The sight, on such a large scale, was an awful one. She had researched the trials on previous exams but had never even heard of one this brutal. How had he even been allowed to do this? She wondered as she noticed Hisoka fighting the bigger beasts around in the distance, his bloodlust in a frenzy. Of course he was enjoying the cruel atmosphere.

Watching him playing with the beasts like that, however, made her itch for a proper fight too. With a burst of Ren, she ran towards the nearest target. A big snake with a long tongue swallowing the eyes of a dead examinee. As she got closer, it shifted its focus on to her, releasing its whip-like tongue at her. Dodging its first attack, she used Gyo to find a vital point. Its belly. The snake hissed at her as she drew closer, launching another attack. This time, she slashed away its tongue, leaving it defenseless. As the snake helplessly thrashed around, she flipped it over with a strong kick and drove the blade in its underside. A fountain of blue blood spIurted out of its wound as it hissed once more and twitched for the last time.

One more. Her wild eyes scanned the field, landing on a large ostrich with an unusually long neck, head bobbling as it ran around aimlessly. She ripped the knife out of the snake, wiping the blood on the tall blades of grass around. As she positioned the knife, however, an ear-splitting whistle echoes throughout the arena, catching the attention of all beasts. In a frenzied hurry, they all began dashing back towards the tower. In a minute, they were all inside, the metal bars back on. A few more seconds and the tower door slid back down as before.

Hanako sighed. Too bad.

"All survivors! Please gather around the tower. If you're still standing without major injuries, you will be permitted to move on to the next phase. You have thirty seconds."

Tonpa. She suddenly remembered once more and returned to where she had last seen him. As the examiner's loud count down assaulted her ears, she nudged his head with a foot. "Hey! Next round. Come on!"

Slowly, he turned his head up. "It's- it's o- o- over?"

"Yeah." She looked at him more closely. "You don't seem to be in much of a condition to try the next phase. You sure you wanna continue?"

The determination returning in his eyes, he stood back up, brushing away dust from his clothes with a hand. "I'm fine."

"Good for you."

Near the end of the countdown, the pair joined the small group waiting at the foot of the tower. "...Two, One, and... Zero!" The voice boomed. "Congratulations! The fifty-three remaining applicants, out of the original 239, have passed the first phase of the hunter exam. A total of eleven applicants have lost their lives while the rest 175 are too injured mentally and/or physically to continue."

Only eleven? She hadn't expected fifty-three applicants to be able to pass either. Maybe she had overestimated the examiner's penchant for sadism. Oh well.

"The buses for taking you to the next exam site will be here in a moment. In the meantime, please wait patiently. No fights allowed."

With a sigh, Hanako walked over to sit against the tower once more. A familiar rumbling greeted her and she smiled, just then realising how drenched in blood she was.

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[head-hopping]

Years, part IX

What don’t talk to me okay. Previous chapters here. LOL

Madi don’t hate me anymore~

~~

Seven months later

The spring Carlotta arrived in Paris invariably altered to summer, then slipped quietly into fall. Her residency remained at the Mackintosh homestead, tucked securely within the guest room that at some point had gained a hint of her touch, the altered bedspread certainly not enough to claim a space, but she had become comfortable enough to make at least a little mark on her world.

It had taken time to reach that point, but even she took it as a step into the right direction.

That morning, after her arrival, had been a trying one. Carlotta could do nothing but thank whatever fortune she had left that Aisling actually approached her first, the young woman looking utterly contrite and ashamed for her lack of fortitude. That, naturally, stirred something within Carlotta, her own need to offer some measure of comfort, little though it had been. Though she held affection for her two nephews, Carlotta had actually tended Aisling after her birth, during the darkest hour of Colin and Erika’s then broken relationship. For Carlotta, those months with Aisling had been the only child-rearing she ever properly performed…

But that had not been the time for such thoughts.

“Aisling…” Carlotta had said, the weight on her unfeeling heart suddenly so heavy. She had taken the young woman’s hands in her own, squeezing tightly. “The only apology necessary is my own. I have…I have been tried, and there are many matters that came together to such a result.”

Aisling’s green eyes had expressed such trouble, looking between Carlotta’s own. “What matters could have brought about such a result?”

Carlotta had only smiled, as much as she could. “Matters that are of no consequence to a vibrant young lady as yourself. Do not carry them, Aisling. Please.”

“Alright…if you say so, Aunt Lotta.”

Though even then Carlotta could tell the cryptic nature of that conversation did not please Aisling at all, but nothing more of it need be said. Carlotta absolutely refused to pass that burden to the next generation, and if she could not have been rid of it with her own child, then she could certainly ensure Colin’s children never so much as heard a word of it.

Over the following weeks, Carlotta had been coaxed into the kitchen, as Erika was quite busy with nursing her youngest back to health. Carlotta found that she had not lost her touch for enjoyable meals, and the work with her hands became a means of forcing her mind off the past. Colin certainly appreciated it, as did Aisling and Elias, when the young man was around.

When Leonce finally awoke, Carlotta was finally able to meet him in more than just a few lines in an old letter. In fact, she took it upon herself to aid Erika now that the bearish mother could relax knowing her son would live through his ordeal. Through the nights, Carlotta would sit next to Leonce’s bed, quietly reading or stitching, fetching anything the boy needed if he woke in the night.

She could not help but notice, though, that Leonce was a bit younger than Lonzo, by more than a three years or so, and yet he’d gone off to join the navy, where he had earned wounds, and thus his illness that had not been fully taken care of by some mistake or another. He was a lively young man, though, even in his tired state. That smile no doubt looked quite fetching to all manner of young ladies, especially when in his uniform, even though he had been nothing but a cabin boy—or rather, in charge of the cabin boys, he made certain his aunt knew.

Perhaps it was the general atmosphere of the household that settled Carlotta in, or the sense of being useful that she in part craved, but a spark of her own life and livelihood budded tentatively within the Mackintosh household.

And during the summer, upon hearing of Carlotta’s residency in Paris, Fiona paid a surprise visit—though Carlotta suspected that Colin and Erika knew ahead of time. But to see her cousin flourishing with Thomas, her gentle nature actually nurtured and protected by a loving husband, this Carlotta nearly did not stand. And not in a negative, jealous, petty way—or so she told herself, but the emotion had been so fleeting that she could tell herself freely that it never happened at all—but seeing Fiona having bloomed into a beautiful wife and mother, it offered Carlotta yet another comfort to know that her family has escaped the hell that seemed to curse the DiRusso line.

Speaking of motherhood, though! Behind Thomas and Fiona trailed a sea of delicately redheaded children, six in all, all having come specifically for the purpose of meeting their aunt none have ever met.

It was…a bit overwhelming, to be perfectly honest, and the first night after their arrival, Carlotta wept quietly in her room, if only because it hurt to have the depth of her own heart touched back alive again. Like a jolt, a strike of lightning, Carlotta found it difficult to breathe, but her thanks for Fiona’s wonderful life could only be expressed with tears that no one saw.

Except, somehow, Erika saw. Somehow Erika saw a lot. Perhaps because such despair was familiar to the other woman. Except for a word, a gesture, in fresh cups of tea sitting on Carlotta’s nightstand before bed, the women tiptoed around one another, yet unable to break the strain of being strangers.

Carlotta had no intentions of going back to Italy, however, so they ought to have time for warming.

One sign of such? It arrived on Carlotta’s birthday, a day that has been of no real consequence to her for some years. A day that did not bother to remind of itself, save for the occasions when Carlotta happened to notice the date. But tonight upon her birthday, she found herself swept into an evening at the opera at the Palais Garnier. A place of beauty and talent, one once guided by her own hand.

As Carlotta ascended the steps, she gazed up at the face of the grand building, the gaslight lamps vividly illuminating the golden color in the evening darkness. Memory overtook her as soon as she stepped inside, of a lifetime ago while discussing business with patrons, dodging those who thought it their duty to run the little women, or at the very least run her off and give the managerial position back to a man. Late evenings of paperwork, or contending with the self-professed phantoms who at first cajoled to have their own way within these walls. One of whom married her cousin, and the other… Well, not even Erika was certain what might have happened to him. As her life pulled further and further from the opera house, so it did from him as well. However, Erika was almost certain that he discovered his own happiness, and with a dancer of all things.

In any case, as Carlotta approached the grand staircase, lit brightly for the evening event, she came to a stop in the middle of the noisy foyer, the slip of a smile somehow finding its way onto her expression. So much in her younger years revolved around this building…so much…

Her gaze dropped, turning to Erika, who stood close beside her, watching intently for any sign of another outburst of emotion. But Carlotta merely smiled a bit wider, reaching out to gently, and briefly, touch Erika’s arm.

“I am alright,” she assured the masked woman—a mask that blended into Erika’s skin color, helping her to blend without startle, as it was simply easier to venture out in this manner.

Erika smirked, a flicker of amused relief darting through her eyes. “Wonderful. I had hoped this would do you good, not harm.”

“Knowing that Elias will be playing this evening was more than enough incentive to chance the Garnier again.” Carlotta took a deep breath, seeming more at ease than she has in a long time. Edged, yes, and guarded, but willing to step out from behind those barricades more and more. Especially for tonight. “I must admit…I held some dread for stepping foot in here once more, but I am glad I did.”

Behind the pair of them, Colin slipped up, gently, and without thinking, touching both Erika and Carlotta at their backs, though his hand lingered only on Erika’s. His brows were raised as he leaned down a bit between them. “And how are we fairing this far?”

“Delightful,” Erika intoned with cheekiness. “But there is no need for both of us to hover like hens, Colin. You will suffocate Lotta and I.”

He scoffed. “Nonsense. I only wanted the privilege of escorting the two most lovely women here to our box. Ah—three,” he amended quickly as Aisling made some manner of strangled noise, appearing at his side and bumping into him.

“Da! Don’t be rude. Go on and say three. Aunt Lotta ought to be included in this lovely bunch.” And she grinned, winking at her aunt in a devilish manner that bespoke mightily of her mother.

“Oi, stop getting me into trouble!” Colin laughed, but sighed loudly. “Ach, it’s too late for that anyway. Shall we? Before I get let out into the cold?”

Twenty years ago doubtlessly Carlotta would have had a snappish remark without a thought, but now all she could muster was a closed smile, able to share in the amusement at least. Besides which, Erika’s comment sufficed, but Carlotta’s attention diverted suddenly as a slight chill touched her. She glanced back towards the front doors, suspecting that their loitering near the doors must have caught her in line with a gust of fall breeze floating inside. And that may have been part of the case, save for the thick shawl draped over her shoulders that had been more than adequate outside, let alone inside the warmed building.

Before she turned back to her family, however, she caught sight of someone peering in her direction as he stood closer to the opening and closing doors. Carlotta would have passed the man by, but the second jolt, this one accompanied by a surge of recognition, stole her breath.

Salvatore Barozzi, hand balanced perfectly on his cane, hat in hand, stared with naked shock in his expression as other patrons were forced to move around him in order to get inside. The looks they shot he obviously did not see, or even feel.

Not that Carlotta did much better. Colin and the rest might have left her behind, as she did not hear or see whether they called her.

What sort of alignment must have occurred to have them standing here tonight of all nights, in Paris, at the Garnier?

[saetoru]

GENSHIN + MORNING SEX

「 CHARACTERS 」 ⋮ alhaitham, scaramouche, diluc + kazuha

— length ⋮ 2k words (about 500 each)

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, unprotected sex + slight exhibitionism (alhaitham), praise kink + hand jobs (scaramouche), somnophilia + fingering + edging + clit slaps + begging (diluc), unprotected sex + overstimulation + praise kink + creampie (kazuha)

— notes ⋮ this started as separate drabbles for diluc and alhaitham but they were too short to stand alone sobs. also it’s my first time writing kazuha for @dottores

❀ 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌.

“h-haitham…” you gasp, feeling alhaitham’s teeth just barely graze your nipples as he sucks at the skin, his other hand cupping your tit and rubbing a thumb along the pebbled bud. “kaveh’s just down the hall—”

“and?” he raises a brow, making you huff.

“and he’ll hear,” you hiss, pulling a scoff from him as he pulls the material of your pants down your thighs.

“then i guess you’ll just have to keep it down,” he hums, a smug grin tugging at his lips, making your core ache—and sometimes, you hate him. sometimes, you hate that just the look on his face alone is enough to convince you to cave, legs spreading as your glistening folds are exposed for him. 

he taps the fat tip of his cock against your clit, making you whimper in anticipation as he slides along your entrance, coating himself in your slick and smearing his leaking pre cum along your folds. and you try—to your credit, you really do try to stay quiet…but the burning stretch of alhaitham’s thick girth as he slides into you is enough to make you let out a weak sob. 

“f-fuck—haitham, please,” you gasp, “more, need more…so big.” 

he grins widely, letting out a low chuckle as he angles his hips and fucks into you, tip pressing against your sweet spot with enough force to make your nails dig into his shoulders as you mewl. his navel bumps against your clit, and the tight clamp of your walls around his painfully hard cock pulls a low grunt from him against your ear. 

“so tight,” he chokes, “f-fuck, you’re so good for me, yeah? a-always…always take me so well. gonna fill you up,” he rasps as your walls flutter around him and a mix of your arousal and his pre cum form a ring around the base of his cock. 

he thrusts his hips into you harshly, the squelching sound of his length drilling into you filling the quiet of the morning along with your desperate moans and his low grunts. it’s sure to catch the attention of your boyfriend’s roommate, but alhiatham can’t bring himself to care. it’s his house—and he’ll fuck you against the walls out in the open if he so chooses, he reasons. 

his eyes darken as your hand covers your mouth, trying your hardest to muffle the sounds that rip from your throat as he bullies his cock deep into your dripping cunt. 

“what, you don’t want him to hear how good i make you feel? is that the issue?” he sneers, wrapping a hand around your wrist and tugging your hand away from your mouth, making you gasp as he rolls his hips and hits a particularly sensitive spot against your walls. his thumb finds your clit, rolling harsh circles along the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling a loud whine from you as you throw your head back and let your eyes flutter shut. “are you hearing yourself? do you hear how good i give it to you?” 

you’re too busy sobbing at the way the blunt head of his length hits your sweet spot with every roll of his hips to focus on the knocking on the door—the same knocking that makes alhaitham smirk as he quickens his pace, making sure you scream his name even louder to drown out a certain blonde as he demands peace and quiet.

❀ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄.

scaramouche has places to be as a harbinger—duties to get to and a job that keeps him rather occupied. rationally, he should be out the door by now…but your lips are a lot more enticing than carrying out his responsibilities. he tells himself he’ll pull away after just one more second, after just one more extra moment feeling you against him.

but then you start rubbing against him like that, and the bulge in his pants forming can’t be helped. it’s your fault—it’s your fault he’s late…but somehow, he doesn’t really seem like he minds. 

“if you have to go, then go,” you tease, pulling a growl from him as he glares at you. the hard-on between his legs is aching—throbbing to sink into your wet cunt and feel the tight hug of your walls. he shoots you a warning glance, making you giggle as you reach under his waistband and free his hardened cock. it’s heavy in your hands, red and flushed at the tip and weeping with beads of pre cum that have you hungry for the taste of him on your tongue. 

you stroke him languidly a few times, smearing his arousal around the sensitive skin, squeezing around his tip and pulling a weak groan from his throat. 

“d-don’t even think about teasing,” he glowers, making you chuckle before you press gentle kisses along his cheek, pressing your lips over his closed eyes until they travel to the tip of his nose. he gasps, biting his lips and whining as your hand brushes away stray strands of hair from his forehead and cups his cheek. 

“so pretty, kuni,” you murmur, “you look so pretty like this, you know. love you,” you breathe against his lips, pressing a soft peck against his mouth as he moans into yours. 

your thumb grazes his slit, teasing the tip of his cock, making his hips buck into your fist as he chases the friction. your other hand moves to cup his balls, squeezing and fondling them as your palm drags up and down his length quickly. his breathing is erratic now, harsh and labored as breathy whines fill the room with every second he approaches his orgasm. 

“i—’m gonna cum,” he rasps, “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum���don’t stop,” he tries to demand, but the tone in his voice is bordering on a plead, almost as desperate as the way his hips fuck up into your hand to chase his release. 

you press lingering kisses along his jaw and cheeks, whispering hushed praises and gentle promises that you won’t stop—not until he’s cum for you and painted your hand white with his release. 

“s’ok, kuni,” you murmur, “just cum for me, okay? c’mon, baby.” 

with a choked gasp, he falls over the edge, thick ropes of cum shooting from his tip and coating your hand as you work him through his orgasm, taking in the sight of his parted mouth and closed eyes, taking in the blissed-out expression as he breaks under your touch. 

and scaramouche has things to do and places to be—but he can’t bring himself to leave the comforts of your arms as you wrap them around him gently. 

❀ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂.

diluc wakes up earlier than you every morning—it’s the norm. but sometimes, on days he comes home particularly late and roughed up, on days that are rare and far in between, you wake up to the sight of him still in bed, nestled under the sheets with crimson streaks that paint the pillowcase. 

it’s hard to resist him, and even harder to ignore the slight bulge of his morning wood that already taunts you. you argue it couldn’t hurt—and how could it when he sounds so pretty as he groans in his sleep with just a simple touch? your hand tucks under his boxers to expose his hardened cock from its confinements, slowly stroking it and smearing the leaking pre cum around his thick girth. 

it’s not long until his eyes blink open, peering up at you confused as he sucks in a harsh breath and moans at the way you squeeze around his swollen tip.

“f-fuck—what’s gotten into you—”

“luc,” you whine, “need you so bad,” you grab his hand, bringing it to feel the dampness forming between your legs, making his breath hitch.

and every plan he has for the morning flies out the window—diluc is a busy man with a busy schedule, but he’s never too busy for you. he doesn’t waste too much time rolling over you and pinning your hands over your head, leaning to kiss gently along your neck as his fingers sink into your dripping cunt. he’s purposefully slow—takes his time sinking his digits in and curling them against your sweet spot, rolling his palm over your clit with a ghost of a touch that has you whimpering. 

“i suppose i’ll just have to give you a lesson on being patient, won’t i?” he mumbles, bullying his fingers in and out of you painfully slow, pulling a needy whimper from your lips.

“faster,” you plead, “please, i wanna cum, luc. go faster, ‘s not enough—”

“be patient,” he growls, pulling his fingers out to land a warning slap against your clit, making you writhe against the sheets as you sob. the ache between your legs is painful—you want to feel the burning stretch of his thick cock, the familiar friction of his veins dragging along your walls as he splits you open. but he has other plans—plans that consist of teaching you a lesson for waking him up so selfishly…even if he can’t really say he minds it.

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, tears gathering at your lash line, “jus’ needed to feel you, ‘s all,” you pout, and he leans to press a soft kiss to your jaw, thumb teasing your clit as your walls clench painfully around nothing.

“i know,” he hums, “but i still have to teach you about being patient, love.”

❀ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀.

kazuha is a little bit greedy—just a little selfish when it comes to you and the way you feel under his body. he wakes up to you nestled against his side, pressed against him firmly and close enough that he can almost hear the pounding of your heart. you fit against him so well, and your hips curve into his hands a little too perfectly—who is he not to appreciate the feeling of you molding against his touch?

it’s not long until he has you pinned underneath him, his breath hot against your neck as he pants into your skin, hips sloppy and out of rhythm as he ruts into you desperately. he’s lost count of how many times he’s fucked you full of his load—of how many times you’ve cum around his cock as he pulls you into orgasm after orgasm. 

“k-kazu—”

“shh,” he coos, pressing sweet kisses to the tears on your cheeks, brushing his nose against yours as his fingers lace to connect your hands. he’s sweet—so sweet even as he utterly destroys you, the pleasure mingling with pain as you sob from the sensitivity. “just one more, love. i promise one more is all i want.”

it’s a lie—it’s what he said the last time, and the time after that, you think. the sun’s rays pour through the curtains, kissing your overheated skin and glistening the surface with sweat as he drills his spent cock into your dripping cunt. 

“c-can’t,” you protest weakly, wobbly lips and teary eyes peering up at him, pulling at his heartstrings with how perfect you look. “‘s too much—’m gonna…gonna break,” you gasp.

“now, let’s not be dramatic,” he chuckles, nipping at the skin along your jaw, sucking gently before kissing the marks he paints along every inch of you he can reach. “you want to be good, don’t you? wouldn’t you…ngh—” he cuts himself off with a weak groan as you squeeze around him, letting out a shaky breath, “—w-wouldn’t you want to be good for me?”

and you ponder his words so carefully before nodding, making him stare at you affectionately as you hiccup through cries and latch onto him tightly. you pull him into a needy kiss, whining against his mouth and letting him swallow your moans as he slams the blunt head of his cock against your sweet spot, curving into you and dragging his thick veins along your tight walls. 

it’s too much—but somehow, you can’t help but ache to give him more. 

“yes, ‘m good,” you nod, “wanna be good.”

“so perfect,” he breathes, and with another press of his mouth to yours, you come undone, mewling as your walls spasm around him and pull a low grunt from his lips, making his hips falter before he’s whining and spilling yet another load into your abused cunt. “love you—love you so much…so perfect.”

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[carlplsrailme]

𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: carl and y/n hate each other, and Carl finally has enough and decides to fuck the attitude out of her

carl grimes x fem!reader

cw: mirror fucking, heavy degradation, manhandling, hate fucking, no pet names except for 'baby'

word count: 2k

request: do you take requests? if so could you write a oneshot where the reader and carl ‘hate’ eachother and they’re forced to go on a run together by rick but then they argue the whole way there and when they get inside the house or whatever he’s sick of her attitude so he fucks her infront of a mirror and degrades the fuck out of her lol with lines like ‘look at you falling apart for me’

you stretch your jaw as the trees whip past the window, lips puckered together as you refuse to speak to your...company

"you can't ignore me forever," he says with an audible scoff, you can feel from here how his eyes rolled back in his head.

Rick made you guys go on a run together, nothing serious, just to check a convenience store's pharmacy for any leftover meds, except there are two problems.

1: Rick already knows it's a lost cause checking for meds in the most obvious of places, it'll be empty, we already know that.

and 2: You're driver had to be that jackass himself, Carl

So why does this jackass need to annoy you this entire drive? he hates you, the least he can do is shut up for himself

you sink deeper in the leather seats as you rub your lips together to keep them silent, already wishing you were back in Alexandra instead of this useless run

"Fine. don't talk, I'm just trying to make sure we come home with meds" he huffs and turns back to the jagged road, chest staggered and jaw twitching with anger

"Oh come'on, you don't actually think there's gonna be meds, right?" you almost laugh as you sit up to turn to the one-eyed boy

"This is your daddy's way of us getting along." you hiss. 'matter of factly' voice stretching through your tone 

"Don't think you're so special, he wouldn't waste gas for us to start talking" he bit the corner of his lip as his grip on the wheel turned white as he tried for you not to get to him

"You've been such a fucking prick since you got here. head too big that your daddy's the main man and now you think you own the fucking place" you yell, waving your arms around as he shooks his head to struggle a laugh

"You were the one that I tried to get along with but YOU were too full of yourself to say hi, YOU scoffed and walked away the moment I approached you" You continue. raising your voice a little too loud as you make your point

"maybe if you were such a fucking brat I would be at home right now." you cross your arms and stare back at the window.

"maybe if you could read situations better I'd be at home too." he whispered. you squinted your eyes while your brows furrowed down about to turn to carl for him to elaborate but the slam of the car stopping caught your attention first

"Were here"

"Told you. absolute bullshit." you huff while you lean on the counter, Carl paces back and forth down the aisle trying to find anything to show they did something

"He wouldn't have us risk our lives for some field trip of being friends." He says, back turned to you as he picks up random things, blowing off the dust as he reads the packaging before placing it back down

"Honestly, with how shits turning out right now I wouldn't cross it off as a possibility" you sang as you messed around with a pen, laying your back on the counter as you waited for Carl to be done 

"Fuck, can you try to do some shit instead of just laying there" He spat, resting one arm on the cold empty shelves as he looks at you

"Fine, dammit" you shouted, grabbing your knife and hopping off the counter, you jogged over to one of the rooms in the back, not thinking twice before swinging the door open as a walker leaned into you

"Fuck!" you said as adrenaline rushed through your veins, his grimy teeth trying to nip at your arm before your blade met his demise...well, his second demise

the walker splatted on the floor as you turn to a very shocked carl who already had his gun pointed up

"See that? the dumb shit that your dad is putting us through? He nearly nipped my arm and that's on you" you huffed, he opened his mouth to respond but you walked passed him

"I'll be in the car."

"I said I'm sorry!" his voice rang as you stomped up his steps, ready to give Rick one hell of a speech

"doesnt.fucking.matter" you said sternly, he was trailing right behind you yet you still slammed the door on him, making him even more pissed

"where the hell is that cop?" you yelled, running upstairs as Carl grabbed your arm, you tugged it off you as you started walking to one of the rooms upstairs

"just- fuck- can you listen to me?" he shouted but you twisted one of the doorknobs and stumbled into a boyish room you can only assume belongs to carl

Carl followed with you, right as you entered the room he closed the door to keep you put, closing his eyes to try and collect the very little patience he had left

"move. asshole" and then you took it

"FUCK! do you ever just shut the fuck up?!" he yelled, anger getting the best of him as you stood with widened eyes, never having Carl yell at you like this

He walked closer to you, noses almost touching as his jaw clenched in anger

"It's all I ever hear! just you whining and complaining! I'm so fucking sick of it" 

you stare at him with nothing to say, completely stunned at his sudden demeanor, he relaxed his shoulders with a slight sigh

with a sudden swoop he grabbed your jaw, lips attacking yours as he made out with you

"see? so much fucking better" he hissed, teeth clanking together in another kiss as he picked you up by your thighs, slamming you into the wall, you gasped and he took that chance to slide his tongue into your annoyingly sweet mouth

your tongues lapped together as you felt something shift in him, his cock throbbing in his jeans as they rubbed up to your ever begging cunt

he groaned on your lips, taking them away for a breather as his fingers tugged on your chin to look up at him

"fuck, I don't hate you" he got interrupted by himself closing his eye as his dick asked for attention

"I never have, I didn't 'scoff and walk away' I mumbled an 'excuse me' and stubbled off because I didn't know how to talk to you" He says with a slight chuckle, your eyes were glued on his as you felt guilt build up in you

"then..." he sang, a cocky smile on his lips as you already know what he's gonna say

"you started being a fucking brat" he threw your head to the side as he let go of your chin, kissing your lips again as his hand neared your clothed pussy

he slowly rubbed you through your jeans, fluttering at the sensation but you needed more

"don't fucking tease" "don't fucking speak." he raised his voice, you zipped up immediately in shock, but you couldn't help the way his tone had your back slightly arching off the wall

he kissed you again, fingers wrapping around your zipper and unbuttoning your jeans before your panties were in view 

he had you stand on your own for a second as he brought them down, hooking his fingers on your panties before pulling them down, an embarrassing amount of slick piled up on them as he looked up to you with an innocently confused stare -and an out of place smirk strained on his lips

he quickly pocketed the panties as he had his jeans hung low on his hips, enough for his boxers to be pulled down, and his cock to be revealed

your eyes were stuck on it, pretty red tip leaking with pre and angry veins traveling up his cock, it stood proud as he tapped your thighs for them to hop up on him again

your legs wrapped around his hips as he lined himself up with you, twitching in anticipation and a slight whine coming from your voice

"just wait, don't be annoying" he watched as you clenched and unclenched around nothing at his tone

he slowly entered his tip in, a groan vibrating from his chest as fucked himself deeper in your needy pussy

"Carl" you couldn't help but moan, he was stretching you out so so good, cock bullying his way in and you loved every second of it

when he was fully in, he waited -for you to adjust at first...then, just to play with you

you whined his name again but this time in frustration, rolling your hips back and forth on him as his head tilted up, moaning your name as he went back down to kiss you

"that's it baby, work yourself up f'me" he slurred, his eyes catching the full body mirror right next to you guys as a smirk found its way on his lips

he grabbed you by the chin and turn to look at yourself in the mirror

you almost didn't recognize yourself, hair disheveled as your pupils blown wide with being laced over in tears of frustration, your drooling cunt was desperately trying to give the friction you knew only Carl could give you at this point

"look at you falling apart for me" he says with a taunting smile, you begged for him to move, he rolled his eyes and gave you one sharp thrust just to shut you up

"fuck!" you whimpered at the thrust, clenching yourself tighter around him to give an unspoken message to please do it again

"fuck, don't fucking do that-" he groaned,  your pussy sucked him in deeper, whining for more and he was gonna give it to you

he gave another sharp thrust as you cried out for him, he picked up the pace as he started to ram in your tight little hole, 

"fuck- do you know how- how long I've wanted this?" he said in staggered breathes, you felt tears run down your cheeks as his cock hit your cervix 

"-wanted to see you turning into a mess for me? just look at yourself baby" he turned your head so you can watch as he fucked himself into you, his cock stretching you out so perfectly as he hit deep in you

"C-Carl please-"

"Don't try and beg now. You were being annoying and now you have to fucking pay for that shit. I've dealt with you all.fucking.day" he matched up his words with thrusts, you yelped on his cock 

your fingernails dug deep in his shoulders as you screamed his name, your legs squeezed him impossibly closer as you cried harder his cock

"'m gonna c-cum" you moaned, his dick ruthless as he somehow fucked you harder, filling you to the brim before pulling back to his tip and ramming back inside

"fuck- cum for me baby, cream on his fucking dick for me" he said as his feral thursts quicked, 

"p-please don't stop" you said head empty, pretty pussy tightening around him, he grabbed your head and forced your to watch yourself as you came all over him, you whimpered in embarrassment but couldn't help the way your pussy twitched at the sight

"that's it baby, let it all out on me" he growled, you laid limp in his arms as fucked up into you, just like a little pretty doll for him to fuck, his own personal fuck doll he railed the attitude out of

"fuck! m'cumming" he hissed, cum shooting deep in your womb as he laid a few more thrusts out, he pulled himself out as he watched cum spill out of your hole, and he place his thumb to keep it in before a devilish smirk found him 

"see baby?" he let go of your shaking legs for them to slide on the floor, tumbling into his chest as he tilted your head up once more, kissing your lips to whisper against them,

"it's not that hard to just...shut the fuck up"

an: ahhh my first request! I hope you enjoyed it anon <3 I had lots of fun writing this! don't be scared to message me any request I'll be happy to write something up for you guys hehe ♡ mwah! bye guys!