#I'll help you keep your own story straight

[lukecastellanshandholder]

I happened to think of that one Read Riordan article where they said that Hermes really did "love and care for Luke" and now I'm upset, so let's talk about that.

How did that ever get greenlit to be posted on a website that people look to for additional canon content? When through out all of the main series there are so many examples that show that Hermes didn't really genuinely love and care for him.

The first example is at the very beginning of Luke's life. Luke was about a year old when May tried to become the new Oracle and was instead driven insane by the curse of Delphi. It was when May had the first vision of what would happen to Luke, what his fate was. Now up until that moment, it's said that May, Hermes and, Luke lived together as a family for the most part. This could've been because Hermes loved May much like Poseidon loved Sally and Hades loved Maria. However, given what he does later, I doubt that. I have the feeling that Hermes could sense something different about Luke. He could've been able to tell that Luke would grow to be a strong demigod, a perfect Hero to fight for him.

Then he found out about Luke's fate and just... Left. Stopped coming around as often and then not coming back at all. After he learned that there was no way to cure May of her madness, he just gave up to wallow in self pity. Leaving Luke with someone who was mentally unstable.

That's not what you do when you genuinely love and care about someone.

He left Luke alone to take care of his mother until it was too dangerous for him. Until he had to run away out of fear of his mother's episodes.

Even after everything Luke still prayed to Hermes, pleading for help or guidance. Anything. But he got nothing in return. Then after years and only meeting his son once, Hermes sends Luke on a quest. A quest that was just a fools errand and that had already been done before. A quest that really wasn't necessary in the slightest.

And that's supposed to be Hermes genuinely caring for him? He sent Luke on a dangerous quest with no significance, just to show that Luke is his "pride and joy?" He would've showed that he cared more if he would've just left Luke alone and let him grow up peacefully. There was no need to unnecessarily risk his "beloved" son's life over a stupid apple.

Unless, Hermes sent Luke on that quest to try and keep him under his thumb, or to maybe get Luke killed. He knew the prophecy. He knew Luke's fate. It really wouldn't be too far fetched to believe Hermes wanted to stop it by any means necessary, even if it meant letting his son die.

That's not what someone does to their "pride and joy".

Then there is later in the books, mainly when Hermes would talk to Percy and manipulate talk Percy into helping and trusting him.

One conversation that strikes me is the first one that Hermes has with Percy in SoM. You know, the one where Hermes literally says, " My dear young cousin, if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you can't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it."

Now that's really funny coming from the guy who literally abandoned and gave up on May and Luke. His family. It's obvious upon reading the rest of the books, that Hermes didn't mean what he said. It was just a tactic to appeal to Percy's loyalty and sense of family. And it works. He tricks Percy into believing that Hermes still really cares about Luke because he loves him. When in reality, he only wants Percy to stop him because Luke has become inconvenient for him. For his reputation that he cares so much about. I mean hell, they even make it a point to drive home the fact that Hermes is very vain and cares an annoyingly large amount about his image. It might be used as a comedic tactic, but it really is showing of Hermes' true disposition and what he cares about most.

Then we come to the very end, the last book of the series. There is a part in there where Percy goes off on Hermes, accusing him of never caring about Luke. Asking why, if Hermes cared about Luke so much, then why did he abandon him instead of being there for him?

And Hermes' response is to get mad at Percy. This is also all because Hermes gets mad at Annabeth for not running away with Luke and taking him away from this fate. Hermes is so obviously trying to blame others for what he did, for his mistakes, instead of possibly ruining his image. Trying to make others feel guilty, when the only one that should have any true guilt about all of this, is Hermes. This is a manipulation tactic if I've ever seen one.

And back to Percy's point, if Hermes really cared and didn't abandon Luke? They wouldn't have been in this situation. And it's absolutely true.

Nothing that Hermes does throughout the series shows or even hints that Hermes may genuinely love and care for Luke. It shows that he only cared about what Luke could've accomplished, and the things Luke could've done to serve Hermes and better his image. And that is not genuine and unconditional love. Not in the slightest.

But even with all of that evidence? Yeah, "Hermes really genuinely loved and cared for Luke".

Give me a break 🙄

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[sunny44]

The lollipop

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of blowjob

Summary: Lando steals your lollipop.

The paddock was busier than usual this afternoon. The mechanics were rushing around adjusting the last details of the cars while the drivers were reviewing their strategies.

I was walking nonchalantly, licking my lollipop while observing the movement around me. Writing had always been my way of escaping the chaotic reality of racing, as there was always a moment when all the movement and bustle got too much but, at that moment, I was just enjoying the vibrant atmosphere.

I saw Lando chatting animatedly with some members of his team and decided to approach him. Lando always had a way of making the most tense moments seem light and fun. When he saw me approaching, a mischievous smile appeared on his face, making me suspicious.

"Hey, Y/n! What are you up to?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Nothing much, just enjoying the day and wandering around," I replied with a smile, my lollipop still in my mouth.

Lando stared at the lollipop for a moment, and before I could react, he plucked it out of my mouth and put it in his own.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, surprised and annoyed. "That's mine! It was literally in my mouth."

Lando smiled, his gaze full of mischief.

"Yeah, and? So was I this morning and in a lot of other days."

I felt my face heat up instantly and the staff started laughing and leaving us alone.

"You're impossible, did you really had to tell that I had your cock in my mouth this morning in front of everyone?" I muttered, trying to hide my embarrassment. But inside, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement. Lando always had this ability to put me off my guard and make me laugh at the same time.

He leaned a little closer, still licking my lollipop.

"Admit it, you like our dynamic, and I just hinted that you had my cock in your mouth, they don't have to believe me." he said, his tone playful but with a touch of sincerity. "Even if it was true."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a serious expression.

"What if I say I don't like this dynamic?" Lando laughed, a light and infectious sound.

"Then I'll have to keep stealing your lollipops until you admit that you like me. And not just my sexy body."

I couldn't help but smile. "You're so childish," I said, rolling my eyes in an exaggerated way.

"Maybe," he replied, shrugging. "But you love it." He licked lollipop again and, before handing it back, looked straight into my eyes. "Do you want it back?"

"Of course I do, I paid for it," I replied, holding out my hand. Lando held the lollipop out of reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Only if you admit you like me." I sighed, knowing he wouldn't let me off the hook easily.

"All right, Lando. I like you. Now give it back."

He smiled, genuinely pleased, and reached up to put the lollipop near my mouth and when I opened it, he put it in.

"See? That wasn't so hard."

I took the lollipop, feeling his fingers rub against mine.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" I said, but with a smile that I couldn't hide.

Lando laughed again. "That may be, but I'm the idiot you like."

And as soon as I took the lollipop out of my mouth, he pulled me in and kissed me. It certainly felt like one of those movie kisses that makes you stop breathing and the butterflies in your stomach flutter like never before.

We had kissed before, but every time I had the same feeling of happiness.

"See you later?" He whispers with his lips still close to mine.

"Of course, we're sharing a room." He laughs and gives me one more kiss before going into the garage and leaving me smiling like a teenage girl after kissing the boy she likes.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername inatagram stories

“Who doesn’t love a lollipop.”

[gigabyte-flare]

Pause the Game

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: You decide to play a video game to help you wind down so you can go to bed. Sylus has other plans.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Sylus x fem!Reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Pet names, dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: Part one of 21 Reasons is going to be freaking massive so I wanted to get a one shot out to help hold me over (especially after yesterday's banner reveal WOOF). This is loosely based on Sylus's "Crying Wolf" Secret times; as an avid gamer, that audio rewired my freaking brain. So naturally, this is 5000% self indulgent, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

It's now morning, you begin to make a mental note of all the things you have to do today before the day ends; you don't have much time.

Wake up, go water the plants, collect the eggs, milk the cows, collect the duck feathers, sheer the sheep--

"What are you playing, Sweetie?"

You practically jump where you're sat up in bed, dropping your phone in the blankets on your lap. You didn't even hear Sylus come into the bedroom.

"Are you trying to scare me, Sy?" you ask, rolling your eyes up at him as he leans over the bed to see what you're so focused on.

"Me, try to scare you? Never. Although I am shocked my little Hunter didn't even notice me…" a devious smirk appears on his lips as he leans in close to your ear, "when I was this close."

His breath on your ear causes a chill to run straight down your spine and into your core, the depths of you throbbing in response to his voice; he knows exactly what buttons to push on you. You shake your head, pushing the lewd thoughts aside just as you bring your hand up, pushing his face away.

"Sylus, come on, I was just really focused on what I was doing!"

He instantly grabs your wrist, holding it still for a moment before letting go; his devious smirk transforming into something darker, "you should know better, it'll take more than just your hand to keep me away, Kitten."

A sudden sad sounding chime emanates from your phone, drawing your and Sylus's attention to it, the words 'YOU LOSE: The wolf ate your livestock!' hovering on the screen. You let out an annoyed sigh as you pick up your phone from your lap.

"Oops… looks like you lost. Sorry for interrupting your game, Sweetie," he says with a low chuckle as he stands back up straight, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "don't I recall you telling me this morning that you are going to start going to bed early from now on? Only naughty Kittens stay up and play games."

You clear your throat, once again willing yourself to not let Sylus get you worked up, "I like to play video games to help me wind down and go to sleep!"

Looking down at you, Sylus raises a scrutinizing eyebrow, "playing video games to fall asleep? That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. I think someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

"No I'm not! Here, give it a try! It's relaxing!" you reply, holding up your phone to Sylus.

"You want me to play your silly game?" he raises his brows, glancing down at your phone before his crimson gaze shifts back up to you, he smirks again, "Oh… you're trying to prove your innocence to me. I suppose I'll indulge you."

He gently takes your phone from you, pulling the comforter back to sit in bed next to you, "scoot over, Sweetie."

You immediately shift over so he can sit next to you, laying your head against his upper arm as he cradles your phone in his hands.

"So, what exactly do you do in this game?" he asks softly.

"It's a farming simulator; you take care of your crops and livestock each day, but if you're not paying attention, the wolf will come and eat your livestock," you explain as you watch him start to play your game, the upbeat music of the game once again filling the bedroom.

"I can see how you fall asleep playing this, it's awfully boring," he replies with another soft chuckle, "let me count the sheep… one, two…"

You playfully poke Sylus's side, "well I like this game, quit being a jerk."

Sylus lets out a huff as he smiles down at your phone. He mindlessly takes care of your farm for a few minutes before his gaze begins to wander; starting with your hands folded in your lap, up your arms until he finally settles on the necklace adorning your neck.

His breath hitches upon recognizing the necklace, "is that the necklace I gave you for your birthday?"

"It is, actually," you reply, looking downwards as your bring you hand up to gently caress the necklace resting on your collarbone area, "I really like it."

"I have good taste, don't I?" Sylas asks, his own hand caressing the necklace, leaning over so that his lips hover just next to your ear, "so pretty."

He kisses the shell of your ear, intentionally making a sound knowing it drives you absolutely wild with need. His lips move from your ear, to just behind your ear, using his tongue, teeth and lips to mark your skin. You can't help but let out a soft whimper, however, you advert your gaze to your phone in his hand, the farm being left unattended.

"Sylus, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, Sweetie. This spot was too enticing for me to resist…" he purrs into your ear.

"But the farm--"

"The farm?" Sylus sits back up, his crimson eyes giving you a predatory look, "I don't have your undivided attention, do I?"

He growls, turning his body and climbing on top of you while still under the blankets, essentially caging you with his body, his ruby eyes practically burning into your soul as he looks down at you, "you know how much I hate sharing, Kitten."

Your phone, now laying on the bed next to the two of you, plays the same sad chime from earlier. You watch Sylus's eyes shift over to your phone, that smirk you love so much appearing once more, "oh dear… looks like we lost again."

Leaning down to you, his lips hover above yours, his breaths ragged, hot and heavy as he whispers, "the wolf ate all the animals."

Before you can even say a word, he descends upon you, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved. His hands grip your upper arms like a vice as he turns his head to invade your mouth with his tongue, savoring you. In the midst of this, you try to reach over to grab your phone, but Sylus is quick to grab you by the wrist again, pinning your arm to the mattress before shoving your phone away, so hard that it falls off the bed.

"Now, why are you reaching for your phone?" he asks, burying his face into the crook of your neck, "if you need something to help you fall asleep, I can fulfill that role."

He props himself up on his arms and knees, once again caging you beneath him. First, he slips your pajama top up over your head before he slowly moves downward, trailing his lips and tongue down your body as he moves.

He stops briefly over your breasts, his hot breath caressing your hardened nipples before he speaks, "how do you think the wolf ate the animals? Like this?"

His mouth seals itself over one of your breasts, his tongue swirling and flicking your nipple; all the while his crimson gaze is locked on you. You can't help but let out a strangled moan, covering your mouth with your hand as your body trembles beneath him.

He relinquishes your breast with a pop, then proceeds to continue moving downward once more, gracing your skin with his soft lips as he moves lower and lower. He reaches the hem of your pajama bottoms, hooking them and your underwear beneath with his fingers, peeling them off slowly and tossing them off the bed once they're off. He pries your legs apart, looking up at you with an animalistic grin.

"Or like this?" he growls before diving into the spot between your thighs, lapping up the sweet nectar of your arousal.

"Sylus!" you cry out, your hand moving down to tangle your fingers in his silver locks, but rather than push him away, you force him down into your heat, earning you a dark chuckle in response; the vibrations coursing through your folds, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

He starts by flicking your throbbing clit with his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like his life depends on it. The coil of your release binds tight in your stomach and just when it's about to snap, he moves lower. His tongue delves into your leaking hole, caressing your walls as his nose rubs your clit. Your heels dig into the mattress, trying to stop your legs from violently shaking, but your efforts are useless. Your makeup is running down the sides of your face from your violent cries of his name. He lets out a low growl, the vibrations hurling you over the edge. Your release covers tongue and mouth; when he pulls himself away from your sex, strings of your orgasm pull away with him before snapping and dripping onto the sheets below.

Sylus sits up onto his knees, his deft fingers making short work of his belt and pants zipper, "is my Kitten prepared?"

Your eyes widen when he pulls out his hardened length, the tip red and angry, dripping with pre-cum. He then proceeds to crawl back up to you, nestling his hips between your spread legs; you feel the tip of his cock prod at your entrance.

"Because the wolf is coming."

With a single jerk of his hips, he sheathes his whole length into your warm depths, causing you to yelp. As Sylus stares down at you, you drape your arms around his shoulders, trying to brace yourself as he begins to brutally thrust into you. Each thrust hits your cervix, making your eyes flutter and roll into the back of your head. Sylus buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, biting and sucking dark bruises into your skin.

"Don't hold back, Kitten. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

His ministrations move to your throat, but not before running his tongue over the necklace he bought you, pulling a strangled moan out of you. His tongue continues to run up your throat until he reaches your chin. He smirks, a low chuckle emanating from him before his lips are on yours once more. You can taste the tangy flavor of your release as your tongues dance with each other. His large hands grasp your breasts, gently squeezing them before he rolls both nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. You sob into his mouth, which he happily devours with a growl. Soon, his thrusts become uneven, heralding his release.

With a breathy moan of his own, he snaps his hips into you once last time, his member throbbing as he paints your pussy walls white with his love. His hands grasp the pillow under your head as he rests his forehead against yours. You whimper as your legs hook around his waist, your body shaking as you come down from your own release. Your breaths are shaking as you place a gentle kiss onto the tip of his nose. He can't help but smile and laugh.

"That was more fun than you silly little game, wouldn't you say, Sweetie?"

[luveline]

Can I request an Eddie and roan story where something happens and Eddie is quite vulnerable and upset and roan finds him at the kitchen table so she goes and gets reader to help cheer him up. Hurt comfort

ty for requesting ♡ eddie and roan fem!reader, 1.7k

cw grief

It's a bad idea, but Eddie opens the photo frame on the sill. He moves the small metal holdings aside, peeling away the velvet back to reveal the hidden photograph waiting beneath.

His hands are trembling as he picks it up. The edges are soft but the photo itself is pristine, a perfect polaroid taken from her waist height, angled up as she smiled down. 

Eddie puts it back. Closes the frame, sets the photograph right side up on the sill next to your vase. His hands shake as he stuffs them in his pockets, a hard lump aching in his throat. I shouldn't have looked, he thinks to himself, sitting down at the dining table freshly cleared after dinner. 

He couldn't not look. As he washed the dishes after dinner, he'd found his gaze drifting. The photo framed is a simple close up of Roan at her last birthday, her face painted pink, purple, and white in the shape of a butterfly with silver glitter accents. The secret photograph is stupid to keep secret, he should put in pride of place, he should be a fucking man about it—

If you could hear his thoughts you'd frown. Maybe do that silly sweet thing with your hand on his cheek and your soft eyes imploring as they look into his. God, Eddie would give you anything you asked for when you look at him like that. But he doesn't tell you about the photograph, how could he? It's his. It's the last bit of her. 

He looks down at the wooden grain of the dining room table. Without thinking, he springs to his feet, removes the frames backing, and takes the photograph of his mom into his hand a second time. 

She looks so young. Younger than Eddie is now. He must have been a really little kid when he took the photo, old enough to have worked the camera but young enough that he can't remember the moment. Can't remember what she said, what she was laughing about, how that sounded. He can't remember her smell. 

How could I forget that? he thinks, stricken. 

Eddie ducks his head. He drops back into his chair at the table, pinching the bridge of his nose between a calloused index finger and a softer thumb. Don't, he thinks desperately, even as his thoughts race to a more cruel place. I don't remember her. 

She's beautiful in the photo. Willowy and smiling, crouching ever so slightly with a hand braced on her knee. Her lips are curved up a touch and parted with a laugh, but Eddie theories now that she wasn't laughing. Maybe she was telling him something he doesn't remember anymore. Maybe she was telling him that she loved him— 

"Dad?" 

Eddie hides the photograph without thinking. "Yeah?" 

His voice cracks. Roan stares at him with wide eyes, brown as his own but with longer lashes. She's quicker to smile than he was at her age, though none of that lightness shines at present. 

"I'll get Y/N," she says hurriedly, spinning on her socked heel and hurtling back the way she came. 

"Ro!" he says, clearing his throat. "Fuck. Fuck." He wipes at his wet eyes. Fucking great. 

"Y/N!" he hears Roan shout, her panic a raw thing. He can see the look on your face a floor away. "You have to– we have to go help dad!" 

There's a lapse in shouting. Eddie would put the photograph away, wipe his eyes, and run to set things straight if he could; you don't deal with abrupt circumstances well and he hates to think of how your heart is racing, but he can't stop crying. 

Your footsteps sound and stop at the kitchen doorway. 

"Eds. You okay?" you ask. 

"I'm fine, I'm," —he starts to laugh, but the laugh turns into crying, everything a mess— "okay. Tell Roan it's okay." 

"Okay. Two seconds." Eddie covers his face, trying desperately to get a handle on things as you speak in hushed tones. "It's okay, Ro, alright? How about I put some TV on for you? Would that be good?" 

"I want to stay," she whispers. 

You pause. Eddie loses bits of time and conversation, wiping madly at his eyes, his head heavy as a bowling ball and aching as though it's been hit by one. Roan must agree to watch TV or at the least pretend to, because you return alone, pushing the table away from him to stand skewiff by his legs.

Eddie feels like he's choking on air. "Sorry." 

"Eddie, what's happening, honey?" You touch his shoulder tentatively. "What's wrong?" 

He tries to tell you and it hurts worse. Grief is super weird, it always has been (when it wasn't solely and unsympathetically devastating), and Eddie's grief tends to hide away for long periods of time. Like a brewing storm, pressure builds, and builds, and he knew looking at her photo wouldn't end well but she was just so pretty.

He presses his forehead to balled fists. 

You sigh like he's hurt you, curling protectively over his hunched back. Your cheek to a heaving shoulder, you rub at his tensed spine with your palm spread. "It's okay," you whisper, hugging him gently. "Sweetheart, it's okay. You have to tell me what's wrong so I can fix it." 

"You can't," he says, his voice rough as gravel. 

You kiss his shoulder. 

A handful of seconds and you pull back to look him in the eye. "Let me try?" 

He shakes his head softly, reaching into his lap. He's careful to dry his hands before he picks up his mother's photo, placing it with care on the table. You follow his movements, your lips twitching with understanding as you realise what it is. "That's your mom."

"Yeah, she…" 

"I've never seen this one." 

Eddie doesn't have many, but he has a few that he treasures. One framed on the living room mantle, four or five kept in safe keeping with Wayne. You nudge the corner of the polaroid to shield it from the glare of the kitchen fluorescents. 

"She looks really young." 

"She was younger than we are now. She didn't… it couldn't have been five years before she…" 

You don't condescend, your empathy palpable as you murmur, "Aw, Eddie. I'm so sorry. It's not fair." 

His eyes burn. His nose tickles. He closes his eyes and shoves the brunt of his palm against his socket. "I can't remember what she was trying to say. What kind of son am I?" 

"No, no," you crouch down and place your hands on his thighs, "what do you mean? Is that why you're upset? Babe, I can't remember things you said to me last night, you know that? That's not how memory works." 

"But it was important. I took the photo, I should remember." 

"You were young… I'm sorry, I wish you could remember, but," —you hold the photo up carefully— "with a smile like that, it's not hard to guess, right?" Your voice is smooth and soft as angora silk, though it pills as you continue, "I bet she's just telling you that you're doing a good job. Same way you say it to Ro. You must've gotten it from somewhere." 

A half sob shudders out of him. "I hope so." 

You pat his thigh. "You gonna be okay?" you ask, eyebrows pinched. 

He leans into the chair, the armrests groaning as he tries to breathe. His breath hisses from between his teeth. "Shit, sorry. I'm sorry. I'm alright, just, sometimes I remember she's gone and I realise I lost another little part of her and–" 

"It's okay." You stroke a strand of hair from his face. He relaxes at the simplicity of it, a routine gesture. "She's not lost, Eddie. You're not losing her. Yeah? That's not how it works. She's your mom forever." 

"I guess you never stop wanting your mom, huh?" he asks. His throat burns like nothing he's ever felt. 

"I guess not." 

Eddie's tears peter out eventually, aided by the way you hold his hands as though they're delicately made and the constant steadiness of your presence, your head dipping down intermittently to press kisses to the side of his thumb. He can't shake the feeling of grief and he doubts that he'll feel much better tonight, but the need to cry dissipates. He's drained suddenly, like he's held his breath too long, every inhale an ache. 

Roan comes to investigate the quiet. She tiptoes in, her lips parted in confusion, but her puzzlement doesn't stop her from snaking between his legs and your arms to sit in your lap. He's scared her, he knows, and he can't blame her for the way she wraps her arms around your stomach. Like he said: you never stop wanting your mom. 

Roan twists her neck to look at him. You plant a kiss behind her ear. 

"Are you okay, dad?" she asks. 

"I'm okay." 

"Why were you crying?" 

"I don't know, Ro. I guess I was hurting." 

"Did you cut yourself on the sharp knife?" she asks worriedly. 

Eddie chucks her under the chin. "Not that kind of hurt, babe." 

She frowns as though he's told her off and buries her face in his knees. Eddie folds down onto her like a cheap tent in a hurricane, craving the comfort of his little girl, knowing she's here, and that she's not going anywhere. "Is it okay if I squeeze you?" he asks. 

"Yeah, dad. But only this time. You squeezed me too hard last time." She huffs, chewing over her words even as she hugs her father back ferociously. "You're rough." 

"I said sorry already," he says lightly. His eyes scrunch closed. He has to try hard not to burst into a second round of tears as he smells her hair. "I'm really sorry, I thought you liked being squeezed." 

"I don't mind if it's to make you feel better." 

You laugh through your nose. Eddie clings. "Thank you." He's saying it to you, too. He really hopes that you know that. "I feel way, way better already." 

[blkgirl-writing]

Valentine's day drabble HCs for the men of BG3 x Reader

These are a collection of small drabbles written in different styles for valentines day! Warning Gales is the longest, whoops.

Gale:

Gales cold warm hands grasped around your waist from behind, squeezing your skin gently as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"The earl grey lavender, please-" He kissed your neck softly, speaking in a quiet tone. It was a perfect day inside his tower, the rays of sun beaming through the stained glass, fluttering rainbows across the cozy kitchen. The kettle whistles quieting down as you took it off the stove.

"It's already in the mug, lovely" You gestured to his favorite mug, a heavy stoneware piece decorated with flowers of purple and pink encased in a golden heart, he said it reminded him of when he realized he had loved you. You never fully asked why, but it made enough sense to be sweet.

"How you know me so well." Gale Smiled. You finished pouring the water and handed him his extra-strong tea. He leaned against the counter, blowing on the drink a few times. "Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I do have a surprise for you."

"I thought we said no gifts!" You batted his shoulder playfully, "though I'll admit, I didn't follow that rule either."

"is that so?" Gale leaned in to kiss your lips through a smile. "We just can't seem to help ourselves."

"So what's this gift?" you asked. He set down his own mug, ducking into the pantry to retrieve a box, unwrapped and simple. He placed it on the counter and patiently waited, his excitement barely hidden in his smile.

You opened the small box to reveal a mug, a matching mug to his, but a dark blue with purple and red flowers, with a silver heart. It was gorgeous, less heavy than his and somehow it felt built to hold within your two hands.

"Oh Gale, it's perfect." You kissed his cheek, refusing to let go of the mug quite yet, the hug would have to wait.

"I had it specifically made by the same artist. Tara now has a similar water bowl as well. She felt left out" Gales hand slipped around your waist yet again. "as much as I love it when you steal my mug, I thought it was beyond time you had your own as well."

"Oh so you didn't want me using yours?" Your teasing turned into pecks, which led to kisses- "Your gift is waiting in the bedroom," You smirked, hand caressing his messy hair. "If that's ok, of course,"

"I was secretly hoping that was the case." His hand intertwined with yours, nearly sweeping you off your feet.

Wyll:

Wyll had been staring at you for some time before you'd woken up, the sun shining down on your resting face, the definition of peaceful. Wyll hadn't remembered pure peace, it had been years since he'd felt fully at rest, but with you, calmness was as easy as breathing. All he had to do was look at you, and he remembered serenity.

He had made sure he was the best man for you, the best man he could be. He loved you with all his heart and made sure you felt like a goddess above every waking moment of your lives together, however long that may be. He loved the small moments you shared, like when you'd tripped and nearly fallen, but straight into his arms. "Well I didn't think you'd be falling head over heels for me this fast," He'd said. And you'd laughed and smiled, and he swore he'd do everything to keep that smile on your perfect lips.

He remembered your first date, where he had tried so hard to reserve a seat at the best restaurant in baldurs Gate, but ended up in a dingy bar, getting more drunk with each cup, and instead of spending the night entangled in each other's bodies, you'd shared barely cohesive thoughts and stories from lives long past. He learned your favorite color, your old friendships, and the star that you felt most connected to, the smaller details that never seemed to have enough time for during your big adventure.

Or the time you'd styled his hair into braided buns, which he'd kept in until his hair was frizzy and far past wash day. But you'd worked so hard on it to be perfectly symmetrical that he never wanted to take out your work. He asked you to help him with his hair, after that, not just because you were good at it, which, hells, you'd made him feel confident in himself for the first time since he grew his horns, but because your light touch sent him into a nearly meditative state of bliss. The way your fingers carefully combed through his hair, spending time to detangle each knot with such care that he had barely noticed it at all. And eventually, you'd taught him how to do your hair, too. Eventually wearing matching styles (if he asked politely), and took turns in the "hair chair"

"Honey?" You whispered, groggy and barely awake, "have you been staring at me again?"

"Is it a crime?" Wyll asked, placing a light kiss on your forehead.

"Only if I was drooling"

"Oh, but you look too adorable when you drool." He chucked, holding you closer to his warm chest.

"Shut up..." You pouted, eyes fluttering open and closed, trying to force yourself awake. But sleep had you tight in it's arms, and so did Wyll.

Astarion:

Red was his favorite color, after all. The room was dripping with it, black, gold, and dark, burgundy. Candles dripping hot wax down into careful carafes, soon to be poured and decorating your skin. It was romantic, it was warm, and it was lustful. Astarions eyes never left you, dancing across your body in pure sin, he clearly knew exactly how your night would unfold, and the only hint he'd give you was the devilish smile on his lips.

"It's going to be a long night, hm?"

"Oh yes, darling" Astarion purred, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling downwards, revealing your neck to him. His fangs scraped against your bare skin, but not piercing it, no, that was for later, with much less clothing and a lot more sweat, when all you could see was his snow-white skin and the blood rushing through your veins.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[laneywrld]

call out my name | Lewis Hamilton

request: heyy, can we get a story with call out my name by the weeknd as the base line of the story .

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

When you first met Lewis, you had a feeling it'd end like this.

If you could go back and change that night, you would, with no hesitation. You missed the days when Lewis was a nonfactor in your life when you didn't know he existed.

You remember that night all too well. Miami was always alive when the Grand Prix came around, your friends, like the partygoers they were enjoyed taking the opportunity to take on the vibrant nightlife and enjoy the crowds the race brought in.

It was an annual tradition, you could say, to party like tomorrow didn't exist when the lights shut down and engines roared to life.

When you first moved to Miami, you hadn't understood the essence of the sport or the crowds it brought in, until you met an overly enthusiastic Daniel Ricciardo.

You had no clue who he was when he quite literally stumbled into your path; his boyish smile and golden retriever energy made it almost impossible to be mad at him as his drink soaked your dress.

"I'm so sorry!" He calls out, stumbling over himself.

"You're not from here?" You called out as you reached down to help him stand up straight. His thick accent was a dead giveaway.

"No, I'm Australian."

"Long way from home," you shouted over the music, dragging his frame into an open seat further away from the dance floor.

"I'm working." He slurs, smiling up at you.

"Mhmm, doesn't look like you're working," you trail off, "what's your name?"

"Danny. After work fun."

"Ahh," you hum, "okay, understandable. I'm going to get you some water, okay? Did you come here with friends?"

"No. Was actually planning on making some friends." He laughs, and it makes you chortle as well.

"Miami is not the place to make friends Danny." You informed. "Stay here, I'm going to grab that water."

You saunter away, keeping an eye on the lean man as you approach the bar. You order a water, paying for the overpriced bottle with your Apple wallet, and quickly return to the drunken man. You don't know why you helped him; it was just in your nature to assist anyone you could.

Danny smiles up at you with an appreciative smile as you uncap the bottle for him, "Can you hold it, or do I have to give it to you?" You inquire.

"Give it to me, please."

You both break out into childish snickers at his words. "Easy there, buddy," you warn, tilting his chin up and directing the bottle to his mouth.

You pull it away, tightening the cap and placing it in front of him on the table. You then slide into the booth beside, "I'd feel better with myself if I stay with you for a while, just to make sure you're okay."

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, "Yeah, I get it; I'm so shitfaced right now."

It is quiet between the two of you for a while, you constantly reaching over to make sure he's hydrated and him smiling at you all dopey-like.

"You from here?" He asks as he starts to regain his sober mind.

You shake your head, "No, just moved here though."

"You can be my Miami friend." Danny grins.

"I'll probably never see you again after tonight, Mr Australia." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your own.

"I come here every year around this time." He announces. "Work."

"Work," you nod. "Right."

"Yes or no?" He prods.

"Have to see if you can hang; it doesn’t look like you can." You joke.

He scoffs, leaning away and eyeing you. "Please, I am a good time, the best time."

"Sir, I've just met you, and I'm taking care of your drunk ass." You cackle.

"How about this, stick with me for the rest of the night, and if we have a blast, every time I'm in Miami, you ride with me."

"You're going to get white girl wasted every time?" You inquire with a raised brow, and he laughs hard.

"Probably."

It was safe to say that Daniel was a blast. Even if he did party like a fratboy, you enjoyed his company. He gave you the energy of a teenage coming-of-age movie, doing whatever and saying whatever with his friends. It was a connection you hadn't experienced before.

And you enjoyed it, you liked spending time with your Australian friend. Which is how you ended up meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton six years later.

Lewis didn't know why he allowed his enthusiastic coworker to convince him to spend a night in Miami with him. The only solace he found in the situation was knowing that he wasn't the only driver there. Everyone was there, in a section booked by no one other than Daniel Ric himself.

It was nice for sure, and Lewis was curious as to how Daniel, of all people, knew so much about the lively city of Miami and their restless nightlife.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Lewis, just felt out of place a little bit, without his usual crew.

"Hey Guys, I'll be back in a second, I'm going to grab my friend."

Lewis rolls his eyes taking another sip from his glass.

He doesn't know who he was expecting, a Ken doll, a high-energy frat boy like Daniel, or even a valley girl with a high-pitched voice. This was Miami, so logically his smartest anticipation would be a surgery-riddled Kim Kardashian lookalike. But not you, Lewis would never expected you to enter the section, arm wrapped around Daniel's waist as you cackle at whatever nonsense leaves his mouth.

He is instantly intrigued, his phone being powered off and stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

You were beautiful with your rich complexion and beaming grin as he walked you down the line introducing you one by one.

His eyes never leave you as he watches you interact with everyone. You cloud his vision as you get closer. His eyes trace your hair and flow down to your brows and your alluring eyes. His view travels down your nose and lingers on your spread lips. And he physically lets out a sigh as he traces over your body.

You would drive him mad. He knows it.

-

As you take the time to introduce yourself to Danny's coworkers, you aren't surprised to see, well, to make it short, people who are not of your crowd.

But to your surprise, they're all friendly and welcoming. You're not surprised to see that you have met some of them before on your trips with Daniel or when you fly out to see him.

When you reach the end of the line you see him and your confidence falters as your eyes meet his. You should've known by the way his eyes were drinking you in that he'd be a problem.

With conviction, you approach him, bearing a sly smirk on your face.

"I'm y/n." You declared, and Lewis returned the same decency.

"I'm Lewis."

Your hands meet in the middle and he has a soft grip on you, refusing to let go.

"What's a girl like you doing with Daniel."

"He's my friend." You reply.

"Just a friend?"

"Just a friend." You confirm, and the way he looked at you through his fluffy lashes was evidence enough of what was to come between the two of you.

-

Lewis wasn't all that the media portrayed him to be. He wasn't overly confident or carefree. He actually worried a lot and was stressed a lot.

You knew that he felt like he had something to prove. You met him at his peak, and even now, when he feels like he's at the worst in his career, you're still here.

"So you're going to leave?" You hum, rubbing your fingers through his parts.

"Do you think I should?"

He looks so stressed out that is it has your heart is aching for him.

He's slumped like a kid in your lap with his face set in a frown. "I think that if you're unhappy and there are ways that you feel can change that, that you should look for something new, yes."

"Did you mean what you said last time?"

You think back to the last time you were in his presence, how he had gotten drunk for the first time in years. You wince internally as you recall how you had to nurse him back to health that night, how he cried like a baby when he mentioned how alone he felt at Mercedes. Lewis Hamilton wasn't used to being an afterthought.

"Yes, I don't think they appreciate you, Lewis. I don't think they are valuing your feedback or honoring your talent. I think they are making you miserable." You confess. "There are so many other teams that would love to have you, who would fight for you to reclaim your eighth. I don't think you should keep going through this with that team. Look at how they have you."

"Is your favorite team still Ferrari?" He opens his eyes and stares up at you.

"Duh,"

When you first met Daniel, you had only heard of the sport, but as time went on, he fully immersed you into the world of Formula One. You quickly took a liking to the red team and its intricate history in the sport. When you met Lewis in 2018, he was shocked that you knew so much about them (and barely anything about him).

"Don't tell me you're considering Ferrari, Sir Hamilton." You grin and he only smirks up at you.

"We'll see."

-

After the eventful first night you had spent with Lewis nearly six years ago, Miami has become a frequent destination of his. And New York of yours. The two of you guys had a chemistry unlike any other, every night filled with breathless pants and chants of each other's names. It was electric and erotic all at the same time.

You were fully aware that you and Lewis weren't necessarily together.

You were fun for him and him for you.

It was a mutual agreement, a bond strictly built from the amazing sex that the two of you had together.

You were aware that when the time came for Lewis to settle down and spend the rest of his life together it probably wouldn't be with you. You had believed you'd come to terms with the fact. But the idea of you two being together in the future still lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you scroll through Twitter, images and small clips of Lewis walking hand in hand with a Brazilian model have your heart tightening.

It wasn't like Lewis hadn't given you that false hope of a relationship, because you'd like to think that all of those little small things were him giving in. Surrendering that stupid ideology of his that made him believe he was a permanent bachelor.

You'd been by his side and in his bed over and over again for the last six years. And you’d be doing the same again tonight.

You almost feel grimy, sitting and waiting for him in his hotel room as he takes another woman out on a date, but a part of you knows that you’d accept anything from Lewis. You had standards and you had morals, but for a man like him, you always seem to throw them all out of the window.

Your phone vibrates and pings as your social media erupts in a frenzy.

That was another thing that had your mind in shambles right now.

How open he was when it came to you.

How quick he was to show you to the public, none of his other flings had gotten that opportunity, well until whoever this chick was.

Before you, Lewis hadn't introduced his "fun times" to his friends or even bothered to take any of them to the track.

That was something reserved only for you, though, you feel sort of naive, watching the tan and leggy woman prance around hand in hand with Lewis as he leaves the paddock.

You feel like you're stuck at the crossroads as you wait for Lewis to return.

He'd flown you out here partly because he claimed he missed you so much and the other half because of how much of a hard time you'd been having with your life in general.

Lewis was also a sort of saving grace for you, when you were with him, none of your other problems mattered. So you were quick to accept his invitation.

You'd never have accepted if you knew that he'd be playing a cruel game with you like this.

When the door creaks open and he emerges with a happy grin on his face, and bags filled to the brim with what you know are gifts for you, you can only grimace. Your attempt at a smile seems good enough for him as he approaches you and places a sudden kiss on your head.

"Hey love," He smiles, "I've got some gifts for you, yeah, knew you'd need a pick me up."

And you can't help to wonder if you'd needed the pick me up from his actions or what had transpired within this last week which was the sole purpose of you going to see him.

"I'm going to wash up, really fast, yeah? And then it'll be me and you tonight."

You say nothing as he places the bags at your feet and rushes into the bathroom.

You don't move, but you allow your eyes to skim through the bags and sigh as you see just how much he spent on you.

You had gone and done it.

Gone and made some glorified elaborate fairytale out of a man, who'd only treasured your body and in return showered you with gifts.

You laugh at yourself as your hand comes up to palm at your forehead.

You were his goddamn sugar baby, not the kind of woman he'd settle down with.

You feel even more stupid at the realization, that all of the nights you'd lay with him and console him after giving him your body were not as you had made them out to be.

It wasn't romantic, it was transactional. Those nights where you offered Lewis emotional solace always came with a hefty reward the next morning.

And now, you feel tainted, knowing that all it took was a simple call of your name for you to come flying to him and land in his bed, wrapped around his body.

You found Lewis in his prime and stuck by his side through his decline. You comforted him throughout his entire descent down the totem pole. Helped him out of that broken place, and gave him reassurance and something to look forward to.

You treasured this man.

Put him on top, time and time again, when he would leave you feeling used after your time together. And if it was up to you, you'd probably continue this cycle. Giving him your all and getting nothing in return.

You really wanted him, you wanted him to want you, which is why you were fine with keeping his bed warm, at least he wanted you in some kind of way, craved you even if it wasn't the way you wished to be desired.

When he emerges from the steamy bathroom, body clad only in a pair of briefs and his body soft and glowing, you swallow back all of your thoughts allowing yourself to take him in.

He nestles beside you on the bed, taking one of your hands in his, "everything okay?"

You can only push out a meek "yeah."

And the night goes on as planned.

The dim light of dusk spills through the blinds of the grand hotel room, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. You sit against the headboard, The melancholic melody of the empty night mirrors the turmoil in your heart.

Six years ago, you met Lewis at a nightclub, your paths crossing in a haze of neon lights and pulsing music. He was charming and mysterious, with eyes that held secrets and a smile that promised adventure. Your connection was instantaneous, a spark that quickly grew into an all-consuming flame. You spent endless nights talking, laughing, and dreaming about a future together. Well at least on your end.

But as the years passed, you began to notice the cracks in your seemingly perfect world. Lewis' past as a bachelor was a shadow that loomed over your situationship, a constant reminder of the freeness he carried within him. He would disappear for days on end with no communication, leaving you in a state of anxious uncertainty, your mind racing with thoughts of where he might be and who he might be with. Yet, you had no right to concern yourself with these sorts of things.

As you lay in bed, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you, you find the courage to ask, "Lewis, do you love me?" His silence is deafening, and the look in his eyes speaks of a love that is nonexistent, a love that is more of a need for you than a want.

"I care about you," he finally whispers, his voice tinged with regret. "But my heart belongs to someone else. I’m sorry."

Your world shatters at that moment, the pieces of your heart shattering like broken glass. You know you have to let him go, to find a way to heal from the pain of a love that was never truly yours.

You realize that you have been holding on to a love that was destined to fade, a love that has left you feeling empty and lost.

You deserve a love that is real and true.

He’s like medicine, he makes you feel good and at the same time, he’s like poison, running through your system and finding a new part of you to sicken. Lewis is a walking contradiction, you don’t know if he’s helping you or hurting you, if he loves you, or if he hates you. Surely, he hates you, why else would he be okay with making you feel like this?

And as the city lights flicker on, you vow to never lose yourself again.

You shouldn't ask, because you know you can't bear the weight of his answer but you do.

"The woman from earlier?"

He sighs, his response weak, "Yes."

"So no more us? Right?"

"I think this is the last time." He admits and you swallow back your tears.

"Okay."

"I still want to be your friend."

"We were never friends Lewis, and we're not going to be friends after this."

Lewis swallows, sitting up to catch your gaze through the darkness.

For years, you and Lewis had maintained a delicate balance, a friends-with-benefits arrangement that allowed you both to keep things uncomplicated. You cherished the intimacy, the shared moments of laughter, the comfort of his presence. But deep down, you always knew that this arrangement had an expiration date, an inevitable end that you tried not to think about.

And now, that end has arrived. Lewis has fallen in love with someone else. You can only turn away from him.

You stand up, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. You begin to gather your clothes, each movement mechanical, your mind numb with the reality of it all. You glance around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings that now feel foreign and distant.

As you pull on your jacket, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are filled with unshed tears, your expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. You know that this is the moment you have to let go, to walk away from a love that was never truly yours.

You think it's kind of ironic.

How you'd been there for Lewis, and when you needed him most, he's leaving you behind.

"Do you love me?" Lewis' voice echoes from his place on the bed.

"No." You lie. "It was fun, was fun being a pit stop for you." You chuckle.

"It wasn't like that-"

"No, it's fine, we weren't anything, you fucked me and brought me gifts in return, I ate that up, that's all. I knew I was only here until you made up your mind, I'm happy you did."

You had a tendency to become a bitch when you were hurt and you knew that your words were low blows, but your pride was too hard for you to allow Lewis to see himself affect you in real time.

In reality, you'd hoped that if the unfortunate and impending doom would occur, that Lewis would have the decency to allow you to fall out of love with him first.

Then it wouldn't hurt.

You knew what the arrangement was, you knew that you and Lewis were technically nothing and you always thought that when the day came for him to finally leave you, you'd be fine. You'd feel nothing. But you do.

It feels like when that one character who doesn't care about dying has a sudden brush with death, how almost dying rids you of every sane thought you have, a person who fears nothing all of a sudden fears death, fears everything.

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but losing, could you even say losing Lewis? 

Being left by Lewis feels terrible, being left by him feels scary, like everything you knew before was not as it seems. 

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but you feel everything you thought you never would.

And in the end, you still wanted him to stay. You wanted him to choose you. Even if he didn't want you.

here you go babes @greedyjudge2 !! I'm sorry it took so long <3

part two in the future fs.

[at0michips]

interviews and intimacy — mike faist

summary: the press tour of challengers was coming to an end, and even though Mike liked promoting his new movie all around the world, he was tired and even annoyed of the same old questions, so it did surprise him when a younger woman changed the pattern.

author note: just wanted to say that this is based off my deepest thoughts and hallucinations that this is going to happen to me someday and I just really needed to elaborate it further than in my brain. I have a lot more like this to work on so maybe it becomes a sort of series, who knows!! feel free to request

It was a full day, Mike has been patient and tried to be as social as possible with the press but he couldn't help the bad mood that came with those clueless questions that could totally put him and his coworkers in an uncomfortable situation, especially with both of them openly having a significant other. So when he heard that this would be the last interview of the press he felt relieved, he could go straight back into his house in New York, spend some days in there and go back to Ohio so he could see his family for a bit and then see what was his next step.

Everything seemed like it was going to work out nicely, and then it didn't looked like it anymore. After the new interview crew arrived he could hear some whispering between them.

"W-why does it have to be me?" one of the girls said a little loud only to be shushed by an older woman who was attaching a mic in her clothing

"Because you have a degree, because you have been helping Rose write the last interviews questions, because you're good!" she answered "Calm down, they're just people, ok? I spoke to her on the phone and she promised to pay you dinner next friday, keep that in mind." and then it hit him, that a girl who looked barely out of college was about to lead this interview.

The studio buzzed with the controlled chaos of a film set winding down for the day. Mike Faist sat across from you, a young journalist who had been unexpectedly thrust into the role of interviewer. Initially skeptical of her ability to handle the job, Mike found himself pleasantly surprised as the interview progressed.

"You know, for someone who's filling in last minute, you're doing pretty damn well," Mike remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You felt your shoulders relax a fraction, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating. "Thank you. I'm glad I could hold my own."

Mike nodded thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "More than holding your own, actually. You're asking some really insightful questions."

You couldn't help but smile back, a mixture of relief and pride washing over her. "I've been a writer for a while, just not usually about movies."

"Well, maybe you've found a new calling," he teased lightly, his gaze lingering on her face. "You've definitely got a knack for it."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his compliment. "I think I'll stick to writing," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But who knows? Maybe I'll make an exception."

Mike leaned in a bit closer, the studio lights casting a soft glow around the both of you. "I hope you do," he said sincerely. "Because I'd really like to see you again. Maybe over a drink, not in a studio."

You could feel your heart skip a beat at the invitation. "I'd like that too."

As they exchanged smiles, the noise of the studio faded into the background, leaving only the promise of a new connection blossoming between them.

The bar was buzzing with soft chatter and the clinking of glasses, casting a warm glow over you and Mike as you sat across from each other. After the earlier meeting for the interview, something had shifted, probably the intimate ambiance of the place helped it too.

"So, what's it really like being on stage every night?" you asked, with the voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Mike leaned forward, his eyes sparkling as he recounted stories from his time on Broadway. His passion for his craft was evident, and you found yourself captivated not just by his words but by the sincerity in his gaze.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between laughter and moments of shared insight. Mike found himself drawn to your intelligence and wit, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about you.

The drinks arrived, and Mike hesitated for a moment before reaching out to lightly touch your hand. You looked up, meeting his gaze with a hint of surprise that quickly melted into a warm smile.

"I'm really glad we could do this," Mike admitted, his voice soft but earnest.

You could feel your heart skip a beat. "Me too," you replied, the voice tinged with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

In that moment, the air between you both seemed to crackle with unspoken tension. Without another word, Mike leaned in, closing the gap remaining between the two of you. Your lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss that spoke volumes of the attraction simmering beneath the surface.

It was a kiss filled with promise, a silent agreement of mutual interest and the beginning of something new.

The world around you seemed to fade away as they kissed, your hand finding its way to Mike's cheek as if to anchor yourself in the moment. Mike's heart raced, his mind momentarily forgetting the crowded bar and focusing solely on the warmth of your lips against his.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the space between them, Mike searched for your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of wonder and longing.

"Wow," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the soft background music.

"Yeah," Mike murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That was... unexpected."

You chuckled nervously, feeling a warmth spread around your face. "Unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome."

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow of their kiss. The tension that had built up between you and Mike earlier seemed to dissipate, replaced now by a quiet understanding.

"I should probably walk you home," Mike suggested softly, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'd like that."

As you guys left the bar and stepped out into the cool night air, Mike offered you his arm, and you gladly linked hers through his. You walked side by side, with the shoulders brushing occasionally, each lost in their own thoughts yet connected by the spark that had ignited that evening.

[softshuji]

Track 3 ft izana Kurokawa (part of the campfire stories collection)

Izana is counting your breaths.

In. Out. In. Out.

You're turned away from him, holding the duvet up to your cheek and wrapped around your fist like you're going to punch through a window. And he's watching your chest rise and fall, fast and shallow breaths because you've not been asleep for long and he knows you're always quiet when you do. Often, when he's late, he finds you under the covers and his heart will stop, or miss a beat because your chest hardly seems to move and your breath is near silent and then you'll stir or twitch as you're prone to do and he sighs in relief.

But this time, he's watching you, with his chest to your back and winding a finger around your hair, playing with the end as he listens hypnotically to the rhythmic undulation of your breathing. He's tracing the marks on your back, small birthmarks and old scars with a long finger till he reaches your tailbone and then pulls away to grab his phone from the nightstand.

When he sits up, you twitch again and he holds his breath as he watches you turn onto your stomach, the crown of your head now glossy with the light that spills in through the gap in the curtain.

Izana calls his last contact, one hand still resting on your back, his voice low and apprehensive.

'Hey,' Kakucho whispers, his own voice gravelly and rough and undulated with dryness. 'What's up? It's late.'

Izana clears his throat and Casts a glance to the slat in the curtain where an orange flare of light comes and goes as a car rolls past.

'Were you sleeping?' izana asks, keeping his voice low and quiet, a bare whisper above the faint hum of the heating chugging through the pipes.

'Yeah, sorta, but it's fine. What's wrong?'

'I....I need to ask you something.'

Kakucho sits up on his own side, and turns to flick on the bedside lamp, the bed cold and empty save for the duvet and a haphazardly thrown cushions on the bare bedspread.

Izana falters here. Because it's never been easy. And it's not easy now. When you're next to him, and so real under his hands, and kakucho is both his closest confidante, and he's surrounded by the two he .... Cares about.

'Yeah?'

Izana lapses into silence, weighs it on his tongue, his teeth coated in anxiety, a thick film that tastes of fear and salt.

'I....' He starts, his hand moving from your back to the bedspread, twisted in his hands as he pulls at the loose threads. 'I mean...she....there's something wrong.'

Kakucho's nerves flare to attention, and he's half a mind to grab his jacket and come straight over, ever the hero, ever the sacrificial lamb for his king. 'What? Is she sick? Shall I call a doct-'

'no no, not like that,' izana says, an ear trained on you and your soft and even breaths. 'She's uhm- she's- I think she's upset.'

'Huh? Did you have a fight?'

'No, no we didn't. She's just...I think there's something else.' and then, a whisper like a caress, said under his breath, like a secret he's afraid to divulge. 'I don't know what to do.'

Kakucho releases the tight breath in his chest and leans back against the headboard, fishing for a cigarette in the bedside drawer. 'Oh I see. Tell me what it is, I'll see if I can help.'

Izana frowns, more in confusion at himself than anything else, in difficulty at it all. 'She's....she seems sad a lot, and quiet recently. I tried to ask her what was wrong, and I tried to spend time with her, but it doesn't seem to work.'

'Ah. You're worried?'

'A bit.' After a pause. 'A lot really.'

'You think it's you don't you? That it's something to do with you?'

'I didn't....I didn't say that.'

'But you were thinking it. You were thinking about why she hasn't told you, or whether she doesn't trust you.'

Izana shifts uncomfortably and makes a sound from the back of his throat.

'It's fine you know. I've known you both long enough. I think I understand.'

'You understand?' and izana almost ends the call then, when you twitch and your legs brush his under the duvet, your soft thighs now rubbing against his for warmth. He strokes your neck absently, soft and gentle, the way you'd touch a butterfly without hurting the wings, marvelling at the softness of it under your touch. Sometimes he thinks of you like that. A thing whose wings he might break on accident, some slip of his hand that'll hurt you even if he doesn't intend you, because that's just what he is. A monster through and through. And you are so delicate, so good and wholesome and kind and so easily breakable that it's almost bound to happen.

'I do. I don't think you need to do anything though.'

'Huh? What do you mean?'

Kakucho taps the cigarette against his lips and takes a long drag, exhaling into the air where the whir of air con blows the smoke through the vents. 'I mean, it's not you. I think you just need to give it time, let her tell you when she's ready.'

'But she's upset-'

'I know. But you have to trust her. She probably doesn't want to bother you.'

'But it's not bothering me,' izana says, adamant, a twitch of defiance in his voice- to which kakucho can only chuckle in his chest.

'I know, but I think she assumes it does. So maybe remind her, tomorrow- you know, that you'll be there if she needs to talk.'

Izana cramps here. His chest constricting at the thought- at the show of vulnerability that that might entail because he's never been very good at the whole receiving and giving affection thing. If you asked, and even if you didn't, he'd carve out the world for you, and more. But you never seem to ask for anything and he often wishes you would. Be a little demanding, a little less compliant because it aches inside when he thinks of you being unhappy and swallowing it down for his sake. Like you're afraid to show anything to him that you think he doesn't want to see, like you can make that kind of decision for him.

'izana?'

Izana bites his lip, and his eyes fall on the way the duvet curls around your body, how soft and inviting it looks even now, moonlight drawing a finger across your skin, the curve of your arm and shoulder half hidden under the covers.

'I'm here. Just thinking.' And he clears his throat, again. A little lighter, a little more like he can sleep.

'you good?'

He has what he needs now, and it makes more sense than it did before. 'Yeah.' and then. 'Get some sleep kakucho.'

And kakucho takes that as his cue, understand the subliminal message underneath because izana is not half as complicated as he believes himself to be and get some sleep means thank you, means he appreciates it even if he refuses to mention it.

'Yeah. You too. I'll see you tomorrow.' Kakucho puts the phone down and the air con whirs, as it does.

Izana traces a finger along the curve of your ribs, counts them individually, along with your breath, before he slides into bed next to you, arms held tight and close around you with his lips finding the dip in your neck.

And counts your breath as he falls asleep.

Reblogs appreciated

[momolady]

Commissions Are Open!

I'll be accepting a few a month so send an email to get into the queue.

The Spiel:

Include a genre or theme if you so wish. Such as horror, romance, angst, fluff, etc.

If you want one of my universes, please include it as well. Ruby Empire, Hearthway Hollow, the Carnival, etc.

If you have a story idea, please include a few sentences of plot for me to work with. The more details the better

If you wish to include your OC please provide references so I can do them justice.

All characters must be 18+ for nsfw content.

All payments must be made in USD, & invoices will be sent upfront.

I have the right to refuse commissions

Discussion will take place via email or through discord if requested.

You will receive commissions through email unless requested otherwise.

Changes can be made, but there is a limit of 2 revisions. (I’m soft though so who knows if I’ll keep this up.)

All stories will be posted to my Patreon, Tumblr, and maybe ko-fi. OC can be changed upon request for public stories. You will always have the original story.

My stories can not be posted anywhere else.

Longer stories may receive an increase in price. (Under 10k words is usually fine. I enjoy longer works personally.)

Stories take anywhere from one to three weeks to complete once started depending on length, detail, etc. Feel free to ask for updates, previews, etc.

East Commission Form:

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Reader Character Description:

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Monster Character Description:

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Story Outline:

Other thoughts or comments:

What You can Commission:

All monsters and creatures from media, folklore, myth, crytozoology, etc. (Within the bounds of cultural sensitivity.)

Horror stories. This can be straight horror, romance, smut, etc. Slasher, Lovecraftian, weird, etc.

Magical girl stories. Heroes as well.

Original Characters are always welcome.

Legally distinct characters are okay. I don’t write fanfic, but I’m happy to build your dream character with an existing character as reference.

If you need an idea for character or plot, I will brainstorm with you. I also will do free reign stories for a small discount.

Continuing stories from my masterlist is also accepted! I enjoy revisiting beloved characters.

Plotting help for your own stories such as outlines, character bios, etc. (This is new dunno where it’ll go.)

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Themes:

Smut of course. Other NSFW themes can be done upon approval. (No under 18 or dub-con themes.)

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Classic tropes:forbidden love, fake dating, friends to enemies, hurt-comfort, stuck together, cafe au, etc.

Horror stories, romantic or not. The weirder the better.

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Fluff: domestic bliss, confessions, dates, proposals, etc.

Platonic stories.

Plot heavy.

PWP

[charlie-lec-stories]

Out the comfort zone // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Sensitive matters should always be addressed with kindness, tactfulness and pinch of fun.

Warnings: Sexual comments and conversations, but from a mature and funny perspective.

Author’s Note: This story is about communication. Since our favourite trio relays a lot on it, this time you'll have the chance to witness them discuss a really sensitive matter on their relationship. Rate: +18 (Sexual topics)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"No, no, no, no, no, no. This is not working, Max".

"Maybe if you move your leg to the left, Schat".

"What do you think I am, a gymnast?".

"Well, you are pretty flexible, Amour. Just open your legs wider. I can go behind you".

"This is getting kind of personal, guys, I don't think I want to be a part of this anymore".

"Oscar, don't be a baby".

"He is a baby, Amour".

"I'm 23!".

Lando, George and Alex couldn't believe what they were hearing. It wasn't enough for them to do the dirty together, they also had to mix Oscar into it. As the three of them walked further into the apartment, they found Oscar's hoodie on the floor, and the sound of Max grunting wasn't helping with the picture they were already making in their minds.

"I swear to God, I'm not that flexible. I mean, when it’s just us three, it's easier, but I think that four is just too much. Sorry Oscar, it’s not your fault".

"Way to make a man feel rejected...".

"I really am sorry. But if we keep going like this, I'm going to fall and my ass is going to hurt for days'.

Okay, maybe they should make their presence known. Looking at each other, George understood that he should be the one taking the lead.

"Hey guys, are you home?". He asked, but Lando just couldn't keep quiet.

"Please, tell me you haven't corrupted my teammate yet. He's just a baby!".

Walking into the living room, the three drivers were surprised by what they found. Tangled in a Twister mat, the other four were barely keeping their bodies up. Actually, Y/N was the first one to give up, falling butt first to the floor and taking Oscar down with her, who kicked Charles' right arm, making the monegasque lose balance and take down Max with him.

"Why is it that I can never guess it right when it comes to you three?". Lando asked, rhetorically. Every time he guessed they were doing nothing, he walked on them taking their clothes off, and every time he thought that they were having a private moment, they were just doing something completely innocent.

"Maybe you just think it too much". Max replied, smirking at the disgusted face Lando made. Oscar, Charles and Max got up, Y/N staying laying on the floor, legs and arms extended and exhausted look on her face. Everyone looked at her, expecting her to get up.

"Don't worry, I'll get up when I start feeling my legs again... Man, I hate Twister". She sighed. Oscar took his chance to get back at her.

"And I'm the baby...".

They all had dinner together, and after the guys went away, Max and Charles cleaned the kitchen while Y/N fixed the living room. She carefully folded the mat while listening to the boys chatting in the kitchen. They were discussing something about Carlos. Apparently, the spaniard had a fight with his girlfriend about anal sex. She found it weird that Charles and Max were open enough to talk about it knowing that she was around. It wasn't like she didn't know what they both did when they were alone, but they were never straight forward about either. She kept listening to the conversation. It seemed like Carlos' girlfriend was scared of trying it, and he took it as if she didn't trust him enough to do that with him. But she wasn't interested in what Carlos and his girlfriend did, she cared about what Charles and Max thought about the situation.

The thing is, they had their own ways of approaching sex and those ways were kind of limited. Mostly because of her. She was scared, as Carlos' girlfriend, of getting hurt while doing new things, and even if she had boyfriends before them, she was a little vanilla with them. It was a big jump going from one person to thinking about two at the same time. So the boys were patient, they "took turns" so she wouldn't be too overwhelmed with the situation. More than once she thought about how boring it must be for the one waiting, watching the other two have fun while he had to wait, and whenever those thoughts crossed her mind she felt the need to broaden her comfort zone a little bit.

She concentrated on the conversation again. Max explained that he could empathize with Carlos' point of view, it would hurt him a little to know that Charles or Y/N wouldn't try with him something they wanted to do thinking they could get hurt. He was clear with that: when you love someone, you don't let them get hurt, and you never, ever, hurt them yourself. Charles was little more on the girlfriend's side, he remembered the first time he let Max do that, and he was scared shitless, he also reminded Max that he begged Charles to go easy on him when it was his turn, and with that reminder, Max gave some more credit to the girlfriend's argument. It seemed like they both understood, not only for having been in that position before, but also from an empathetic side, how vulnerable it could be to let someone do that to you. She felt relieved.

"Hey, can I ask you guys about something?". She asked later that night, looking at her lap. They were getting ready for bed, Max was brushing his teeth and Charles was changing his jeans for a more comfortable pair of shorts. They both looked at her, curious about what she could be thinking about. She had been pretty quiet since the guys left.

"Sure, Amour. What is it?". Charles walked to the bed and sat down, placing his hand on her leg and running it up and down, easing her anxiety a bit. Max rushed up his routine so he could focus completely on her, going to the bed as fast as he could.

"I've been thinking about something. About us". Max didn't like the sound of that, he loved what they had too much, he didn't want to break up. "I know that we don't do a lot here". She patted the bed and they frowned at the same time.

"What do you mean, Schat?". He smirked at the thought of everything they had done on that bed. "We do a lot here".

"I mean, yes, we do, but it's how we do it". They weren't following her and it was frustrating. "I want us to do things together, the three of us, but it scares me. Every time I think about it, this fear of getting hurt paralyzes me".

"You mean that you want us to do things to you... together?". Charles was trying to be as polite as he could about the subject, Max was a little more direct.

"This is the type of conversation I like to have in bed. Who cares about the last episode of The Last of Us?". Y/N laughed under her breath, the pink on her cheeks softening a few tones.

"We can try whatever you want, Amour, as long as you feel comfortable. You're the one that will get the roughest part, we know that, that's why we never asked for more and waited for you to bring it up". That made her feel safer.

"We will always take care of you. We promise". She knew that Max was sincere.

"So, how do we do this?". The boys looked at each other, their eyes wide open.

"You want to try this now?". Charles asked and she nodded.

"Yes! I waited for this moment my whole life". Max exclaimed happily as he took off his shirt.

"Mate, calm down or you'll be the one getting it". Charles did what he could, but there was no cure for Max. If there was something that he had been waiting for was for the moment they all three did something together.

"I didn't know his love for butts extended this far". They watched Max go to the bathroom, looking for lubes and oils that would make the process a lot easier.

Charles just sat with her, holding her hand and smiling at her. Y/N and Charles had a different sexual history together than each of them had with Max. They started dating first and that meant that they started sleeping together before they added Max to the equation. Charles knew what, how and when she liked things. He knew her like the back of his hand, and had a different approach to intimacy than Max had. They were pretty equal in bed, but she usually let him take the lead of the situation and it was a wise decision, since he never guessed wrong what she wanted to do. Max was different, he worshiped her, he would do whatever she'd ask for if it meant pleasing her. That meant that she was the one taking the lead and he followed her like a warrior on a crusade. She didn't know what they were like when they were alone, for what she heard from them once in a while, they switched a lot, it all depending on their moods at the moment. When the three of them were together, Charles would usually go first, helping her relax and carry the situation, Max watching and doing little to no interventions. Then the Dutchman would follow with Charles still in the picture, but more coming from a caring side, taking care of them. He had a protective side that never rested and always shone with them.

Max gave Charles the space to ease Y/N's nervousness, while he decided to go to the living room for some scented candles and his speaker, already thinking on which playlist they should use to make the situation more relaxing for her. Charles took his time setting the mood, kissing and caressing every place of skin exposed before starting with her clothes. She was grateful that they didn't jump on her the minute she agreed to try this, instead they took the time to help her feel comfortable and, more importantly, loved. Once every piece of clothing was off, Charles looked at Max, a silent conversation about how Max could enter the picture as smoothly as possible. They decided for him to do something that Charles usually does: massages. So while Charles kept her busy, Max took one of the oils and gently started massaging the knots on her shoulders, easing the tension. They both knew the process, they knew what they had to do for her to be ready, so they just made sure to be open and verbal about what they were going to do before doing anything.

"It's going to hurt, you'll feel some pressure, Schat. It's normal, you just have to relax". Max told her after her and Charles had already been going at it for a while, as he carefully moved her legs to position her comfortably on top of Charles. "If you feel like you can't keep going, you tell me and I stop immediately, okay?". She nodded, still a little tense, even if she was worked up. Charles, under her pulled her flush against him, letting her rest her weight on him and running his hands up and down her sides.

"We need words, Amour, you know it". It was a rule that they had, nothing without explicit consent, specially new things.

"Yes, I understand. I want to do it". She sighed and prepared herself, focusing on Max's hand caressing her lower back.

It hurt, it took her some time to get used to it, she even let a few tears run down her cheeks. The boys stopped moving a few times to give her time, they whispered some comforting words to her and kissed her discomfort away. But she ended up liking it, once the pain was not there anymore, once she felt how connected she was to both of them in that moment, she realized that she was right on stepping out of her comfort zone. She had never seen them as happy as she saw them in that moment, Charles locking eyes with her from underneath her, Max's smile against the back of her shoulder as his hand grabbed Charles', both squeezing each other's hand tightly. It was special and it was great, two things she before feared the moment wouldn't be. She was glad that they all did that together.

"How do you feel, Amour?". Charles asked her as soon as he recovered from his post sex dizziness. She felt Max moving away from her, lifting his weight so she could move if she needed to, but she needed him close, so she grabbed his arm and pulled him back on top of her. Charles let out a huff when Max's weight fell on them again, being the one holding everyone on top of him was hard, but he wouldn't rather be anywhere else. Max chuckled at his huff and Charles slapped the back of his head, but ended up joining his boyfriend in the laughing fit. They stayed like that for a while, just close while their hearts went back to a normal rhythm.

"What about a bath, Schat? I think it'd be good for you". She let out a quiet 'yes', Max then getting up and walking to the bathroom. Charles took his time with the massages, working on all the new muscles she had used and were in need of care. When the water was ready, he helped her up and she went to the bathroom. While she relaxed, Max and Charles cleaned up. They changed the bed sheets, took all the candles, oils and lubes to their places and prepared some tank top and cotton panties for her to dress up with. She stayed there until the water got cold, and with still some discomfort, she got out and wrapped herself in a towel, emptying the tub before walking out. She dried and dressed herself quickly, and joined the boys on the bed, taking her spot in the middle. The tiredness on their faces was notorious, but they put on the effort to stay awake to make sure she was alright.

"You might feel a little sore in the morning". Charles said and then kissed her shoulder, his hand on her hip, on top of Max's.

"But the bright side is that you get breakfast in bed because of that". She giggled at Max's comment.

"I might do this with you every night if it gets me breakfast in bed in the mornings". She joked, but Max was grinning like he won the lottery. "I'm joking".

"Don't play like that with my heart". His smile dropped and she felt Charles shaking with laughter behind her.

"You seriously love butts".

"They are one of the best features of you guys, after your arms and Y/N's boobs". The other two looked at him holding their laughter. "What?"

"Bueno, para gustos, colores". Y/N said and snuggled up by bringing Max closer. They were used to her chanting some Argentinian sayings at them and they learned what most of them meant. This one meant that it was pointless to discuss personal preferences. "Thank you for being so good to me". She said after a while. "You have no idea how important it is for me that this moment went on this great".

"We love so much, Schat. You don't have to thank us for these things. We'd bring down the moon and stars for you".

"Je vous aime, mes chéris". (I love you, loves)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hey, I'm back with lestappen x reader. Hope you guys like it. I'm thinking about working a bit with smut, but from a more subtle and delicate perspective. What do you guys think about that? Would you like more content like that?

[litnerdwrites]

Justice for Nesta recs (AO3)

Most, if not all, of these recs are in the Justice for Nesta/ ACOSF rewrite/fix-it vein. It will be updates as I find more fics, but feel free to send any recs you have.

TRIGGER WARNING! Many of these fics will be very dark, with references to suicide, ptsd, misogyny, and IC BS. However, I'll be sure to add specifics where applicable.

Fics For Those Craving Nesta JusticeI put all the fics I found into one collection on AO3 that, as the title suggests, are for those craving Nesta Justice. Please read the relevant tags for each fic, as many of them contain reference to PTSD, SA (both past referenced and in story), and general IC BS.

I'll also list every fic in this collection bellow, just to keep them all in one place. Feel free to also add your own finds or works if you have any. The collection is open, but moderated.

Those the Stars Cannot Hear by @kataraavatara An ACOSF rewrite where Mor makes good on her threat to leave Nesta in the CON.

Baby, now we got bad blood by Pumpkinspice_Lou They say you should never come between a male and his mate. Rhysand should've known better. Aka Cassian finally choosing Nesta. Completed two-shot.

A Court of Vice and Victors by Wishcamper Acosf rewritten by a therapist. Need I say more? Incomplete.

You Made Her Like That By BookWorm77071 A few days into their Hike from Hell, Nesta is able to form one coherent thought: I don't want to do this anymore. So she stops. Three chapter short story. Completed.

Nesta becomes a baby by Theladyofbloodshed Exactly what the title says. Oneshot.

A Court of Tangled Flames by Theladyofbloodshed A Neris fic where Nesta gets the love story she deserves.

ACOTAR snippet collection by Theladyofbloodshed A collection of Acotar what ifs.

Nesta vs. The Buffer by Theladyofbloodshed After Nesta finally snaps at another 'family' dinner, calling Cassian and Mor out on their shit, she begins to heal and fall in love on her own terms. With a certain shadowsinger. Completed. Nezriel fic. Anti IC but they kind of redeem themselves at the end. Completed.

AU Where We Pretend Acosf Didn't Happen by Theladyofbloodshed An alternative take to ACOSF, starting from post ACOFS. Nesta ends up leaving Velaris, starting herself on a journey of self discovery and healing. TW Beron Vansera, implied/referenced SA, IC being assholes.

Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream by This_Immortal_Hope Nesta was a wolf. So, much like a wolf, she bided her time, accepting her exile with ice in her and determination in her heart. When she was ready, she tore their Court of Dreams apart with their own hypocrisy. One shot. No ship. Rhysand is thoroughly put in his place. Oneshot.

Second Chances by miryamdev Cassian apologises to Nesta after the HOFAS bonus chapter.

A trick of the light by closet_monster There was nothing condemning about madness or paralyzing fear. Nesta was familiar with both — they seemed to be a recurring theme in both womanhood and life in Hewn. Oneshot. TW Depression, self harm, and implied abuse. Please double check the tags before reading.

Burn for Eternity by rosemai Nesta is defeated and broken down by the words of her sisters and the IC, so she takes matters into her own hands and meets a group on individuals who could give her the help she needs. Incomplete.

Nesta's Truth by grovellingboyfriends After another year of leaving Nesta alone, Cassian finds Nesta in her apartment on Solstice, standing over a dead man. TW for implied SA, parental abuse, Elain is a bitch. 3/5 chapters published as of making this post.

Daylight by Flowerflamestar Nesta Archeron, banished and betrayed, ran from cold and hatred straight into the light of Day and found a place where she could belong. Completed.

Might I Suggest You Don't Fuck With My Sis by MacabreGiggles The intervention rethought, where the Archeron sisters decide to stand up for one another and put the IC in their place. Incomplete.

I died. I will die. It's alright. I don't mind. By MacabreGiggles Nesta resorts to other means to cope, like drugs. Incomplete. TW. Abuse. Alcolism. Suicide. Sexual assault. Drug abuse.

The Veil of Silence by Hrizantemy There exists a veil of silence, it shrouds our voices masking our truths, muffling our cries, our voices are muted, and dreams whispered. Incomplete.

You're a crisis of my faith by porque_nolosdos Nesta and Elain leave the NC, and upon seeing the IC's reaction, Feyre decides to ditch them too. Incomplete.

A thousand cuts by adelindschade It finally clicks for Cassian just how badly Nesta was hurting (it only took three TW suicide TW attempts), so he decides to try thinking of what Nesta would want. This decision leaves a ripple effect that will change the NC as we know it. Incomplete.

The consequences of normality by TheTeaQueen After the events of ACOSF, things seem relatively normal. Until Cassian realises that Nesta doesn't ask for things, or that self hatred still grips her, or the facade she puts on for her family. When she starts cutting back on training and work in the library, he begins to worry. Maybe things aren't as perfect as he thought. Maybe their methods in helping her weren't as effective as he thought. Incomplete.

Three little words by TheTeaQueen Cassian finally says those three little words that Nesta needed to hear. Oneshot.

Like fire, she raged by TheTeaQueen Emerie stands up for Nesta and puts Rhys and Feyre in their place. Completed.

Of Death and Resurrection by TheTeaQueen Part 1 of In the name of healing and happiness. Nesta was ready to die. So to save Feyre and Nyx, she did. Can Rhysand, the only person who can save her, bring her back from the brink? Completed. TW Implied suicide, rape/sa, anti Elain.

Of Shadows and Light by TheTeaQueen Part 2 of In the name of healing and happiness. Technically more of a Gwynriel fic, but does have some Nessian since it follows the aftermath of Of death and Resurrection, only Azriel, Gwyn & Elain are the main focus. Ties up a lose thread or two from part 1, and is 100% Anti Elain. Completed. TW Implied child abuse, implied suicide, torture.

Of Reopened Wounds and Retribution by TheTeaQueen Part 3 of In the name of healing and happiness. A trip to the human lands to discuss the treaty leads Nesta to face Thomas Mandray again. This time, she has family willing to go to hell and back for her. Incomplete. TW Implied rape/sa, panic attack.

Lady Death and Her Kingdom by TheTeaQueen Amren pushes Nesta too far, causing her to awaken a strange new power. TW Implied child abuse. Incomplete.

The Hike, Alternatively by TheTeaQueen An alternative take on The Hike from Hell, where Nesta attempt to TW commit suicide TW, and Cassian realises just how messed up their methods, and the events leading up to the hike are. Written for Suicide prevention month. Completed. TW Self harm, suicide, The Hike.

To Pay a Debt by TheTeaQueen When Nesta sees that Feyre didn't include her in any of the paintings, she does the only thing she can think of; Run. Incomplete. TW, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentioned sa.

Burning from the Inside out by TheTeaQueen An au where Nesta's secretly lived with Chronic pain her whole life, only for the cauldron and her new powers to exacerbate it. Complete. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, suicidal thoughts, ableism, internalised ableism.

The Whole Truth by TheTeaQueen An alternative take where Nesta's deepest secret comes to light when Elain explodes at the dinner table one night. This forces the IC and her sisters to reevaluate their perception of her. Incomplete. TW: Child abuse, suicidal thoughts/ideation, forced prostitution, sexual assault (underage!!)

Set my Soul Alight by moodymelanist Nesta finds solace in Autumn. No Nessian. Completed. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced torture.

Falling by becauseofreading Another take on what happens after Cassian tells Nesta that everybody hates her. Incomplete. TW Self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood and injuries.

Destruction and Renewal by Vorbi Nesta is given the opportunity to form new alliances. Initially, she scoffs at the idea, but after a small, final act of disrespect from the IC, she decides to see where this new path leads us. Incomplete. TW Implied/referenced abuse.

No One Likes A Mad Woman by Separatist_Apologist You made her like that. Nesta has had her choices tripped away, so when Eris offers her an out, she takes it. No happy ending for Cassian. The Night Court gets no sympathy. Completed. TW Domestic violence

A Cup of Tea by shaziskhalid After realising that the Cassian of her dreams isn't the Cassian she's mated to, everything changed. (MCU! Wanda, modern Au). Incomplete.

Promise by Daughterofthesea Begins during that scene where Cassian follows Nesta, and ends with him understanding just how much pain she's in, and deciding to actually help her.

Stay here (I love you, but I need another year) by littleplease Nesta is tired, and losing the will to even try. Complete. TW Apathy, depression, vuage suicidal thoughts.

What you did to me (I'll spend my life trying to rise) by filthymouthedslut Nesta is done with the IC's holier-than-thou attitude. No ship. Incomplete (3/4) as of updating this post.

Everybody hates you by Booksandsushi A different take on the time Cassian tells Nesta that Everybody hates her. Incomplete.

Change is good by Booksandsushi Nesta figures her life out on her own. Complete.

Truth of the Heart By TheFreakPanda The months after ACOFAS leave Nesta presented with some new opportunities. Full of therapy and dancing. Completed.

I've Always Liked to Play with Fire by catalyste After her village is destroyed and family killed by Hybern following Feyre's revenge mission, you wake up healed in the NC. After Lucien leaves you there, you find yourself trapped with Nesta Archeron, who turns out to be an unlikely ally. The two of you plan your escape with the help of Eris Vansera. Polly, Neris/reader, with IC bashing, and dragons. Incomplete.

The relapse by Janes_Melodies Something broke in Nesta when she learned about the results of the vote, knowing it was a tie until Feyre. She was trying for her sisters and for Cassian, yet they still think she's cruel enough to create a whole new trove just to kill them all. For the first time in months, she gave into her desires. Incomplete. TW Alcoholism, Implied/referenced self harm, suicidal thoughts.

You're safe now by annieleonhardtsring Rewrite of the scene where Nesta falls down the stairs, and Azriel stands up for her. Complete.

Love her how she should be loved by julemmaes Cassian overhears his family making some not-so-subtle comments about Nesta, and it pushes him over the edge. So he goes to bat for her, blaming his friends for everything wrong with their relationship with his girlfriend. Modern AU completed.

The Nest World - The Next Life by bat_called_phil ACOSF canon divergence fic that starts with the intervention, but diverts when Nesta takes a stand for herself, and Feyre starts holding Rhys accountable. TW Implied/referenced suicide, Implied/referenced abortion.

A Court of Spite and Isolation by xxTAO Nesta choses the human lands, separated from the IC and the distractions from her trauma, she spirals. Incomplete (4/6) TW Suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced alcoholism, Suicide attempt.

Come Home by Rhysanoodle Cassian learns how Nesta's been living since she came to Illyria, and which fears haunt her the most. Complete.

[joydoesathing]

what would happen if anatolii knew about this. What was Nacho thinking just running away was he that different compared to now

*cracks knuckles*

hoooooo boy, get ready cuz i got a whole character arc below

(again this is just my take on the story, so it's highly headcanonned)

"I'm sorry for running away. I'll make sure to make it up to you and your mother..."

nacho was more reckless back in his former years when he was first having a fling with frances. but when he did get her pregnant, he realized that he messed big time. realized that not only he's got a child on the way but has no means to provide for them both and isn't personally ready for big commitments like being a father or even getting married. why would he be? he was barely even 20. he never really thought that far ahead.

he didn't want to ask his parents for help. they'd definitely kill him if they figured out he got this girl they never met pregnant. he didn't also have the guts to tell frances the bad news.

his buddies at the time, who were just as reckless and short-sighted as he was, recommended that he could just... leave all that complicated and deep mess with frances behind him. just run away.

i mean he could do it. like him, frances probably wouldn't turn and complain to her parents first for help (for the same reason nacho wouldn't turn to his own parents for help) . his parents doesn't even know they had a fling together. even if she will become desperate enough to find them and try to turn to them for help, would they even accept her? let alone believe her?

"you wouldn't get in trouble. there's no one else that knows about it than you two."

" i mean, i'm sure she'll figure out something. she should know at least the basics."

that's what his buddies kept on assuring him. but even he could see that just up and deserting frances like that is just straight up cruel.

but was he in any room to still complain? it's not as if he had the resources nor the strong will to commit and face the heavy consequences of his actions.

and with that, he ran off but wracked with the small feeling of guilt.

while he tried having his new start, that feeling of guilt just grew bigger and bigger and started eating away at his conscience. he kept on trying to deny and delude himself with the words of his buddies, but it did nothing to stop that guilt completely.

it made him finally see that he's nothing more than a dirty dog running with its tail between its legs. a jerk and a coward. he had a feeling that he was going to have his comeuppance and it wasn't going to be pretty.

and so it did, a year and a half after he ran. his partner, depressed and completely driven to madness , tracked him down and almost murdered him in a psychotic rage.

he was forced to see the result of his cowardice and neglect. he didn't blame frances for doing that. who wouldn't go mad if they've been abandoned by someone who thought they could trust?

after she was stopped, he decided not to press charges on frances , although that didn't stop her from still getting institutionalized. being incapable to care for her child, nacho finally decided to man up and take his and frances' child up as his own and take raise him.

he knew that it's such a scummy thing to do. to just NOW take up the responsibility when everything was blown out of proportion. but he decided to not run away now, just because of that. his son needed a parent more than anything else now.

as he went on raising anatolii, he felt that he had absolutely nothing to be praised for. unknowing people says: "you're such a strong man, raising a son all by yourself."

he just did what he should have done from the start. right now, he takes care of his son wholeheartedly as an act of repentance, for both frances and anatolii. to show that he's truly sorry for being the coward he is.

for now, nacho is keeping the truth the whole mess between him and frances well-kept from anatolii. the only thing that anatolii does know about his mom is that she's alive but never drops by to visit due to some "personal problems and conflicts". but nacho always assures him that his mother loves him no matter what.

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Eyes" - BurningCheese Short Story #4

I have a bunch of asks in my inbox, and I would like to answer them... but I also want to get this short story finished and posted before my SO nags me about going to bed super late again lol.

I'll answer people's messages tomorrow! In the meantime, enjoy this short! Thanks for your patience and thanks to those who reached out! I always enjoy and appreciate people taking the time to tell me their thoughts!

'Were they always like this...?' Golden Cheese wondered. 'So bright...'

Burning Spice returned her curious stare with a smile and nothing more. He quite liked this unprompted attention, honestly. Just how long would it last, if he kept choosing not to interrupt it?

'So bold... I don't think I've ever seen anything like it...'

"Birdie~" he called to her playfully. (He couldn't help it. She looked so cute when she concentrated that he simply had to say something.)

'So red... The shade of White Lily's eyes is so much more... calm. Subdued.'

"Little bird?" His smile began to falter.

'And his pupils... Were they always like this, as well? Was he born with a beast's eyes, right from the very beginning?'

"Little thief?" His tone sounded less playful and more... confused.

'What is it... Just what do I see...'

"Golden Cheese?"

"Hm?"

Only now did she realize that Burning Spice had invaded her personal space (as he was wont to do) by leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. Perhaps that was why his eyes seemed so bright, at least in part - they were hardly an inch from her own now.

When he knew she was back in the waking world, his smile returned. "There you are," he said. "Why are you staring at me, little thief? Can I help you with something?"

"I..." She averted her gaze from him, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to be so rude. I was... lost in thought."

"I could tell," he chuckled. "And where did your mind wander off to? Somewhere to do with me?"

"Nowhere important," she said, still refusing to look at him.

"Come on. Tell me. Sing for me, pretty bird." He cupped her chin. "You don't want to keep being rude, do you? Not looking at someone when they talk to you is very rude. Turn those pretty eyes back to me and speak your mind."

"Eyes..." she murmured. She did what he asked and looked at him again, her gaze once more unwavering and... curious. "That's what I was thinking about, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes," she said. "That's where my mind wandered off to, Burning Spice. Straight into your eyes."

"Ah, I see." His lips curled into another teasing smile. "What about them? You like them?"

"They're very unique," she told him. "I know plenty of people with red eyes... including a dragon and a man made of fire... and even their eyes aren't quite like yours."

"I certainly hope not. I'd rather you stare into my eyes than theirs."

She made a face at him and gently swatted at his cheek, earning her another chuckle. "I mean it," she said. "I'm not saying this lightly. Your eyes are... one of a kind."

"Such high praise," he purred. "I think and say the same of yours, pretty bird."

"I feel... drawn to them, when I look at them," she continued, past his little attempt at flirting. "I'm not sure how else to put it. I see them and I think of..."

"Of...?" he echoed.

"...Of many things," she eventually finished. "They aren't static. They grow brighter, dimmer... I almost wonder if you change them at will."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't." He leaned in the slightest bit closer, letting his nose brush against hers. "Regardless, what do they make you think of? What do you see? Tell me. I'm curious."

She paused, losing herself in thought for another moment. Burning Spice stayed put, patient but eager, waiting for her answer.

"I see... a star," she finally told him. "I see stars, shining brilliantly within the vastness of space. I see them glowing, twinkling, burning so bright... and I see them falling apart. Collapsing in on themselves. Dying valiantly in an all-consuming flame. These beacons of light in a deep, dark ocean, succumbing to loneliness at long last... but not with a whisper. With a bang. With aplomb. With the same brilliance they had possessed all their lives."

His smile grew. "Yeah? What else?"

"I see a great inferno," she continued. "A spark that grew out of control and into something too powerful for anyone to stop. Waves of fire crashing down, consuming everything in their path in mindless fury. Swallowing a forest whole and spitting out its ashes. Striking primal fear in the hearts of all who see it. Rampaging across the world until either someone puts an end to its reign of terror, or there is nothing left to consume, and so it consumes itself instead."

He hummed. For a moment, just a moment, his smile faltered again. He composed himself quickly - but not quickly enough for Golden Cheese not to notice.

"I see... a fire pit," she said, a bit more carefully this time. "A stove top, an oven, a nest of metal and charcoal... I see someone hard at work, their brows knit, tending to the flames as a mother tends to her child. Hammering away at a piece of unrefined steel, sprinkling salt into a pan, carefully molding a mound of clay. Perhaps only for a few hours, perhaps for days and nights. But at the end, when they're finished, I see them reach into those flames they cared for so diligently and pull out the fruits of their labor. A fine sword. A delicious meal. A beautiful vase. Something new, something great. From within this force of death and destruction still comes creation and ingenuity."

A blush began to creep across Burning Spice's face. "I..."

"Now, I don't see these things all at once, all the time," she told him. "They... change. The flames in your eyes rise and fall. They glow, they simmer, they explode. Never a dull moment, in those eyes of yours."

"Yeah?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she echoed quietly.

"Then... if they always change..." He let his hand wander up from her chin to her cheek, his fingers ghosting over her skin. "What do they change into... when I do this?"

He kissed her. Slowly, deeply, those fiery eyes still open and gazing into her own. And she stared right back at him, shining gold gazing into smoldering embers. Red, orange, yellow, white... all the colors of summer. Heat and light and unashamed passion, boring into her soul.

When he pulled away, he let himself linger, his lips still just barely brushing against her own. She could feel his hot breath on her lips, on her skin. Still taste it in her mouth.

"And now?" he asked. "What do you see now?"

She didn't answer. She only continued staring at him in silence, lost in his warm gaze.

"Tell me, Golden Cheese," he insisted, caressing her cheek. It was a deep red and hot to the touch. "What do my eyes look like now? What do you see in them?"

"...I..."

He pressed another kiss to her lips. "Tell me," he said again. "Please. I want to know. I must know."

"I see..." She faltered again. Another moment of silence passed before she spoke again.

"I see a hearth," she murmured.

"You do?" He smiled again... with the same warmth and adoration she saw glittering in his eyes. "What about it? What kind?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She closed her eyes, staying still and silent... and then she sighed softly, shaking her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I..."

"Sorry? What for?"

She was already pulling away from him. The spell had seemingly been broken; now she was tearing her eyes away from his own and casting them any which way. Anywhere but him.

"It's rude to stare at people, Burning Spice," she said.

She turned and started walking away, her head slightly bowed. He stood frozen in shock for a moment or two, before he snapped out of it and hurried after her.

"I don't care!" he told her. "Who cares about that? I don't mind if you're rude! Be as rude as you'd like!"

"Sorry," she said quickly, shaking her head again.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Why are you leaving me? At least let me say my piece! Let me tell you what your eyes show me!"

"Maybe another time," she told him, her cheeks turning a shade darker.

"No! Now! Let me do it now!" He rushed up to her side, now keeping perfect pace with her. "Ignoring others when they talk to you is rude too, remember?! If you don't want to be rude, then stay! Stay with me! Let us tell each other more of our thoughts!"

They stayed in this loop for a little while. Golden Cheese with her arms crossed and face a deep scarlet, walking away from her own foolishness with increasing speed. Burning Spice with his pleading look, those telltale flames now crackling frantically, always hot on her heels and fighting to take back their little moment.

Until she had enough of their charade and took off into the air, with a flap of her wings so sudden and forceful that the gust of wind nearly knocked him over, and he found himself pouting after her as she flew up and away.

--------------

A supernova. That's what that first thing Golden Cheese talks about is. She sees supernovae in Burning Spice's eyes. Haha.

Something I often like to do (or attempt to do) when I write is... try to tell people what something is without outright stating it. Describe an object without mentioning its name. Let people put those pieces together themselves. Let their minds wander. Leave a few spots on the canvas blank, so they can fill them in on their own. It's a fun little challenge. A guessing game. Keeps people reading, if only to figure out what you're referring to, before they skip to the glossary out of boredom or frustration.

Things lend themselves to a lot of fascinating imagery if and when you allow yourself to take on that sort of challenge and try to view them that way. Go look at a plant or a mug and try to tell yourself what it is without saying it's a plant or a mug. You start to train your mind the more you do it. Might help you write better. Hopefully. I hope it's working for me.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im gonna be honest, I keep rereading pt 3 and 4 of the slasher handler and fantasising about how incredibly sexy it would be if kyle acquired a handler of his own by accident or on purpose and he finally understands simon's obsession now 😵‍💫

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle and Simon aren't friends, per se. They only met through Johnny, because Johnny is sloppy and impulsive and never knows how to clean up his own messes. It's offensive to Kyle's meticulous nature and, apparently, appeals to Simon's need for a pet.

Since Johnny's been serving time for the last nine months, with nine months to go (sloppy work, he's lucky Kyle was able to clean things up), Simon's gone to ground. Every now and then, news of his work pops up. Once, one of the victims had ended up at the hospital Kyle works at.

"The Ghost Killer strikes again! Ah...! Run...!" Kyle had muttered to himself, taking the unconscious young man's rapidly fading vitals. They'd found him in an abandoned building, an old hospital well outside of Simon's usual territory. Which means something has changed.

That evening, sipping a beer, he'd called Price on his burner.

"What can I do for you, Kyle?"

"Just letting you know that your dog is out of the yard. The big one, not the terrier," Kyle answers with a smile. "He left behind a bit of a mess, but there was only one little rabbit left suffering. I handled it."

Price had hummed on the other end. "I saw the news. 'S not like him. I'll check in." And then he'd hung up.

Months later, and Kyle finally has an answer when he catches Simon trailing behind a woman not once but three times. He's surprised to see her face, an old classmate and the justification for his second ever human kill. He's almost sad to know that she's been marked for death. When he hears about the Ski Lodge massacre and the Ghost copycat, he has a drink in her honor.

So it's a surprise when she reaches out to him online and asks to meet.

She's frazzled and wild-eyed when she sits in the chair across from him. She's also wearing one of Simon's beanies. And when she reveals what Simon's been up to, he can't help but laugh.

Simon - the weird, off-putting, murderous Ghost - has somehow managed to find the one person in the world who devotes herself to a project more than him. The Final Girl Girlfriend.

They're both doomed.

Kyle begins the painstaking process of reviewing his daily journals for mentions of Simon and their shared connections. It's very unlikely that Simon would be caught alive, and even more unlikely that he'd say anything about Kyle or Johnny or Price. But unlikely isn't impossible, so it's important to start getting his stories straight now.

Reviewing, flagging, and annotating his journals from his initial meeting with Johnny to now takes a month and three days. It's always an interesting process, looking at his life with the advantage of hindsight. There's always a new fascinating pattern to examine. For example, that first summer, he'd meet with Johnny every other week, and two and six days later, he'd gradually step up a patient's blood thinners.

Another pattern that's emerged is that he hasn't dated anyone for more than 35 days in the last three years. That's about as long as it takes for his exacting nature to become... a conflict. It's not much of a problem. He's a nurse, he works long hours. He's got a gym routine and volunteers at the local pet rescue once a week. He's a part of the community, so he doesn't stick out as a loner. But he's also solidly at a point in his life where someone would expect him to have a partner.

He makes an online dating profile. It takes a week for him to delete the app.

"Darlene," he greets the head nurse with a smile and her favorite coffee at the beginning of his next shift. "How are you today?"

"Kyle." As always, she barely glances at him, just holds out her hand for her drink. "You're early. What do you want?"

She's right, he's thirty minutes early. He grins. "You wound me. Can't I just want to know how a beautiful woman is doing?"

Darlene gives him a blank look over the top of her bifocals. "Save it for the maternity ward, Garrick. What do you want?"

"Just wanna know the lay of the land," he says, coming around the desk and taking the seat next to her. He likes Darlene because she only expects him to be coy for a short time. "Been on the apps, trying to date. But my hours make things difficult. You know everybody's business. How is anyone in a relationship around here?"

"The surgeons are all on meth, the rest of the doctors are on coke, and the nurses are either fucking each other or their high school sweethearts," Darlene says, dry as a desert. "You know this already. What do you actually want?"

"That's it," he says with a shrug. "Just want to know who's not seeing anyone, or if you know of someone at another campus with the time."

She takes a sip of her coffee and thinks for a moment. "Stay off the psych and plastics floors. Maternity floor's about to get a whole new batch since all of those idiots got pregnant within three months of each other. But there's something in the water up there, so unless you also want a baby, I'd say leave them alone."

"James is on the maternity floor," Kyle points out.

"James cheated on his boyfriend and his side piece with another nurse," Darlene points out, settling into her coffee and gossip. "Which is another reason to stay away from plastics, but also trauma and rads. I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Doesn't come up much," Kyle dismisses, sipping his own coffee.

By the time Kyle has to clock in, they've explored the pros and cons of almost every department. The prospects are pretty grim. Maybe being single isn't the worst thing in the world.

He makes a point of spending time with the other nurses for the next month. He goes out for drinks and karaoke, attends a couple of baby showers. Lets on to a couple of gossips that he's looking, tells another that he's not sure he has time to date. Enjoys the conclusion of a project when a racist old bastard finally has the heart attack he can't bounce back from.

And then the nurse coroner flags the death for investigation.

Kyle doesn't panic because technically all deaths in the hospital are investigated. But he is intrigued. His own notes show that the patient's condition was well within the expected parameters of recovery and relapse. His medications were administered appropriately while Kyle was on shift, and the hydrogen peroxide added to his IV would have been nigh undetectable.

In the end, the hospital is not determined to be at fault for the death, and that's all that administration cares about. But the cause of death is changed from heart attack to embolism in the record, and that is intriguing.

"Knock knock," Kyle says, poking his head into the office area of the morgue. He expects to see Dennis, the older gentleman running the morgue unit, who waves back at him. He doesn't expect the new face, sitting across the desk from him.

"Good morning, Kyle," Dennis greets, waving him in. "Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

"Can't," Kyle says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The new nurse gives him a no-nonsense handshake and a nod. They don't say much beyond their name, and Kyle is pleased to put a face to the name on the investigation into his last project. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he couldn't stay long, so he says his goodbyes.

But when his next completed project is flagged for investigation again, he decides that maybe it's time to take an interest.

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

[Twst x Obey Me!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 4

PREVIOUS CHP.: PROLOGUE 3

Thank you guys for the likes, reblogs and comments.

Also, to the people who became my followers, I'll be forever grateful for that😊

CW: When MC gets mistaken as a guy, they get referred to as he/him, but the problem is that there's too many males around the MC.

So, I've decided to color the pronouns blue when it's MC that's being addressed. Just to avoid confusion.

CLARIFICATION: The headmaster, and MC knows that Yuu is from another world, so MC decided to play along and pretend that they're from the same world as Yuu. (The human world where MC came from is mostly similar to the human world that Yuu describes. i.e. landmarks, cultural, knowledge, current trends, anime and manga are all mostly the same.)

REMEMBER: Read this before the chapter.

Experience changes people.

If you see MC doing something you think you won't do and you decide to complain about it, remember this:

• You act the way you do because of the things that you've gone through in your life.

• MC is the same.

• They experienced a lot of traumatic events and almost lost their lives a fuck-ton of times.

• Because of that, they've changed. They've diverged from being you into the MC that they are now.

• The life you're living now shall be treated as the MC's canonical past.

• Also, because The Obey Me!cast feels bad from all the times you suffered and almost died because of them, they tend to overcompensate you.

• You get dressed in the finest of fabrics, most luxurious jewels, as well as housed and fed with the best things that the three realms have to offer.

• You don't take them for granted, but years of living with that lifestyle had raised your standards to new heights and changed the way that you act towards certain things.

• You're free to make up your own head canons if you don't like mine, also y'all can give me feedback if you want so I can improve my work.

• This story will be set a few years after the canon of the Obey Me games.

• • • • •

Who would've thought that it would be a bad idea to try to trick someone who literally reeks of luxury to live in an old, bout-to-fall-apart dormitory?

Well, certainly not Crowley.

That fact became known when 'The shady looking dorm leader™' and also, the tablet decided to tag along with you, Yuu and Crowley, but then had to help Yuu in holding you back so that you wouldn't beat the ever living crap out of the headmaster the moment he dared to bring y'all in front of this rustic establishment and say "It had charm". (Too many You's)

Oh really? really?? Oh you'll see real charm when I beat you straight into the afterlife you greasy son of a bitc–

*Ehem*

It did not end well.

So instead of that, the headmaster had to temporarily put you and your fellow stranded-in-dis-school-human into the infirmary as your temporary abode and promised to fix the shoddy dorm so that it can safely house people in it. (Grim will appear in the future, dw)

*Que Azul tryna make you stay in Octavinelle and you vehemently declining that offer.*

Also, you're starting to get creeped-out by the floating tablet that keeps following you around and won't stop with taking pictures. there's also the small maniacal giggles coming out of the device.

• • • • • •

So there you two are, two people that've been kidnapped by this school's fuckin carriage are now bonding in the infirmary and distracting each other by venting about problems back home. (You two are too wary to be able to sleep properly.)

Like, yes Yuu, I'm in a polyamorous with more than a dozen problematic individuals.

Yes, it works out. somehow

Damn, three assignments due tomorrow all from the same subject? Have you ever tried cheating off of your classmates?

Oh— wait what?! a classmate from biology was caught fucking with a professor in a classroom!? Seriously??

No, I unfortunately no longer have a grasp on the concept of private space and poverty.

Yes, maintaining a relationship with a lot of people at the same time can be hard.

A lot of them are rich.

Wait, a seatmate of yours really gave two free expensive sketch pads just because you asked?? Where can I find that person??

Yes they all act like my sugar daddies and my man-children in one way or another.

No, don't you dare pimp yourself out, okay? There may be a lot of people in my life but the important thing is that we all love each other.

We support, comfort, protect, and guide each other to the best we can.

No— that didn't happen in a day, I had to bend over backwards and almost die a shit-ton of times before I managed to wiggle myself firmly into the hearts of those fuckers.

...Q- Questions about our sex life will be automatically ignored.

Just.. be nice to others, even if it's seemingly stupid.

Unless they are absolute scum then just maintain distance.

You just gotta eyeball it to figure out when to stop being nice to someone.

Never and I mean NEVER treat anyone badly unless they did something unforgivable to you.

Don't call me kind. It's easier to have a grasp on other people if you're nice.

Pft— You once saw a book called "How to be a sugar baby 101" in the school library?! And you saw your principal reading it?!

Sure-sure, I'll help you with your math homework— wait a second.. Seriously?? We've been kidnapped, I ain't allowing you to do math. Where the hell did you even hide that thick-as-fuck test sheet anyways?? Up your ass?!

• • • •

You sigh for the third time this hour, looking at Yuu who's making a "Mom.. I threw up in the carpet... I'm sowwy🥺" expression as they stand beside your bed.

"What happened?"

Yuu winced, feeling embarrassed as they hear you talk to them like a disappointed parent, they had failed to appeal to Crowley about becoming a temporary student of this school and now had to be a janitor/errand kid.

"The headmaster said that I'll be the handy-man of the campus while he searches for a way to get us home..."

You feel a vein in your head throb and your eye start to twitch by of the sheer audacity being shown in front of your face.

You are now feeling the immense urge to hex that bird-bitch.

Satan sat straight in his seat, speaking out to the others in the meeting table.

"I can feel irritation and the urge to curse someone again." He said.

It would've been funny if this was another situation.

"That's definitely from MC, isn't it? You mentioned being half-asleep and feeling MC get agitated through your pact mark, right?" Diavolo asked.

"Yes, at least our pacts are still intact..." Satan nodded.

"Great, we can use this to monitor MC even if they're far away." Lucifer stated.

Countless search-parties and interrogations have already been conducted, but they're still clueless on where you can be or who could've taken you.

Even Barbatos couldn't see what had happened.

They're starting to get agitated, MC..

• • • • •

Jade watched as Azul frantically drafts and redrafts a new plan of his.

It seems that something caught the eye of their housewarden in the ceremony today.

"What could be so eye-catching that you're in such a hurry to obtain it, Azul?" Jade couldn't contain his curiosity and asked.

"It's a new student, Jade." Azul started.

"He possesses such a large amount of magical artifacts in his hands, It's unbelievable! They were all high quality too!"

Jade blinks.

"Don't you have enough magical artifacts around?"

Jade is confusion.

"You don't know it because you weren't there." Azul narrowed his eyes at Jade.

"I first thought those jewelry of his were similar to the ones that you can buy with enough money in annual auctions, but then I realized that it's very likely that those jewelry are customized."

"...How so?"

"So I decided to try and take a closer look, but when I actually got closer and almost touched one of them, I felt a strong thrum of magic that I haven't felt before!"

Oh?

Now that got Jade's attention.

Azul has been exposed to a lot of strong, powerful people and magical artifacts over the years that he and his twin were following this dormleader of theirs and yet there was actually an artifact so strong that he can feel strong waves of magic by just almost touching it?

How curious..... If the magic of the artifact was so strong, why didn't Azul sense it up until he literally almost held it in his hands?

Seems like this year won't be boring, after all..

• • • • •

BONUS: Someone has a crush.

"Brother, Your package has arrived— What are you... Are you making fan art of Mr. [L/n]...?"

Idia screams like a dumb girl in a horror movie as he tries to block the screen with his body.

"O-ORTHO?! WH-WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT KNOCKING FIRST??!"

"And... what's with the pose?"

Ortho tilts head innocently, confused on why his brother is drawing a new student in a pose that can often be seen on videos that are called "Thirst traps". he's still confused about why they're called that way.

Idia: "O- ORTHO THIS ISN'T ANYTHING BAD I SWEARAHGJSI—"

*Starts to fuckin steam*

"brOTHER YOU'RE BURNING THE CHAIR!"

"AH CRAP!"

← Pr.3 | Chapter List | Pr. 5 →

Don't forget to like, comment and reblog guys, It's a big help :3

What do y'all think of the chapter? pls respond, I need feedback🥺

I woke up today and decided to kick canon's ass.

Elae: Thanks for reading this far.☺️

See y'all next time~

Next chapter: Prologue 5

@f0urleafedcl0ver

@a-traveling-void-human

@speckle-meow-meow

@leviathans-tail-scales

@citrus-cinnamon

@prefesro