#I’ve always been a little behind in life as far as other people my age so I’m not terribly torn up about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missmatchablossom · 8 months ago

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summary: a 2am confession between you and your childhood best friend, gojo satoru

a.n.: cursing, a slightly steamy/suggestive kiss scene, little angsty but mostly fluff. This idea randomly popped into my head last night so I hope you enjoy :)

“Do you think we’ll work out?” he asked softly, tentatively. Completely uncharacteristic for the confident, forthright person people knew Satoru Gojo to be.

Your best friend had always been larger than life, so focused on becoming the incredibly powerful sorcerer he is today that he never nurtured any of the lingering hope you kept around that he’d return your feelings. But Gojo was your sun, your moon, your stars - you were content to share the same sky as him.

But something was changing between the two of you. You saw it in the goodbye hugs that started to last a second longer than they should’ve. You noticed it in sharpness of his eyes anytime anyone else so much as looked in your direction. Felt it in the softness of a smile he only showed to you.

Tonight, that small spark of hope you’d been keeping alight was growing dangerously. You tried your best to smother it, telling yourself you’d been friends for years and he never saw you that way, so why would that suddenly change?

But do people who are just friends slip out at 2am to go stargazing at the top of a hill? Do they lay beside each other on an old blanket, close enough to feel the heat of each other’s skin, but barely far enough that they aren’t touching?

Do they look at each other the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the real wonder to be beheld when just above you, the moon and stars are shining brilliantly?

“We always have. Why would that change?” you replied, turning your head back up to the constellations. Your heartbeat was sickening in your own ears, amplified by the silence left untouched as neither of you spoke.

The blanket shuffled as he sat up, his face barely out of your periphery. You copied his movements, propping yourself up on your elbows as you struggled to understand the look on his face.

“Because I’m in love with you. I’m tired of being friends,” he said calmly, though you the way his hands fisted betrayed his uncertainty.

You froze for a second, wondering if this entire night had been a dream. Gojo Satoru, your best friend and unrequited love for years, liked you - no, loved you? You had to be dreaming.

A poke against your cheek broke you away from your thoughts.

“Please say something, or I’m gonna freak out,” your best friend said, looking more flustered than you’d ever seen him. His porcelain skin was dusted with pink, his gorgeous eyes frantically searching yours.

You burst into laughter. The kind that had you gasping for air and wiping tears away.

“What the hell is so funny?” he asked, and your laughter continued to bubble out of you at the adorable furrow between his brows.

You sat up to face him, wiping away a tear as your laughter died off.

“Sorry, it’s just hard for me to believe this is happening right now. Especially because I’ve been desperately in love with you since we were kids,” you admitted, indulging yourself in the way his lips parted in shock, the way he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“You…you’ve been in love with me this whole time?” he said, so quietly it hurt your heart.

“Yup. Pretty much everyone knew too, I thought it was common knowledge?” you joked, leaning your head against your knee as you watched Gojo go through the 8 stages of grief.

“The hell it wasn’t. Why hasn’t anyone said anything to me? Why haven’t you ever said anything to me?” he said, pupils wide as he searched your face.

You leaned back down, crossing your arms behind your head.

“We all assumed you would’ve made a move ages ago if you liked me back. I was content to just be in your life at all - plus, no offense, but I’m like the only solid friend you have in your life. I promised you I always would be, I couldn’t let my own feelings change that.” you said, feeling the weight fly off your chest as you finally told him.

You felt a whoosh of cool air as Gojo leaned down beside you once more, mirroring your position as you laid on your back and looked up at the sky.

“I…I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot,” he said. You let out a laugh in disbelief.

“You really didn’t know, not even the thought crossed your mind?”

“Nope,” he replied, almost sounding anguished.

You turned to your side, propping up your head with the heel of your palm.

“What changed?” you asked genuinely, feeling your nerves traverse throughout your entire body as he mirrored your position, your faces barely a few inches apart.

“I realized it when we had to be apart for a while because of that mission. I was miserable, because I was accustomed to seeing your smile everyday. Hearing the random overdetailed recounting of your day. Your laughter. Fuck, I was even searching perfume stores to see if any of them came close to the way you smell,” he admitted, eliciting a furious blush from your cheeks.

You reached up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes, admiring how his pearlescent locks seemed to glow under the moonlight.

“You have it that bad, huh?” you teased, watching his face relax ever so slightly as he rolled his eyes.

It was so fast you barely registered what happened, the way Gojo flipped you on top of him so you had no choice but to lay flush against him. You were stunned to silence as he wrapped his arms around your waist, catching you off guard with that brilliant, victorious smile of his.

“Oh, I absolutely do. But look who’s talking eh? You are sooo into me,” he said, smiling happily to himself.

You buried your face into his chest to hide both your embarrassment and your painfully-wide smile.

“Okay, okay, I am,” you admitted, feeling simultaneously shy and elated as Gojo tugged you even closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“So, what now?” you asked.

You gasped as Gojo flipped you once more so you were pinned under him.

“Hm, well if I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me, I think we should kiss,” he said, his smile evident in his words. You’d been around him long enough to hear the tease in his voice, and you knew he was messing with you.

“Just kidding. We can take it sl-”

His words came to a halt as you lifted up to press your lips against his ever so slightly, pulling back to rest your forehead against his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Fuck taking it slow, kiss me right now,” you all but demanded. You admired his grin for a split second before his lips were moving against yours, full and soft and sweet.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he said breathlessly.

“Not longer than me,” you said between kisses.

His deep laugh resonated throughout your body, distracting you from the way his slender fingers were digging into your hips.

“You’re right. Let me make it up to you,” he said, pulling back long enough for you to look at him. His eyes were dark with desire, contrasting the flush that somehow made him look hotter.

He sat up, and his absence left you feeling chilled. It didn’t last long though, because he grabbed your hips once more and lifted you on top of him so you were straddled in his lap.

You smiled coyly as he positioned your arms around his neck, tugging you flush against him as he grinned at you proudly.

“You really like throwing me around huh?” you teased, though it came out more soft and gaspy than you intended as he began trailing kisses along your jaw.

“You have no idea,” he said, and you felt him smile against your skin as you tipped your head back to give him more access.

“Forget about sleeping tonight.”

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captn-trex · 7 days ago

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fall of an empire

Rex [no pairing]

word count: 1.4k

description: Rex never knew what truly became of his General, but when he finds out as the Empire are driven from power, his galaxy becomes a little bit smaller.

warnings/tags: angst basically, mainly just Rex's internal monologue

a/n: okay. I’ve had this idea for ages and basically held off because I didn't think I'd do it justice (idk that I have), but I guess I just bit the bullet lol. This is really more of a little think piece ? than anything. aaah i get nervy talking about Anakin because I know people have strong opinions about him (me included) so I hope this doesn't tread on any toes lol. For the sake of this, Rex and Luke are kinda familiar with each other

masterlist | join my taglist

23 years.

It had been 23 years, almost to the day.

Rex had made his peace with it a long time ago, he had accepted the death of his General, he had done his grieving. He had grieved his friend, the Jedi, the Republic; in many ways, he had grieved himself. Yet here he was, with his General, a Jedi, and the promise of a new Republic to rise and take the place of the Empire.

There was an undeniable sense of accomplishment in the air, a thick blanket of hard-won peace that settled over the rebels and lifted their spirits. Everyone was more at peace than they had been, maybe ever. Rex felt it too, he had been fighting the Empire too long to not recognise the significance of the day's events. Though now, the feeling was bittersweet, overtaken by a melancholy that Rex was sure might never leave him, at least not in the life he still had left in him.

Stood in front of the pyre, watching the fire climb higher and higher and reaching up into the night sky, Rex couldn’t help but feel conflicted. The man that was laid out before him, body engulfed in flames, was both someone he had once known, and someone he hoped he would never meet. Now faced with the truth of who he was, both sentiments still rang true.

He was disturbed at worst, confused at best, more by his own state of mind than the turn of events. He had held such contempt for the creature that enacted the Emperor's will, but he had such love and respect for his General, even long after his assumed death. It left him in a strange place, where the recent triumph no longer felt so triumphant.

It was simply unfathomable that they were the same person, that his friend had fallen so far, turned towards such evil. When he had been told that his General had not only survived the Jedi purge, but enacted it, and gone on to rule at the side of the Emperor, his first instinct had been to deny it. It was out of the question.

He tried to cast his mind back to the war, to find threads of that evil sewn into the memories that he held close to his chest, but he couldn't find it. While the war was certainly not all sunshine and rainbows, it wasn’t so unendingly awful that he would have missed the lick of icy dread that ran through his veins when in close quarters to dark side users. Without even considering that, it seemed out of the question.

General Skywalker was caring, if not a little absurd in his approach to battle, and despite how it could drive him to distraction, Rex wouldn't have changed anything about him. He knew him to be a man of simple ingenuity and fierce courage, and occasionally foolish bravado, but that was nothing like the animal that had come to spread fear and terror across the galaxy.

Rex watched the dying flames, flickers of memories contained in the way they danced with the wind whipping at them. His hands clenched into fists, not in anger, but because he felt the need to ground himself in this moment. He needed to focus on what was real, what he knew to he true, and put unfulfilled notions of futures that could have been behind him. What was done was done. It couldn't be undone, and that was something he would have to come to understand.

Rex had always felt the need for justice, that people should be dealt back what they put into the galaxy, and the finality of watching Vader's body burn in front of him seemed like an obstruction of that. In spite of that, he mourned the man beneath the suit. He would take back every evil thing he did to the galaxy, but selfishly he'd take it back just to spend one more day with his friend, with the man he was before he became twisted by darkness.

The pyre had burned almost fully, leaving smouldering wood and ashes spread around the base. It was a fitting end, perhaps. The Empire had been reduced to ashes, and Vader with it. The memory of their atrocities lingered in the air, like the smoke clinging to his clothes and anything else it could reach.

A hand on Rex's shoulder drew him from the deep pit of his thoughts, and he turned to look into the eyes of the Jedi. They were his eyes, undeniably. Deep blue and shining with wisdom, hope and confidence. Rex had never believed they were qualities that could be passed down by way of genes, but with those eyes watching him carefully, he couldn't see anything else.

“I hope you can find some peace, friend” he spoke with a startling sincerity, a small noble bow of his head accompanying his words.

Rex managed a ‘thank you’ before the young Skywalker patted his shoulder, walking away from the smouldering pile of wood and leaving him alone.

That's how he felt; alone.

Everything he had ever known in his life had been lost to the Empire. His brothers, the Republic, the Jedi, and now he had come to know the truth that his General had been seduced and corrupted by the dark side. It was alienating. He'd always just tried to take everything in stride and hold his head high as he moved on, but the sheer weight of everything that had happened to him throughout his life was crushing.

His days as a cadet, the early days of the war, the immediate aftermath of order 66, fighting to free his brothers from Imperial imprisonment; it was all so tinged by something sinister, immoral. The clones were created for war, so it wasn't a surprise that he didn't know anything else, but a life lead just to die wasn't one that he wanted to live anymore.

Rex realised then that his life had always belonged to Skywalker in some way. First, as his commanding officer, then as a tyrant of the Empire, the reigning power that forced clones into subservience. Though now, he was free of him completely. He was a free man, no question about it, and it was refreshing to acknowledge.

He had never felt like a prisoner under Skywalker's leadership, even looking back after he had come to understand that the clones were essentially slaves to the Republic. Anakin could have ordered him to do anything, and he would have. Rex recognised that was an immense power to have over someone, but even if he could be headstrong sometimes, his general would never have ordered him to do anything outrageous.

Perhaps that's what was the most confusing about having watched his mutated form burn before him. Skywalker was generous, but all he had known of Vader was how much he took from people; their lives, their children. It scared him, but it also proved to him how truly evil the Emperor must have been to be able to twist someone so caring into a monster like that.

He was then overwhelmed by sympathy. Vaders actions were inexcusable, and Rex didn't know that he'd ever fully come to accept the truth of who he was, but he knew that whatever Anakin had gone through to end up so twisted and removed from himself, was most likely more abhorrent than he could imagine.

For that reason, putting him to rest like this felt cathartic, and despite the shock of his true identity, it felt like closure. Really, he was putting two grievances to bed. His General was finally at peace, and the creature that had wreaked havoc on the galaxy could do so no longer.

Rex breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the cool night air as he looked to the sky. He was free. His life was his own, no longer at the mercy of Skywalker, Vader, the Empire or anyone else. He was still conflicted, and it would probably take him another lifetime to fully process everything, but looking into the ashes that once made up the form of his friend and oppressor, he could already feel a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak

#omg characterising Luke was so tough even though he only says 1 thing lmao #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #clone troopers #captain rex x reader #clones #star wars the clone wars #clone captain rex #captain rex #captain rex fanfiction #rebels rex #divider by saradika

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inlovewithgreta · 2 years ago

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Lovers — Larissa Weems x Morticia Addams x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: You get caught pleasuring yourself alone without telling the two women in your life, and in return, you get a punishment that is full of pleasure.

Warnings: Praise, degradation, mommy kink, spanking, edging, squirting, marking, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, etc…

Word Count: 4.6k

a/n: if you would like to be part of my taglist, do let me know! I’m so excited to post this oneshot, I’ve never done anything with three people before so this is a first for me. I hope you lovelies enjoy and have an amazing day! ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Today was a quiet day in the mansion. Staff was gone for the weekend, Larissa was at work, Morticia was reading in the library, and you were in the bedroom. You had told Morticia you were lying down for a nap, but that was not the case whatsoever.

Your mind had been having dirty thoughts. Dirtier than usual. The two women in your life have been doing other things, leaving you completely touch starved. It had been what felt like ages since either of them had laid a finger on you, and the heat rising between your legs was far too much to ignore any longer.

Grabbing the small bullet from your nightstand, you rested your head back against the silk pillowcase as you dragged the now vibrating toy down your naked body.

First, you toyed with your erect nipples, circling the buzzing toy across your chest, allowing each vibration to go straight to your core. You were already a moaning mess before you even reached your center.

Your legs were spread as far open as possible, the cold air along your dampened cunt creating goosebumps along your bare skin. Small whimpers were quick to fly out of your mouth, the sweet touch from the bullet sending you straight into complete bliss.

You were too focused on the pleasure to realize how loud your moans actually became. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the more intently she listened, the faster it was for her to figure out what it was.

You.

Moaning her name.

Morticia set her book aside, marking her spot for a later read, and lifted a high brow when she heard you moan once more. She quietly walked down the hallway, keeping her movements slow and steady to avoid the loud clicking from her heels.

As she reached the doorway, her eyes dilated at the unexpected sight before her. She eyed your naked body sprawled out in the middle of the grand bed. Legs were spread, back was arched, and a little black bullet sat between your legs.

"What a naughty little thing," She folded her arms across her chest. A loud gasp left your mouth at her sudden words, heat rushing straight to your cheeks from embarrassment. You weren't expecting Morticia to catch you in the act.

"Couldn't even bother to tell me? Tsk tsk." She clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, taking the few steps towards the bed.

You attempted to pull the toy from between your legs but Morticia had other plans, stopping your wrist with a stern grip.

"Don't go shy on me now, y/n. Finish. After all, you couldn't wait for me." She let go, placing both hands on her hips and gazing down at you with dark eyes. "Go on." She flicked her eyes to between your thighs.

You gulped, turning the toy back on and placing it back between your legs with a quiet whimper. As you began to pleasure yourself, Morticia slid her hands behind her back, slowly pulling the zipper from her dress down her back. The fabric dropped softly to the floor, revealing a black laced lingerie set that hugged her hourglass figure perfectly.

"I can't—" You shook your head, the pressure from her heated gaze making it harder for you to find your release. Under any other circumstance, it would take a mere second for you to finish, but Morticia was always the one doing it for you, not just watching you intently with a stoic face.

"You can. You will." She kicked her heels off.

"Please," You pleaded, salty tears steadily falling down your cheeks. You needed her. Needed her touch. "I-I can't!" You whimpered once more.

"So pathetic. My needy slut is desperate enough to touch herself but not enough to come."

Morticia crawled onto the bed, immediately taking the small bullet from your hands and holding it tightly in her own. She flipped her long raven locks behind her back before dipping her face between your thighs.

"Can't even finish yourself off without me," The toy presses roughly against your clit, causing your breath to hitch, "We're going to have to work on that one." Her dark eyes look up at yours before flicking down to your glistening cunt.

"It's too bad, you know," She lowered her upper body down to the mattress, arching her back, and forcing her barely clothed ass into the air. "Now mommy is going to have to destroy this little pussy of yours until I have you begging for mercy."

Her lips attached to your inner thighs, before trailing towards your center and licking a strip up your folds. Moans were quick to escape your throat as she pleasures you by both her mouth and the toy pressing against your sensitive bud.

"F-fuck!" Your chest heaved at a familiar knot forming in your abdomen. Hands gripped at the emerald green duvet below you, knuckles turning white at your rough grip. Morticia could feel you trembling, your body quivering at your close release.

"That's it. Come for me." The raven haired woman edged you on, peppering your inner thigh with kisses before nibbling on the soft flesh, leaving fresh love bites in their wake.

With a skillful flick to your cunt, Morticia had you spiraling almost instantaneously.

"Oh, 'Tish!" Her name flew out of your mouth just as she turned the toy off and carelessly tossing it aside.

You thought she was just helping ride out your high by removing the toy, but boy were you wrong.

Morticia wasn't done just yet.

You had touched yourself without her, and couldn't even finish yourself off at her command which was unacceptable. She had taken note of how often you've listened to Larissa's demands compared to her own, and part of her grew jealous. Should she have been? No. But was she? Oh, she most definitely was.

"Oh, you thought I was stopping right there?" Her hand sternly held you down by your inner thigh at your attempts to close your legs around her. "Tsk tsk," She scoffed, "I'm not even close to being done with you yet. And when 'Riss gets home, it'll be her turn. If you want to act like a slut, you'll certainly get treated like one."

The raven-haired beauty between your legs refused to slow her movements. Her tongue ravaged your clit while she easily thrusted two fingers into your cunt.

Small whimpers echoed off the walls at the curl of her slender fingers that hit you in just the right spot, making had your brain go empty.

"What's the matter, baby? No more screaming my name? We can't have that, now can we?" Her thrusts only grew faster as she watched your every move from just her pleasuring you.

The two of you were too lost in your sex world to hear the front door open and close at the entrance of your luxurious home. Larissa arrived earlier than expected, work going by quicker than she anticipated.

You crying out from your second orgasm had caught Larissa's attention when she took her coat off, her head snapping towards the opened bedroom door on the second floor.

"There it is." Morticia smirked, "I love it when my little whore screams for me. Don't go silent on me now." Tears fell down your face, coating the pillowcase beneath your head when her movements refused to slow.

"Please—" You pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand ached from the constant thrusting, but she refused to let it show. She was one to always keep to her word. She wanted to see you like this. She loved to see you like this. Weak before her, begging for her.

"I can't take anymore!" The pressure only kept building and building inside you, the uncomfortableness from your third orgasm slowly creeping up on you. "Tish I—" A throaty moan forced its way out when the older woman slid a third finger inside you, completely stretching out your walls.

"Your moans say otherwise, dearie." Morticia raised a high brow at the arching of your back.

Larissa had heard every moan, every word leaving both yours and Morticia's mouth as she made her way up the grand stairs and down the hallway leading to your shared chambers.

She had swiftly unclasped her tight updo, letting her long platinum hair fall down her back. Buttons flew to the ground as she grew too impatient to undo each hole of her blouse.

Larissa lowly hummed at the sight before her blue eyes. She was quick to drop her blouse to the floor, along with tugging at her skirt to slide it down past her thick legs to fall to the floor.

She wouldn't dare miss this opportunity to join in on your festivities. After all, Larissa thrived off being the completely opposite of Morticia in bed. While the raven haired woman was the more dirty-talking and dominant one, Larissa liked to be the praising one that kept you on edge and begging deliciously.

Her eyes flew from your naked figure whose legs were spread with your hand toying with your breast, to Morticia's perfectly rounded ass that hung in the air, her arousal prominently dampening the thin fabric covering her center.

"Don't worry, my love. Mommy's here." Your eyes snapped towards the tall blonde who strutted into the room unexpectedly.

Larissa didn't hesitate to join in, her hand gliding to Morticia's ass, up her spine, and into her long black locks. Fingers tucked into her hair, grabbing a small handful and gently pulling, eliciting a low moan from Morticia.

"Rissa—" You attempted to call out before a whimper cut off your words. The blonde's eyes were drawn to yours, her lips instantly making contact with your cheeks, kissing away each wet drop on your tear-stained cheek.

"You're doing so good, sweet thing. Just one more and you can take a little breather, hmm? We can't have you tiring so fast."

You nodded your head frantically, toes curling and back arching off the duvet as you came for the third time. Vision went blurry and legs shook as the blonde woman guided you through your orgasm with a gentle hand along your cheek.

"That's my good girl," Larissa cooed, wiping your hair from your sweaty forehead and giving you a sweet but passionate kiss to distract you from the twitching of your thighs.

You whimpered into the kiss when Morticia slid her fingers from you, instantly sliding them into her mouth to suck them clean with a small hum.

"Mmm, sweet indeed," The dark haired woman added, releasing her fingers with a pop, dark eyes trained on Larissa's bright blue hues. "Here, have a taste." Morticia insisted, bringing her fingers to the blonde's mouth, who accepted them without hesitation.

Larissa hummed, her left hand finding your hand and giving it an appreciative squeeze. Your eyes were trained on the two half naked women sitting in front of you. Morticia had inched towards Larissa, her hand leaving the woman's mouth to sneak between her legs.

You propped yourself on your elbows as you tried to calm your breathing, but failing to do so when Morticia gave you a knowing glance, smirking wickedly when an idea came to her head.

"You've been here not even a minute and you're already soaked through?" Morticia chuckled lowly, eyes glancing back at the blonde. "How about we put on a show for our slu—"

"Sweet girl," Larissa cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Our sweet sweet girl. . ." She trailed off, losing her train of thought when Morticia snuck a hand inside her panties. Larissa instantly moaned at the slender fingers circling her clit.

Her pale hand left yours to grab Morticia's freshly manicured hand, guiding her movements at her favorite pace.

At this godly sight, you were instantly wet once more. An almost painful heat instantly starting again.

The sight ahead of you made you seem nearly forgotten, but the heat between your legs was very much prominent. Just as you started to snake your hand towards your dripping cunt, Morticia's free hand gripped your wrist, her eyes never straying from the blonde in front of her.

"Tish, please." You begged, but your pleas never worked on her. Her grip only remained stern, keeping your hand in place, not allowing you to please yourself at the sight of her pleasuring Larissa.

The blonde quietly moaned before pulling Morticia's hand away from her cunt. "Somebody feels left out, Tish. Let her join. I want a taste of her anyways."

Reluctantly, Morticia retracted both of her hands, but a biting smirk returned to her face as she saw the plans Larissa had in store for you, lingering in her eyes.

"Don't be too easy on her Riss, this is after all a punishment."

"Ah, so that's why you two started without me." A dangerous smirk came to Larissa's face, one you know well. "So our little angel hasn't been so good today. . . What has she done?" Larissa asked the other woman, eyes curiously scanning your face.

"Was touching herself all by her lonesome. Didn't even bother to tell me. Heard her from the other room moaning like a whore."

Larissa shook her head, clicking her tongue in a disapproving manner, "You know better, darling." Larissa maneuvered her way around Morticia to switch places with her, making herself at home between your thighs.

Her body sat in the same position Morticia was just in, legs beneath her, upper body hovering over the duvet with her porcelain colored ass waving in the air.

Although your view of the woman was enough to have your arousal dripping onto the plush mattress, Morticia had the best view of all. Dark eyes wandered over the blondes smooth skin.

Larissa toyed with your thighs, pecking and nibbling at the soft flesh while Morticia traced a hand along the blonde's back, sliding a finger down her spine.

Morticia felt every inch and curve of Larissa's lower body, admiring the fine specimen that sat before her. Her lips made contact with the woman's hips, sending sweet kisses along her stretch marks that Larissa was once insecure about until the three of you got together.

You treated her like a goddess, after all, that's what she was to you. Everything about her was perfect. She was perfect, inside and out. And she appreciated every compliment, and especially every kiss to her most sacred spots.

"Rissa please," Your hips slightly bucked towards her face, begging for her to soothe the growing ache between your thighs.

"Patience, my love. You're going to need it." Larissa smirked, eyes dancing with amusement.

She knew just how much you were about to beg for her, and excitement was already coursing through her veins. Of course she was going to be more gentle than Morticia, but she was still going to give you the punishment you deserved for leaving them out of your activities.

Larissa flattened her tongue along your glistening cunt, slowly savoring every sweet taste of you. You shivered under her cool touch, hips being forced down against the mattress to avoid your overly sensitive bucking.

"Such a sweet little pussy, and all for me-" Larissa's words were cut off with a suppressed moan when Morticia slapped the blonde's ass with a piercing smack.

"Us." The raven haired woman corrected her, before soothing the immediate reddened area along Larissa's porcelain cheek.

Larissa tongue delved deep into you, bright blue eyes watching the growing tension between your knitted brows and the everlasting 'o' shape of your mouth as sounds refused to come out.

"Fuck, Rissa!" Your hand flew to her head, tugging at her long curly locks.

"Look at you, already a screaming little mess in just a mere second." Morticia teased you, fingers tucking under Larissa's panties and slowly gliding them down her thick legs to get a better view of the growing mess between the blonde's thighs. "Let's make it even louder for me, shall we? I want to hear how loud you both can be."

Morticia slid two fingers past Larissa's entrance with ease, pleasuring the tall goddess while she devoured you. Larissa's moans blended in with your own, putting a mischievous smirk along Morticia's face.

"Just like that." Her free hand rubbed the soft skin along Larissa's ass, preparing for her next move, "My two needy whores, complete moaning messes. Keep the noises coming."

Smack

Morticia used her free hand to send another sharp spank to Larissa's ass, and admiring the prominent jiggle that elicited from her smack.

You felt your release building and building, moans growing closer and closer together, giving Larissa just enough time to remove her tongue from your cunt. A whimper took place of a moan at the sudden loss of contact, and Larissa couldn't help the smirk that grew on her face.

"Didn't think I'd let you finish that easy, now did you?" She toyed, breath hitching in her throat when Morticia chuckled, suddenly curling her fingers inside the blonde.

She hit Larissa's most craved spot with each thrust, and all you could do was watch as Larissa became undone from Morticia, neediness growing more prominent now that your orgasm faded away.

"Come for me, Rissa." Morticia encouraged the blonde on just as Larissa brought her mouth back to your clit.

Moans of ecstasy got muffled as Larissa coated the other woman's fingers with her juices, her wetness dripping down Morticia's hand. Larissa's grip along your hips tightened, fingernails digging into your sensitive skin and leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake.

Morticia didn't dare stop her movements, wanting you to watch as Larissa came over and over again while you were being edged by the blonde for your punishment.

"Taking it like such a good girl," Larissa cooed, removing her tongue and replacing her pleasuring with her fingers, matching the same movements Morticia had been doing to her.

"Please—" You begged, "Let me come! I promise I won't touch myself again without you."

"I don't know, Tish. What do you think?" Larissa stopped her movements once she felt your walls tightening around her fingers. Small whimpers escaped your throat, the growing uncomfortable ache between your thighs forcing tears from your eyes.

"I say let her wait on it for a bit longer." Her devilish smirk forcing your grip along the sheets to tighten out of frustration.

"Mmm, fuck—" Larissa elicited a throaty moan.

Your head shook as you watched Larissa come for a second time, jealousy completely coursing through your veins.

Morticia sent wet kisses along Larissa's ass, gently guiding her through her orgasm. Her fingers moved from Larissa's used cunt and directly into her mouth, eliciting a small approving moan.

The scene in front of her was enough for Morticia to get off at the same time, her free hand rubbing circles along her own clit.

A shallow moan could be heard from Morticia as she came undone from her own touch. Her noise was just barely loud enough for both you and Larissa to hear, as Morticia was always the quieter one compared to you and Larissa.

Morticia then moved herself to sit next to you, legs tucked underneath her and thighs pressing together as she lifted Larissa's face, her thumb and forefinger pulling the blonde's face towards hers in a needy kiss.

Tears continued to flow, hips begging to buck and grind along Larissa's fingers as your gaze landed on the two women making out in front of you.

"Please!" You begged once more, "I'm taking your punishments so good. Just please— please let me come! I've learned my lesson!"

The two women broke from their heated kiss, both smirking towards each other at your pleas. Morticia ever so slightly nodded her head, allowing Larissa to bring her mouth to your clit and delve her fingers deeper.

Morticia slid a hand up your stomach, past your chest, and up to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your face to look at her. Her body leaned in, face only mere inches from your own, dark eyes full of nothing but lust.

"Come, my darling." Her signature red lips smashed sloppily against yours.

A familiar knot formed in your abdomen, appearing only momentarily until you finally came around Larissa's fingers with a relieved moan.

The blonde's movements slowed as she eased you through your orgasm, allowing the pleasure to last for as long as possible.

Your chest heaved, heartbeat racing as you attempted to catch your breath when Larissa stopped her movements.

"That's my good girl." Larissa smiled, wiping your release carelessly off her fingers and onto her thigh as she moved her body to sit opposite of Morticia on the other side of you.

Her hand cupped your cheek when Morticia pulled away, both of them wiping your tears away with their thumbs.

"She took her punishment so good, didn't she, Tish? Wasn't our little doll taking it like such a good girl?"

"She took it so well for us," Morticia played with one of your stray hairs. "I think she deserves a treat, Rissa."

"Oh indeed she does. Does our sweet girl want a taste of mommy?"

Morticia ran a hand down Larissa's barely clothed chest, moving the thin fabric to free Larissa's breasts from her bra. Your eyes widened at the sight before you, a bright gleam in your eye making itself prominent to the two woman before you.

"Use your words." Morticia added when she noticed your growing silence.

"Yes— God yes!"

Larissa chuckled, reaching behind her unclasp her bra, allowing the fabric to fall from her chest and out of the way.

"Lay down, Rissa." Morticia laid a hand on the blonde's bare shoulder, pushing her gently down onto the mattress. "Our beautiful and enchanting goddess."

"Let us worship you. Please." You chimed in, running your hand up her smooth leg, and stopping just before reaching her soaked cunt.

"If that's what you truly want, who am I to deny you of your desires? Be a good girl and help me finish, angel." Larissa spread her legs, giving you full access to her dripping center which you took in your mouth instantaneously.

Your tongue flicked across her sensitive bud, earning a gentle bucking of her hips. Morticia made contact with Larissa's breasts, one hand kneading while the other held a tit in her mouth, tongue swirling around the blonde's nipple.

"Mmm, just like that!" Larissa's head fell back against the duvet, eyes begging to roll to the back of her head.

Larissa hummed, her perfectly manicured hand reaching for your head to push you further against her, allowing the slight grinding of her hips against your face.

Morticia gave one last flick to Larissa's nipple before taking a moment to look at the moaning mess Larissa quickly became. A small smirk toyed at her lips when she came up with a new plan to add to the pleasure you were giving her.

The raven haired woman slid from the bed to grab the leftover bullet vibrator that she had discarded earlier, turning the toy on and bringing it to Larissa's view.

"If she gets to pleasure you, it's only fair I get to help." Morticia crawled back onto the bed, and brought the toy to Larissa's chest. The buzzing toy ran across Larissa's nipple, causing Larissa's back to arch and push her breasts harder against the vibrations.

"Tish please," Larissa's blue eyes met with Morticia's dark ones, her big doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes glanced up at Morticia with a knowing look, moving your head away from her clit, to insert two fingers deeply inside Larissa's cunt with ease. Her wetness allowed you to slide right in.

"Such a little begger. . ." Morticia teased.

Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth at the sight of Morticia slowly drag the vibrator down Larissa's chest, past her navel, and down to her sensitive clit.

Larissa moaned loudly at the new sensation. Your free hand gripped her waist, nails dragging across her porcelain skin in a small trail that ended in her inner thighs, leaving little red marks in their wake.

"Look at her taking you so well," Morticia cooed, noticing the third finger you inserted that caused Larissa to let out a whimpering moan at the stretching of her inner walls.

Morticia moved the toy in circular motions while she brought her mouth to Larissa's neck. Red lips attached to Larissa's pulse point, sucking and nibbling at the skin, a mix of red lipstick and hickeys soon covering the blonde's neck.

"Faster, baby—" Larissa's hand gripped your wrist, picking up your thrusts to a quicker and needier pace.

The blonde's legs stilled ever so slightly, every noise coming from her mouth halting as her breath hitched. Her orgasm came barreling down at her, taking full control over her curvaceous body.

But neither you or Morticia stopped your movements.

"Yes, god yes!"

While Morticia marked up Larissa's neck, the blonde's free hand made home on her own chest, pulling her nipple between her fingers and toying with the erect bud.

Larissa's other hand only grew tighter along your scalp, hips growing frantic as she hurtled towards her next release.

"That feels so good— Fuck, don't stop!"

At her words, Morticia pressed the vibrator roughly along Larissa's clit, adding pressure to send Larissa in a daze.

Larissa moaned a long list of profanities, along with both yours and Morticia's name as she squirted against your fingers. You smirked, knowing you could still get one more out of her.

"Always making such a mess, Rissa." Morticia clicked her tongue, loving the sight of Larissa fully submitting. This was the only time Larissa was ever this submissive, and god did it turn Morticia on.

Larissa's legs shook immensely, your pace only easing up just the slightest as to not completely overstimulate her.

"Just one more, beautiful," You cooed.

The blonde's head frantically shook, moans never quieting down as her grip on your hand grew tighter. She could feel her body tighten, her legs growing stiff with each passing second.

"I- oh god—" Larissa grunted, your fingers repeatedly hitting her soft tissue.

Morticia's free hand played with Larissa's hair just as the blonde screamed your name aloud when she came once more. Your skillful fingers eased their movements, helping Larissa ride out her high.

Larissa was completely flushed, her cheeks and chest held just the slightest shade of red. You slowly removed your fingers while Morticia turned the vibrator off, leaving Larissa a shaking mess. Her legs closed, chest heaving as she came down from her high.

"You did so good for us, Rissa." Morticia gave the blonde a small kiss, "Didn't she, doll?" Her dark eyes gazed into yours, catching your attention.

"She did amazing." You agreed with Morticia, before sucking your fingers clean.

Morticia scanned both yours and Larissa's faces, the exhaustion not going unnoticed by the raven haired woman.

"While you two catch your breath, how about I get a bath started and the three of us take a nice long warm bath together, how does that sound?"

"Please," You answered Morticia while Larissa nodded her head.

Morticia stood from the bed, smirking to herself at the sight before her, Larissa completely spent and sprawled out on the bed while you laid next to her with a hand caressing Larissa's thigh.

Morticia left the two of you to catch your breath while she started in the bathroom, warm water and lavender bubbles filling the giant porcelain tub for you and Larissa to soak in. Morticia couldn't help but smile, knowing both you and Larissa would be too tired to wash yourselves, which allowed Morticia to happily take over and take care of the two people in the whole world she loved most.

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mrs-snape5984 · 5 months ago

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“Oh, but what will it take ‘till you believe in me the way that I believe in you?”

“I said I love you, that's forever. And this I promise from the heart, I couldn't love you any better. I love you just the way you are…” (“Just the way you are” by Billy Joel)

I will turn 40 years old in two months. 40 goddamn years on this planet…and only now - at my lowest point in my existence - I realised something. All my life, I’ve been hidden behind a mask. A mask, made of all my responsibilities and supposed duties, which I’ve put on from a far too young age. A mask, which helped me to hide all my ugly vulnerabilities and my true self from other people. A mask, which I thought would keep me going and going for lengths…hiding myself behind an “I’m fine” or a “No, it’s okay!”. A mask, which also came with the capability of erecting thick walls around my heart and soul…building a fort around the real Julia.

21 years ago, when I’ve found the perfect coping mechanism for myself in the love to Severus Snape, I started to allow myself being vulnerable in my little stories about Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. Only Severus was permitted to know, what’s really going on behind this mask. He became the safe space for my deepest thoughts and emotions…the only place, where I’ve granted myself the right to express my own wishes.

And suddenly, after almost 40 years of existing in this world, I recognised, that there’s a drawbridge to my fort…and that there’s someone, who’s brave enough to knock on my door. Someone, who isn’t afraid of looking at the personality behind my mask. Throwing all my unpleasant traits at them, the defensive guards of my fort tried to scare them off in an almost desperate attempt…pushing them away to protect my raw core from being seen.

But my guards got propitiated by this someone. One after the other, they laid down their weapons and lowered the drawbridge ever so slightly…centimetres for centimetres…until someone slipped into my fort…getting a glimpse of the real Julia behind the mask. They made themselves comfortable within the black walls of my fort and switched a light on. This little light is shining through the eyes of my mask now…and it didn’t stay unnoticed.

All of a sudden, some people started to notice a change in my mood, my behaviour and my attitude. Even my children are wondering about the unfamiliar lighthearted happiness of their mother…despite the confines of my disease ME/CFS. Someone lit a fire in the darkest corners of my heart…and for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own wishes and hopes. Maybe, I don’t have to hide myself behind walls and a mask the whole time? Maybe, there’s even some beauty in the rawness of my soul? Maybe, I’ll be bold enough to act on my own dreams and desires for once? Maybe, this time, I’ll be brave enough to stand up for myself…and let myself heal. Maybe, for once, the mask will be discarded for someone.

As always, when I’m thinking of these complex urges to express myself through Severus and Jules, I commissioned my dear friend @madfantasy to help me by creating the perfect artwork for my ideas. Mani, you beautiful gem of a human being, you’ve outdone yourself with these masterpieces! When I explained my imagination of Jules, showing herself to others (here presented as an audience behind the green flames of the fireplace) only behind the alleged safety of her well worn mask, I wouldn’t have thought, that your realisation of this idea would even be possible like that. But again, it seems as if you’re capable of understanding the pictures on my mind. Thank you for your willingness to hold the paint brush…helping me to pour my emotions out into art. Feel hugged, my precious friend.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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elastylinson28 · 1 month ago

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It’s just starting to sink in that Liam is actually gone, and we will never see him again. One day, we will reach his age and be older than he ever was. And the most painful truth of all is that he’s now just a memory, and that is all he’ll ever be.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to friends messaging me, asking if it’s true. I didn’t know what “true” meant; I had no idea what was going on. I was so confused until one friend said, “It’s all over social media—Liam’s dead.” I immediately opened Twitter and saw the freshest tweets talking about the accident. I struggled to believe it. I thought maybe it was just a hoax, considering he’d just been in the spotlight a week ago, once again facing backlash. Then I went on Facebook and saw Good Morning America post about it, along with familiar names—names from years ago, names I hadn’t seen in a while, but still recognized from the days when I grew up loving One Direction.

I was shaken.

I didn’t know that a celebrity’s death could hit me this hard. Tears quickly followed, and I felt overwhelmed, like I might pass out. Just a few days before, I had been on Twitter defending Liam’s name over the pettiest reasons, with people pointing out the little things he did, claiming that the rest of the 1D guys always hated him.

I soon found out about the allegations against him, yet the little girl in me—the little girl who loved One Direction so deeply—just finds it hard to believe. Still, I gave the women my trust and decided that maybe it was time to accept that I don’t know these men personally. I chose to stay clear and quiet about all things Liam, as I couldn’t bring myself to even say anything, especially against him. It sounds wrong, but you can’t just simply erase all the years you spent loving and supporting someone that quickly. Instead, I chose to focus on the other lads and ignore all the controversies.

Days passed, and what was meant to be just another random day, the 17th, became a day that changed everything. I woke up to a completely different world—a world where Liam doesn’t exist. It’s a day I will never forget; a day that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

I spent the entire day on social media, sharing my grief with strangers who, like me, share a love for these guys, as well as people from my past who loved One Direction just as deeply. We all share this grief, all over the world, mourning for what has gone and what could’ve been. It did not have to end like this—a tragedy of this magnitude is so painful that it eats you alive.

It’s been years since I’ve come to terms with the fact that they are never coming back, and that’s okay. I accepted that, knowing that the little girl in me won’t and will never be able to. I believed that one day, when they were much older, they’d reunite for the last time—all five of them: Niall, Louis, Liam, Harry, and even Zayn. I knew it would be far, far off in the future, but I believed it would happen. But with his passing, all hope is gone. No matter what happens, One Direction just isn’t One Direction anymore, and that, I think, is the toughest pill I’ve ever had to swallow.

Liam’s gone.

Liam has always been the light of the band. Even as a young girl, I knew and recognized that he led them; he was called the “Daddy Direction” for a reason. Even after the band, he remained so supportive of them. As painful and hard as it is to admit, Liam didn’t get the recognition and success that the other four have. To see someone you adored get left behind and hated by the fans of the same people he called brothers hurt. And that is a fact that will always devastate me—how wronged he was by the public and the industry, and how that led him to inflict harm not just on himself but also on others. He needed help. He deserved help—a chance to get better. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if things hadn’t gone wrong.

It’s so heartbreaking to think of the weight of all his struggles, the loneliness he must have felt, and the lost moments that can never be reclaimed. He died believing the world had turned its back on him, he was robbed of a second chance at life. He will never have the opportunity to witness his son grow up or create new memories with his family. Most tragically, he never got to experience the outpouring of love he is receiving now from the world and his brothers, a love that he deserved to feel when he was still alive.

Liam, you deserved so much more than the silence that now surrounds you. Rest now, knowing you will never be forgotten.

#one direction #liam payne #grief #fangirl #directioners #harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #fangirling #im fucking sobbing rn #i am not okay #none of this is okay

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c-t-r-l14 · 10 months ago

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The Song A Dove Sings

—————————-🧡—————————-

Synopsis: You sing Xanthus a beautiful song; one he won’t forget for as long as he lives.

Warning: Mentions of blood.

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As dawn made way for the morning rise, with the orange, pink and red hues rolling over into a sky blue, your eyelids fluttered open to the golden rays of sunlight poking its way through the curtains, and the gentle chirps of the birds roosting in nearby trees. The rays of sunlight that woven its way through the balcony window painted the room in an ethereal golden glow. You were enveloped in the warmness of the blankets, the strong hold of the man you loved most, and the faint, lingering smell of cologne and coca butter. You focused on the hushed sound of his breathing, and the warm air of his breath dancing on your neck. You looked at his peaceful expression, the way his blonde hair fell messily over his pale face, and those long, beautiful eyelashes that so perfectly complimented those stunning ruby red eyes you’ve adored so much. Like most people, you weren’t a fan of mornings—and it’s not for the typical reasons. Before you and Xanthus found each other, you woke up to a gaping cavity in your heart, suffocated by the air of solitude that filled the room. It didn’t matter how brightly the sun shined, how blue the sky was, or how loudly the birds sang; mundanity always hung above your head like a dark storm cloud. Seeing your partner’s face reminded you that you were not alone anymore. With every rise and fall of his chest, with every hushed breath that entered the atmosphere, you were reminded that your melancholic days were fewer and far in between. And so, with your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, yielding to the gentle call of sleep—you nestled further into the warm embrace of the one you loved most in this world.

Until you heard a familiar cooing sound. A familiar chirp—one that echoed in the air; its sound fluttering through the wind, just like the wings of the bird it belonged to.

A familiar song.

Your eyes popped open—any trace of fatigue and weariness melting away. As much as it pained you leave the serenity of Xanthus’ arms, you had to. So, with a quiet groan and a lot of caution, you slowly crept out of bed and tiptoed to the balcony window. And sure enough, there it was.

A Mourning Dove.

Your stomach swirled with nostalgia, and your chest felt heavy. It had been ages since you saw one, and even longer since you’ve heard its hauntingly beautiful call. As the bird sang, you took a moment to admire its muted colors—its little body covered in beige and light gray hues. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly as you watched the dove’s chest and throat puff out to make each sound.

“Love?” A groggy voice groaned behind you.

You turned around to see Xanthus sitting upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“There’s a mourning dove outside,” you replied.

He got out of bed and walked over to the balcony window.

“Ah. So there is. I haven’t seen one in so long, which makes sense—they aren’t native to the U.K.”

You didn’t answer. You merely watched it sing some more. And although, for a time, the silence between you two was very comforting, you could practically feel Xanthus’ inquisitive gaze.

“I take it that you really like this bird?”

“Yeah. A long time ago, back when I used to live with my parents—a dove that looked just like this one would perch on a ledge outside my window, and sing— once in every blue moon. I know a lot of people think that it sings a sad song, but I never thought so. I always felt comforted, and even a little joyful when I’d hear its song.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed. “I’ve always envied them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re free; they have peace. I didn’t have that growing up. For my entire life, I was forced to live in fear—always looking over my shoulder, always flinching at every corner. I never let myself fully trust people because I never knew what their true intentions were. It felt like I was…trapped in a cage. And since everyone was out to get me and family, I never really got a chance to actually live my life.”

The cage might’ve been spacious, filled with all the luxuries one could ever ask for—it might’ve been familiar, and full of the people you loved, but…

A cage is still a cage, nonetheless.

“Do you feel free now?” Xanthus asked.

You hummed and rested your head on his shoulder. Dontis was an absolute saint for opening up his home to you two. He’s helped you guys out in more ways in one. You certainly weren’t ungrateful for everything he’s done for you two, but at that point it’d been months since you’ve left his penthouse. Months since you’ve got to try new food, or interacted with new people. Months since you were able to live your life.

Yes, his house was full of luxuriously plush couches, beautiful paintings, and wide flat screen T.Vs, but you still weren’t free. A cage is still a cage. But even after everything you’ve been through, if there was one thing you’d gained—-it was peace. You’ve found peace with Xanthus, and that was enough for now.

“When I die, I think I wanna become a mourning dove.”

Xanthus turned his head toward you. “What?”

“I remember you telling me something about the jokes vampires make when they die. You told me that if you died, you’d come back as a bat. So, I’m telling you now that when I die, I’m gonna come back as a mourning dove. So make sure to keep your ears open;

‘Cause I’m gonna sing you a beautiful song.”

……..

No matter where he went or where he tried to hide, death followed Xanthus everywhere—but it never really bothered him until he met you. Humans lives were fleeting compared to his own, and as fragile as a porcelain tea cup, teetering dangerously on the edge of a high shelf; one nudge away from shattering into numerous irreparable pieces. He never liked thinking about your death, or what’d it be like if you were gone—so he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, and cherished your presence while you were still around.

But ever since you and him had that conversation, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He didn’t stop thinking about it when he held your broken and bloodied body in his arms—your face drained of any color, your eyes dull and lifeless.

He didn’t stop thinking about it as he tore Audric to shreds after what he did to you. He could still feel the warmth of his blood dripping from his fingers.

He didn’t stop thinking about it when he gave your eulogy, or when he and your loved ones walked to the graveyard.

And he most definitely didn’t stop thinking about it when they lowered your coffin 6 feet into the cold, dark ground.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave your grave—even after everyone left. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, or to mutter any sort of apology for getting you into this mess. For being so careless. For being so damn weak. All he could do was sit in front of your grave, with his face buried in his hands, and sob inconsolably. He’d lost the person he was supposed to protect; his lover, a piece of his soul. And now, he felt incomplete—broken, even. So, all he could do was sit there, and cry until there were no tears left to shed.

Until he heard a familiar coo. A familiar chirp.

A familiar song.

He took his face out of his hands, and looked up; the red, bloody tears still streaming out of his wide eyes. And sure enough, there it was, perched on your headstone:

A Mourning Dove.

Its little body was bathed in beige and light gray hues, its throat and chest puffed out as it sang. And Xanthus watched quietly in disbelief until it was over. He reached his hand out, and the dove perched on his finger. And as soon as the bird made contact, he felt it.

It was you.

You came back to say goodbye to him, one last time.

The dove cooed once more, and flew away—the faint flapping sounds of its wings fading further and further away. He watched as the dove flew toward the sky.

You were finally at peace. You were finally free.

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A/N: Ever since part 8.1–when Xanthus jokes about dying and being reincarnated as a bat, I couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of animal listener would end up being. I really, really love mourning doves, and I’ve always thought that they’d be a good fit for listener.

Masterlist

#zsakuva #sakuverse #xanthus zsakuva #angst I guess?#poor Xanthus #xanthus x reader #xanthus claiborne #zsakuva x reader #zsakuva xanthus

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zaldritzosrose · 2 months ago

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Get to Know...Lyanna Stark

This beautiful magazine cover was created by @foxyanon as a companion piece to our SMAU collab The Lives of Friends with myself, @foxyanon, @legitalicat and @thenameswinter99 (fic blog @thenameswinterfics).

Words: 1418

Interview below the cut!

R: Rila Baratheon of Crown Couture here, catching up with the wonderful Lyanna Stark! Let’s get started, we know we’re going to be in for some fun and honesty!

Lyanna, nice to see you again!

L: And nice to see you! It’s been far too long.

R: Last time I saw you, you were surrounded by what looked like half a store’s worth of tulle, so I’m glad to see you looking a little more casual.

Lyanna laughs.

R: So, let’s get into it. What prompted you to head down the fashion path?

L: Oh, where to begin! My sister will probably tell you, I’ve been obsessed with dressing up since I was small. Stealing her dresses, or even our mother’s when I could get my hands on them. Spending hours putting together looks and demanding she take photo after photo of me.

Once, I got a little too adventurous and basically destroyed one of her dresses…which I am not actually sure she knew about…

Sorry Alisanne!

R: Hey, little sisters are supposed to annoy the older ones, I’m sure she’s forgiven you by now. So you preferred being in front of the camera over behind it?

L: Definitely, I’d spend ages posing and snapping photos. And then, at about 17 I heard about an opening for young models at Crown and Co Modeling Agency and I just couldn’t pass that up. I had seen all their shoots, I probably even had photos pinned to my wall.

It was hard work, but I put the effort in and got my first shoot not long after I turned 18 and well, here I am!

R: Did your family and friends support your choice?

L: They were so good about it. We’re a close family, so when it comes to something we love, our parents are amazing. Dad would drive me to shoots until I got a car, Mum helped me style myself for my Agency interview.

Cregan and Alisanne are the best siblings anyone could ask for. I have no idea what I’d do without them.

R: What challenges have you faced?

L: I will never pretend being a model is easy. There’s so much work involved that people don’t see. It’s not all fancy clothes and exotic shoots.

R: But you make it all look so effortless?

L: Oh, you flatter me! That’s practice. At the start, the hours would exhaust me. When I pictured it as a kid, I thought I’d be getting paid to dress up and pose. But there’s so much more.

Not all shoots are easy. I don’t get along with all the shoot runners, other models, or photographers. It comes with the territory. Not everyone works well together, but that’s life.

R: It sounds like there’s more work than people think. People think models are just like living mannequins, paid to look pretty and pose, but you’ve proved time and time again there’s so much more.

Are there any industry secrets you could share?

L: Without getting myself in trouble…

R: Not the fun kind of trouble anyway!

Lyanna throws out a little side eye and a laugh before continuing.

L: Fun trouble is the best trouble.

But yeah, if people ask I remind them it’s still a job. It might look glamorous, but there are days where shoots can take hours and it's almost always people pulling on you, positioning you just so.

Like one time, I was doing a shoot for Dior, and the director of the shoot decided we were going to be doing time lapses of the moon. It was six hours of standing perfectly still while everyone and everything moved around me.

It might not sound a lot, but it really can take its toll.

R: I love how honest you are about it. It’s so refreshing to see!

L: I’d rather keep it open, I want any fans I have to know me as I am. I won’t hide or bullshit.

R: And that’s why we love you!

R: So, bringing us back to something lighter. What was a significant moment in your fashion career?

L: There’s been so many “wow I actually got to do that moments” but the one that will forever stick out the most was my first big label gig with Louis Vuitton. It was like a dream getting that phone call.

They were looking for a really specific look, back when I was still a little into my ‘alt girl’ era, and apparently I fit that. I wasn’t a big name by any means, I was still pretty green in terms of experience. But that’s what they wanted.

Honestly, I feel like if it wasn’t for that shoot, I wouldn’t be where I am now. And I’m forever grateful.

R: I remember that shoot! I was just starting out as an intern and the shoot was beautiful. The clothes, the aesthetics. I’m pretty sure we talked about it for months in the office, and now I’ve got its star in front of me!

L: Oh, stop it! I’m still building my name and I feel like I will be forever. There’s never an end and I love it.

R: Speaking of…what motivates you to keep going?

L: Are we going with life in general or at work? Because the answers are basically the same.

R: Roll with whatever makes you comfortable.

L: My friends and my family. They are honestly some of the best people in the world. There aren’t words that could describe how much I love them, I’d have to invent new ones.

Whenever I have a rubbish day, I can always count on any and all of them to tell me to chill out and not let it bother me. Plus, my big man Winter, my cat, the best therapy a girl could ask for.

And Als makes me cake, who can have a bad day when you have cake on tap!

R: I wouldn’t trust anyone who could still be down after that!

L: But seriously, every single one of them are the best humans in existence.

R: You’re so lucky, honestly. Not many people can say that about those close to them.

And while we’re on the topic of your personal life…

What does your day-to-day look like?

L: I always start the morning with breakfast with my sister if I can. It keeps us grounded and sets us up for the day.

If I’m on a shoot, then I’m usually up early - there’s never a lie in on a shoot day. But I always keep busy, between the fittings, travel, it’s never a quiet day on a shoot.

But on off days, I’ll do as little as possible. I’ll spend most of it with any combination of friends and family. Rhae’s museum is always a go to, she’s killed it over there and I’ll never get tired of wandering around it.

R: Just for those who don’t know, Rhae is Rhaenerys Targaryen?

L: Yeah, the sister in law who feels more like a sister. I can’t remember a time where she wasn’t in my life.

And if I’m not there, I’m either at Als’ bakery, bothering Daenyra when she’s painting or getting some animal therapy at Cregan’s sanctuary.

R: Wow, you really have no shortage of places to go. It’s so nice to get that little sneak peek into the other side of you.

L: I try to keep as open as I can. Anyone who sees my instagram will know that!

R: Speaking of open and instagram, there’s a certain someone who appears quite often?

L: I have tons of pics with people, you could mean anyone.

Lyanna seems a little more serious.

R: I know everyone will be disappointed if I don’t ask about one in particular. What’s going on between you and Aemond Targaryen?

L: Aemond’s a good guy. We’ve known each other for so long and he’s a comfort person for me. There’s not much else to say.

R: Some of those posts look a lot more than friendly, and he’s a good-looking guy so…

L: Look, I’m happy. That should be enough for people.

The interview draws to a close as Lyanna shuts down.

R: Okay, thank you to Lyanna as always. I promised fun and honesty and you delivered!

L: My pleasure, I always enjoy the chance to open up when I want to.

R: Stay tuned for Lyanna’s next appearance, we all know it will be a good one!

#oc lyanna stark #modern au #social media au #house of the dragon #the lives of friends #lyanna stark (oc)#interview

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quillkiller · 5 months ago

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Thoughts on barty and catholic guilt?

i’m gonna be real honest with you here….. i’ve never thought about it much at all.. i think a lot about the black siblings (brothers & sisters) and their potential religious guilt, but i haven’t really thought much about barty in that context :/

to me, barty sort of always exists as something almost ’other’.. like there’s just this sort of otherness to him and he doesn’t really feel things in a normal way or in the same way his peers feel or experience things. like.. he’s just sort of deviated and has been ever since he was a kid, i feel, and be that because of the abuse he experienced when he grew up, his lack of atonomy over his own body/life, or just the absolute absence of love and touch and comfort in his home. either way, it sort of fucked him up from a very young age and just sort of made him a little…. wrong…

this is why i was being so serious when i said (here’s the post) that barty + twincest (the rosiers) would actually be a very healthy relationship in bartys opinion ahdhrjajrk. like, his home was completely and entirely devoid of love except for when they pretend infront of others. so when he meets the rosier twins who don’t have any boundaries with each other when it comes to love and intimacy barty sort of genuinely thinks that’s what a family should be. there are no grey areas as far as barty’s concerned. it’s just either or. and he yearns to be involved in their family dynamic like he’s never yearned for anything before. because it’s literally the direct opposite of what his own family is. instead of pretending to love each other in public, the rosiers have to hide it and can only ever be themselves behind closed doors. and barty experiences that as normal, and as proof that the way they love each other is how a family should love each other. the fact that they love each other when no one else is looking and instead they have to prevent people from figuring them out <- that’s proof of real love to barty. that they’re actually a family. the fact that there are no boundaries between them when it comes to love and intimacy behind closed doors

anyway. i don’t think this was at all the answer you were looking for…… im sorry!!!! my barty prophets are @sugarsnappeases, @foursaints & @itsjaywalkers and if you want a better answer to his relationship with catholic/religious guilt i’m sure maybe they have better answers for you <3

#sorry for taking your question about catholic guilt and turning it into twincest…….:/#asks #barty #bartyrosiers #marauders tag

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glassbubblebooks · 21 days ago

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Hello - Welcome in my Bubble🫧✒️

|| Who am I and what is this blog about?

Hello and welcome to my blog “glassbubblebooks”, I am very happy to have you here:)!

In this very first blog post of mine, you will find an introduction of me, bubble and a small summary of what this blog will be about🤍

Name: bubble🫧

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual

Birthday: December 29th🎂 (I’m 18)

Country: Germany🇩🇪

Languages: German/ English

(This little character gives you an idea of my looks btw, credits to @veluv_art on Instagram, Twitter and TikTok)

Since I can remember I’ve always been obsessed with literature, escaping into different universes and I’ve always liked to draw, read and write. My favorite author is @aliceoseman and I love the Osemanverse in general. Her books have helped me so much in finding myself and they´ll always be my comfort books. I’m also very obsessed with the Harry Potter universe and my all-time favorite book series is the 'Empyrean' series, especially 'Iron Flame'. This series is hands down one of the best fantasy novels I've read so far and I love the concept of the bond between riders and dragons. This story is, so far, incredibly well thought-out and I can´t wait for the third book to be published in January. Rebecca Yarrows' universe really is a big inspiration for me. For almost five years now, I’ve been working on my own fantasy novel and the whole universe behind that.✒️📖

When it comes to books, my favorite genres are romance, coming-of-age, fantasy, and romantasy and I read books in English and German, which is my native language. I’ll try to read as often as I can, but since I’m still in school, I often lack the time. My biggest dream is to become an author one day but I still have a long way to go.💫

I thought about sharing book and writing related content for a while now and I finally decided to start this blog! From now on, I will try to take you with me every week and post about my favorite books, my current TBH my book progress and just general thoughts.🤍 I’m not entirely sure where this blog is going to lead me but I’m really hoping that you’re here to follow my journey through book stores, book reviews and outbursts of creativity✒️🤍📖

You are very welcome to follow my tumblr blog, and also take a look at my other socials for spontaneous updates about books or my life💫

I’m also very looking forward to getting to know you guys, so don’t be afraid to follow, comment and ask me questions. Do you have any writing tips or book recommendations? I’d love to hear about your interests and ideas for this blog! You’re also free to show my blog to people that you think would love to follow it!🫶🏻

I can’t wait to start this journey with you

Love, Bubble🫧

#booklr #blogging #introduction #first blog #glassbubbles #writing #books #writers #reading #book blog #bookstagram #the empyrean #iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm #intro post #blog intro #looking for moots

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acciotherapists · 10 months ago

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Far From Home (Chapter 53: Stephen Strange)

Loki x Reader

Y/n Y/l/n never thought her past would come back to find her. After all who would look for her on Midgard? But one day in the small town of Puento Antiguo her world is turned upside down when an old friend turns up, threatening everything she has built and the people she’d fought so hard to protect. What happens when the life she left behind finally catches up with her? What happens when the old flame she thought had burned out reignites within her?

Warnings: language (sorry, Steve), eventual smut (slow burn), angst, some mentions of torture (most things won’t be detailed but anything that gets a bit more specific will be warned at the beginning of the chapter)

Stephen Strange.

I turned to find the face belonging to the familiar voice and his eyes widened.

“Mary?”

Wong chuckled softly. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” I replied.

“And me?” Loki asked, an edge in his voice. “Do I want to know?”

I shook my head and Stephen slowly approached us.

“W-what are you doing here? Who are they?” he pointed to Loki, Wanda, and Tony.

“They’re friends of mine,” I answered, ignoring his other question.

He placed the books on the counter in front of Wong, his eyes locked with mine.

“I-I don’t understand… It’s been 7 years… and you haven’t aged a day.”

“It’s complicated-.”

“Leave, Strange,” Wong hissed, taking the books from the counter and placing them to the side. “This matter does not concern you.”

Stephen gave a defeated sigh and left the library.

Wong turned to me. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”

“So I knew you as Zoe almost 20 years ago when I was barely a student here… Stephen knew you as Mary seven years ago. I always knew you held secrets and your aging was slowed but I never imagined…” He looked back and forth between Loki and I. “You’re Asgardian, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“You mentioned people were looking for you when you first came to us… is that why you’re here now?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I think most of them are dead or scattered. It’s something else. It’s about the Sapphire and Scarlet Witches. You speak of them with such fear.”

“That’s what I was always taught… to fear them. The Ancient One warned us of such beings during much of my training. To say that you could be one of them… it goes against everything I know about them… and you.”

“You don’t understand, Wong. I’ve dreamt of them… of myself. I’ve seen it, Wong.”

He shook his head. “No, you must’ve seen wrong.” He goes to a bookcase covered in chains and removes a book, returning to us and flipping it open to an eerily familiar image. It was a colored sketch of two women surrounded by scarlet and sapphire on either side, purple flames meeting in the middle.

“They are said to either rule… or annihilate the cosmos.”

“You truly believe you are the Sapphire Witch?” Loki asked me and Wong watched us carefully.

“I can’t think of another way to explain what I saw… the way my abilities have grown beyond my control.”

I turned my attention back to Wong. “What does it say about the other one? The Scarlet Witch?”

He looked down at the book again. “Nothing much… other than the two beings are close and have seen or will have seen many battles together.”

My heart was racing in my chest. I knew the Scarlet Witch seemed familiar but it wasn’t until I felt her nails dig into my arm that I realized what I’d been missing. I could practically hear her heart racing next to me as Wong spoke in a language I didn’t understand before translating it from the book.

“God help the soul who crosses them.”

***********

Taglist: @nelachu2423 @purplekitten30@lokisprettygirl22@midnights-ramblings@huntress-artemiss@lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress @the-archangel-in-asgard@crimson25@thedistractedagglomeration

#lokixreader #loki friggason #loki odinson #marvel #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #loki x reader #loki x y/n #marvel mcu #avengers #loki x you #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers au #marvel au #mcu x reader

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 2 years ago

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Agent Rushmore (CH 1)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1000

Warning: Mild language, violence, gore, guns, fluff, smut, angst, PTSD, graphic scenes…

Prompt: Special Agent Locklyn Rushmore, a highly trained Russian assassin who is skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, negotiating, and more. When her cover is blown, she is returning back to NCIS headquarters in D.C…

Jethro Gibbs POV

I study the footage again and shake my head before motioning McGee to rewind the footage to play it over again and again. That is until Jen decides to interrupt my obsessing.

“Any news on who you think the unsub is?” She asks.

“Yes. However, this woman has no existence as far as we know. No facial recognition and she’s good at what she does. What we do know is that she has red hair, green eyes, she’s a trained assassin for sure, but we ruled out Mossad.” I say.

“That isn’t your unsub. She’s one of us. A federal agent. She’s undercover. She’s in deep. We only keep her file on paper as of now. Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. She underwent extensive training in a secret Russian organization. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late.” She murmurs.

I stare at Jen a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late…that had me curious.

“Escaped?” I question.

“Yes. Her parents sent her into this secret organization against her will. She was just a child. She was eight. One of the youngest there. She got away when she was seventeen and started her own life by taking down renowned criminals. We were intrigued by her skills, so we hired her. She has dabbled in all sorts of federal agencies, but NCIS holds a special place in her heart. It’s where she first learned that blood isn’t family.” She says.

“Sounds like you know her well.” I murmur.

“She stayed with me for awhile. She was distant at first. It was her way of protecting herself and keeping her guard up. Little by little, I worked through to her and she opened up. She’s an amazing young woman. She’s gone through so much, yet she’s still fighting to put others before herself. She’s remarkable really.” She says.

“How old…is this agent?” DiNozzo asks.

“Not that you seem to ask the age of most woman you take out, but she’s thirty-three. However, you aren’t her type.” She says.

“I’m everyone’s type, Director.” He teases.

“Hm. Not hers.” She says.

“Then what’s her type?” He asks.

“Older. She claims she likes her men experienced. However, I think she has a thing for the hair too. I’ve noticed most men she takes out has silver hair. She always picks some…colorful men.” She says.

I watch the footage of this Locklyn Rushmore. She moved swiftly and quickly. She moved with grace and somehow no one seemed to notice her. She was like a shadow.

“Uh, boss…Director…you may want to see this.” McGee says.

He pulls up a live newsfeed and we instantly see fire and smoke and people running. I read the headline about a bomb. My eyes focus on a redhead who stumbles out with her gun drawn.

“Locklyn.” Jen whispers, a hand going to her mouth.

We hear gunshots and she takes cover behind a car, firing off a few rounds herself. Police were yelling at her to put her weapon down, but she throws her credentials their way to silence them as she fires off at an unsub.

“Director Shepard, emergency meeting in M-TAC.” Her secretary says.

I follow Jen to M-TAC. I sit with her and see that the newsfeed was playing in here as several different faces appear.

“Locklyn’s cover has been blown, Director Shepard.” I hear.

“I’m aware. I want her back here as soon as possible. She’s safer with us and respectfully, she belongs with NCIS.” She says.

“She is in D.C. She knew her cover was blown and was making her way back to you, Director Shepard. However, they caught up with her before she could tell you.” He says.

“I’ll handle this. And Locklyn will be safe. We will figure out how her cover was blown and officially take down the Dixen family for good.” She says.

She stands and I follow her. She walks out to the railing and with a simple look, I went down to stand with my team.

“We will all be investigating a case that has been classified and highly confidential for years. Locklyn Rushmore will be returning back to NCIS, joining Special Agent Gibbs team. She’s been undercover for years, however she’s one of us. She will need our help and support during these trying times. She has a target on her back. Her cover was blown and now several dangerous individuals, a very powerful family, is wanting her dead.” She says.

Everyone nods and gets back to their respective duties. I stare at Jen a moment longer before I look between Ziva, McGee, and Tony.

“Clear off that desk for her. And do something about that stupid divider so she doesn’t feel singled out. Go!” I snap.

They get to work and I knew the real person to set up her desk. I head down to Abby’s lab and she was blasting music through the speakers. I turn it off and she turns to me with a pout, putting her hands on her hips.

“Gibbs! It was getting to the good part!” She exclaims.

“Abs, an agent who has been undercover for quite awhile is returning to NCIS. Her cover was blown and she has a very powerful family who is dangerous after her. I don’t know all the details, but I know that Jen wants her comfortable when she returns. She’s joining my team and I wanted to see if you’d be so kind to set up her desk.” I say and she nods with a smile.

“What’s her name? Do you know if she’s nice? Oh! Do you know her favorite color or maybe if she likes hugs?” She asks.

“Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. Jen says she is distant and guarded at first, but once you break her walls down…she sounds nice. I’m not sure if she’s a hugger though.” I say and she sighs, nodding her head.

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pencilnewt · 1 day ago

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I dont think I have seen somebody draw as beautifully as you have, really.

The colors you use to draw make the photograph, as does the shadowing. And your ideas? Genius.

How did you learn all this great technique? Was that something you have always done or did you just start drawing?

I hope I could just tell you how amazing your art is to me (and many others)✨

thank you so much omfg!!

it’s definitely taken a lot of time and practice, i didn’t just wake up one day and know how to draw the way i do rn!! and im still learning all the time, im very self-taught!! gonna fish thru my instagram for a min and grab some screenshots of old art to demonstrate this in a sort of timeline but it feels very self-indulgent (which i try not to be too often haha) so it’s under the cut if anyone wants to see :3

i feel like im able to create something approaching the art i see in my head for the first time in my life and im SO grateful for any and all support people have given me while im doing that in a way i literally cannot express like i read EVERY SINGLE tag people leave on my art on here and it makes me want to fucking cry <3

quickly first of all i use CSP version 1 these days but over the past 9 years i’ve used nearly every free drawing program available - krita, 🏴‍☠️photoshop, firealpaca, autodesk sketchbook, ibis paint, medibang…

anyway some sketchbook drawings circa 2016/age 13 (earliest i have photos of, but i have one earlier sketchbook somewhere) at which point human anatomy was still an utter mystery to me:

got my first drawing tablet in 2017 - a little wacom intuos draw, which i don’t think they make anymore, but i still used it until about a year and a bit ago when i bought my xp-pen display tablet w my first paycheck. i think this was literally the first thing i drew on there:

a bit of a jump to 2019 (this is where i got my love for fuzzy chalky textures i think):

i try not to think about the dsmp era too much but that’s where i made some big strides (especially in my colouring) because i felt a lot of consistent motivation to draw!

& then spent a LOT of time doodling my dnd character over the past year & doing some other little reference studies when i could find the time between writing my undergrad dissertation etc. this helped me nail down drawing faces better than b4.

i’d doodled some hockey stuff on and of for the past couple of years but only started properly drawing or posting anything at the end of september!! gotta say a big THANK YOU to everyone who reblogged pens snoopy when i first posted him bc without the support from people on here i don’t think id have initially been so motivated to keep making this art that i’ve loved drawing so so much. and i’ve made friends & mutuals that i’m even more grateful for :3 1st vs most recent:

i have lots of things i wanna keep working on, here are some:

more detailed backgrounds & lighting (biggest barrier here is terrible Can’t Be Bothered syndrome)

recognisably simplifying/stylising people more!! i can do this a bit but my strength is defo semi-realism i feel

improving my composition/making it more intentional. this is the biggest reason behind making those stamp designs actually (could go into much more detail in another post about what’s behind lots of the hockey pieces i’ve made, if anyone would like to hear about that. there’s semi-often something im trying to specifically work on or practice)

more movement & dynamism!!

this is probably so obvious but i’m like. passively learning from looking at other artists’ work all the time as well as practicing. if i really like a piece of art i see online i’ll try and identify exactly WHY i like it so i can think about how i might improve my own art.

if you read this far i’m in love w you <3

#thank you so much anon!#this was so kind of you to say i really appreciate it #art timeline #i made this so self-indulgent i’m so sorry #but maybe interesting? i hope?#ask #my art

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panicawa · 1 year ago

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ADHD+feedback=agony

This is going to be a long and possibly boring text post about art and posting art online, with some self-reflection on top. I don’t usually do these and it’s been ages since I’ve actually written any kind of a longer text, but I really need to put these thoughts onto imaginary digital paper. I’d appreciate if you read it through and if you could give me any form of feedback on this! Your own experiences and etc. I do art because it’s a part of my ADHD-ridden personality, this desire to create always buzzing inside, it’s neither and both work and hobby for me, something I love and hate the most in life, because it tortures me as much as it fills me with joy. So if you ask me ‘hey, what’s your purpose for drawing? What’s your goal, your endgame?’ the answer is really ‘there’s none, it’s more of a curse, it’s just something that makes me alive so I can’t help but continue, cause if I stop it feels like I’d vanish or lose myself completely’. I can’t say I’ve done all other forms of media to express myself, but I’ve tried a lot of things (poetry, photography, music, cosplay, crafting and so on and so forth) and nothing comes close to drawing. And I’m not even sure if ‘expressing myself’ is a right way to put it because it’s not that my art is any kind of deep and meaningful, I just illustrate plots and characters I find appealing in some way or another, for the most part. Now, I don’t consider myself to be a professional, but I also have 20+ years of experience at this point so I might as well be, depending on how you look at it. All self-beating aside, I like to think that my art is at somewhat plausible level at the moment? I am proud of how far I’ve come despite everything and I can still see a lot of progress happening, and god knows I work my ass off to continue improving. The main thing I want to address here is how erratic and incomprehensible my online feedback has been recently and how it makes my brain perform loops of dissociation. I wish I didn’t care for feedback at all, but sadly I do, it’s what gives me the most dopamine. I’ve recently discovered it’s yet-another ADHD thing. Nothing else in life makes me as fulfilled as seeing other people enjoy my pictures, it’s just pure joy without any downsides to it. It’s really not about financial gain from art or fame and popularity, but just creating something new and then seeing people have a positive emotional response to it is what lights up my life and helps to get through all the shit it throws at me. And considering that my family is mostly completely disinterested in what I create (which has been hurting me more than I can describe since I was a little baby), and my paranoia makes it hard to accept compliments from friends and partners, online feedback has been the best medicine for me. I used to tell myself one day I will get good enough to have some following that would be excited about my art and give me constant feedback in return, because that’s what I always saw happen to other artists. I never aimed to be the most popular or to achieve certain numbers of likes, just being ‘good, on average’ was the ideal for me as long as I’ve had a constant crowd behind. I thought, a lot of musicians of the past don’t really make any more new hit songs, but they still can gather a crowd of long-term fans at a concert, right? Once you make it to some level of popularity you never really go into a complete oblivion, as long as you’re still working your craft and putting it out there? And there have been times in my life where I thought that the moment has finally happened and was now my reality, that my art was finally well enough to climb into ‘popular post’ tiers, and that I have gathered enough audience to have a stable interest in my publications, but it never lasted too long. I understand how social media work, how people change hobbies and fandoms, and how the world around us changes altogether, but recently the ride has been too wild for me to comprehend. Although I have a significant number of followers on all my main social media (tumblr, twitter, IG) (and a lot of those followers are fresh newcomers too), the feedback has just been... all over the place. I understand that I’m dipping into different fandoms here and there (then again, the vast majority of them are extremely popular on their own, so you’d think that should help the situation too?) and I’m experimenting with my art styles, but no matter how hard I try there’s just no consistency. I post something that I’m sure will do well and it does. I post something I’m sure will do well again and it completely flops. I post some scribes for fun and it goes super high. I post another funny thing and there’s no response. One post gets 10k likes, the next one gets 30 likes. Then the next one gets 5k. Then 15. I feel like I have no control over it at all, no understanding. It feels like playing a roulette. Just up to chance every time. It’s the same on all social platforms so I don’t think I could attribute it to algorithms only. How can I ever try to invest time and energy into bigger projects if I can’t even estimate if it has a chance of being any sort of likeable? Is my art just extremely non-consistent on its own and I just don’t notice? What’s going on??? I’m entirely grateful for big numbers but I’d really rather have them spread through most things I post? Of course some publications are going to be more popular than others, it’s perfectly fine, but while 300 likes on some posts and 600 likes on other is understandable, the gaps between 10k+ and less-than-30 are just too extreme? Especially when they happen one after the other? I swear I never see this with other people and it just makes my brain intolerable. For all those of you who have reached the bottom of this rant, thank you! If you have any thoughts to share or similar experiences, please do let me know! My main concern here is how to battle this feeling of am-I-going-insane-or-what, and not the numbers of likes. Finding any way out of this would be good because it has really interfered with my art process lately and I hateeee it!

#big text post

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dxncingwithastrxnger · 2 years ago

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1. it’s been a secret for the longest time

A/N: Hey, guys!!! I've been working on this story for about a week or so, I'm so excited to finally be posting it!!! A couple of weeks ago, I became absolutely obsessed with the song inspiration for this and eventually my brain started applying it to Trilance and I'd say the result is absolutely beautiful. This is actually Chapter 1 out of at least 2 (though I might continue with more than that if people really want me to). Originally this was going to be much longer, it was actually going to include a whole smut scene which would've almost doubled the word count at least, maybe even fully doubled it, but my laptop needs to charge and I need to go to sleep, lmao. So you guys get part one now and part two sometime tomorrow!! Imma have to go back through and do some proofreading later on, but for the most part, it should be good to go!!! Happy reading!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot

Summary: For months now, Tristan and Lancelot have played a game of secret flirting, lustful longing, and maybe even something a bit more. But now that a certain date has finally been set, they're running out of time to decide what they want and Tristan decides he's going to finally make a move to advance things forward.

Tags: Aged up characters (somewhere around 21-24), alcohol, sexual tension, slight Guinevere bashing (💀💀), cheating/infidelity sorta (depends on how you look at it, I guess? But people have tried to come at me for not tagging cheating in the past, so, lmao)

Song Inspiration: Shameless By Camila Cabello (Highly recommend, btw)

Word Count: 4,883

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

Lancelot holds his breath as he waits. It's time. This is when he always shows up. Well, when they always show up, but he could care less about her. It's only him that he's concerned about. And there he is. Right on time. He watches from across the crowded club as two people come in through the front entrance. The flashing lights of the paparazzi that have followed them here were barely noticeable thanks to the heavy door blocking the club from the outside world quickly closing behind them.

A pinkette and a silverette make their way through the dancefloor slowly, stopping and talking to people, going by the bar to get their first round of drinks. Both of them are the closest thing to royalty you can get in their country, and in this club that means they are royalty as far as anyone is concerned. And they definitely live up to the title. A prince and a soon-to-be princess.

They're both beautiful. Stunning, even. They're shining stars, a picture perfect couple. The ultimate couple goals. Their life is perfect and nothing could be better. Everyone wants someone to love them like those two love each other. All anyone wants in life is to find someone who treats them as well as the prince treats the princess. That's all according to the world-wide media, anyways. But again, Lance doesn't care about anyone but the prince.

Finally, after a few minutes, they make their way over to where Lancelot is. Because of course. If they're the prince and princess, then he's a nobleman, his father being the royal advisor to the King himself, after all, if he were to continue his kingdom metaphors. He could even go so far as to say he was a family friend, though he's personally never spent much time with any of them.

"Lancelot, hello!" The princess addresses him kindly. "How have you been?"

He meets her eyes reluctantly. Not because he's afraid or intimidated by her, quite the opposite, in fact. There's just better places for him to look at right now. "I've been well, and you, your majesties?" He tacks on his little nickname for them with a playful grin.

She flushes slightly, but just shakes her head at him with a roll of her eyes while the prince beside her lets out a deep chuckle that absolutely lights Lance up inside. "We've been very well, isn't that right, my love?" The prince looks from Lance to the woman beside him as he speaks.

"Oh, yes, so much has happened recently. We must catch you up once we've finished making our round of greetings." The princess looked to be positively bursting with excitement. She then looks to the rest of his booth with curiosity and confusion, seeming to just now notice the lack of a brunette beside him. "Both of you. Where's your princess, Lance?" She questions, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she teases him with his own nickname for her.

Oh gods, don't let her hear you call her that. She would never let any of us live it down and then we'd have some real problems. He thinks with a mental sigh of exasperation. "She had a business call to attend to, I'm sure she'll be back by the time you two are." He states politely.

They both nod. "We'll be off then, see you in a few." Is called back at him as they turn and walk away. He shakes his head and turns back to the table, downing the rest of his drink in order to keep himself from staring at the Prince's backside as he walks away. He sets his glass back down and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and sighing as he sags in his seat.

The prince and princess. Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors. Son of Meliodas Taizman and daughter of Chester Connors. Chester is someone who started out as nothing more than average middle-class and managed to work his way up the ladder and into the livelihood of the rich after finding a way to create a new piece of technology that allows people to rediscover long lost memories.

Meliodas is the Mayor of the city of Liones, the capitol of our country and the biggest and most populated place in all of Britannia. He's married to the previous Mayor's daughter, so some like to say that he didn't rightfully earn his place as leader of the people, but the truth is, he had already started making a name for himself before he'd even met his current wife, through his connection with the Sin Committee.

They were a group of activists who came from out of town. They're an interesting mix of people. Each of them have their own individual cause that they wanted to focus on the most, so they'd be in charge of that topic, situation, idea, etc. But whenever there was a protest or a meeting or a vote, all the other members would gather to help out. There was 7 of them, so they each chose one of the seven deadly sins to use as a code name, which is also where their official group name came from. They gathered for all kinds of stuff. Protests, uprisings, voting polls, they made speeches and outed assholes who tried to make themselves look good. And they didn't just do it in Liones, they did it all over Britannia. Danafall, Edinburgh, Benwick. They were changemakers and they were damn good at it.

They were planning on eventually traveling out of Liones and continuing on, but then Meliodas met the mayor's daughter, Elizabeth Liones. And he decided to stay so that he could be with her, settle down and actually grow out some roots somewhere. And the rest of his group followed suit, each one finding some reason or another to stay here and build an official life for themselves. Eventually Meliodas and Elizabeth got married and not long after, Meliodas ran for Mayor as Elizabeth's father stepped down.

So, the prince. Yeah, Lance thinks it's a pretty fitting name, considering the whole damn city is named after his family. That choice of nickname definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that if told to, he would immediately fall to the man's feet and do whatever else was asked of him without hesitation. It definitely doesn't have to do with the fact that for months, the only constant thought in his mind is what Tristan's skin might feel like and how his lips might taste. And it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Lance has never wanted any man, any person, more than he's wanted Tristan Liones. Definitely not.

"What's up with you? Tired already?" A voice breaks him from his thoughts as the brunette slides into the booth next to him, having finished up with her phone call.

The only thing making me tired is you, Lance thinks wryly. "No, just lost in thought, thinking over some stuff." He replies, flashing her a quick half-hearted smile. "Isolde and Tristan stopped by to say hi. Isolde says she wants to tell us about some things. They should be back anytime now." He informs her.

"Oh good, it's been awhile since we've seen them, it'll be good to catch up." She states, smiling as she loops her right arm through Lance's left one and leans her head on his shoulder. Lance suppresses a sigh and places an arm around her shoulders out of obligation more than anything else, the girl under his arm sighing contentedly and snuggling closer. He grimaces, glad she can't currently see his face. Luckily, he's saved from having to linger too much on her, as Tristan and Isolde take that moment to appear once again.

"Oh, Guinevere, you're back! Lance said you would be back before we were, but I was worried when he mentioned it being a business call." Isolde admits to the woman at his side.

"Oh, it was nothing, everything is fine now." Guinevere waves her hand in front of her with an air of nonchalance.

Lance stops focusing on the women's interaction as he finally gives in to his urge that's almost instinct by now to look at Tristan. Tristan, who currently appears to be burning holes into Guinevere's arm with his eyes, glaring directly at where her arm is looped with his. Oh. Jealousy was not something seen often on the prince, but Lance is just now realizing that it is a very good look on him. Especially when it's about Lance himself.

Tristan must've felt Lance's eyes on him because his multi-colored eyes were suddenly meeting bright red. Lance's breath hitched. He was suddenly pinned by the hot spark in those green and blue irises of his. Something had changed, had finally shifted in this long game of theirs. He knew right then that tonight would be different. He didn't know how yet, but he was excited to find out, and he made sure to hold his realization and how he felt about it into his expression, with a hint of questioning. The silver-haired prince shook his head with a quick wink, just the tiniest of movements that no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it. 'Not right now, you'll see.' Is what he was saying. Lance gave a nod in acknowledgement, another barely there movement, and smirked. Tristan is the only reason he really even continues to come here and he never disappoints, not that Lance has ever expected him to.

"So," Tristan speaks up then, clearly having paid enough attention to the other conversation happening to know when to interrupt. "Shall we head up to the lounge? It's so much easier to talk privately up there." He suggests, looking away from Lance and between the pinkette and brunette.

"Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea." Guinevere says, already getting up with her drink in hand. Lance follows suit as Isolde chimes her own agreement and the four of them head up the club's spiral stairs, the prince and princess leading the way and Lance swears that Tristan is swaying his hips slightly. Gods, he'll be the absolute death of me, Lance groans inwardly.

They enter one of the VIP lounges, the one they enter completely empty except for the bartender at the bar in the back of the room. Lance orders a second drink as the other three go sit down and he walks over to join them soon ever. When he reaches the table that they chose, he freezes for a moment. The place that was picked to sit at was a round, single booth with two spaces to enter it. On Lance's right, he could easily sit down right next to Guinevere, just like he always does, just like he should. But next to Guinevere is Isolde and next to Isolde is Tristan with an open spot right next to him and for a split second, Lance genuinely considers turning to the left and sitting next to the prince. But he catches himself and dutifully takes the spot to the right.

As he slides into his seat and places an arm across the top of the booth behind Guinevere's head, he looks to Tristan with nothing but a deep longing, finding the same emotion reflected back at him. He swallows and turns away from him, afraid he might do something stupid if he continues looking at him in that moment.

"So, Isolde? What's all this exciting news you guys have to tell us?" Lance asks as he looks at her, an eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his drink. He notices out of the corner of his eyes that Guinevere also turns to her as she leans into his side again. He forces himself not to shift away from her.

Isolde suddenly gives out a quiet squeal. "Okay! So," She looks at Tristan for a moment before turning back to them, Lance watching as the positions of the prince and princess mirror almost exactly Lance and Guinevere's. But he doesn't think much of it as Isolde continues talking. "Tristan and I have finally gotten a date for the wedding figured out!!" She exclaims happily, positively beaming. Guinevere gasps and shares in Isolde's excitement, the two women taking a moment to ramble together.

Tristan gives out a low chuckle and Lance turns to him again, something off about the sound that escaped him. The prince seems tense, his expression tight, and it becomes clear to the blonde that his chuckle wasn't born out of any kind of amusement, though it could easily appear that way to the two others in their party, as they were barely paying him any attention in this moment. Lance's brows furrow, a slight tilt of his head asking Tristan what his reaction was for. Yeah, so they figured out a date for the wedding already. Not ideal for Tristan, he was sure, but-

"Yes!" The fakest smile he had ever seen to date plasters itself across the prince's face. "August 28th." He states. "Of this year." And right there was the answer to Lance's question. Four months. Tristan and Isolde were getting married in four months. The public had only known them to be engaged for three.

"Ohhh, an end of summer wedding will be beautiful." Guinevere says in awe.

"Oh, won't it?" Isolde coos, her hands clasping in front of her.

"In just four months, huh? That's a lot sooner than I would've expected." Lance pipes up, his eyes not having left Tristan's at all yet.

"Yes, well, Isolde just couldn't wait any longer." Tristan states. "And apparently neither could my parents. August was supposed to be a completely unavailable month. But upon hearing that August was ideal over September or November, he completely canceled all matters of business for the month. That way we could have "the pick of the lot", he said." Tristan spat out, his words getting colder as he continued, and this time it didn't seem to be for a reason that he cared to hide.

Lance's suspicions were confirmed when Isolde spoke up next. "Oh, Tristan, cut your father some slack. I know you were excited for that trip, but your father just wants to help us in any way he can." She tells him, her voice on the verge of scolding. The tone made Lance almost scoff.

Tristan looked down at Isolde with a much softer expression than he had just a moment before and smiles at her. "You're right as always, I'm sorry. Forgive my thoughtlessness." And then the prince lays a soft kiss on the princess' lips, and the young nobleman has to look away quickly at the sight. Lance takes a long drink from his glass as he surveys the rest of the lounge outside of their booth, seeing it still empty as it was before. He's about to excuse himself for a moment, needing some air, when he's stopped from doing so.

"Isolde, do you mind if I talk to Lancelot privately for awhile? Most of the rest of your announcements have to do with the wedding more than anything else and Guinevere seems a lot more interested in those details than Lance does. Plus, I feel like I should finally get to know a bit more about the man. His father is practically my uncle and yet I feel I've barely spent any time with Lancelot himself." Tristan explains to his fiance, looking at her with casual questioning.

Isolde smiles at him, believing his explanation entirely. "Of course!" Suddenly she lights up even more. "Oh! Anne should be here soon, too! Guin, have you met Anne yet? You would absolutely love her!" Isolde gushes as she looks to the brunette.

Guinevere shakes her head. "Oh, I don't think so, but if she's a friend of yours, then I have no doubt that we'll get along." She states warmly. Isolde beams at her as Tristan exits the booth to let Isolde out and Lance follows his lead, letting Guinevere out. Isolde and Tristan share a peck on the lips and Lance turns to Guinevere to do the same, knowing she'll expect it.

"Take your time, don't rush, okay? I want you to have fun with your friends. We are here for that purpose, after all." Tristan points out to Isolde.

Isolde grins and throws her arms around him in a quick hug and for a moment, the smile on Tristan's face is back to being genuine, obvious affection on his face for the woman before him. Just not the kind that it's supposed to be. "Thank you. Have fun with your new friend, Trist." Isolde says before turning and looping her arm with Guinevere's, dragging her away as the brunette waves at Lance as she goes. Once the two of them have left the lounge and headed down the stairs to go meet up with Anne, Lance turns back to the booth, seeing Tristan already sitting once again. Lance sits back down as well, both of them choosing spots that allow them to be exactly across from each other.

They both stay silent for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, both seeming to be in quiet contemplation. Then Tristan breaks the silence first. "So, when are you and your fiancé going to make an announcement? The public doesn't even know that you two are engaged yet." He points out.

Ah, yes. His fiancé. Not by his own choice, of course. He doesn't have a single romantic notion towards her. In fact, he doesn't really have any platonic ones towards her, either. Guinevere is too arrogant for her own good and has way too big an ego, not to mention her whole I-know-everything attitude. It's all just a big turn off for him. But he's stuck with her. For now, at least. She's the person that his parents chose for him. Just like Isolde is the one that Tristan's parents chose for him. Some people have said recently that arranged marriages are way too old school and going out of style, but in reality, they're just as common now as they were 200 years ago.

"I'm not an actor like you, Prince Tristan." Lance tells him with a wry smile. "Guinevere is well aware that I'm not in love with her and she doesn't want to start up the wedding process until I do fall in love with her, because, apparently, she's absolutely certain that I will eventually."

Tristan tilts his head to the side slightly. "And how do you know that I'm acting with Isolde?" He asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him and he chuckles softly. "Considering you look at me in ways I've never once seen you even consider looking at her, I'd say you're more likely to be in love with me than with her."

Tristan's eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth and Lance's do, too, once his own words register in his mind. That right there was territory neither of had even dared go into before. There's never been any communication of feelings besides lust, passion, and curiosity. There couldn't be any romance between the two, could there? He was frozen, unsure how to recover from his own suggestion.

"Well. You certainly are observant, that's for sure." The silverette seems to have recovered faster than him, though his voice is much softer than it was before.

The topic switch definitely helps. Lance locks eyes with him, pouring every ounce of want he has for the man into his eyes without a single bit of shame or hesitation. "Yes, but you already know that, don't you?" Flashes run through his mind of all the times they've checked each other out or sent silent flirtations towards each other.

From the way Tristan bites his lip, he's thinking of the same thing. But instead of replying, he slides further into the booth, until he's in the middle of the half circle. He pats the spot right beside him. "Come over here." He orders.

Lance hesitates for a moment. Not because he doesn't want to be closer to Tristan. He knows that once he moves closer, it'll be the turning point of whatever this is between them. All of this is completely new. As he noticed before, he makes note of it again. Something is different about tonight. And he has a feeling he's about to find out exactly what it is. But he hangs back a little longer. It's like when a roller coaster reaches the top but then stops for just those extra few seconds, building up the anticipation so that you feel it just that tiniest bit more when the ride finally dips and takes the drop down. And it seems his decision was the right one.

When Lance doesn't immediately come over to him, Tristan bows his head down slightly, then looks back up at Lance through his lashes, an almost shy look on his face. "Please?" The single word comes out as half whisper, half purr and Lance suddenly feels the need to adjust himself. Fuck.

Lance slides across the booth until he's right beside the prince, only about an inch of space between their bodies. He's tense now. He doesn't know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. Eventually he decides to just place them on the table in front of him. He left his drink across the table, so he just lays his hands flat on the dark wood. Then Tristan places his hand on top of Lance's and he startles slightly, sucking in a deep breath at the contact. He can hear Tristan's breath hitch beside him and he knows that he must've felt it, too. The bolt of lightning that struck through to the very core of his being as soon as their skin connected. But Tristan continues despite it.

"Just take a second to relax, okay?" He says casually in a low voice. And then he starts moving his hand across Lance's wrist and over his arm slowly, causing Lance to do the opposite of relax. It felt like electricity was coursing throughout his entire arm, spreading out from where Tristan's hand was. He watches with wide eyes as the silverette's hand reaches the crook of his elbow and starts making it's way up.

"Relax, remember?" Is whispered into his ear as he feels the slight brush of hair against his cheek. He closes his eyes as his whole body shudders.

He tries his best to follow the instruction, urging his body to relax against the seat. Then Tristan changes the position of his hand slightly, pressing the tips of his nails against Lance's shirt and then lightly dragging them against the skin over his collarbone and Lance melts. His head falls back against the top of the cushion behind him and bites his lip as the other man's palm presses flat to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, sliding up the side of his neck and over his collarbone, until his hand finally stops, resting gently against Lance's cheek. The electricity has followed his hands path, leaving a pleasant burn in it's wake, every part of him that's been touched feeling so warm.

He slowly opens his eyes as he sits back up, looking at Tristan. The prince has a look of pure awe on his face as he stares at him, as if something Lance just did has absolutely amazed him. Lance reaches up and threads his fingers into some of the hair at the top of the prince's head and runs them through it gently. Tristan's eyes flutter closed and he hums, a pleased sound. Once his fingers reach the tips of his long hair, he brings his hand back up and mimics what Tristan did, his hand curved around his cheek. When Tristan opens his eyes again, the blue and green in them is barely visible with how wide his pupils are blown.

"Lance." He whispers, his voice shaking slightly now. "I don't exactly know what it is going on between us. What all these feelings are and what they'll lead to. I know that I want you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anybody or anything in my entire life. But," He brings his free hand up to wrap around the wrist of the hand Lance has on his face, tracing small circles into his skin with his thumb. "I feel like it's something more than that. Like even if I finally have you, I won't be able to let you go." He admits, giving Lance that same shy look as before, but with a hint of fear in it this time. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

Lance swallows before answering. "I think I know what you mean." Is all he whispers back. He has his own theories of what it all was, but he isn't sure he's ready to confront that just yet. Tristan runs his eyes over Lance's face a few times, like he's searching for something. Then they lock eyes once again and Lance suddenly realizes that it's not Tristan's voice that's shaky. Tristan himself is trembling. Before Lance can question him, he speaks up again.

"I don't know what it is," A fierce determination sparks in his eyes and Lance is both surprised and entranced by it. "But I want to." He says just barely above his breath. "I want to-" He cuts himself off, like he's afraid of what was about to come out of his mouth.

"What is it?" Lance asks him. "What do you want to do?" He brings his other hand up to cup Tristan's other cheek gently, looking at him pleadingly. Somewhere deep down, he knew exactly what the prince wanted, because he wanted it, too, but he needed to hear him say it first.

Tristan leans into his touch and lets out a sound close to a whimper. "I want to find out together. You and I. We could do it, you know. Because you were right. Of course you were. Isolde has never been anything more than a sister to me, a friend. I hate the idea of marrying her and everything that's meant to come with it. Tomorrow, I can break things off with her. Tell my parents that there's someone else. I don't care how mad they get at me. And then you and I, we can take this however far it goes, as long as you do the same. We can make our own choices for once instead of just always doing what everyone else wants us to." His own eyes are pleading now and the fear is even more evident. Lance realizes that the fear is of rejection. That his proposal will be brushed off and turned away from.

"And what would your choice be, Prince Tristan?" He asks, his own voice trembling.

"As of right now, my choice would be you, Sir Lancelot." Tristan says with certainty.

"What if I don't want that?" Lance asks him. Not because he's considering no. Not at all. Only because he's curious as to what the alternative is.

Tristan leans in slightly, taking his hand from Lance's wrist and reaching up to run a thumb down his temple and over his cheekbone before his hand lands on his jaw and stays there. "Then we won't continue this any further. I couldn't handle doing anything more if you don't want the same as me. But it's your choice. Kiss me right now and I'm yours. Walk away from me right now and we'll never be this close again, everything we've been doing will stop."

Lance looks at him. The answer was clear as soon as the idea left Tristan's pretty pink lips. Leave Guinevere and the stupid arranged marriage behind in order to pursue Tristan and see where the feelings between them go? It wasn't even a question. Lance gives him a grin. "Stupid of you to think that I could ever walk away from you." He tells him. And then Lance is crashing his lips against Tristan's.

~*~

A/N: So, how is it so far??? Did you guys like it?? Cause I honestly loved writing this. I love these boys sm and this AU was really fun to come up with. You guys will get the rest tomorrow!!! Please, lemme know all your thoughts on this!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Love y'all 💜💜💜

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