#HOW DARE YOU UNNAMED FRIEND

[v1ntagie]

My friend called me an uncultured bitch for not listening to Ariana Grande today and yet THEY LITERALLY HAVE NEVER LISTENED TO 'THE ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN' BY LEMON DEMON

And I'M UNCULTURED??!?!?!?!!

At least I know that Mr.Rogers won the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny by being the last one standing with a blood stained sweater

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

[fxrmuladaydreams]

don’t touch her (mv1)

max x reader , unnamed mclaren employee x reader

summary: max knows his feelings for you are wrong, you have a boyfriend. but all bets are off when that boyfriend gets aggressive with you

notes: this one’s angsty guys, also we’re gonna pretend that japan was later in the season just for timing purposes

warnings: physical fight, blood, a toxic relationship

He knew he shouldn’t be staring at you from across the paddock. He knew it was wrong on so many levels. You were a part of the Red Bull team, one of his coworkers. You were also dating someone from the McLaren team. Max had never wanted to hit Lando over the head as much as he did when the young Brit introduced you to your current boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you in any room he went into, or at any media events or any meetings.

Max Verstappen could confidently say he was without a doubt in love with you.

He had grown attached to you quickly, being one of the only people he worked with that didn’t fawn over him just because he was good at his job. You treated him like a real person. When he was with you there was no Max Verstappen, there was only Max. You were a breath of fresh air, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life. You were his quiet, safe space he could escape to when things became too much. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shield you away from all that was wrong in the world, but he’d settle for calling you his friend, his best friend.

Max liked to think of himself as a good person, the type of person that just wanted to see you happy, even if it meant seeing you with someone else. He promised himself he wouldn’t act upon his feelings, at least not while you were dating anyone. He wouldn’t dare destroy your happiness just because of his heart.

Max could also admit he was petty, so childishly petty. He didn’t like seeing you hanging around the McLaren garage during race weekends, weekends where you would usually be by his side, making sure he was ready to drive. Instead he had to watch your navy blue stand out against the bright orange at McLaren. It didn’t suit you, being surrounded by papaya, Max thought.

He knew he could complain about it to Christian. He could use his power to make you come back to him, but in doing that he may end up hurting you or your job. So he sat quietly and let his annoyance fester inside him.

He could tell when things started to shift with your boyfriend. When your long hugs and visits to the McLaren garage turned into brushing shoulders and arguments in an empty walkway outside.

Max tries to ask about, tries to help make you feel better, but you shrug him off, telling him that you’ll work it out, it’s nothing but a rough patch.

He asks if you’re okay, if there’s anything he can do to help. You give him a sad smile and shrug your shoulders.

“There’s nothing you can do Max.”

He’s never felt so helpless in his life. He hates that he has to see your face with tear stains over it, that your smile has dimmed in the garage. That you no longer search him out for comfort.

Part of him thinks he should have a conversation with your boyfriend. He thinks he should give him a talking to about how he’s ruining someone so special. But he knows he’d probably end up throwing punches if your boyfriend ticked him off anymore than he already has.

You don’t seem to get any better as the season comes closer to an end. Max tries to help you open up to him again, asking if you have any plans over the winter break. He even invites you to join him on his trip back home to the Netherlands. He tells you that his mother and sister would love to have you with them during the holidays.

You frown, telling him that you planned on staying near Milton Keynes to do some work at the factory.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s winter break, I’m sure they can spare you for a little while.”

“I can’t take time off work just to hang out with you Max.” The words are much harsher than you mean for them to be, you can tell by the way Max takes a defensive step back.

He nods. “Right. Sorry.” Then he leaves you standing there to go to his driver’s room, or somewhere that just doesn’t have you.

Everything becomes clearer to Max at a party near the end of the season. It’s just after the Japan race, and Lando had insisted on celebrating the McLaren 2-3 as well as another tally to Max’s list of wins this season. The nightclub is filled with drivers as well as team members from each team hoping to let off some steam before the next race weekend.

Max doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go back to his hotel and sleep before he has to fly back home just to fly to Qatar a week later. But Lando and Charles keep putting new drinks in his hand, which promptly end up being left on random tables, and dragging him around to converse with everyone else that’s there.

He keeps an eye on you the whole time, watching as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring into the crowd on the dance floor. He can tell you aren’t really looking at them though, that you’re staring off into space. Your boyfriend comes up to sit on the stool next to you. He says something in your ear, to which you shake your head and leave, walking outside.

Max quickly pushes his latest drink into Charles’ hands and follows you outside.

You lean against the wall, attempting to get some fresh air after feeling a bit too claustrophobic in the club, but the heat doesn’t help as much as you hoped. You see Max as he steps outside and quickly walks to you.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because I know you, I know when you’re upset and you can’t hide it from me. Is it me? Have I done something wrong?” He asks, his words spilling out quickly.

“Max, it’s not you, it’s just-”

“Y/n! Come on, we can talk this through!” Your words are cut off by your boyfriend who looks around for you, the smile falling off his face when he spots Max standing next to you. “Are you fucking serious Y/n?” He storms over to you, and grabs your forearm, yanking you away from Max. “Always running back to Max, huh?”

You yelp when he roughly pulls you to him.

Max is quick to put himself between the two of you, pushing your boyfriend with just enough force to make him let go of you.

“Don’t touch her.” He snarls.

You already know how this is going to end. Max stares at your boyfriend with fire in his eyes. While Max isn’t quite as tall as him, he makes up for the height difference in his strength. He’s got enough muscle to knock him to the ground in seconds if he wanted to.

Anyone with half a brain would know they’re in dangerous territory, being on the receiving end of Max’s intense stare, but your boyfriend refuses to back down.

“She’s mine Verstappen. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He says quietly, taunting Max.

That’s all it takes for the first swing to fly. You think it’s Max, but your boyfriend is quick to throw up his own fists in defense.

It’s a mess of navy blue and orange as the two end up rolling on the ground, throwing punch after punch. Max ends up on top, straddling your boyfriend, lifting his fist to swing. You grab his arm and pull him off and away from the fight. You catch a glimpse of your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend’s bloody nose and black eye.

Max huffs, pulling his arm away from you and stalks towards his car. You follow him, practically jogging to keep up. You stop when you’re standing between him and the driver door. The lamplight illuminates his face. He’s got a bruise on his cheekbone, a split lip, his hair is a disheveled mess, and his fist is coated in blood, whose you aren’t sure. He’s avoiding eye contact with you, instead looking up at the sky.

“Max, why-”

“I’m fine.” He says when he finally looks at you. “Let me drive you back to the hotel.”

The drive back is quiet. You can’t help but keep looking over at Max, the streetlights passing by spread light over his face. He pulls a plain hoodie from the back of his car, pulling the hood up over his head. He keeps his down as he walks inside, attempting to avoid any interactions with fans that have decided to hang around the hotel.

He walks you to your door, then turns to leave, stopping only when he feels your fingers thread themselves through his. You gently pull him inside your room.

“Bathroom.” You tell him, steering him towards the small bathroom.

He sighs, knowing that there’s no use in trying to argue with you. He tugs the hoodie off and tosses it on your bed. He lifts himself up to sit on the counter of the bathroom, just next to the sink. There’s barely any room between where his legs hang off the counter and the wall opposite the sink, but you manage to squeeze between them with a small towel in your hand.

You run the towel under warm water, then bring it to his face, softly dabbing at his lip. He flinches slightly, pulling away. You apologize softly, then continue to wipe the blood from his lip.

You do the same with his hand, gently holding it in your hand and wiping away the red. It turns out to be mostly blood from your ex boyfriend, his skin only slightly bruised from the impact.

“You shouldn’t have hit him. You could’ve broken your hand. You wouldn’t have been able to drive.” You scold him quietly.

He gives you an incredulous look. “I should’ve done a lot more than hit him.”

You don’t answer, continuing to absentmindedly wipe at his hand. The blood is long gone, but he can tell you’re too lost in thought to notice.

He lifts your head up to look at him with his other hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You heard him. Always running back to you?”

“I like it when you come to me.” He shifts slightly. “I mean, I like feeling like you can come to me for, well for anything really. You should’ve felt like you could’ve talked to me.” He drops his head down now.

You can tell he’s starting to close in on himself, that he feels somehow at fault for this. It’s your turn to lift his head up this time. His eyes are welled up with unshed tears. He tries to blink his tears away putting on a brave face for you.

You gently swipe your thumb under his eyes, then hold his cheeks in your hands.

“This is not your fault Max. It’s my fault. I let it get bad, I should’ve ended it a long time ago. I just have a talent for being self destructive I guess.” You let out an unconvincing laugh.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed.

After a few minutes you begrudgingly pull your hands away from Max. He immediately misses the warmth on his face.

“You should put some ice over your bruise.” You tell him.

You step back, giving him space to hop down from the counter. He stands over you, but his height is anything but daunting. He looks down at his now clean but bruised knuckles then back up at you.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” You tell him.

He clears his throat then shuffles around you, back into the main part of your room. “I should probably go.”

You follow him, itching to give him a reason to stay.

He grabs his hoodie from your bed and walks back to your door. He opens it, ready to step through when you call his name. He turns back to see you standing near the door as well, shifting your weight on your feet.

You take a deep breath then throw caution to the wind. You take a quick two steps to him and press your lips to his cheek.

Max freezes, only regaining a semblance of composure when you pull away from him.

“Thank you Max. Really.” You smile.

He gives you a sheepish smile and a nod, his cheeks colored with a light pink blush.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight Max.”

[obscurecurse]

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH idk how i missed this before but can we talk about the unnamed KimChay wingman / friend (/Producer?)

this guy was in the middle of playing piano in a dark studio - clearly having a Moment. and Kim just waltzes in and says he's gotta use the room and bro VACATES

to where he can observe... to later make fun of Kim for barely surviving being flirted with? for further wingman business? (i need answers.)

i'm sorry... Chay going back to the studio to be like, "Kim isn't answering my calls. Do you have his address? Can I have it?" and this guy is just like, "Yeah, totally."

(kinda mad we don't get that scene - bc cute)

(^i can't decide what this look on Kim's face is? "How dare you give the boy I like my address." "I am trying to SPY and you are blowing up my spot." "I should've considered him a threat when he started making jokes about how I need to get laid..." "How did you get my address?" just some considerations. funny/sweet to imagine this friend knows that Kim is kinda lonely and uptight and he just wants to help him loosen up a little? Or he just thinks it's funny since Chay's crush is apparent from SPACE.)

Does this mean Chay came back AGAIN. or are Chay and the Wingman now on a texting basis? "He's not answering my calls. And he's not at his apartment." and this guy is just like, "Here's his schedule." "Sure, I'll let you in so you can wait for him."

(I need this scene also.)

Thank you for your service, unnamed friend.

[xoxoavenger]

Days of Future Past

pairing: Young!Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

summary: What if Charles had a wife in the 70s? And what if she was pregnant when Logan came to visit?

word count: 5071

warnings: canon typical violence, pregnancy, addiction

part two

masterlist birthday celebration masterlist

"I got it!" Y/N yelled as someone knocked on the door. She wiped her hands on her apron, as she had been making dinner when the knock sounded, and went to go open the door. When she made her way to the lobby, however, Hank was already talking with the man outside. He forcefully made his way inside, and Y/N crossed her arms over her stomach.

"Hey! I said the school's closed. You need to leave." Hank yelled after the man, but he was still making his way inside.

"Not until I see the professor." The man said, and Y/N stepped forward.

"There's no professor here, sir. Maybe you should get along." She said, and Hank protectively went to her side.

"Y/N! I didn't know you'd be h - you're pregnant?" The man said, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know my name?" She asked, taking another step forward. The man sighed. He looked annoyed and worn out, but Y/N really didn't care.

"Look, someday, we're all gonna be good friends. You just don't know it yet." The man said to the both of them, before punching Hank in the face. Y/N dropped to his side as he fell to the ground, letting the man walk up the stairs. What did he mean by that? And if they were supposed to be 'friends,' why did he punch Hank?

"That son of a bitch," Hank grumbled out, rubbing his cheek.

"Professor?" The man called, and Y/N immediately rushed to follow the man up the stairs and to the left, Hank still on the floor. Charles was having a hard time, and he needed more help than Hank would.

"Sir, I don't know who you think you are, or who you think you're looking for, but-" Y/N cut herself off as a blue Hank went barreling past her. Her eyes widened, watching the two fight down the hallway. She stood with her back against the wall as Hank threw the man across the stairs, jumping after him. He then proceeded to throw the man all the way down the stairs, onto the table in the lobby. The door across the hallway from her opened, and Y/N was met with blue eyes.

"Charles," She greeted, surprised as Charles emerged from their room. They heard growling, and the two made their way to the main lobby, Y/N pulling off her apron and putting it on the bannister.

"Hank? What's going on here?" Charles yelled, and Y/N followed silently down the stairs.

"Professor?" The unnamed man said.

"Please don't call me that." Charles requested, and Y/N frowned. She looked at Hank, who was hanging upside down on the chandelier directly on top of the man. She put her head down, staying silent. When Charles first lost his legs, he didn't seem to care as much. It was only when his friends, his family, began to get drafted for the war that Charles fell, and hard. She had tried her best to get him to lay off the serum, especially because she was pregnant. She had found out a couple weeks after they had opened the school, right before people were getting drafted. She tries not to think about the fact that he may have been better off if she hadn't been in his life, if she wasn't carrying his child. She would never voice her thoughts, however, and it was much easier to pretend now that he no longer could read her mind.

Sometimes they even pretended she wasn't pregnant, that they weren't mutants.

"Why? Do you know this guy?" Hank asked. Y/N still didn't dare look up. She didn't want to make things worse, didn't want to set Charles or Hank off even more. Both were clearly stressed out, and she was stuck not being able to help either. The easiest thing for her to do was shut up and make food.

Speaking of food, she should probably go back there.

"Yeah, he looks slightly familiar. Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank." Charles said, his voice already slurring. If he hadn't been paralyzed and she hadn't been pregnant, he wouldn't have been drunk already. Hank flipped off the Chandelier, and the man began to slowly sit up.

"You can walk." Y/N heard the man say, and she snapped her head up. What did this guy know? Who was he to know that Charles hasn't always been able to walk? All thoughts of her going back to the food was abandoned in favor of backing up Charles.

"You're a perceptive one." She said, and Charles gave her a look as he walked down the stairs. She rolled her eyes, beginning to talk over the man that was already talking. She was breaking her number one rule, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I thought Erik-"

"Which makes it slightly perplexing that you managed to miss our sign on the way in." Y/N said, and Charles looked at her before finishing the talk.

"This is private property, my friend. I'm gonna have to ask him to ask you to leave." Charles sat down on the last step, and Y/N rushed down the steps to his side, grabbing ahold of his arm.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, because, uh, because I was sent here for you." The man said, and Charles looked at Y/N, but his expression was blank. He looked back to the man.

"Well, tell whoever it was that sent you that I'm-" Charles lead off, looking at Y/N once more. His gaze rested on the bump that was currently fanning out the dress she had on. "Busy, obviously." He finished, and Y/N looked back to the man.

"That's gonna be a little tricky, because the person who sent me was you." The man said, taking a deep breath.

"What?" Y/N and Charles said at the same time, although Charles seemed less interested than Y/N. She didn't quite understand all the things he understood, and right now she was lost.

"About fifty years from now." The man continued, and Y/N released Charles' arm to hold her head in her hands. How was that supposed to work?

"Fifty years from now? Like in the future, fifty years from now?" She asked, looking back up at the man. She knows she needs to stop talking, but suddenly life was flipped and she forgot to remember herself for a moment.

"Yeah." The man confirmed.

"I sent you from the future." Charles said. He definitely wasn't believing it.

"Yeah." The man confirmed again, and Y/N looked over to see Hank shaking his head.

"Piss off." Charles said, and Y/N stood, rising tall to intimidate the man. It wasn't working.

"You have some nerve showing up here, punching Hank and making fun of Charles. How did you even know my name?" Y/N asked, walking closer to the man, but he looked around her at Charles.

"If you had your powers, you'd know I was telling the truth." He said, and Y/N punched him before she could even think about it.

"Woah, woah, woah." Hank said, him and Charles going to her side to pull her back. Hank hung onto her while Charles stared at him.

"How do you know I don't have my," Charles led off, and the three shared a look. "Who are you?" Charles asked again.

"I told you." The man said, but Charles didn't believe him.

"Are you CIA?" Charles asked.

"No."

"You been watching me?" Charles asked, and Y/N felt her heart rate pick up as she knew Charles' was as well. She got anxiety for Charles ever since he was shot, and she hated the feeling.

"I know you, Charles. We've been friends for years. I know your powers came when you were nine. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head. And it wasn't until you were twelve that you realized all the voices were in everyone else's head. Do you want me to go on?" The man spoke, and Y/N stared at Charles. After a moment, he turned to her, silently asking if she had said anything. She shook her head, because first of all, why would she tell, and second of all, who would she tell?

"I only told Y/N that." Charles said quietly.

"One day, you'll share your story." The man said, and Y/N turned to look at Hank, who was just staring. She was so confused and tired and she just wanted to go back to making dinner while Hank worked and Charles drank.

"Alright, you've piqued my interest." Charles said, and Y/N moved closer to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

"Charles, we don't even know who this guy is. He could be a telepath. We don't know anything except he came in here and started a fight with Hank." Y/N said, but Charles shrugged her off.

"What do you want?" Charles asked, and Y/N frowned.

"We have to stop Raven. I need your help. We need your help." The man said, and Y/N stared at Charles, heart breaking at the pained look on his face. He looked down. She knew how close Raven and Charles were, even mistaking it for romantic love and not sibling love. This man bringing her up did not help his case.

"I think I'd like to wake up now." He said, walking away. Y/N tried to grab his hand, but he slid out without so much as a look. She turned to see Hank's blue appearance going back to normal.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's going through some tough times." Y/N said, head down as she followed Charles' path. He was pouring himself a drink when she walked into the room. She leaned against the desk, trying to alleviate the pain in her feet from standing. She had been standing while making dinner, and she had half a thought to go finish it.

"I don't need my powers to know you're in pain. Why don't you sit down?" He suggested. She sat in his chair, close to where he was still pouring his drink. She almost put her feet on the desk, but thought better of it.

"You shouldn't drink so much. What are you going to do when the baby comes?" She asked, and he turned to see her slouching in the chair, bump stretching upwards. She had her hands around it, rubbing it, and Charles thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

It scared him to think that he was going to have to be in charge of another person soon.

"Drink more." He responded, and she frowned.

"Charles," She crossed her arms, and he turned and leaned against his desk to face her.

"You know I won't." He tried to comfort her, but she just shook her head.

"But you'll keep doing the useless treatments?" She asked, and he dropped his head.

"They aren't useless. You don't understand how hard this is for me." He said, and she rolled her eyes. She was tired of just letting this go because of him. She was hurting too.

"What, you think this is easy for me?" She asked.

be a good wife be a good wife be a good wife

The mantra repeated over and over in her head, and she took a deep breath. Charles was going through the hardest time he'd ever had in his life, and although she was too, she still needed to be there for him. It was her job.

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard." She said, and he shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing." He said, but he left it there. Not too long after their conversation was over, the man walked into the room with Hank.

"Just let me explain myself."

~

"So they took Raven's powers and weaponized it?" Y/N asked, and Charles was already pouring himself another drink. They had only been talking for 10 minutes, and Y/N rubbed her eyes. The food she was preparing had probably gone bad now, but she knew she couldn't leave Charles alone, not while he was halfway to shitfaced before dark.

"Yep." Was all the man - Logan - said. He had explained the future, explained how the four of them were all friends and Charles and Y/N's baby had mutant abilities too, but it was a lot of information to take in.

"She is unique." Hank said.

"Yeah, she is, Hank." Charles said with a smile. Y/N looked back to Logan to continue talking while Charles walked across the room.

"Look, in the beginning, the Sentinels were just targeting mutants. Then they began to identify the genetics in non-mutants, who would eventually have mutant children and grandchildren." Logan turned to face Charles, who was now sitting on the couch. Charles looked at Y/N, and she heaved herself up, shuffling to sit next to him on the couch. He put an arm around her, then set his drink down, the other hand resting on her stomach. Y/N closed her eyes, trying to take in the moment. He was at the sweet spot, when he was drunk enough to forget that he was upset but not drunk enough to dwell in self pity.

"Many of the humans tried to help us. It was a slaughter, leaving only the worst of humanity in charge. I've been in a lot of wars. I've never seen anything like this. And it all starts with her." Logan finished, but Y/N still didn't open her eyes. She moved a hand to Charles' chest, her head resting above his heart. She never wanted this moment to end.

But then Charles removed his hand from her bump and leaned to pick up his drink, taking a swig before talking.

"Well, let's just say for the sake of," He paused, his knee starting to shake and his other hand going up to rub his eye. "The sake, that I-I choose to believe you. Raven won't listen to me." He said, leaning further into the couch and putting his arm farther down now so that he could feel her bump as well. She sighed, still not opening her eyes. "Her heart and soul belong to someone else now." Charles finished, and Y/N could tell that Hank was upset without looking at him.

She'd honestly rather be anywhere else than there at the moment.

"I know. That's why we're gonna need Magneto, too." Logan's sentence made Y/N's eyes shoot open as she looked at him with annoyance and fear, and she felt Charles tense as he chuckled.

"Erik? You do know where he is?" Hank asked, and Charles continued his breathless laugh.

"Yeah." Logan answered, and Y/N moved as Charles stood, putting his drink down and moving further away from her, laughing like a mad man.

"He's where he belongs." Charles said, making his way to the door.

"That's it? You're just gonna walk out?" Logan asked, and Y/N stood, moving to see Charles when he walked all the way out the door.

"Oh, top marks. Y/N, you were right, he is perceptive." Charles was walking backward, away from them, and Y/N knew that she wouldn't get a peaceful moment with him again until he was asleep. Then, they would start the same day over again, until she had the baby. Who knows what would happen after that.

"The professor I know would never turn his back on someone who lost their path. Especially someone he loved." Logan said as Charles was almost to the stairs. Charles then stepped back, turning to the three of them gathered to the door. Y/N started talking, but Charles talked right over her.

"You have no right to-"

"You know, I think I do remember you now. Yeah. We came to you a long time ago seeking your help. And I'm gonna say to you what you said to us then. Fuck off." Charles cut Y/N off. Before Y/N could blink, Logan grabbed Charles by his shirt and brought him close.

"Listen to me, you little shit. I've come a long way, and I've watched a lot of people die. Good people. Friends. If you're gonna wallow in self-pity and do nothing, then you're gonna watch the same thing, you understand? You wanna watch her die?" Logan jerked his head to Y/N, and her blood ran cold. Charles looked at her as Logan let go of him, and then looked back at Logan.

"We all have to die sometime." Charles said, taking a drink and turning away, walking up the stairs. Y/N felt her knees give in, but Logan caught her, leading her to the couch, where she laid blank faced.

"Told you there was no professor here." Hank said, and Logan turned to Hank.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked Hank, but Y/N answered anyway.

"He lost everything. Erik, Raven, his legs. And then he finds out that not only has he lost his closest friends and is now paralyzed, he's also going to be a father." Y/N said emotionless. She was staring off, her face and mind blank. This happened often now, at times when Charles would stop caring about her. It was easier to shut herself off then deal with the pain. Hank knew what was going on, but he knew that there was nothing he could do for her, short of forcing Charles off meds.

"We built the school, the labs, this-this whole place. Then the war got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted. Everything going on, it just broke him. He retreated into himself. I wanted to help, do something, so I designed the serum to help treat his spine. Derived from the same formula that helps me control my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced, but," Hank trailed off as he walked around.

"He takes too much. He doesn't listen when we try to ease him back. He can't bear the pain, the voices." Y/N said, tears shrining to her eyes. As hard as she tried to bottle her emotions, it seemed the glass would always shatter and flood her mind anyways. "I want to be enough. I want him to be able to be happy without his legs, with a child, with me, but he's not. Why am I not enough?" She whispered, looking up to Logan. He sat in front of her legs on the couch.

"You are enough. He'll realize it. I promise." Logan said, thinking to his present, the world where Charles and Y/N lived almost happily ever after (minus the major wars they fought in). Y/N nodded, closing her eyes. She had barely drifted off when Charles' voice echoed through the room.

"I'll help you get her." He said, and Y/N sat up "Not for any of your future shite, but for her. And my," Charles lead off, and Y/N could tell he was trying to hold back his emotions. She stood to see him, but he didn't look at her.

"Son. For your son." Logan said, and tears immediately sprung to Y/N's eyes.

"We're having a boy?" Charles asked quietly. Y/N ran to him, and he wrapped his arms tight around her.

"I am so sorry, love." Charles said, and Y/N just shook her head against him.

She wished things would change, but change took time. She only hoped they had enough time.

~

She knew that although Charles was sorry, he was not going to stop. He was too deep now, it would take a lot more than knowing the gender of their child to get him to become sober once more. And although she wasn't allowed to go get Erik, she accompanied them on the jet to get to Raven. She despised staying alone while pregnant, and knew the others would take care of her. She'd be alright with them.

"So, you're pregnant." Erik said, looking over at Y/N. She sat on the couch with Charles, his arm around her loosely.

"Yes." Charles answered for her, and Erik continued to read the paper.

"And your powers?" Erik didn't look up again, and Charles' grip tightened on Y/N.

"The treatment for my spine affects my DNA." Charles answered simply, and Y/N cuddled closer, holding onto him tightly.

"You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?" Erik asked, and Y/N shut her eyes tightly, hands gripping Charles' shirt.

"I sacrificed my powers so that I could sleep. So that I could protect and care for my son." Charles' voice faltered, and she looked up at him.

"Charles, you can still care for the baby without your legs." Y/N said, but Charles just held onto her tighter.

"What do you know about it?" Charles shook his head, and she knew he was talking to Erik.

"I've lost my fair share." Erik said quickly. Y/N looked up at him. Had this monster really lost that much?

"Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn't justify what you've done." Y/N said, and Charles rubbed her back and bump, trying to calm her.

"You have no idea what I've done." Erik said, and Y/N stood, Charles trying to get her to sit down. She was too enraged though, at the man who had practically taken her life from her.

"You took Charles' legs, his power. You took away the things that mean the most to him." Y/N said with tears in her eyes. Charles frowned from the side, upset that she didn't think she mattered the most, because she did, her and the baby. Erik was enraging him too, now.

"Well maybe he should have fought harder for them." Erik responded, and Charles stepped in front of Y/N, as Erik was rising from his seat.

"If you want to fight, Erik, I will give you a fight!" Charles yelled.

"Charles," Y/N said.

"Sit down!" Logan commanded. All their voices were coming at once.

"Let him come." Erik responded, and Charles lunged forward, grabbing Erik by his shirt.

"You abandoned me! You took her away and you abandoned me!" Charles yelled, and Y/N sat down, feeling sick. It was as if she didn't matter, as if she weren't even there.

"Angel. Azazel. Emma. Banshee." The plane began creaking as Erik spoke, and Logan was next to Y/N, the two of them holding onto each other as the plane shook. She fought to keep the bile rising down.

"Mutant brothers and sisters all dead!" Erik yelled, and Y/N felt Charles at her side. She clung to him as Logan clung to the couch. The plane began to tilt, and they slowly fell to the other side against the wall. Y/N felt tears in her eyes as she held on to Charles as tightly as she could.

"Erik!" Y/N yelled, but it was like he didn't hear her.

"Countless others experimented on, butchered."

"Erik!" Hank yelled from the cockpit, and Y/N let out a sob. She had never been this afraid, not even when Charles had lost his legs, or when she found out she was pregnant. She tried to resit the urge to puke, and she could feel it in the back of her mouth.

"Where were you, Charles?" Erik asked, and they began falling toward the cockpit. They let out a groan as they hit another wall, Charles holding Y/N as close as he could. "Where were you when your own people needed you? Hiding! You and Hank and Y/N! Pretending to be something you're not!" Erik yelled. They were falling at a quick rate, and Y/N let out more sobs, silently praying.

"Erik, please, she's pregnant!" Hank bargained, and as the plane went back to normal and the two fell into a seat, Y/N felt dizzy. She was resting against Charles, but she knew it wouldn't last long.

"You abandoned us all." Erik said, and then he looked straight at Y/N. "And now you're abandoning her." Erik said, and that was the snapping point for Y/N. She stumbled to the bathroom, almost tripping multiple times on the short walk. She finally made it there, where she threw up, struggling to catch her breath. She felt someone bring her hair back, and she wiped her lips before turning and looking. She expected to see Logan, but she instead saw Charles. She almost started crying again, and he held her in his arms.

In the five months she had been pregnant, Charles had never come to her aid while she was sick. She knew it was hard for him, but this showed he was getting better. Maybe one day, everything would be okay.

~

They arrived back at the mansion after an unsuccessful mission, and Y/N felt the progress that had been made being washed away as Charles began struggling. They had just walked into the mansion when Charles fell to the ground groaning.

"Charles!" Y/N shrieked, going to his side. Hank went to his other side, grabbing him.

"What happened?" Logan asked, but no one answered.

"Come on, up." Hank heaved Charles up, and Charles began panting.

"Why can't he walk?" Logan asked, and Y/N put a hand over Charles' own, which was raised to his head.

"He needs his treatment." Y/N responded, Hank placing Charles against the wall.

"Hank, Y/N, I can hear them!" Charles groaned, and Y/N's heart dropped.

"I know, baby. It's okay. It'll all be okay." Y/N responded.

"Can you make it stop?" Charles asked quietly, and Hank was already walking away.

"I'll go get it." Hank said, rushing up the stairs. Charles grunted, pressing his hands against his head. Y/N pushed his hair out of his face, kissing his forehead.

"Hey, hey! Pull yourself together. It's not over yet." Logan said, and Charles opened his eyes and put his fingers to his temple, looking at Logan. Y/N sighed, licking her lips and then turning, because she knew that Charles was about to use his powers for the first time in awhile.

"You don't believe that." Charles said, and Logan's face changed. Y/N turned back to Charles, coaxing his hand down.

"How do you know?" Logan asked, and Y/N just kept caring for Charles, trying to comfort him. It broke her heart to see him in pain like this.

"As these go," Charles put a hand on his leg. "This comes back." Charles put a hand back up to his head. He pressed both hands back to his head. "They all come back." He moaned, panting.

"Hey, it'll be okay, Charles. You're gonna be okay, baby. Look at me, it's okay. I'm here." Y/N comforted. She hoped this would be the turning point, where he wouldn't take the serum again.

"Look, she's still out there." Logan said, and Charles reached down to undo his shirt sleeve, pulling it up his arm. "But we need your help, Charles. Not like this. I need you." Logan said, and Y/N continued to push the hair out of his face.

"Charles, slow down." Y/N stopped him from fully hitching his shirt sleeve up.

"We can't find Raven; not without your powers." Logan said softly. Y/N looked at Charles, wiping the hair out of his face.

"You're strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You can do this." Y/N whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She just hoped it was enough.

"I, uh, I added a little extra because you missed a dose." Hank said as he bounded down the stairs. Y/N backed up, giving Charles room to make his decision. Charles grabbed the syringe, and Y/N turned her head, not able to watch.

"Charles." Logan warned, turning towards him. Charles aimed the syringe, and Y/N could hear his whimpers. She waited for it to be over, so when she heard Charles exhale and the clink of the syringe as he put it down, she turned to look at him. He sniffled, and she realized that he hadn't taken the shot. He looked at her, but then looked down, ashamed. Y/N grabbed his hand, and he squeezed hers, shutting his eyes tight before opening them.

"Uh, H-Hank, do me a favor. Would you help me to my study, please?" He looked so young as he shook slightly, squeezing Y/N's hand once more before letting Hank grab his arm.

"Come on, I got you." Hank told Charles. Y/N let her hand slip out of his, watching silently as the two made it to the study.

Only then did she let the tears fall.

"Y/N," Logan put a hand on her shoulder, and she lost it, falling to her knees as she sobbed. Logan kelt with her, keeping a hand on her shoulder but otherwise not getting to close. She had her hands covering her mouth, eyes squeezed tight as tears somehow still escaped.

"Thank you." She whispered through her tears, shifting to sit on the ground. She turned to face Logan now, eyes wide. "Thank you so much." She whispered. Logan nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Ya know, he would have eventually come off the serum, even if I hadn't been here. It was really you." He told her, and she just nodded. Logan helped her up, and she wiped her tears, sniffling as they made their way into the study. Charles was still shaking, sitting on a chair, and Y/N took a deep breath as she stood next to him. He slipped his hand back into her's, and this time she squeezed his as Hank opened the door.

"Are you sure about this?" Hank asked as they looked at the wheelchair in the closet.

"Absolutely not." Charles told him, but Hank got it out anyway. He helped Charles into the chair, and everyone was silent as they tried not to look at him. Hank and Logan shared an expression before leaving, Y/N sitting down in the chair across from him.

"I, um, just so you know," Y/N said, wiping her tears and hoping they wouldn't fall and cause Charles to think about it to much. "I've never cared if you could use your legs. Or, um, I never - I don't care if you don't want your powers. I just - I only want you to be happy. I don't want you to keep drinking. I don't want you to destroy yourself before your son even gets to meet you." She was struggling to keep her sobs in, and Charles reached forward and grabbed her hand.

"It's okay, Y/N, hey." Charles moved forward as much as he could to wipe her tears, and she grabbed one of his wrists.

"Charles," She whispered, and he felt the tears roll down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you." He sniffled, and she turned to kiss his palm. "I know that it wasn't easy for you. I know I haven't made things easy for you. But I still love you. And I can do better. I promise to do better." Charles told her, making her let out a sob.

"I'm just happy you're still the man I fell in love with."

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya @thefandomplace @punzoquack

[swiss-mrs]

Can you write a second chance a love with SY. He and reader were exes and tension has built up where he can’t help but kiss you and profess that he still misses you. Thanks!

Second Chances

Captain Syverson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of Failed (Military) Relationships, Mentions of Fighting/Regretted Words Exchanged, Slight Sexism/Toxic Masculinity/Trad Views, Self-Doubt, Slight Depression, Sy is Able to Lift Reader, Angst with Happy Ending (As Requested)

Reader/Unnamed OC Description: No Physical Descriptions, No Mentions of Race, Height, Weight, Ethnicity, Etc., Age is 25+, Sy is 35+, No Use of Y/N, Only You/Your Pronouns, Mentioned as “darling" and "beautiful", otherwise gender neutral.

Life is… fine. Wake up. Go to work. Come back home to your apartment. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. There wasn't really anything to complain about, but there was a notable loss. The only thing is now you're just used to it.

In the beginning, it was always the little things, someone passing with a similar cologne, a specific food brand at the grocery store, a familiar street you no longer pass by as often. Eventually, the watery eyes tamed to a pang in your chest. Now, it's all just numbness. Even with friends, your smile makes appearances again, but the happiness doesn't quite reach your eyes the way it used to. It's been so long, they just stopped mentioning it, but you still notice the occasional pity look.

It's a crazy thing to think about how you've lived more of your life without him than you have with him, but that doesn't lessen the effect.

You'd survived your childhood, your teenage years, and early twenty-something without him. After meeting the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, you'd be foolish not to reciprocate his advances. Though you shortly had your skepticism after finding out his occupation, he was quick to assure you he was no quick trip, and ultimately, you caved.

And he for sure had you, for years in fact. He had you completely believing every one of his ‘I love you's and ‘forever's, yet here you are, missing the way he'd fill up the space in your life.

You'd had a life before him, a decently fulfilling, single life until he showed up and screwed that all up. He wasn't necessarily your first ‘love’, but he was definitely your first ‘true love’. And, now, you were feeling the effects of that loss.

The first thing that hit you after your split with Sy was anger, pure reactivity to how everything ended. How dare he call you ‘too much’. How dare he try to pull the whole ‘you signed up for this’ bullshit. He had the audacity to make every problem your problem. Fuck him for making your ‘forever’ just another failed military love that should've known better.

You were soon to block him, not wanting to hear any of his ‘I'm sorry's or ‘can we talk's. You'd already talked, talked a little too much. You were done. ‘Let it die’ was your mantra for months. He ruined you, had you looking in the mirror different. You couldn't talk to anyone, express yourself, ask for help, be vulnerable without seeing it as annoying, dramatic, ‘too much’. Maybe, it was just you?

You took it upon yourself to change, distance yourself, drift away. Was it just you? No one made a comment about how they suddenly heard from you less. Were you really too much?

For a long while, you wished he'd cheated, abused, something, anything to make you hate him. Could you really hate him for it? You didn't work out. That's not his fault. He didn't understand you, and a couple of rude words weren't nearly enough to hate him. He was ultimately a good guy. He was never unfaithful, never would even dare to think of laying a hand on you, but when it was all said and done, he was a bit neglectful. But, how much of that was him, and how much of it was his job? Oftentimes, it was hard to distinguish. Too often was it an excuse.

Did he love you? sure. Could he have loved more? yes. Too often did it feel like he was one-sided. You were there for him, not the other way around. You are his, not the other way around. You needed him, not the other way around. And to have that shoved back in your face when you brought it up was not the right reaction. He shouldn't feel like an animal cornered when you brought up a concern, something he did that hurt you, but he did. A valid point shouldn't be shot down or argued with counterpoint, but it was. Now, you can only second guess yourself, and that shouldn't be how it is, but it is.

You loved too hard, that will haunt you. He loved too little, and that will forever haunt him.

He hated himself. You were everything he ever prayed for, a beautiful partner with a beautiful smile and a beautiful soul, someone he could have forever. He didn't realize that the thought of ‘having someone’ was wrong of him. He was selfish. You never did anything but show him your heart, your mind, and he blew it up in your face. He destroyed something, someone so beautiful. A day hasn't passed that he wasn't filled with regret. He couldn't even smile or laugh anymore. He became scary.

He'd lost the one piece of true happiness in his life, and it was his fault.

He craved you. He needed you, but he was too late. Why couldn't he have realized what he had sooner? Appreciate you like you deserve. Love you like you deserve. He knows he has it in him, but he just couldn't. fucking. see. it. He wants to kick his own ass for it. He desperately wants to turn back time, go back with the mindset he has now, or at least beat it into his past self.

He'd gotten too damn comfortable being in the military. Vulnerability is weakness. Why would he use his words? Why think about anything, decode? Feelings are best buried. He's a man's-man, and a man only needs to protect and provide

He believed that ideology never gave him issues until you. You challenged that ideal. You asked him for his thoughts, his feelings. You wanted to know. You cared. It annoyed him. Why the fuck would he care? Sure he had thoughts and feelings somewhere, but he pushed them down. Why bring them back up? You surely had too much time on your hands to be concerned with what he was thinking. You wanted connection. He knows that now, but what is that going to do for him now?

He immediately felt the effects of your absence. He was deployed when you left your shared home. He watched you leave on the security camera, car packed to the brim. Sure, he had felt a type of way about it then, but then he was only apologizing for the sake of it. He was just another man in the wrong. Apologize to your upset partner, make up, and move on, but oh, was it so much more different now.

He was filed to the brim with remorse. Even then, he had visions of your shared future, retiring or climbing ranks to settle in one place, building a family, a home, preferably on a large, secluded plot of land. How he looks on with different eyes at that ‘future’ now. He never truly believed in all that ‘grass is greener’ ‘know what you have ‘til it's gone’ B.S. until he'd lost you. He gets it now.

It wasn't until that switch was flipped for him to realize you blocked him, excommunicated. He was gone so much that he never got a chance to build any sort of relationship with your friends. It irritates him now that he is probably known as just the shitty military ex. The closest thing he has to you is a friend of a friend of his who is a friend of a friend of yours. At first, he'd rather die than try to reach out to you that way, but now, there was no line, no bridge he wouldn't cross to just get one more moment with you.

He'd been stewing on it for the last year and a half. You'd moved and blocked him. It seemed utterly hopeless to reconnect, but something came up recently that has him itching again.

He's been promoted. A good job, good position, and in one place. It was perfect. The start of your ‘forever’ together. The only thing missing is you. Friend of a friend² be damned. He had to fix this, and just his luck to find you. Just your luck to be found.

It took several minutes for you to lay eyes on him, but he spotted you immediately. The second you walked through the door of your new favorite café, he saw you. He couldn't believe it. He originally pulled himself into this place because it simply reminded him of you. It had you written all over it. He felt closer to you here. He wouldn't have guessed you would just walk in like this. His eyes followed you as you stood in line and ordered.

He noticed you glance around the café briefly and still not spot him seated at a back table facing the exit. His heart raced, seeing your eyes wander before going to your phone. He knew that look, though. You were only fidgeting with it, trying to make yourself look busy to avoid any social awkwardness. It made him grin as he stared longingly. There were some things that didn't change.

It had been a whole two years since you last saw Sy, about eight months since you stopped seeing him in every stranger. You weren't going to back track now, so you stared down blankly at your phone to keep yourself from staring at the familiar looking guy in the corner. He was missing a thick beard and a shaved head, but with a quick glance, he looked an awful lot like heartbreak.

Sy knew he was on borrowed time, the chances of you sitting alone in any kind of restaurant was slim to none, and considering you weren't looking for seating meant you were grabbing and going. He had to think of something and fast.

His body was standing, and his feet were moving before his mind could catch up. It wasn't until he was about two feet away that he stopped and started panicking. You noticed the man standing in your peripheral, but you kept your head down to avoid any awkward eye contact. That was until your name fell from his lips, causing you to look up from your phone.

“Sy?” Your eyes widened and your brows furrowed together. Your heart immediately started blasting in your ears. You couldn't breathe. You'd thought about running into him again, about all you wanted to say to him, telling him off? apologizing? But that was before your move, before you forced him out of your mind. Now, you were face to face with your anxiety and dreaded nightmare. Your name was muffled from his mouth and to your ears the second time.

“Hi. How have you been?” He wanted to punch himself in the face for how casual that came out, but he quite honestly couldn't think of anything better to say without falling over his own words. He awaited a response from you, but you only stared like a deer in headlights.

You genuinely couldn't hear a word coming out of his mouth. Was he talking? He had to have been. His mouth was moving, but it was like his voice was muffled. Something you assume was your name came out again before your name was called a bit louder by a different voice behind you.

You whip your head around to find a perky barista with a drink in hand, looking in your direction. You scurry over to her and take your drink with a curt thank you, as polite as you can muster in this moment. Without even a second glance, you're making a rushed escape for the exit. Your name is called again, but you're tunnel visioned on the door out.

Sy's stomach tightens and drops at the sight of your flee, but again his body is in full control at this point. He's utterly in shock. He didn't know what to expect, but this was his chance. All he knew is that he couldn't let you leave, not again, so this time, he chased after you.

As soon as you're out the door, he's right behind you, having to catch the door from slamming on him. He calls out for you again, but you don't stop, so he keeps running.

It's once you're passed the café windows that he finally catches up. He reaches to grab for your arm but quickly changes his mind to just step in front of you instead. “Wait! Please, darlin’, wa-”

“Don't call me that.” He's taken aback by the sudden words but retracts nonetheless.

“Please. Wait.” It was at this point that you both have fallen silent that you get a good look at him. His hair has grown out of its ‘tactical buzzcut’ and into a pretty generic cut that was redeemed by the dark curls atop his head. His beard was now trimmed down to only some scruff and a mustache. It was an odd combination of seeing him with more and less hair than usual, but he was just as handsome as ever, unfortunately.

The pause between you both was long. Though it should be awkward, it was also strangely comfortable or rather empty. Being in each other's presence again was like putting on an old hoodie. It was cathartic and familiar, but the memories, the history, was hard to get passed. Your name falls from his lips again, a lot softer and barely there. Your eyes were trained on his face, unable to look away. His were downcast.

“I… I….” His eyes close as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to gain some composure. His bottom lip juts out a bit as his mouth tightens into a little frown. “Please, I need to talk with you.” He opens his eyes, encapsulating your gaze in his.

The sight of his eyes outside of your memory is enough to empty your brain of any thought, so you remain silent. But he needs an answer from you, so he waits.

“What is there to talk about?” You say. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you built walls that weren't there before, and it shakes him to his core. He did that.

“A lot.” He sighs, huffing out a singular humorless laugh through his nose. His face briefly quirks like it wants to give a smile to match the short laugh, but the overwhelming weight of the situation at hand just won't allow for it.

You stare up at him for a few beats of silence, both of your chests tight with anxiety. You've never seen him so close to breaking down. He's never seen you so blank. Neither of you really knows what to do, but eventually, your eyes fall from his face before you walk passed him.

Sy freezes. The world around him simultaneously crumbles and halts. His breathing completely stills. You don't get five steps away before you turn back and call after him, “You want to talk. I'm not giving you another chance to do so.” You say, expecting him to follow you. As soon as the realization hits, he moves with haste. He's beside you walking before you're even done turning back around.

It was a good two blocks before Sy spoke up. “How have you been?” He tries again, looking over to you as you walk.

“Fine.” You answer curtly. It makes Sy frown again. It's the kind of ‘fine’ you'd give a stranger, and he hates that that's what you've become. He feels a bit shut down but continues. This is his chance.

“Well, that's, um, good to hear.” He states, but the end of the sentence inflicts an upward tone, almost into a question.

“I wasn't for a long time, but now, I'm fine.” You add, and it's the hardest punch in the gut Sy has ever received. His jaw clenched as he nodded. He swallows, trying to carefully choose his words, knowing how much each one counts.

“Darlin-” He cuts himself off by correcting it to your name. He sighs again, “Please, genuinely hear me when I express how sorry I am.”

“I'm sure you are.” He glosses over your response, continuing.

“Look, I know I've said it before, but, in all honesty, I didn't-” He cuts himself off again, making sure he words it correctly.

“Didn't mean it?” You finished, a bit annoyed.

“No.” He's quick to correct, “I meant it.” He says, determined, “I knew that I had made you upset, and I knew to apologize for it, but I didn't really know the meaning behind it.” He admits. “I didn't understand.” He confirms what you already know. “I was foolish. Stuck in an old way.” He pauses with another frown. “I didn't understand why you wanted to dig into me. I didn't understand that you were only trying to connect with me, really connect. I got defensive. ” He looks up from the ground to your eyes with a sad, guilty look, like he's confessing. “I was stupid and didn't believe in sharing every part of me with you.” He slows his pace, forcing you to match until you're stopped in front of him.

You're facing each other as he continues with his confession. “I thought doing so would make me less of a man, but I understand now.” He gives you a quick, little, sad smile before it disappears into a guilty frown. “I understand that it was an integral part of strengthening our bond, our love. You'd show me every part of you in return for me doing the same, and we'd accept each other, every part.” He gives another sad smile that breaks your heart all over again. He looks down shamefully with a hard look on his face, “I understand now.”

You look at him with a sad pout. Half of you wants to give him a piece of your mind. Two years!? It took all that time to just now fucking realize what you were asking of him!? But the other half didn't know how to feel. What is he trying to do? Redeem himself? What.

“So that's it? You just wanted to give me an actual apology?” He can see that your walls are still up. He fixes his jaw.

“Yes, but,” He starts. He knew that you weren't going to just fall into his arms, but he still hoped it would be that easy to just pick up where you left off. He sighs with his eyes closed, this time shakily, nervous. It confuses you as you've never seen the Captain Syverson nervous. “I've been…” He stops short, pausing. Jesus, you never thought you'd see the day this immovable mountain of a man revert to the demeanor of a reprehensible child. “I know we can't pick up where we left off, and I kind of don't want to,” He tries again, this time getting a confused and slightly offended expression from you, “but can we, maybe, start over?” He looks at you with the most hopeful, pitiful puppy eyes you've ever seen, another thing you never thought you'd see from him.

The air forcefully leaves your lungs as all the progress you've made through the years to try and make yourself impenetrable leaves with it. Your chest tightens as you try to will the upcoming tears away. It's your turn to let out a humorless laugh. You shake your head, looking off into the distance, “You really hurt me, Sy.” You look back at him with the most heartbreaking expression. He nearly looks close to tears at the sight. “I'm too much. I'm needy. I expect too much.”

“No, no, no.” He stops you, stepping closer only to get you retreating from him. Your step back drives the heartbreak further into his chest. He shakes his head in utter disagreement, a disgusted grimace on his features. “You're not. You're. not. I was foolish and childish, and I was not ready for you.”

“But you're ready now?” You interject in disbelief.

“Yes,” He states firmly without hesitation. He steps up again. This time, your body visibly tenses, but you don't move away. “I'm more than ready. I need you.” He takes another smaller, gentler step forward. “I hate that it took you leaving for me to see that, but I do.”

“Sy-”

“Please. Please. Don't say it's too late. Don't say we can't try again. Please, just one more chance.” He looks down abruptly like a private who just got caught looking at a superior officer. He's begging. He knows how he hurt you and your trust. Like a dog showing its belly, he's trying to show you his submission. Ultimately, it's in your hands, but he's determined.

You stare at him while trying to decipher the mess in your mind. “Sy.” You say a bit more calmly. His demeanor doesn't change. You sigh, “How do I know you wouldn't just fall back into old habits? What if, even after all this, you just repeat the same closed book bullshit? What's different?” You try to find his eyes, but they remain downcast as he stays still.

“I've been promoted.” He states a bit detached, purely stating fact, anything you want from him. “I'd no longer be in the field, no longer deployed. I'd be in one place.” He purses his lips into another right frown. “It's the start of what we used to talk about.” He says, words laced with hope and nostalgia. “Remember?” He tests, voice as soft as silk. Your eyes sadden even more, looking down with a miniscule nod. “I can settle down. Stop putting myself in the line of fire every day. I'd come home to you every night, wake up with you every mornin’.” His eyes soften as they peer up at you through his dark eyelashes. “Get that dream house.” He raises his brows with soft eyes and a sigh of a grin.

“Sy.” He quickly follows with your name before you continue. The gentle way your name rolls off his tongue makes your heart race at a concerning rate. “I,” you sigh, “I can't just run back to you after all this time.” You scoff out a sad laugh.

“So, let's just start with a date.” He tries again softly, melting your heart in your chest. “No pressure, no expectations, just one do-over.” His eyes flutter softly as his eyes return to their submissive downcast. “A reintroduction to the people we've become. A second first date.” He concludes. You can't help but let out a soft giggle despite trying to hold yourself together. Though it's sad, Sy has never heard a more beautiful sound. His chest swells with hope.

It takes time for you to make up your mind, and he gives it to you. Your everything was already screaming at you to say yes, but you couldn't let him know that, so you took your time. “Okay.” You cave. Sy's brows shoot up, and his face breaks out into a huge, mouth agape smile. The image of pure, overjoyed surprise.

He can't help himself but close the distance between you and scoop you in his arms, twirling you around, with a victorious laugh. The shock of it all and contagious joy causes you to let out a small giggle. He looks up at you in his arms and drops you down enough to plant a kiss on your lips. Though quick, the kiss was filled with nothing but longing and love.

As if realizing what's happened, he's quick to gently set you back down and take a step back, returning to the same distance you were at prior. He is a bit awkward with his hands before setting them on his hips. He still has a bright smile on his face, “I,” he huffs, “You have no idea how you've just made me the happiest man to ever exist.” He tries to just quickly move passed what just happened. “So, could I, maybe, get your number?” He says, trying his best to contain his joy.

You laugh, admittedly a little awkward. “It's the same one.” You fidget, “I can, uh, I'll unblock you, as long as you have the same number as well, I mean.” You stumble. He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, it's the same one.” He sighs, content. His eyes are filled with admiration and adoration, like you hung the moon and stars single handedly. It was everything you ever wanted from him to see his love within him.

You quickly pull your phone out and unblock his number on the spot. “There.” You shoot him a quick text. Even after all this time, his tagname never changed in your phone. You hear his phone ding moments later, and he pulls it out with an even brighter smile and a sigh of relief. He never thought he'd see your name pop up in his notifications again. Once again, it's always the little things that are missed.

“Are you free this weekend? Friday night, maybe?” He asks. You give him a small smile and a nod. “Great! Great, I'll- I'll pick you up? We can get dinner after work and…start over.” He sighs. He's both a little sad and over the moon. He wants nothing more than to do a quick catch-up and just start pouring his love into you, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. You give another small smile.

“I can't wait.” You say. He nods curtly. “You can tell me all about your new job.” His face brightens at you, showing interest in him again. He steps forward to stand beside you, holding out his elbow.

“Let me walk you to your car.” You breathe out a small chuckle before hooking your hand in his elbow, taking back to the café parking lot. Just a few paces in, Sy leans in closer to you to whisper in a low tone, “I know we're going to go slow, but I just want to say… I missed you.” You look into his deep blue eyes before looking down at his mustached lips.

“I've missed you too.” You whisper back with a small smile.

The remainder of the work week, Sy was notably different, even getting some teasing comments from coworkers. Your friends tried tearing into you, asking why you suddenly looked like the life returned in you, but you kept your lips sealed. You were taking things one step at a time with Sy.

The most anyone got was “I have a date.”

____

I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I hope I did it justice. (sorry it took so long. I've been a bit under the weather😅)

Masterlist

Swisslist (General Taglist): @rosecentury @solacedthistest

[httpsleclerc]

under the monaco moonlight - vampire!au

pairing/s: Gasly!Reader x unnamed!bf, Vampire!Charles Leclerc x Gasly!Reader, Platonic!Pierre Gasly x Gasly!Sister!Reader, Platonic!Arthur Leclerc x Gasly!Reader

c/w: Implied smut, attempt of sexual assault, brief shitty descriptions of violence, bad ending??

w/c: 1.7k

summary: Charles Leclerc is in love with the forbidden fruit, or his best friends sister Y/N Gasly and can't control his instincts when she's in trouble.

a/n: no one asked for this but I might do a part two if anyones interested x

masterlist

Charles knew this was wrong.

You were his childhood best friends little sister, but he couldn't help himself from watching the way your hips swayed in time to the music which blared over the speakers, your mini skirt - Which he knew your brother would not be happy seeing you in - rising higher up your thighs as you moved. He knew that it was wrong to think of himself between your thighs, pleasuring you in ways which you'd never been before, satisfying you unlike how the boy you were grinding against would.

He needed you so bad it hurt.

If his heart were beating he was sure he'd feel it ache in desire for you. 

He stood by Arthur, his eyes trained on you as his jaw clenched and he tightly gripped the glass he'd been nursing as he watched you, so tight that he would surely smash the glass into tiny pieces if he held it any harder. He feared if he pursued you any more than he had, then your heart would end up in the same way as the glass could, he feared he'd fall too in love with you and sink his teeth too far into your neck, leaving you helpless and bleeding. He'd never be able to explain himself to Pierre, how could be explain what he had done to his best friends precious baby sister? Your one night fling weeks ago had become a regular thing, despite you being adamant that you loved your boyfriend, but any time you and him had sex, all you could do was think about was Charles, how good he made you feel, how deliciously full you felt when he was inside you, the way that he left you stumbling the next day; scrambling for an excuse to try and satisfy your boyfriend.

"You are staring at her again, Charles," Arthur chided his older brother, he knew just how in love with you Charles was, but also knew that he'd never let himself love you properly for the fear of hurting you. Sleeping with you and being the other man would have to suffice for now.

"No I am not," Charles defended himself quickly, too quickly for Arthur to believe him. "I'm just...keeping an eye on her with that stupid boy. Pierre asked me to." Arthur chuckled at Charles' excuses. The two Leclerc's watched as you turned and faced your boyfriend, giggling as you pressed a small kiss on his lips and heading off to the bathroom, entrusting him with your drink - Which would be your first mistake of the night. Charles watched as you weaved your way through the mass crowd of the club towards the bathroom and flitted his attention back to that of your boyfriend, watching as he emptied a sachet of white powder into your drink.

"Charles?" Arthur nudged him, trying to see what had gained his brothers attention but Charles' attention was otherwise diverted away from his little brother. How dare this boy violate your trust like this?

"Fucker, I'm going to kill him," Charles went to storm off, but Arthur grabbed him before he could do any harm to your boyfriend. "Arthur let me go. He's going to hurt her." He backed off, noticing that Charles' eyes were no longer their usual green colour, now a deep, dark red. His eyes scanned the crowd, seeing you standing back with your boyfriend, now looking disoriented and swaying on your feet, putting up no argument as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the crowd with no regard to you stumbling over your feet in your high heels.

Charles weaved his way through the crowd, blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins as the music continued to pound through the speakers and coloured lights flashed and illuminated the otherwise dark club that he was in. Making his way outside, his pale skin shone under the Monaco moonlight, eyes scanning for you anywhere in the crowd gathered outside of the club.

"No, I don't feel good," He heard you whining from a dark alleyway a couple of streets down, your voice thick with tears and fear. You felt like you were dying, you were hot one minute, cold the next, your stomach was halfway up your throat ready to be thrown up at any minute, and you didn't have the strength to defend yourself against your boyfriend. You wanted to go home, you wanted Pierre to come and get you and make sure that this boy was too scared to ever look in your general direction ever again. "(Name), please stop, I don't feel well." You pleaded, futilely trying to push him off of you, your eyes welling up with tears as he pushed his knee in between your legs.

"It won't hurt as much if you stop struggling, pretty girl."

That sent Charles over the edge. He promised Pierre that he wouldn't let anything happen to you and now you needed help. Before he could hurt you any further, he was pulled off of you, hitting the wall opposite with a grunt. 

Charles loomed over him, his teeth bared and eyes red.

Drowning out the sound of your crying and whimpering, Charles let his instinct take over, tearing into your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend as you screamed and cried, unsure if you were really seeing this or if you were hallucinating. You covered your eyes as you cried, shielding yourself from the violent attack happening in front of you.

Charles huffed he stood back up, wiping blood away from the side of his mouth and turning back to face you, his stomach dropping as he saw your distraught and distressed state. Panicking, he pulled your hands away from your face hoping that his familiarity would in some way calm you down - but the sight of your brothers best friend with red eyes and a face covered in your boyfriends blood only pushed your fear.

"No! Let go of me! Someone help me!" You screamed out, trying in vain to push Charles off of you so you could find someway to get back home. Charles, in a further panic, pressed his hand onto your mouth to silence your screaming.

"Please calm down, ange, it's all okay, I promise," Charles tried to calm you, even if it appeared to be without any result as you continued struggling to try and get away from him. "Please, please just calm down and let me explain, just let me talk to you." Looking into Charles eyes, you found yourself feeling more and more at ease, still despite your efforts to get away from him. His stomach sunk as he realised he'd unintentionally tranced you, leaving you at his mercy.

"Charles, what...what's going on?" You dazedly asked him, slumping forward into his embrace and leaning your head on his shoulder, leaving your neck perfectly exposed to him; Charles found months and years of self-control withering away, he'd never allowed himself to be in such close proximity to you.

"Please not now, Y/N, you need to rest," He tried to persuade you to go to sleep, hoping that under your trance like state that you would. Fighting sleep, you looked up into Charles' red eyes, hoping to find some glimpse of your Charles, not this...blood sucking monster, you wanted your Charles who always made sure to clean you up after your sexual encounters, who made sure that you were still okay with what you were doing, who you knew loved you but for some reason you never knew, could never let himself.

"I love you, Charles," You confessed, pulling his blood soaked face to look at you, even though all he could focus on was the pulse point of your neck, the sound of your blood rushing through your veins was too much for him to take.

He couldn't take it anymore.

You let out a gasp as Charles' fangs pierced through your neck, two sharp pain points flashing and then going numb. You knew that it was futile trying to get away from him, and accepted that if this was how you died, then you were dying in the arms of the man that you loved - even if it meant you'd never see your beloved brother again.

As Arthur made his way outside and up the street to look for where Charles had gone, he stopped in his tracks as he saw you laying almost lifeless in his brothers arms, his teeth well sunk into your neck as the blood had almost been drained from your body and the life drained from you.

"Charles! stop!" He pulled Charles off of you, unsure if you were even still alive. "Oh my God, Charles, you have to help her." Arthur checked your neck where Charles had bitten you, feeling a faint pulse.

"No, I can't, Pierre will kill me, Arthur," Charles was near hyperventilating, and looked at Arthur confused as he let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Oh, and you think he won't kill you when someone finds her here dead and you have to explain to Pierre that it was you, and that you left her here like a coward because you can't control yourself?!" The two brothers were now panicking, despite being in some way immortal, they were terrified of Pierre, your older brother was fiercely defensive over you. Acting quickly and moving beside you once more, Charles bit into his wrist, piercing the vein and watching as his blood slowly trickled out, much darker and thicker than your own, and put his wrist at your mouth, forcing you to drink his blood despite your very weak protests.

"We'll take her back to my place, tell Pierre she met a friend and she's staying there for the night, deal?" 

"Deal."

[yuurei20]

Small changes to Twisted Wonderland the first novel, official translation (pt1/4)

Did a word-for-word comparison of the EN novel, and there are no significant changes to the story/characters! 🥳

(Though there are some places where the novel decided to use EN-game content that does not match the original game's or novel's content.)

Original Novel (Grim): “I’m gonna put on those clothes, and then I’ll—“

EN Novel (Grim): "Now unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off that—"

--

Original Novel (Yuuya): “An incessant rumbling, like something hard rolling along the ground."

EN Novel (Yuuya): (removed)

(This line from Yuuya's recollection of what happened just before he appeared at NRC was removed from the English-language novel.)

--

When Crowley returns to the opening ceremony with Yuuya we originally receive five comments from unnamed students. In EN, there are only four.

The line, "Does that mean they're special, I guess?," was removed from the English-language novel.

--

While trying to identify Yuuya’s home, Crowley originally asks him if he has a health insurance card. This was changed in the English adaptation to “driver’s license.”

--

Original Novel (Grim): “Nyahaha, what’s with that stupid look on your face? You already forgotten what I look like?”

EN Novel (Grim): "Myah ha ha! That look on your face is priceless. Like a bat that got blasted by a water gun!"

(This EN line is accurate to both the original and EN game but was changed for the JP novel, and it seems the EN novel opted for the game version, instead.)

--

Original Novel (Ace): “Maybe it’s 'cause he wasn’t born a king that he was able to be considerate about issues to do with status. Pretty cool.”

EN Novel (Ace): “’Maybe he could look past status and all that stuff 'cause he hadn't been born royal himself," Ace said. ‘Pretty cool, huh?’”

--

Original Novel (Ace): “Do your best cleaning up with that monster.”

EN Novel (Ace): “I'll let you get back to picking up trash with your little monster friend."

(Directly after this Yuuya confesses he has has no friends and is shocked when the ghosts comment he and Grim seem like friends.)

--

Original Novel: “How dare you mock me. I'll show you which of us is superior!’ ‘Hah. A mere monster is gonna take me on?"

EN Novel: “‘No one makes fun of Grim, master of fire!’ Grim snarled. ‘I’ll show ya who's boss here!’ ‘Ha!’ Ace snorted. ‘You wanna throw down with me, shorty?’”

Grim does not call himself “master of fire,” and Ace does not call him “shorty.” Ace calls Grim “shorty” often in the EN novel, which he never does in the original, and it seems that this is another instance of the EN novel taking something from the EN game that did not originally exist in the JP game or novel.

[eddiestightywhities]

“Eddie, you do know that I'm—that I'm yours, right?” Buck's eyes are holding Eddie's gaze like the fate of the world is suddenly at stake. “I mean, I'm yours for whatever you want, y’know? ‘Cause there is nobody else in my life that is... that's you, as in what you are to me, for me, and I'm—I just want you to know that I wanna be that person for you, too; need you to know that I am that person, and that I can be whatever else it is you might need me to be. Or maybe want me to be.” Eddie feels like all the oxygen has suddenly been sucked right out of his kitchen. “You—you get that, don't you, Eds?” 

Christopher once wondered out loud about which beast from the animal kingdom, other than human, would represent each of the three of them and their different personalities, and when Eddie had thought about Buck he'd pictured excitable Golden Retrievers and bounding Dalmatian puppies just as much as the next guy. But the proxy creature he'd been more sure of—and more hesitant to admit likening Buck to—was the Hummingbird, with its astonishingly strong heart that beats at something like nine-hundred times per minute (which Eddie knows about because Buck told him, of course).

Eddie has never known anybody quite like Evan Buckley, with his supercharged and forever-bleeding heart that's pinned so earnestly and so prominently to his shirt sleeve that Eddie's sure it's sometimes visible to the naked eye.

Bar his son, Buck is the greatest person Eddie's ever met.

They weren't always what they are now, though, Buck and him. Not back at the very start. But somehow, one day, somewhere along the line, they just—were.

They became Eddie and Buck. Buck and Eddie.

And this… something, that's simmering between them, it's a thing Eddie couldn't put his finger on for the longest time, couldn't quite make out whenever he attempted to look at it, trying to parse it out and see it for what it really was. It's an emotion he hadn't thought he'd be able to describe, even if he'd wanted to. A brand new feeling for Eddie's collection that he felt forming in the space behind his ribcage, something that bursts forth whenever Eddie looks over to Buck on the job, or at weekends when they take Christopher for days out at the park or the zoo, or whenever Eddie thinks about Buck when Buck's not around. Buck: this long-legged, loyal to a fault smiling guy who has become the best friend Eddie has ever had. Hell, he just feels it all the time. Invisible yet almost tangible, this unnamed something first sprouted like a sapling the day the two of them dug a live fragmentation grenade out of that retired third-grade teacher's thigh, springing up and growing branches that get bigger every day, reaching outward towards the sun to bathe in its warm rays, seeking out life. It grew within Eddie, and it's still growing, spreading out through every part of his life, now, not with the speed or ferocity of a wildfire but a thing similar to climbing roses; slow and steady, delicate yet hardy and strong.

Its true nature has always been just a little to the left of Eddie's range of understanding, though, an almost ethereal thing just slightly out of his reach. For a while, he hadn't dared to examine it all that carefully, or at all. Hadn't known how to, honestly. He now thinks that talking to Frank and embarking on his journey to figure out Who Am I?—trying to find out who Edmundo Diaz is as a person—was probably the start of him working out what this ever-expanding something between him and Buck actually is. 

Eddie came to the conclusion pretty quickly after that, that Evan Buckley, this kind-hearted, wide open, supremely loving giant puppy dog of a person with the heart of a Hummingbird, has become his person. Before Eddie even had the opportunity to notice that their relationship had started to change and morph into something different than what it was at the start, Buck had simply become his partner. In all ways, seemingly. Not just at work, but in life. And Eddie—well. Eddie realised at some point that he was somehow, amazingly, now apparently one hundred percent Buck's person, too. 

The only other soul Eddie has ever gotten close to in that way was Shannon, and sadly everything about their relationship had been so profoundly situational. Eddie thought he'd needed a girlfriend in high school, and Shannon was so, so lovely and had wanted to be that person for Eddie. Then Christopher had unexpectedly come along when they were both still so young, and they'd got married because that was the right thing to do, what Eddie thought he was supposed to do. He then ran away scared, by enlisting, and his life ended up spinning out of control and heading someplace he wasn't old enough to have even imagined, a life he'd somehow acquired and felt he had zero control over.

Not that he'd change any of it. There was happiness in the love he and Shannon had for each other, even if it hadn't quite been the right kind of love, and they'd made a beautiful baby together, a beautiful boy. And after coming home to Christopher after his last tour, at long last, Eddie knew he wouldn't, couldn't, be without that kid ever again.

Christopher was and is the one true shining light in Eddie Diaz's messed up life. 

Until Buck. 

Eddie and Buck, they have chosen each other as partners. And as parents, too—that's the truth of it. And they've gotten so close to each other in such a quiet, gentle way that Eddie hadn't been able to see the wood for the trees, it seems, hadn't realised their dynamic had shifted quite as significantly as it has over the years. Infinitesimally, then bit by bit, but so vastly and so dramatically at the same time.

He and Buck are together. All of the time. Because they choose to be. Because it just feels so damn right for them to be that way.  Together, they are what Eddie believes partners are supposed to be.

At some point it had dawned on Eddie that the two of them, he and Buck, had moved beyond just friends and into… that something. Something else. It had just happened so softly and so seamlessly, and with such unprecedented ease, that even after he'd clocked it, he hadn't really thought to question it because it happily became a thing that just was.

Yeah, Buck and Eddie just kind of... are.

Eddie also doesn't know when exactly it was that the grounding touches they so often share became increasingly more frequent, more important to Eddie, and then softer and more lingering, warm and comforting and completely different to the way either of them touches anybody else, Eddie thinks. Buck has been Eddie's person for what feels like forever, but Eddie started to find more recently that this thing in his chest that is constantly reaching out for Buck, this bond, this something special that they share, it was becoming something that pines and wants and needs, something fragile but at the same time something unerringly and amazingly steadfast.

Like the Hummingbird.

They're an immovable thing, Eddie and Buck. They're Buck and Eddie. They're Eddie and Christopher and Buck. And the three of them, together, are the one thing in Eddie's life that is so assuredly grounding, and so real, that Eddie often feels his chest might burst right open with the force of it.

Together, they've become more.

Eddie learned that when you find your way to that person—your person, the one who makes you feel like even when everything really isn't okay, you having that feeling is okay as long as they are here, with you—it's an unwavering thing, an absolute thing. 

The real thing. 

Eddie looks across his kitchen table at Buck, his Buck, right here and right now, and realises that this something between them is the thing that all those poets throughout the ages have been writing their sonnets about. 

Sunshine. Wildfire. Climbing roses. 

This something—this person, Eddie's person, Eddie's Buck—is standing in front of Eddie, having taken root in Eddie's chest while wearing his Hummingbird heart on his sleeve and offering Eddie a share in his sunshine world.

This something; it's a thing called love. 

Maybe Eddie got there first. Maybe Buck did. Maybe it dawned on them both at the same time, but Eddie knows that they both know it now, he knows it with the way all of Buck's love is radiating out of his body and flowing into Eddie's, like a shared life-force or magic or some cosmic shit Eddie knows he doesn't really need to comprehend. 

I'm yours, Buck told him moments ago.

Eddie takes a breath, and begins.

“I'm yours, too, Buck. All yours. It's you and me, man. Together. You and me and Christopher, because I know just how much you love him...” and he doesn't dare add what is the hopefully implied ‘too’ at the end of his declaration, but only because he doesn't know how to say it out loud, just yet. 

Until he very much does, barely a second into Buck nodding and beaming like Texas sunshine and saying, “You do get it,” and Eddie knows absolutely that he can say it, now.

So he does.

“Yeah, Buck. I do. Because I love you, mi Colibrí. I love you.”

Buck surges, becoming that wildfire as he rounds Eddie's kitchen table, their table, and Eddie stands to meet him, his Buck, his unstoppable force, his best friend, his heart, and Eddie's chair is clattering to the floor as they grab onto each other, big handfuls of shirts and arms and faces and napes of necks, gripping tightly and hanging on for dear life because maybe the fate of the world, their world, really is at stake after all. 

Yet stood here in Eddie's kitchen, together, holding each other, Eddie somehow knows they both understand that their world can't actually be tipped on its axis so easily, not by injuries or natural disasters or even The Great Unknown. Buck and Eddie can't be shaken so hard they come apart at their seams because like everything else in their lives, they're in this together.

Eddie and Buck, Buck and Eddie. They'll figure this thing out.

Together. 

Buck is standing so close that Eddie can feel warm breath on his cheeks, a definite panting that mirrors Eddie's, both their chests now heaving with the air that's crackling between them, eyes roaming all over each other's faces and then Buck's baby blue's settle on Eddie's mouth and Eddie's follow suit, and he's amazed at just how pink Buck's lips are this close up and all he can comprehend in this moment is that he doesn't think he's ever wanted a person so much in his entire fucking life, has never felt the pull of want and need and home as strongly as he does right here and right now, for his best friend. His partner. His Colibrí. 

His Buck.

“Buck, I want—” Eddie's yearning is so loud he can't even finish his sentence. 

“Me too,” Buck helps, and he's leaning in a little further, tentatively and so damn slowly that Eddie wants to scream at him to get on with it but also wants to freeze-frame them in amber because this is the moment that he knows, really knows; the moment Eddie has been trying to uncover; the rose bush and its branches, the fire, the sunshine; the moment Eddie finally understands what it is that he feels for this man now in his arms, knows exactly what their something is and what it was all along; the moment Eddie has been unknowingly and unbelievably hoping, hoping, hoping would arrive someday.

Today, Eddie thinks, and he can't wait any longer so he kisses Buck and Buck kisses him back and Eddie knows, then, inherently, that Buck loves him, too. 

[END]

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

inspired by and a tribute to one of the loveliest fics i've ever read: OF HUSHED WORDS AND HUMMINGBIRDS by the hugely talented procannibals on ao3... you should absolutely click the link to go read it and show it all the love it deserves! btw the themes of hummingbirds as a metaphor, plus eddie's question of 'who am i?` here belong entirely to mo (procannibals) and the fic linked that i've just mentioned.

this is also on ao3 HERE (published as 'Today') if you'd like to be so kind to pop across there and leave me a comment xp

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: xiao :: kazuha :: (abyss prince!) aether :: childe x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died; [xiao] unnamed illness; [kazuha] mention of kazu's friend (tomo); [aether] somewhat graphic description of body transmutation/ body horror (just to be safe), possible deviation from khaenri'ah lore; [childe] (description of) blood, wounds, (mentions of) murder, violence over all

the loneliest- måneskin || genshin impact masterlist

a million miles away [pt. 1 - scara, venti, kaveh, zhongli]

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

"You'll be the saddest part of me A part of me that will never be mine It's obvious Tonight is gonna be the loneliest You're still the oxygen I breathe I see your face when I close my eyes It's torturous Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

Dark clouds hung over Liyue’s skies, the air heavy and oppressive. No wind swayed the trees and the afternoon was void of the sounds of chirping birds, no doubt seeking refuge from the desolation clinging to the landscape like wet clothes to skin.

Right under the towering Wangshu Inn, a group of black-clad individuals trekked through muddy grass, hardly standing out against the gloom. It was difficult to tell day from night with the sun completely blocked from view, not a single ray of light illuminating what would usually be the beauty of the Guili Planes.

Indeed, their vastness was a beauty to behold, brimming with life and chattering travellers while the delicious smell floating from Wangshu Inn’s kitchen watered the mouths of returning adventurers. Yes, it had been a long time since anything filled Xiao with so much serenity and peace as watching the sun melt into the mountain tops while you sat with him until the stars shone their light onto the two of you. Finally, after countless millennia of wandering in the dark, he had found something akin to a home.

You had picked a magnificent site as your final resting place.

When your testament had been read, your wish to be laid down in this unconventional location had shocked your friends and family. The journey all the way from Liyue Harbour to Wangshu Inn could be a treacherous and arduous one if you weren’t prepared, so concerns about visiting and maintaining your grave grew loud. Yet, with the help of the innkeeper Verr Goldet, who was well aware of how much you had treasured your time here, assuring everyone you would be well taken care of even on your next journey, your family honoured your wish.

Piercing amber eyes watched as more mortals dressed in all-black gathered for the human rite of passing near the inn. A funeral, that was what you had called it. The purpose was the same though; a life had ended and now those who mourned offered their last respects. Separating from the crowd was the figure of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director and although Xiao couldn’t hear what she was saying where he sat, he guessed she was commencing the ceremony. One after the other, members of your family took turns giving speeches and while he didn’t dare go within ear shot, he didn’t need to; the way people’s shoulders shook and how others went to embrace them and dabbed at their tears told him enough.

After a while, even the last of the mourners had left the funeral site and only then did featherlight feet graze the branches of the nearby tree in fleeting touches before the yaksha dropped to the ground several metres away from your grave. A shielded candle on your tomb was all that illuminated his surroundings. The sight of the tombstone rooted him in place, not sure if he should really approach you one more time. 

After all, this was his fault.

As if the world agreed with him, the second Xiao set foot onto the path towards your eternal resting place, cold drops battered against his skin and, like black ink bleeding onto a page, they stained heaven and earth. Normally, the adeptus welcomed the cleansing feeling of the rain but on this day it did nothing to wash away the grief hanging heavy between tree trunks and rocks. Instead, it seemed to pull him under as it weighed down his feet and pressed down on his lungs. Still, he continued forward, driven by the need to talk to you again, even if it was only once more. 

Even in this weather he could see how polished the headstone was, not at all withered by harsh conditions like the ones he’d come across before. There was no need for him to study the carved letters of your name or the lifespan that was hardly more than the blink of an eye to him, they might as well have been ingrained in his heart rather than this stone. Yet he flinched back when his fingers brushed the intricately written quote underneath.

“The connection between us is too strong to sever. So let us continue this eternal dance together.”

It was a conversation between the two of you he remembered vividly, both voices ringing clear in his ear. Back then, he had been scared by the consequences being together would have, especially for you who wasn’t meant to be exposed to karmic debt. But you had taken his hand and gently intertwined them; face-to-face with your warm smile, he didn’t find the power to pull away. So, instead, he foolishly brought you closer.

And at first, your time together was truly and genuinely perfect. Not only did you both learn a lot about the other’s way of life, you also showed him a love he never experienced before. Sure, his fellow yaksha had cared for him like a family but you held him so carefully as if he were something delicate, not a weapon but someone to be held dear. In the beginning, he was offended. Did you really think he was that fragile? When you, however, reassured him that even the strongest and bravest fighters need to be cared for, he silently melted into your embrace and soon he’d come to miss the feeling if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was only when simple colds turned into you coughing uncontrollably that his worries slapped him awake again. Despite your protests that you were fine, Xiao ushered you to see a doctor in the city. His anxieties were proven right when you came back with a crestfallen expression, barely able to utter the devastating words ‘chronic illness’. 

Over weeks and months, you worked hard on all the therapies and rehabilitation methods you were given, yet despite your best effort it wasn’t enough. Your body could not fight back against what was happening to you and you grew weaker still. Another doctor’s appointment later, the word ‘fatal’ hung over your head like a sword threatening to fall any second.

Yet, in the face of your own death sentence, you remained strong. Far stronger than he ever could be. You spent more time with him, travelled more, tried things you never had the chance to before. To everyone else you portrayed a picture of dignified acceptance, still it wasn’t quite enough to hide your feelings from him. Not when he could hear your sniffles and suppressed sobs coming from the opened balcony door on yet another sleepless night. When he reached out to hold you, you hastily wiped your tears and showed him a wobbly smile, playfully chastising yourself for staying up too late.

The following day, you still woke up with him, made breakfast as he got ready to leave and pressed such a painfully loving kiss to his lips before he leapt off the balcony. Although it was something you did every day, there was still something off about it, something that gnawed at him all day. As he drove his spear through demon after demon, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again, his mind jumping from bad to worse.

It didn’t prepare him for finding your unconscious body on the wooden floorboards of your shared home. Spear clattering to the floor, Xiao rushed over to cradle you against his chest but no matter how often he spoke your name, you wouldn’t come back to him. Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper called for a doctor immediately but even then, they couldn’t do anything but confirm what everyone had dreaded.

The letter on the table didn’t catch his eye until much later. Next to it lay a woven charm made from an adepti technique he’d shown you and preserved qingxin flowers you had picked together. It was clumsy handiwork but to him it was more perfect than anything else. He was careful as he broke the letter’s seal and held the decorated paper between his gloved fingers. As he soaked up your words, Xiao felt his knees weaken and he had to take a seat before continuing to read. You thanked him for your time together, apologised for leaving early, expressed your hope to see him again one fateful day.

Even recalling it now as he stood in the chill of the rain made his head hurt, his soul feeling like it was being torn into a million directions. How could you be grateful, how could you be sorry, how could you miss the reason pain had befallen you? You should have been angry and should’ve yelled at him, hit him, hurt him, not comfort him. Not smiled at him or held him. He didn’t deserve your kindness and your warmth and your love.

Seeing your name carved in stone like this was much worse than Xiao could have imagined. It radiated a finality, an unyielding reality there was no waking up from. The sudden rush of his suppressed guilt flooded his mind and had the adeptus keeling over onto the muddy grass. There was a pounding in his head and he tugged harshly at his roots to make it stop. Despite having no need for food, he felt nauseous as he clutched his stomach with one hand while the other dug into the soil in front of your grave.

He should have known the black bonds would ensnare you too, the clutches of his karmic debt too powerful to escape. Despite knowing better, he still selfishly took your hand all that time ago. When he reached for you like a man drowning, he thought at first you were his salvation. Too late did he realise he was dragging you down into the pitch black depths with him. 

In his foolishness, he had doomed you and now you had to pay the price.

The thought tore a pained sound from him, more akin to a wounded animal than anything human. By now it was hard for him to differentiate between physical and mental sensations, he couldn’t be sure whether the pain he felt was real or just his imagination. Just when it became too much to bear and black spots danced across his vision, a faint call of his name caught his attention.

“Xiao, breathe,” a comfortingly familiar voice reached through the fog of his mind and pulled him back to the surface of reality where he sharply inhaled some much needed air. “It’s okay.”

Looking around frantically, he searched for the origin of your voice just to succumb to the realisation that there was nobody there. Only the dancing flame of the candle in front of him moved during the descent of night. Unlike the damp tear tracks streaking his face, you were but a figment of his imagination.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xiao wiped over his cheeks and rose to his feet. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers he placed a small incense burner and a jade talisman next to the silk flowers and glaze lilies left by the funeral attendees before making a fleet-footed retreat to the top of the inn. 

Once again, you’d dispelled the karma threatening to overtake him when it became too overwhelming to bear. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he would see you again. Until then, he’d carry on with his duty and uphold his contract without falling prey to the madness within. All to be reunited with you when the time came.

When your family came to visit your grave some time later, they were positively perplexed at the pristine condition it was in. No moss covered the stone, the flowers had been replaced with vivid ones growing around your resting place and the candle had been changed out for a new one. When they asked Verr Goldet about it, the innkeeper merely smiled knowingly, reiterating that there was someone here who cared deeply for you.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

"...There's a few lines that I have wrote In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want So don't be sad when I'll be gone There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so..."

The scratching of a pen filled the wooden cabin of the Alcor, the yet-to-dry ink reflecting the last golden rays of the sun. From right outside the circular window, the cries of seagulls could be heard as a flock of them returned to their nest for the night. Waves gently swayed the flagship of the Crux, the resulting sea spray carrying more salty air into the room.

Kazuha paused his writing, pen lifted over the first line of the letter as maple eyes reflected the shift of the sun from amber to a molten crimson. When it started sinking beneath the line of the horizon, he picked up a box of matches to light a candle. For a few seconds, the burnt scent of wood tickled his nose before it evaporated. Such was the nature of the world, everything must come to an end, not even eternity would change that fate; whether it was the sinking sun, the spark of a flame or the life of a treasured person.

He dipped his pen in ink once more before lifting the end to his chin in contemplation, deciding on what to fill the page with this evening. Kazuha’s eyes traced the words of the first line which were at this point engraved into his heart, then set pen to paper in practised motions.

My love,

I hope this letter finds you well. 

Worry not, I’m enjoying good health myself and life on the Alcor is treating me well. Unless the crew starts drunkenly singing again; I normally do not suffer from sea sickness, however, … I leave the rest to your imagination.

Otherwise, my days have been rather quiet. Although, whenever we anchor somewhere, I’ve been granted the most beautiful of views. All the places we hoped to visit together one day, they’re as magnificent as we imagined. I wish I could show you the sceneries of Teyvat’s nations; the sunsets and sunrises, the lush forests and gurgling rivers springing from majestic waterfalls. I’m certain you’d enjoy them quite a lot.

Still, despite having seen a lot of what this world has to offer, I can confidently say, nothing compares to your beauty. Even though it has been a while since I’ve been graced by your radiance, I have no trouble recalling it before my mind’s eye. In fact, it is harder not to think of you within every waking moment and my most cherished dreams are those of you.

I see the curves of your lips in the petals of silk flowers, the brightest stars do not compare to the sparkle of your eyes and no amount of lamp grass can illuminate my nights like your smile can. When the afternoon breeze brushes my cheek I am reminded of your gentle touch, the waves whisper stories like you do while curled up by my side, the dancing glow of crystal flies is not nearly as captivating as you coming to see me.

As you can tell, you have positively enchanted me, my dear, and I find it hard to steer my thoughts in a direction which does not lead me back to you; I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, it comes as no surprise that I long for the day I will enjoy your precious company again. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to hold you in my arms again, now and forever. If I could only be granted this one wish, I truly would not yearn for anything else ever again because every moment with you feels like the calming essence my dreams are made of.

The next time we reunite, I’d be honoured to share my most recent works with you; there are quite a number of haikus, sonnets and odes you have inspired. Until then, I’d be pleased to hear from you, wherever you may currently be.

My heart belongs to you always and forever,

Kazuha

With a fond smile, the crimson-eyed samurai waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter carefully and tucking it safely away in an envelope. Reaching for the maple-leaf carved wax seal Beidou had generously gotten for him, Kazuha pressed the stamp down with measured strength. Once it had cooled sufficiently, he adoringly brushed his bandaged thumb over the seal, then turned the letter over and gracefully looped the curves of your name onto the front.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he placed the envelope on top of the neatly stacked letters already occupying the space. Soon, he’d need to find a different place to store them, lest they quilled over. After all, there was no address they could be delivered to anymore, nobody to receive the feelings he spilled onto the page. Or maybe there was, just not on a plane of existence he could perceive.

Exhaling a tired sigh, Kazuha lifted his gaze outside his window again. There, the moon was glowing a bright white while surrounded by stars, evoking distant memories of a fluffy kitten playing amongst the flowers of an Inazuman meadow.

At the sight, he couldn’t help but wonder, were the two of you at peace? Did you meet somewhere he had yet to explore? Did you get along well? Were Tomo and you watching over him from high above, smiling to yourselves about the person he had become, the choices he made and would make? The thought filled him with peace and joy, yet also, excitement, despite the circumstances.

After all, it would mean Kazuha, too, had the possibility of joining you once his time came and that hope helped calm his heart, no matter what storm he had to face.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"...'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it With you, with you nobody else here Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

A crimson moon had risen over Khaenri’ah that night, the very foundation of the land shaking under the attacks the nation suffered. People were running for their lives on unstable footing, trying to escape the scorn of the gods, despite not knowing where -or if- they would be safe. The noise in the city was loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, cries of humans and monsters alike echoing through the smoke-filled sky.

Holding onto your hand tightly, Aether dodged several panicked people, trying not to get you caught in the chaotic mass of moving bodies as fear spread among the civilians like a plague. Both of you staggered slightly as you reached the edge of the central square when another quake of the ground sent more buildings crumbling to the ground.  

After running for several more minutes and creating distance to most of the people, you stopped to catch your breath as you surveyed the destruction below. The city you had moved to was hardly recognisable, dyed in the scarlet of flames and the charcoal of smoke. In the distance, you could spot hordes of rifthounds crossing the border to Teyvat’s other nations, only further aggravating the forces of ‘divine punishment’. 

Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Even as he shut his eyes, he couldn’t keep out the flashes of light wreaking devastation on the nation. Focusing on the warmth radiating from your body, the blond let his hand wander over your arm as if to confirm you were still with him. You stood like this for a while until the loudest of the noise died out and the worst of it seemed to be over.

Or that was what he thought. Because soon thereafter, shrill shrieks coming from the city pierced his ears, pitched in an agony he had never witnessed before. Not on any world he had visited in the past had a sound chilled his blood and made his skin crawl from the sheer terror it conveyed. It was a chorus of voices drifting up from below, contorted in both confusion and pain.

Frozen in shock, Aether barely felt you twitching in his arm until it turned to full-body spasms and you wrangled free from his embrace. Stumbling backwards, you clutched your head and doubled over, barely able to stand on your own feet as groans of discomfort started straining into screams as well. If he thought it was nightmarish before, seeing the person he loved scratch down their own face in torment while their voice grew hoarse from screeching in pure misery was indescribably cruel. 

Reaching out to do something, anything, to help, he heard the first sickening crack of what could only be bones and his stomach dropped a little lower every time the sound echoed through the dreadful night. By the time it stopped, Aether suppressed the urge to throw up the acid in his stomach to relieve the nausea which had overcome him.

But still, that sensation was nothing compared to the ice cold dread washing over him when instead of you, a small haggard creature with a large mask covering its entire face stood in your place. It was dizzy and disoriented, yet, as soon as Aether made a move towards, it clumsily scurried away from him. 

Looking down into the centre of the city, he saw a large number of strange creatures of all sizes swarm the place as the people around them dove out of their way. Overall though, the number of entities didn’t seem to have changed and there was simply no way these strange beings could have switched places with the civilians this quickly. Surely, it couldn’t be…

In a small voice, he called your name and watched as the masked creature cautiously studied him before taking a single step in his direction. A falling piece of debris hit the ground near the two of you and, quick as lightning, the thing flinched back and ran to the square where most of them had gathered, ignoring his calls to wait.

The events of that night still replayed in his mind and haunted him when he closed his eyes. Oftentimes, he’d wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air, startling his then travelling companion Dainsleif on more than one occasion. How could he ever forget the strangled cries ripped from your throat as you were transformed into what was now known as a hilichurl for no fault of your own.

After the catastrophe, it soon became clear that both the transformation and the immortality placed upon the people of Khaenri’ah were a curse by the gods, led by the Heavenly Principles, as retribution for the nation’s sins. But you had done nothing wrong; neither had most of the people affected. You merely moved to a place not ruled over by the gods. You were not deserving of any punishment; it was the epitome of injustice.

Over time, and despite Dainsleif’s strongly principled company, Aether’s grief slowly withered away and gave birth to frustration, anger and a certain yearning for revenge. That corrupted seed was nourished by every bloody hilichurl mask he came across on their travels, not wanting to think about what that could imply. The rest of Teyvat wasn’t even aware of the fate their beloved gods had doomed Khaenri’ahns to; to them, his fellow people were merely monsters to be slain.

First the Heavenly Principles separated him from his sister and then they took away the one person he found comfort in, who gave him stability and hope for the future. In a sickened way the thought drove him forward. Whether it was to move against the Heavenly Principles or find a way to break the curse, he needed to do something. Even if breaking the curse would reveal what he feared every time he saw a rotted out hilichurl camp to be true, he’d endure it better than the uncertainty gnawing at his stomach. 

So, to his own shock, he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Clothar Alberich’s proposal of establishing a new organisation of Khaenri’ahns, who were able to retain their self-awareness, and aiming to topple the divine thrones. To enact his own justice upon the world, which cruelly brought its own down on him, Aether would do anything.

He’d even become the Prince of the Abyss.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

"...And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better And all the crazy little things that we did together In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter If tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

The stench of blood hung in the air, the taste of iron filled the Harbinger’s mouth every time he breathed in. His left eye was only partially opened as the skin around a nasty cut on his temple swole up. It would certainly bruise, perhaps even leave a scar if it went uncared for, yet he hardly spared it a second thought.

As he moved to take out the last of his enemies still standing, the edges of his torn clothes dragged through the underlying wounds and ripped open those the fabric had clung to as they started building crusts. Childe’s breathing was ragged from both physical strain and a severe blow to his rib cage, one of them probably broken by the impact. Well, this wasn’t supposed to be a one person job after all.

But all his work had been so incredibly dull recently, so he purposely sent his subordinates to the wrong location and moved in alone, just to feel the thrill of battle. Normally, a battle in which the opponent was strong enough to wound him to this degree would shoot adrenaline straight through his veins, yet, it felt like nothing but a chore to him. No pride, no joy followed him as he dragged his damp shoes through the scarlet puddles on the cave floor, not even flinching at the cracking sound as he stepped on what he presumed to be someone’s hand. He didn’t care enough to look down.

The way back to Liyue Harbour was uneventful. Those who showed their faces learned pretty quickly that Childe wasn’t to be trifled with if they valued their lives and it wasn’t long before he dropped from the roof of Northland Bank, startling the Fatui Soldiers currently switching shifts. 

“M-My Lord,” one of them stammered as her eyes snapped from the tattered scarf to the droplets staining his hair a darker shade of red to the various gashes littering his body. “Your subordinates have been search–”

The Harbinger dismissed her with a mere wave of his hand and motioned for them to open the door. The two quickly scrambled to oblige, their frightened eyes still clinging to his back as he strode through the pristine halls of Northland bank, bloody footprints leaving a trail to his office. Other staff members on duty practically jumped out of his way with a simple glance at his usually bright face, fearing they’d end up as another stain on his sullied uniform.

Dropping into the chair behind the heavy oak desk while heaving a deep sigh, Childe discarded the scuffed red mask before sliding his gloved hand down his face, wincing as he put pressure on his fresh cut. Eventually he tipped his head back with a low groan.

The stale silence of paperwork and files was oppressive, adding to the pressure pounding through his skull. A tiny, rational voice in his head scolded him that this kind of reckless behaviour needed to end, that he was destroying himself. But the crazed part of his brain pushed back hard against the painful familiarity and steered his mind far away from every possible memory associated with it.

Casting his eyes down on the tabletop, he felt his mood sour even more at the fresh stack of letters waiting to be opened. Among the countless Fatui sigils, one particular envelope caught his eyes though; one with the address scribbled in childish handwriting.

Discarding his crimson-dyed gloves and picking his siblings’ letter from the pile with slow fingers, Childe opened it with careful motions. Instantly, a light flutter stirred in his chest at their antics, the stories they told from home and the instances where Teucer definitely pestered Tonia into including a certain detail.

The curve of his smile dropped when his eyes landed on the last part of the letter. Under his tightening grip, the letter he cherished so much before started to crumble and crease as his expression hardened again.

“Ajax, when are you bringing your partner again? You mentioned that they liked the dish mom made last time they visited, so I practised really hard to make it for them the next time. We’re really looking forward to seeing them again! Also mom asks when you’re getting married but I told her to be patient.”

As he stared down the words like they had personally wrong him, he didn’t notice the blood droplet running down the tip of his hair before it fell onto the letter. Childe watched as the red mixed with black, wetting the ink until the curves of your name had disappeared into nothingness, much like you had. One moment there, the next… gone.

In a moment of clarity, which came far too late, the ginger wiped frantically at the letter, trying to retrieve you but it was no use. By the time he stopped, the entire paragraph was smudged in a greyish smear of red and black. 

Dropping the scarlet letter, Childe supported his lead-heavy head on his hands as he dropped forward, hunching over his desk in defeat. This time it wasn’t blood which wetted his palms but salty tears, the first ones he’d shed since your passing. 

It felt as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto his shoulders as the glass he kept his feelings in broke and they flooded his consciousness like waves crashing onto a small fisher boat. 

Almost, Childe could feel the grip of your hand in his as you were running across Liyue’s Planes, away from the chaos by his own design, your excited laughter mingling with his own until you fell into the soft grass next to each other. Or how you'd huddled together for warmth under the starry skies of his home, steaming mugs clutched in your hands. He could vividly remember how you brushed away his bangs to press a searing kiss to his temple, eyes so full of love as you looked into his.

But what did it matter now? Why look back when you weren’t next to him anymore? When he couldn’t hold you anymore or bring you back home to meet his family? The family you would have become a part of?

All at once, his wounds started to burn and ache, every breath felt like he was dying as his broken ribs expanded and sunk around his lungs. His mouth tasted bitter with blood and he fought to keep his lunch down. He cringed at the sticky feeling of exudate running down his temple and trickling into the corners of his eyes, glueing his lashes together as he blinked. Even now, you were still right. He was destroying himself. But this time, you weren’t there to stop him.

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

[saigawrites]

Hey siri, how to take care of an aura jelly blob?

Continuation of my series | part 1 | part 2

Seelie! Genshin characters x Platonic! Gn! Reader

Sumeru men edition

Tags : fluff, crack, scenarios

Warnings : cursing, mentions of animal attack

Summary : you took home a strange creature, that looked nothing like anything from your world. So, you try to take care and somehow live with this sentient balloon.

You didn't know what had happened at all. You didn't know how and why you took home an intellectual blob with pretty colors. But, right now there is no time asking questions, as this flying circle thing has been squeaking for about 30 minutes, trying to explain you something. You came up with an idea in your mind, but for a moment thought it would be impossible. But, who knows? Maybe this creature actually has an intelligence and can write what they wanna say on a notebook?

Grabbing a empty notebook and a pencil from your workspace table, you open it and give the pencil to the creature. Shockingly, it holds it with tiny arms, and levitating themselves closer to the paper, they start to scribble something.

Wanderer ♥︎

"Filthy humanoid creature! I am the unnamed wanderer from teyvat! I know nothing about the surrounding environment around me. Tell me, where am I, so I can figure out a way to return to my homeland. And don't you dare to take advantage of my current state! I am powerful beyond your understanding, even if I'm not in my original form."

Okay, that's kinda freaky. Why is an aura balloon acting all supreme now?

When you read what he wrote, an "really?" expression set on your face. That's probably why he zapped you when you took him out of your bag.

As much as you know, there isn't a place called "teyvat" in any part of the globe. So, this thing is from another one. Great. You somehow bringed an alien into your house.

But at least, some of your questions were answered.

You found a bit funny that a floating circle with cat ears and tail was deliberately trying to boss around, though you didn't wanna get electrocuted again, so you simply followed whatever demands this alien thing could have.

Oh, his demands were BIG. No sleeping past 6 AM, doing intense research on the topic of multidimensional lapping, and long explanations about literally everything your world can offer you.

Well, you are glad that you don't have to feed him or watch after him.

That last part was a lie, as this seemingly harmless boss companion of yours was dangerously curious, and happened to cause trouble even if he was as soft as jelly.

Yeah, that time he wanted to see what type of clothes do your humans wear, he shaked that closet a little too much, as it almost fell on you.

You learned that he is surprisingly very strong after that, he even helped you put the heavy wood rectangle back in place.

Or that time you both were taking a walk in the forest, and he came too close to an aggressive tank with antlers, a 6 feet tall moose, making him react violently to you.

Gladly, the moose couldn't come any closer as your blue-purple friend somehow casted a heavy gust of wind, strong enough to push the animal away.

Your angry little jelly blob rushed to your side after that, afraid of you damaging yourself in any way. After scanning your face for any injuries and finding none, the cat blob made sure to not to stray away from you far.

Kaveh ♡

"Thank you, kind-hearted humanoid! I was so scared when I woke up in that place. Your rescue will be forever remembered by me. I am Kaveh, the architect of the sumeru city! It is an honour to be acquainted with such a peculiar creature like you! Please, help me find a way for me to get back to my planet."

First off, did he mention sumeru? The ancient city that existed centuries ago? Second off, did he call you peculiar? These balls be wildin

The warm-yellow bunny eared balloon floated around you excitedly, waiting for your response. You wanted to pet him and slap him into the void at the same time.

You got his vibe just right in your first interaction. The jelly ball acted all cute and adorable, but the clinginess of his made you progress on the aggression part in the cuteness-aggression feeling way more.

Seriously, this piss blob's ignoring of your personal space is on another level. The amount of times you had to shove him away from nuzzling all over your face and hair is overwhelming.

In his eyes, you are a majestic architectural masterpiece. He takes notes how your eyes and ears are on the same level, how your brows are exactly perfect centimeters away from your eyes. He loves your nose structure, he often stares at it to much, gaining a questioning look from you.

He is just like that with literally everything else in your apartment. He takes notes of the proportions of some objects, and in his seelie mind he finds ways to project your modern structures into his own.

Other than disturbing your piece he likes to look out the window, stare down at all of the other buildings and examine them with extreme focus.

Sometimes he even tries to make a sketch with his itty bitty hands, but fails miserably and comes crying to you, burying himself in your arms and making you pet his smooth body.

Al-haitam ♥︎

"I am Al-haitam, and I come from another world, as you probably already have guessed from our appearance differences. I thank you for taking me into a safe environment, may the archons bless your kind-soul. I ask you to fulfill my another wish, help me return back."

Who are archons? Are they some kind of deitys? Gods perhaps? You truly don't know.

His calm and reserved behavior matched his talking style. He kinda reminded you of the mystical tree, his colors and a leaf like antenna confirmed your statement further.

That's probably why you would burst out laughing whenever the green aura circle would act all smart, reading books and watching educational videos on youtube with you.

Though, after laughing your ass off, you would always think of his behavior as cute in a way. So much that you would have to hold your hands in place and resist the urge to just squeeze the life out of him.

Sometimes you couldn't hold it tough, and give in to your desires, smiling and giggling as you nuzzle this jello orb body of his.

Fighting back and eventually winning, he would aggressively bring your communication notebook and write down that your relationship is purely professional and you are disturbing his necessary research.

Making a ridicilously serious face and nodding repeatedly you would leave him alone for some time, only to come back again to lay on him and fight in the process.

Eventually he would just give up and go with the flow of your playfulness, seeing as he got exhausted of reading multiple books already.

And when you would get tired, you both would just lay there, napping peacefully as he nuzzles in your chest, listening to your heartbeat and think of how strange you are in his world perspective.

After waking up from a quick nap, he would poke you with his tiny arms and tug you to stand up to go to the library with him.

He really loved your libraries, the sight of your extremely detailed and textured bookshelfs and scriptures would make him scream like a fangirl on the inside.

He also liked your concentrated state, with your reading glasses on and gaze fixed on the letters. He would enjoy it even more when you would take notes of the subject, he's genuinely amazed of your handwriting.

Cyno ♥︎

"I am the general Mahamatra, Cyno. I thank you for saving me from the streets. I would be more than happy if you could get me back in my world, teyvat. Thanks in advance, or should I say, in later on."

What the hell was that. Was it... a joke? Okay, now is not the time to question what type of humor does this purple circle has.

Oh, but he's questioning you, looking at you with such a attentive gaze. Is he waiting for you to laugh?

Fulfilling his wishes, you chuckled from the amusement of not getting the joke at all. The blob didn't care though, as he simply jiggled in his place, proud of himself.

From that moment you discovered that this alien orb is a terrible jokester, as he would literally pull you from whatever you were doing to just check his new made ones.

And everytime you couldn't help but laugh histerically at his antics, because you wouldn't get the premise at all. All of his jokes never made sense, but were the most hilarious thing you laughed at in a while.

And he would always jiggle with pride after you laughed, bro really thought he gained a fan of his jokes💀.

One day you thought about showing him your world's perspective of humor, as you sat him up on the couch and turned on the tv with popular comedy shows.

Safe to say he would repeatedly jump from his seat, and roll on the couch from side to side, as his purple anubis ears would jiggle uncontrollably.

You took it as a sign of him liking it, and soon enough you both had a routine of watching comedy shows and gasp from laughing.

At first you thought he was just a happy go lucky guy, not realizing he can be sort of a guard dog.

Really, you only saw him being serious when he sensed something and flew to it's direction, only for it to be a racoon that he scared away with mini thunder.

Now you got why he was such a bright color of purple. Not gonna lie, you were a little scared to hold him after that, afraid he'll electrocute the shit out of you😰.

But it never happened, so you guess he's only friendly to you? Honestly, you felt kinda honored to have this status.

Tighnari ♡

"Greetings, suspectable another species of humankind. I am Tighnari, the forest ranger of the sumeru region. It is a pleasure to be in your natural environment, being able to study your world. Though, I would appreciate it if you could help me return back to sumeru. I still have a ton of things to do back there, so please, make sure to fulfill my request."

Is he some type of a scientist? "A pleasure to be in your natural environment, being able to study your world" yeah, my ass.

And he was an ass. Pain in the ass, to be exact.

He wouldn't leave you alone, wherever you would go or whenever time it was. He was always around you, floating and examining your features.

He just can't help himself, you look so strange! And everything around you looks so strange. He just has to know atleast something about the place he is in right now, what type of setting it is, how does it work, and yada yada yada...

That's what lead you to the situation you are in now, as he peeked out of your hoodie pocket, staring at all the contests of the supermarket you were in.

Even if you had told him already a thousand times that he can't go with you because he doesn't look like everybody else, he didn't listen and sneaked inside your clothes, successfully getting out of the house with you.

You desperately tried to cover his enormous ears with your hands, stuffing him further inside the pocket only for him to pop out from the other side. What a nosy aura blob.

It would get even worse when he would fly out to scan some object like salty pickles, thinking of it as peculiar, when in reality the only thing that's peculiar was him.

He would closely watch whenever you would put something in the cart, taking notes on how you hold the product and how you place it inside the metal structure.

He especially got very freaky about your world's greenery, demanding you to go out with him into a park, a nearby forest or literally anywhere where there is some type of plants.

You instead decided to take him into a local botanical garden, and when I say he went crazy, he went crazy.

Stopping every 3 minutes to find a new plant and examine it for about 20 minutes you and him spent the whole day in that garden.

He would poke your shoulder to it being numb, asking you to explain or tell what kind of plant it is, where does it grow, how does it grow, can we take it home, all that nerdy shit.

You did end up taking some small house plants afterwards, due to his unstoppable crying and squeaking, like a child wanting their parent to buy candy in the store.

He then made sure to always bug you to take care of the plant, saying that he is "incapable" of doing so himself. What a troublesome circle.

Oof, this ones LONG. And I'm proud of it😜. Genuinely hope you enjoy this, cuz I spent an eternity writing this😭.

Tag : @vault-of-reblogs

[prosepoetryanddrama]

Sirius Black Faces the Woes of a High School Crush (part 4 - Finale)

If you had told Sirius Black that he would be getting, Lily Evans, of all people, to be his wing-woman to entrap her best friend, he would have probably believed you, because when did he ever have a normal day?

“Remember,” Lily said, “Don’t you dare tell Remus that I helped.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “I don’t understand why this needs to be secret, Evans?”

“Because,” Lily hissed, “Remus doesn’t like it when I interfere with his love life.” Sirius sparkled down his flame of jealousy as he thought of Remus's love life.

“But,” Lily continued, “you’re obviously lacking the grit to just ask him, so,” she spread her arms out wide, “here we are.”

Sirius had no response to that, so he simply made a noncommittal noise, turning his nose up at her.

The two of them had concocted a plan to finally get Sirius and Remus alone. Despite Sirius's suspicion at Lily deciding to help him, and later a slight hope, Lily would not tell him anything about how Remus felt about him, although the fact she was trying to bring them together, send a slight, wonderful excitement in his chest. 

Well, actually more like a humongous, destroying tsunami of feeling, but that was not rather here nor there.

The plan of genius that the two teenagers had concocted was as following.

They would have to lure Remus out, who, if left to his own devices, would stay in his shell forever. Lily, Remus’s best friend and therefore, Sirius had to grudgingly admit, the person who knew him best, thought instead of carefully, slowly, secretly wooing Remus, Remus instead needed a push in Sirius’s direction.

Sirius wasn’t too sure why Lily was helping him in the first place but decided to take just take it for what it was. Perhaps, it was out of a notion to help her friend find love.

The plan itself was truly.. not that good. It was rather hideous, as his mother would say. The fact that she was Sirius’s inner voice was something he decididly did not ponder. 

The plan once again involved Peter Pettrigrew, who at this point, Sirius was beginning to think of as something of a henchman. 

Tomorrow, after school, Peter would, again only agreeing by Sirius emptying his pockets, rush over to whatever corner Remus had sequestered himself into, nose deep in a book, and tell him that there was an issue with some unnamed prom preparation issue. 

Remus, forever the golden boy prefect, would rush up confused and follow Peter faithfully. Peter would lead Remus back to that haunted closet, and well, push him in, then proceed to lock the door. Only Sirius, would be waiting on the inside. 

Sirius too, would pretend to be just as confused as Remus, proclaiming that he too had been lured inside by Pettrigrew. They would bang on the door, yelling for help, but by this time, everyone would have left, leaving it dead silent. Here, Sirius had instructed Peter to let out an evil cackle for dramatic effect. 

Remus would then slump back defeated in the dark closet, resigning himself to a night stuck, like a helpless damsel. After comforting Remus with a few dozen gentle embraces, and perhaps even laying his head on Remus’s mess of golden locks, Sirius would proclaim that he knew, through his knowledge of doors as a very manly man, how to get it open with a bit of tinkering. 

Sirius would then, pretend obviously, he hadn’t done manual labour once in his life, to mess around with the lock. Here, Pettigrew, waiting faithfully and quietly, would unlock the door, and scram. Sirius would yell triumphantly that he, through his prowess and genius mind, had gotten the door unlocked, and saved Remus from a hungry, cold, night stuck in a closet.

Remus would jump up in glee, proclaiming Sirius to be his hero. Sirius would then, this time alone, take Remus to the cafe across the scream, protesting that Remus would be starving and needed a bite and a tea. 

Here, would be the right moment, once Remus was fed and warm, drowning in those large wool sweaters. Sirius would gently grab Remus’s hand from where they were squished together in a booth, and tell him how wonderful and lovely he was, and of course, ask him to the prom. After Sirius’s rescue of him and tender help, there was no way Remus would say no. 

These events would obviously, instantly make Remus say yes to Sirius, who presented himself as heroic, dependable, and kind.

If necessary, Sirius was sure, with a bit more cash, could convince Peter to allow himself to be beat up by Sirius for his evil plan, which of course, Peter would make up some diabolical reason when questioned.

With an opening, Sirius would spend the weeks up to prom, now gently wooing Remus, carrying his books for him, brushing his hands against his, and finally, making him that Chamomile tea. By the time prom came around, Remus too, would be madly in love with Sirius. 

It was perfect and absolutely nothing would go wrong.

In their seventeen year old minds at least.

____

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve literally ever heard,” James snorted. 

They were sprayed out on the floor of James bedroom, James absentmindedly throwing a ball up and catching it again and again, Sirius simply staring at the ceiling and pining. 

Sirius huffed, pushing a dark lock of hair out of his face, “Don’t be crass. It’s going to work.” 

“Yeah, maybe, “ James relented, clearly not believing his words. He continued, “I just, I dunno, I don’t understand why you don’t literally just go up to him and tell him you like him? Don’t get me wrong, it pains me to pay you a compliment, but you’re Sirius Black. You’re-“ he cut off, and readjusted his glasses, “You’re pretty great.”

“Remus is pretty great too,” Sirius simply responded in return. 

“I-, I just really want him to say yes, “ Sirius admitted quietly in the silent room, after a moment of pause. “I really like him James, like truly.”

He coughed, uncomfortable with the display of emotions,  the stoic Walburga Black once again, his inner voice.

“Like seriously?” James parroted at him.

“Like seriously,” Sirius responded with a roll of his eyes, but there was a small smiling threatening to break.

James rose himself up on his elbows and turned his head to look at Sirius. There was something soft in James’s , his best friend, his brother’s, gaze. He reached out his hand and flopped the lock of hair back over Sirius’s eyes.

“Well, it’s still stupid, but I hope it works Black, you deserve to be happy.”

He continued, “If not for you, then for me. I can’t listen to you mope a moment longer.”

The moment broken, Sirius growled, and tackled James in a flash of an eye.

As James cackled, Sirius thought to himself, “It will work.”

________

The next day, Sirius impatiently shook his leg, blowing out a breath, as he sat on the floor of the dimly lit closet, waiting for step one. It already felt like it had been too long since the end of the day bell had rung. Had Remus left before Peter had accosted him? Realistically, Sirius knew that Remus almost always stayed after school to read or study, but nerves left him feeling bereft. 

Sirius would pummel Peter’s face in if he messed this up.

He glanced at the corner where the banner, now hung up on Hogwarts main gates, normally lay folded neatly. He snorted, ripping up a banner? How plebeian that was of him. It wasn’t his fault that every time he thought of boy that was Remus Lupin, a few brain cells danced away.

Sirius stilled as he heard footsteps in the distance. Peter’s squeaky voice rang out in the silent hall, getting louder, “Yeah! Just right over here Remus. I’ll show you.” 

The footsteps stopped in front of the door and Sirius froze, even though they couldn't see him. 

Remus’s voice rang out, “What’s the problem? Did something break again?”

“Uh ya, something like that,” Peter’s voice cracked.

“Uh-“ Remus replied, before there was a crash. 

The door tumbled open, and Peter grabbed Remus’s arm, which today was clad in a maroon cardigan, and pushed him harshly into the doorframe. Remus stumbled slightly before, as Sirius watched in horror, regained his balance. 

He turned his head towards Peter, amber eyes flashing, “What the hell man!” 

Peter responded by once again shoving at Remus’s shoulder, whimpering slightly when Remus didn’t shift. It seemed that Remus was hiding some strength under the lithe shoulders and knit.

Peter put his hands in front of his face when Remus took an angry stomp in his direction, “Please no! Don’t beat me up. I didn’t get paid enough for this!” 

Remus paused, head turning, in a rather precious way, in confusion. “Huh? What the hell, Peter! What do you mean, paid?”

Peter removed his hands from his face, and the rat, the dirty, traitorous rat, pointed at Sirius, who Remus had not yet noticed, and yelled, “Paid! He paid me to do this! To lock you inside.”

“Getting me to tear the banner was one thing, but this is too much!” With that final statement, Peter turned tail and fled. 

Remus, ever so slowly, walked forward, so he stood in the doorframe, blocking out the light of the hallway behind him, making him look like an angel with a halo. 

Sirius coughed uncomfortably. “I can explain.”

Remus let out a laugh, from pure confusion more than anything else. “You paid! You paid to have me locked in a closet?!”

His eyes were frustrated and angry, “and the banner. You ripped the banner!? That took work to fix. What the fuck Black?” 

“Technically,” Sirius interrupted, still laying on the floor, weirdly calm for some reason as his brain spinned on how to fix this “Peter ripped the banner.”

“What the hell?” Remus simply repeated before huffing, “actually don’t answer that. I honestly don’t want to know.”

He turned away, stomping in the other direction.

This woke Sirius up from whatever trance he was in and he jumped up, scrambling after Remus. 

“Remus! No, wait please!”

Despite the boy’s fast pace, Sirius, honed from years on the field, caught up with him easily. He placed a hand on Remus’s arm to still him and Remus flicked him off. 

Sirius looked down at him, just slightly, imploringly and softened his voice from the panicked yell, “Please Remus. I know how this looks but, please, let me explain. Just give me five minutes.”

Remus huffed, blowing out a breath, before nodding stiffly. He pressed his back to the hallway wall and slid down. 

“You better have a hell of an explanation, Black.”

Sirius followed suit, slumping down beside Remus, their shoulders, Sirius’s broader, pressing against each other. 

He looked down at his lap and clasped his hands together wondering just exactly how many brain cells had been lost. The sheer enormity and oddness of what he had just done hit him. 

“Well?” Remus’s voice came from beside him. 

Sirius grit his teeth as began his explanation. He figured honesty was the best policy at this point.

“I like you Remus, a lot,” he spoke into the empty hallway, “like a lot. That's why I joined student council in the first place, because I wanted an excuse to be with you, to be around you, to talk to you….to perhaps have you also wish to talk to me. This was a-“ he snorted, "plan to get you to-" he felt the blush working its way up his neck. “perhaps like me too.”

“How exactly?” Remus’s was no longer angry but just plain confused, but when Sirius looked over at him, he found that a slight flush had taken over his cheeks as well.

“I was gonna be your knight in whatever, I was going to rescue you from-“

“From the evil closet?” Remus hummed. He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his uniform, “Why would I not just call someone to help?”

“Yeah I hadn't really thought of that. I promise I’m actually smart. Normally at least, I’m top of the class.”

“But you did think of getting me forcefully pushed into a closet,” a tinge of something like amusement had entered Remus’s voice.

 Sirius groaned loudly, “Sorry about that. I really, I really weirdly, thought it would actually work”

“Maybe if we were in a rom-com?” Remus offered.

Any reservations Sirius had were gone. There was really nothing he could do to make the situation any worse. He drew on his confidence from the few times he had seen Remus staring at him in the past or giving him a smile. “I wanted to ask you to prom, that’s why I did this. That feels pretty rom-com to me”

He felt Remus’s gaze on his face, hot and heavy and inquiring, but Sirius didn’t budge.

Without looking over, he moved his hand from his lap and tenderly grabbed Remus’s wrist. When he didn’t resist, Sirius lightly pulled it into his lap. He finally looked over, and found Remus’s eyes, swimming with confusion, amusement and something else, something deeper, still on his face.

“Why didn’t you just ask me straight up?” Remus said softly. 

Sirius fixed his gaze on Remus’s plump lips, and sighed, “because I was scared you would say no.”

Remus, his hand still in Sirius’s lap, moved it so his fingers gently interlocked with Sirius’s. Sirius felt his heart patter in his chest.

Sirius looked back up at Remus’s eyes and found that, once again, his eyes were focused somewhere below his eyes. 

“I’m still not over how insane this was, but...what if I said yes?” Remus said softly, and Sirius felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Then I’d be the luckiest person to ever walk this planet,” he breathed out. 

Remus leaned forward slightly, his hair brushing Sirius’s forehead. Sirius felt in a trance as Remus glanced at him through sparking eyes and thick lashes. 

Remus moved closer, and so did Sirius. When their lips met, Sirius felt a roaring in his head. He, through endless self control, pulled back after a few seconds. 

He looked at Remus, heart in his throat. “I assume that’s a yes.” 

Remus giggled, and Sirius took that as an invitation to finally, finally, lean down and kiss that mole on his neck.

___

A few weeks later as Sirius, in his finest suit, swayed gently on the confetti covered gymnasium, turned dance floor, with Remus in his arms, his head on Sirius’s shoulder, he truly did feel like the luckiest person to ever walk the earth. 

___

And it's done! This was quite fun to write. If anyone is interested in another part of just fluff or scenes from their relationship or prom, leave a comment letting me know!

@dumbass-gryffindor1960

[dreamland-diaries]

pre-death! annabel lee x maid reader

Only continue if you’re [18+] and like Annabel Lee a lot, stay safe out there.

Summery; Annabel’s father’s out as usual on Friday nights, so it’s about that time Annabel gets the wonderful “special treatment” you always give her around this time. Your job is to serve Annabel after all, and you’re beyond happy to oblige. 

CW; Praise | Servant/Noble Dynamic | Teasing | Cunnilingus | Slight Risk of getting Caught | Reader is down horrendous | Switches | Dominant Reader | Reader thinks Annabel is really pretty | Overstimulation | The Nightgown™ Stays on

A/N: Starting this blog off  with a request from a friend of mine who wishes to remain unnamed. You’re going to be seeing a lot of requests from this heathen.

Enjoy my shitty, 3am writing if you dare.

You knew this was wrong. 

In every way this was wrong, in fact you would be killed for it if he were to find out and yet you were willing to take that risk. Perverse, a disgrace of a maid, but you weren’t only willing, you had to take this risk. It was a choice between defying him or defying her and you’d choose her over her father any day.

“Do maids always get this wet while in bed with their employers or is it just you?”

There was a moment of silence from you. Trying your best to be quiet, and even if you were to try to speak it would be akin to a whimper. Annabel let it drag on for a moment longer before she quickly grew tired of your lack of response, adding another finger without warning. The gasp and desperate whine she was able to tear from your throat with a few shifts of a finger was god awful.

“M-My lady!” 

“Yes?”, she spoke breathlessly, a light blush coating her face. Her eyes focused on where her fingers were pumping in and out of your core.

You tried your best to have enough composure to formulate a response, but that devil in between your legs toying with you clearly wasn’t interested in your complaints. Annabel simply smiled against your thigh, pulling her fingers out til the tips and shoving them right back into you roughly. The way she stretched you out had you weak in the knees, fingers all too well trained in this department for you so be even slightly coherent.

Fuck, this was terrible. Awful even.♡

Annabel let out an annoyed sigh when a particularly loud moan slipped past your lips after she curled her fingers. Stupid mistake, it left you shivering for a moment as she pulled her now soaked fingers out of you with a ‘pop’. 

“It’s always the prettiest ones that are the loudest...I warned you about being loud didn’t I?” 

“W-With all due respect I told you to let me know before you—”

All words seemingly died in your throat as you watched Annabel almost casually lick your slick right off her fingers. A blush crept up the back of your neck as she took her time. Making direct eye contact as she did so. If she wasn’t the one giving you your paycheck Annabel would have been thrown out the window by now. It was clear as day she was keeping herself from laughing as you spoke up again in an embarrassed tone, “Are you satisfied for tonight miss?”

“We’ve barely even started. Besides it’s my turn since someone can’t keep their voice down,” she scolded, but there wasn’t any real heat behind it.

“Your father will be returning home soon.” 

She blinked at you blankly for a moment with a slight pout on her face, as if you had said something idiotic, “Well then you better make it quick then. You can do that for me right?”

Fuck, you couldn’t say no to that.

“… of course my lady.”

Annabel’s faux disappointment melted away at that, and you watched as Annabel got on her back. The part that comes next was something you’d never get used to, no matter how many times you did it. Annabel was gorgeous, a gorgeous tease that slowly, slowly, moved the bottom part of her delicate nightdress out of the way when she got comfortable.

Your voice was audibly shaky as you stated the obvious.

“You’re…not wearing underwear tonight.”

“Mhm~”, Annabel hummed at you softly, coyly playing with a free strand of her hair.

She was soaked completely, and you, stupid perverted you, took it all in. You knew she reveled in it too, the power she held. She even did you the favor of subtly moving one of her legs out of the way to reveal more. She let you spiral for a moment, before cruelly snapping you out of it.

“Love, I’m flattered really, but we must be on with it,”

It took you a moment, just one, to take a proper breather before you laid down with her, your hands grabbing at her legs with your face in between them. You shyly kissed around at first, not to purposely tease but gods if you were to dive in you might suffocate yourself. Annabel Lee was addictive in every way possible, the slick coating her cunt and inner thighs doubly so. You attempted to sneak deep inhale but the airy giggle she let out made it clear she noticed. 

Annabel almost instinctively arched her back when she felt it, biting her bottom lip. You had finally given in and took your time dragging your tongue through her slit. You didn’t suck to her dismay, simply dragging your tongue through her. You stayed there, toying around even when every inch of your body was screaming at you to eat her out like a starved woman.

The desperation from Annabel was palpable, she didn’t verbalize it but you could feel the heavy rise and fall of her chest. Small yet pretty gasps leaving her mouth every time you got dangerously close to her clit. You glanced up at her with half-lidded eyes before leaving a kiss directly on that bundle of nerves. Another bite to her lip and a squirm, cute.

You pulled away for a moment to breathe before shoving yourself right back in, only now you were more intense. Going from light kisses to sucking; you were still gentle with Annabel, but it even so it seemed to be almost too much for her.

Quiet gasps from her turned to whimpers and soft moans she couldn’t contain. You would unlatch and tease her for being all too loud but you couldn’t, in fact, you wouldn’t dare. She was too gorgeous like this to let go and she tasted too good for you to even think about stopping. You couldn’t really describe the flavor on your tongue other than it was sweet and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“M-More, please,” Annabel panted out, barely audible. But she knew it didn’t need to be for you to understand.

You didn’t even hesitate, pulling her closer to your face and resting her thighs on your shoulders. She wasted no time taking advantage of this, making your face flush oh-so-perfectly against her. 

She was a greedy little thing, desperately trying to force you to push your tongue past her entrance even though she knows she can’t handle it yet. You mumbled a soft “Gorgeous” against her cunt before finally giving her what she wanted. Pushing your tongue past the rim of her entrance with a huff. 

She was tight.

Almost terribly so, you had planned on using your fingers right away but that would have to wait. Carefully, as to not jerk too quickly, you readjusted on the bed to allow yourself more access. After all, you had to with the way she kept moving around; her thighs trying to instinctively shut every time your tongue hit a particularly tender spot. 

You didn't stop, though. In fact, you worked harder, as if you wanted her to shout out for the whole manor to hear. Annabel held an arm over her mouth, trying to cover up any profanities she might have started yelling as tears hung on those long eyelashes of hers. You wished so desperately you could get a better look at her, that face of overstimulation mostly hidden from the angle you were at. 

You were sure she was breathtaking, teary-eyed and flushed, curls messily tossed over the pillows…

A sudden buck of her hips against your mouth and a whine snapped your out of your trance… gods you were in too deep. Then it finally happened, an opening and you smiled against her. Her thighs tightened around your head, gripping you in place as to keep you put when you rather rudely pulled your tongue out of her upon realizing she loosened up a bit. 

“W-What on earth are you doing?” Annabel demanded, her voice frustrated but was shaken up by desire she couldn’t quite hide.

“Don’t fret, I’ll make this quick milady,” you sighed, still breathing heavily against Annabel in a way that made her twitch. You shifted positions, replacing your mouth with your hands, and began to quickly work two fingers into her. 

“Oh~!”, A gasp escaped her lips as she all but melted into the bed, trying to sneakily grind her hips into your hand. 

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, simply giving her what she wanted and teasing, “Try not to overwhelm yourself, you’re already quite loud.”

Annabel blushed but didn’t stop, half-heartedly scolding, “You’re being rather bold tonight for a maid.”

“Who me? Why I'm only following orders,” you purred out your response, rubbing your fingers over a spot you knew drove her up the walls. 

She slapped a hand over her mouth, and piped down in what you could only describe as a flurry of whimpers. 

“Th-that's not h-helping— god go f-faster…”

“Are you close?”, you asked, placing a light kiss on her clit.

She moaned into her hand, a hazy and muffled “Y-yes,” slipping out between her lips. You hastily increased your pace, your fingers thrusting in and out of her soaking cunt. Another one of her moans was silenced as Annabel buried her face in a nearby pillow, her hand no longer being enough. 

You had her just where you wanted her, it would take only a moment. One more moment of patience and then—

“L-Love? I’m going to-”, her words were cut off by her own, very loud, moan as you wasted no time sucking on that bundle of nerves. 

“You did very well my lady…”, you cooed softly, pulling away from her hesitantly. She could only muster a tired hum in response as you helped her ride out her orgasm. If she wasn’t already visibly overwhelmed you would have taken the time to personally clean up the mess Annabel made on your hand, but that would be too greedy.  Even for a perverted thing like you. ♡

[floral-comet-whump]

consider institutionalized living weapon whump. mmmm. I will now explain this autism fueled hyperfixation that has been going on and off for me in the last 3-5 years

content warnings (all fictional): general whump stuff, child abuse, child soldiers, living weapon whump (kinda), conditioning, discussion of genshin impact (since I'm not tagging this post as genshin in fear of normal genshin likers on tumblr stumbling onto whump and not knowing what it is, therefore whump likers who dislike genshin and have the tags blocked would still view this (maybe. idk how tag filtering works)), multiple whumpers/carewhumpers, multiple whumpees, fantasy whump, briefly mentioned eating disorder

OKAY so back at like 2020 or 2021 I was ACTIVE in the genshin rp scene and one of my friends made a fatui oc that, due to being the only survivor of a snow blizzard, was adopted into the fatui and raised to be a soldier! also this was before inazuma's release so shoutout to [unnamed bc we fell out of touch so I don't know if they'd like to be named] for predicting the house of the hearth!

anyways their oc was not only an absolute BANGER, but also sparked what I now realize was whumperflies in 14 yo me! so I copied it with my own oc. also had the stellar idea to think that if [friend's oc] was integrated, why not make it a whole program? badabim badaboom fatui orphanage. I shit you not the first thing I came up with is that the rejects get sent to dottore

uhhhh as stuff came out and someone leaked a fatui orphanage then the secret shrine maiden quest came out I TWEAKED. my oc got updates. leaks about lyney (and lynette) being from the hoth(house of the hearth) brought me back after I'd gotten bored. I desperately held myself back from telling everyone their surnames. I listened to their leaked voicelines. I read their stories.

it was not as bad as I envisioned in my head. fym arlecchino saved them!! white knight white knight!!! fym they're not sleeper agents!!!! fym freminet has a job he enjoys that is in no way related to the fatui?!!?!!! free time and healthy hobbies on my extremely fanonized interpretation of a fictional orphanage we previously only had teeny tiny crumbs about?!?!?!!!;1!?!

arlecchino releasing made me fully give up on the vision I'd originally had on the hoth. I generally do actually like the canon hoth, but I was super attached to this whole miniature concept I'd invented and shared with so many people.

so I'm making my own child soldier orphanage!!!

CONSIDER CHILD SOLDIERS IN WHUMP. WITH CONDITIONING. consider telling children that have nowhere else to go (and whumper KNOWS they have nowhere else to go) they can either join the military or continue whatever they were doing. consider training and conditioning them. consider reminding them where they'd be, had carewhumper not taken them in. consider "letting them off easy" via punishment, or threatening to put them to other use.

consider teaching those children happy lies of doing good, and shattering that reality when they dare be ungrateful and try to run away. consider always making the expectations on them clear. consider the bonds these children will form both with each other and carewhumpers. parental whump my beloved. consider living weapon whumpee that isn't an on-field combatant. consider living weapon whumpee who's allowed to be a person as a reward.

consider living weapon whumpee who was previously rescued from a different kind of whumper and is just perfect for molding into a killing machine. consider orphans children willingly volunteering for the military because the program is well known. consider generations upon generations of this where previous whumpees retire to work in the same orphanage so that they'll never have to move out, prolonging the cycle of violence with promises of family. and that family isn't even false, just conditional.

whumpee who was rescued from a vampire thrall trade and is constantly reminded where they would've been had carewhumpers not been so generous as to rehabilitate them. ungrateful little thing, always reacting so slow, cowering from the vampires the carewhumpers have taken in as if they're the same one, either hoarding food or immediately wolfing it down.

whumpee who was abandoned as a child and came in to a place they knew they'd be accepted, but gradually realized the danger behind it and tried escaping. they were brought back and thoroughly disciplined. it's obvious that they're using a facade once one simply reads their file or asks them, but that doesn't matter so long as they're obedient.

a whumpee turned carewhumper that sees nothing wrong with what they're doing. they were raised this way, and though it was very scary, so is life in general. they certainly wouldn't have survived in this world without this orphanage, and much less by being coddled. the children brought here have all had difficult experiences that have scarred them, they can't be treated like normal kids.

that's all the ocs I have thought up for it rn soz

yeah!! will also be in a typical high fantasy setting because I prefer it a whole lot more.

I'm honestly unsure of what to call this thing. I can't really go with the house of the hearth. at some point I internally called it erysimum institute because I read destroyer and the name beldam institute just sounds rlly catchy. also erysimums symbolize faith in unfortunate situations which I think fits perfectly. but the loneliness/shyness part of wallflowers (a prominent type of erysimum) is a little less fitting.

I'll definitely change the name because I want it to be as original as it can be!! probably to some kind of flower meaning rebirth or smt but idk.

p.s: it would have art!!!

[twstfanblog]

Tell us about TWST!Jasmine

I'm so happy you wanna know about Jasmine!Twist

The name is the last thing I always do when making OCs, so he's still unnamed but I've already crafted most of his character.

Jasmine!Twist is the crowned prince of the Scalding Sands royalty and Kalim's cousin. He's also a lesson in restraint for me because I could have thrown caution to the wind and just made him fully weird like what almost happened to Neige.

Jasmine!Twist and Kalim are related via brothers from nearly a dozen generations ago, but simply saying cousins is easier. Jasmine!Twist adores his little cousin and lowkey infantilizes him which Kalim has only started to realize after Jamil's overblot since he was trying to be more independent. He is the icon of royal behavior in kind of the worst way as he does look down on those who aren't at least noble; he doesn't understand how Kalim can be friends with people 'below his status.'

He also HATES Jamil. Jamil hasn't done a single thing right in Jasmine!Twist's eyes since the day he was born. Jamil is helpful to Kalim? How dare this servant take up so much of his cousin's time!? Jamil lets Kalim try his hand at being more independent? How dare his cousin's servant leave his post!? Jamil is just...standing there? GODS, HE HATES HIM SO MUCH!!! Jamil just kinda takes it because he knows Kalim is 100% on his side when it comes to his cousin and he has been since they were children. It is very much a jealousy thing because Kalim has picked Jamil every time if it was ever a choice and Jasmine!Twist can't even flex his royal power and dismiss the Viper family outright because the collective Asims would NEVER, they all adore the Viper family in their own ways.

The weird part that I am struggling to fight back is that fact Jasmine!Twist is...in love with Kalim? It's a trait that keeps sneaking in even though I keep trying to white it out on his character sheet. He doesn't act on it much thankfully because Kalim is...clearly confused and lowkey weirded out whenever he slips up and says something out of pocket.

All in all, he's kind of a dick to basically everyone but it's in that weird 'We can't hang out because you're not in my league and I can say that because I'm royalty'. So honestly, not a lot of people REALIZE how bad he is.

His one-sided beef with Jamil does get passed down to Kalim's adopted son Mozenrath and Jamil's first-born, JJ. Which is bad for Jasmine!Twist because these two are a fucking terror duo.