#and only 500 words so far lol

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

.

[woollypoison]

Comeback of a lifetime

Fromis_9 Lee Nagyung x male reader THIS IS A REUPLOAD! Maybe you've seen this work before, maybe you haven't. It used to be uploaded on a blog called K-DGN, run by two people. That blog got destroyed, and now I run this blog by myself, posting only 100% original kdol fanfic content. word count: 5,803

At some point you had to face reality. Your entire life revolved around playing League of Legends, watching kpop fancams, and disappointing your parents. You were already 22 years old, way older than any academy player active nowadays. Making your professional debut would be a miracle. You weren’t bad at the game, far from it, actually. You consistently hit challenger rank getting to the top 500 in all of South Korea. The only thing that eluded you was that top 100 rank, the milestone needed to get picked up by a professional team. It was never easy to make these kinds of decisions, but you vowed today was the last day you’d spend at this PC bang. Thousands of hours you spent in this place, but today would be the final one. Goodbye, comfy gaming chairs. Goodbye, on demand snack ordering. Goodbye, staying up to long past midnight grinding ELO. Goodbye, all the other regulars who you’d grown distantly attached to.

These regulars included the 16-year-old duo stack you’d been seeing come in every day for the last three years. You believed that one of them would make it pro while the other was just a stepping stone. It also included that 30-something-year-old, still grinding Starcraft 2. A grim sight of a potential future. Finally, it also included the cute girl that was around your age, who would appear and disappear again sporadically for long stretches of time. She’d always be tucked away in some corner of the establishment, wearing a variation of dark colored covering clothes, baseball caps and a black mouth mask. All you could tell about her appearance was her alluring eyes, and that she had a body that no hoodie could hide.

They were all present today, as if cosmically aware of your departure and giving you one grand goodbye. You were so deprived of normal human interaction that the delusion was almost enough to make you wipe away a tear. You normally weren’t one to focus on anything other than your game, but today you thought to yourself that since it was your last day anyways, you might as well take a risk. Today, you took place on the computer next to the cute girl you’d always admired from afar.

You couldn’t blame her for dressing the way she did, hiding herself. You go to a PC bang to focus on gaming, not to get hit on. If she dressed up, you were sure she’d have no time to focus on her matches. This was the first time you sat somewhere where you could see her screen. 

You could never confirm before today, but you had a sneaking suspicion she was also into LoL. You heard her rage about “my son of a bitch jungler”, or her “ dumbass inting support” on rare occasions. She seemed to be able to keep her calm most of the time though. Now, you could finally take a peek at her monitor and confirm it to be true.

A thought entered itself in your head that today you could finally use those skills you’d been honing all these years to impress her, and maybe you could get a fresh start on some social contact and a way out of this miserable life. Your little peak revealed her rank as well. She was currently down in the trenches of Silver 2. Not very impressive, but a good sign that you had a shot at impressing her. Hopefully.

Step 1: Log in to your LoL account. Step 2: Play a game and hope she looks over at your monitor and sees how good you are. Step 3: Have her fawn over how good you are. Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, but that's all you had the courage for today.

Uh-oh. Maybe it was better to think of a plan while you weren’t still OBVIOUSLY staring at her screen. She had noticed, her eyes slowly peeking over towards yours as you made eye contact. You could tell the tip of her nose was scrunched up like an angry cat telling you to back off. This was the first time you had a real chance to take in her eyes, and you felt like you could drown in them. They were big, round and somewhere in between cute and sexy. Enough to instantly fluster you. They felt familiar as well. Like you could swear you had seen these eyes a thousand times before. You shook it off and took the hint, finally looking away and leaving her be. You settled in to your little spot for the night and started queueing. Your games went surprisingly well. Better than usual, even. It was almost as if the universe heard you were wanting to quit, and decided to entice you to stay. You were on a roll, win after win after win. The booth next to you, well, you weren’t looking anymore, but the sounds were enough to tell. She was raging, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. Against your better judgment, you decided to sneak a fast peak over at her setup. Big mistake. Seemingly possessed with some supernatural gift, she immediately caught your eyes darting over to her, and glared at you as if to say “you’re next”. You quickly started looking back over at your own screen. She… wasn’t however. It was impossible to ignore her staring daggers at you, peering over while slowly moving closer and peeking at your screen. You weren’t in-game yet, just sitting in queue for 12 minutes already (as you were used to for high-ELO games), but your rank was clearly on display. Did this somehow count as step 2 from your plan? “Hey, nerd.” cut through the silence, and also through your hopes of reaching part 3 of your plan. “Can you help me out here?” She continued, in a surprisingly bashful, cutesy tone. Her chair was fully turned towards yours at this point but her face was turned toward the floor, hiding behind her facemask and under her baseball cap. You expected scorn, a giant explosion in your face, but instead she was acting cute? Did your plan work? “What’s… up?” You replied hesitantly. She responded by turning her chair towards her monitor again and pointing her hand flatly at the chat log of her currently active game.

You stood up and hovered over her shoulder as you studied what was up. The screen was gray and she was waiting to respawn. The girl was playing marksman and had a current KDA of 3/7/1. Suffice it to say it was not the greatest performance, but that wasn’t her point. “Can you believe this fucking guy?!” She berated the enemy marksman, who had spent the entire game flaming and mocking her in chat after every kill he got on her. “You want me to get revenge on him for you?” She was taken aback a little, her eyes squinting at you like you just said something insane. “What? I wanted you to tell me they’re a piece of shit and for you to compliment me so I’d feel better about myself.” Her response made you feel like you did say something stupid, but to your surprise she got up from her chair. “Right, I mean, they are a fucking piece of shit,” you responded, laying it on a little thick, “and they are lucky to even be in a game with a cutie like you.” Your response made her chuckle a couple of high pitched laughs, before taking in a big breath. “That’s more like it!” She clapped her hands, satisfied with your response. “Now sit down and get revenge for me, please?” Her hands clasped together, unifying in front of her belly button and causing her to push her bosom together. You hadn’t noticed before now, but her hoodie had zipped down slightly, allowing you to take a peek at what she was working with. You couldn’t help but glance, but what took you back the most was that when you looked back at her face, her eyes were still fixated on yours. She definitely saw you look, but she either acted like she didn’t see, or that she didn’t care that you looked. Whatever the case was, you sat down in that chair and were ready to lock in.

It took you less than one minute to bait her opponent in, completely outmaneuvering him and getting that shut down. “That was amazing! Serves him right!” The girl erupted, impressed by your display of digital dominance. This was child’s play for you though, since defeating a silver player is a given. She leaned over your left side, her chest slightly pressing into your shoulder, getting you even more worked up than you already were.

“Well, I should get back to my seat.” You relented, considering this a job well done. Getting a chance to show off your skills to a girl you could only assume was the cutest you’d ever seen in your life was a good end to your career here you thought. She disagreed. Strongly. “What? No! You can’t stop now, you have to completely destroy him!” She pleaded, clearly having bigger plans for you. “I really shouldn’t, you know, it’s against the terms of service and- ” you objected. As much as you enjoyed the praise, you really wanted to get some gaming against some good players today. “I’ll make it worth your while every time you kill them?” She rebuffed your rejection, ever so slightly provoking you by further unzipping her hoodie revealing a low cut black tee underneath. “Say less!” was all you replied, before reseating yourself back in her chair. You were locked in like a man possessed, not even noticing how you just missed the 14 minute queue pop on your own computer, destroying any chance of having a good game any time soon.

Your target came back to lane, and like clockwork, it barely took a full minute to send him back to spawn. As promised, the mystery girl delivered. She got real close to you, pressing her soft chest against you once more. Her face, this time even closer than before. So close that you could feel the warmth of her breath disperse through her facemask on your skin. Her lips were mere inches removed from your ear.

“You are so fucking good at this, oppa.. We should play together some time and I’ll let you pick me up and carry me.” Her sultry tone effortlessly seduced you, cementing the idea that you would do anything and everything that she’d ask of you. You couldn’t fight the creeping feeling that at this point it wasn’t just her eyes that felt familiar. You could have sworn you’d heard this voice before.

Another minute passes by, and you reward your lane opponent with another one way trip to the respawn fountain. You hated to admit it, but you were trying your absolute best at this point. Making calls, guiding your jungler, leading your team to objectives. If every kill meant a response from her, you had every intention of ending this game with 100 kills.

Your reward this time? She pulled your chair back a little, creating space for her to squeeze in between before planting herself in your lap. Her soft ass pressed up against your waking erection, which you hoped she either didn’t notice or at least pretended to not notice. Her hips bucked and swirled, grinding against your groin no more and no less than two times before settling in and removing any doubt of her not feeling your cock snuggled in between her thighs. Once again, no recognition or scorn was earned for it. “Can you still play like this?” her cutesy voice inquired with her pitch rising, making it impossible to complain even if you wanted to. You gave her a slight nod, finally releasing your breath and looking past the beauty fitting into your shape and refocusing on the game. You had kills to farm. She leaned forward, pressing her ass even more into you, and took control of the keyboard before typing up a storm. With a newfound confidence in your skills, she was now taunting her nemesis. You focused up, and once more scored a kill on your target. It seemed like her taunting worked, and tilted the enemy into trying to prove themselves. She did a little jump in your lap cheering you on. She twisted her upper body towards you, placing both of her hands on your shoulders before retreating one back to remove her face mask and ball cap combo in order to finally reveal herself to you. She left you no time to connect the dots, leaning down towards the left side of your face and planting a kiss on your cheek. “Keep this up, and I’ll make sure you never forget this.” As much as this excited you, the revelation of you connecting the dots on why her eyes and voice felt familiar was too grand to not remark on. The girl sitting in your lap right was none other than Lee Nagyung, the visual from one of your favorite girl groups, Fromis_9! “Holy shit you’re Nagyung!” You couldn’t help but exclaim, maybe even against your better judgment. “And you’re going right back to your own seat if you don’t quiet down!” She scowled back, her teeth exposed through her lips as she brought her finger before her mouth, shushing you. She looked around desperately to see if your little stunt had caused any complications, but it was a slow day at the PC bang. Luckily for you, nobody had seemed to hear you.

“Understood! I’m sorry, I’m just a big fan.” You continued, pleading your case. A cute smirk adorned her face, before she closed her eyes and gave you a small understanding nod. In the chaos, you had completely lost focus of the game, and only regained it once you noticed your screen going gray and the chat being filled with “Great, our Jinx is back to inting” messages. Nagyung didn’t even need to tell you to focus up as you took immediate control of the game again, guiding your team on what to do until you respawned. Laning phase had ended by this point, but it was still a Silver lobby. This meant that the laning phase usually just shifted to everyone laning in the mid lane. When your screen turned into color, you rushed mid lane where you last spotted your target, and took him down again without even a hint of trouble. This time his entire team was also there, and you knew you could take them all down. But you backed off. You pinged your team back, your reasoning being the longer this game went on, the more chances you’d have to kill your opponent.

Nagyung kept her promise, and her rewards were ever growing. She pressed B on your keyboard causing you to recall, giving you a slight moment of respite. She palmed her hands over yours, gently lifting them off of the keyboard and mouse, and brought them closer to her body. She guided your hands downwards in between the split of her hoodie and her pants, and finally underneath her t-shirt. Your hands grazed against the warm feeling of her bare skin before being allowed to land on the soft fabric of the sports bra covering her breasts. Nagyung’s grip tightened on yours, forcing you to squeeze onto her soft chest, your thick cock growing ever harder as it pushed into her thighs. She turned her head towards yours ever so slightly, puffing up a moan into your ears.

You could feel your hands melt away into her bosom, but crossing this threshold had unlocked something within you. Her hands start to move yours as if to say your time is up, but you didn’t want to stop before you had had your fun. Your fingertips circled around, making her nipples just that slightest bit harder allowing you to place both between your index and thumb, and pinched them eliciting another much more genuine moan from the girl playing with you. Her hips buckled into you, almost as if she had started grinding on you before you agreed to take your hands away and refocused on earning those rewards.

Sure enough, like a gift on a silver platter, your target showed up once more. Another free kill for you, but this time not without you also taking their tier one mid lane turret. You felt like you’d have to start considering when and where you killed him, or this game might end sooner than you’d like. This time, Nagyung shifted her balance in your lap. She turned her back towards your right side, her entire frame pointing to your left and towards the wall her PC booth was up against. She hooked her left arm around your neck with her entire body being supported by your frame as she hung her legs off of the left side of the chair’s armrest. Her body was now slightly further away from yours. You almost felt like this was becoming a punishment. That was until she started using her hand. Her right hand crossed her body and found its way onto your bulge peeking through your pants. This left no doubt whatsoever that she had felt you pressing into her multiple times, but her soft, dainty little hand caressing the silhouette of your dick left you without complaint. She was applying tender pressure downwards onto your member, her hand shifting around the contours of what she could discern off your cock, gliding up and down as if to tease you. “Get more kills” was the message. She finished teasing you, then made a small request. “Don’t let me fall.” sounded the command, placing both your hands around her thin waist. A little surprise but you did as you were told, focusing your strength now on holding her upright. She took over the controls once more, placing herself in safety before going right back to flaming her adversary. As soon as she was done, she hooked her arm back around you and relinquished control back over to you. “Now kick his ass for me, oppa!” She instructed you, your confidence boosted and your desire to fulfill her request causing you to smirk. She looked back at your face, a little impressed with how serious you were taking this. You were following along with the chat logs, and despite being a Silver 2 in the game, when it came to flaming others she was at least Diamond. Your hands were back on the keyboard, and to your surprise her hand was back on your groin. It was a little harder to perform like this, but she monitored your performance, and judged it still good enough to allow her to have her fun. She started making a little competition out of it, speeding up and slowing down depending on how focused you had to be in the game. You almost began to believe she wanted you to fail, and the smiles she gave you after hearing your moans were enough to solidify that thought.

No problem, you knew you could win against these players with one hand tied behind your back. Sure enough, enemy number one showed up, and met another quick end. You barely escaped death this time however, partially because of Nagyung’s incessant teasing. Your performance earned yourself another reward, one she was more than eager to give to you. Her hands retreated back to herself, and you needed no hint to help her hold her body upright. Nagyung’s hands floated around the base of her hoodie, goading you with how slow she moved. Her fingers twirled around the zipper, softly clasping the metal tab before splitting the two sides apart. Her hands started to lift her shirt from the bottom towards her neck. From behind, nothing had changed. Her hoodie covered everything everyone else in the PC bang could see, but to you, you were now presented with an unimpeded sight of her tits, only covered by a sports bra. She wasn’t done. She did the same with her bra, resting all the fabric right under her neckline exposing her breast to you before pushing them together for your viewing pleasure. They weren’t the biggest tits, but they looked so inviting to bury your face into. As if able to read your mind, Nagyung raised her eyebrow, cocking her head downwards before making you an offer. “You know you can kiss them if you want, oppa. But only if you don’t die.” You were almost surprised. You expected yourself to be more hesitant, but with the way her voice and demeanor lured you in, no resistance was possible. Your face drew closer to her chest, and you posited your lips around one of her nipples. You suckled on it for a couple of seconds, before clasping her pink flesh between your teeth, ever so slight applying pressure. Her moans were like honey to you. Addicting. You couldn’t get enough. As good as your situation had quickly become, you knew you had more kills to farm, so you opened your eyes and looked back towards your screen. Close enough, as you just barely managed to prevent a death. She purred into your ear, proud of you being able to pull back and survive danger once more. You used this opportunity to bait her rival into your team, securing another free and easy kill. This was almost too easy for someone like you, but you weren’t about to back down now. Not a great call. Your team managed to get Baron off of that. This meant the game could be ended at any moment. The reward however? Absolutely worth it. As soon as you secured Baron, Nagyung took over the keyboard again and typed up a storm, really getting under her foe's skin. “Go back to base, I want you to look at me for this next part, oppa.” She whispered into your ear. Her flawless face pulled back while she stared into your eyes, her eyebrows merging in the center of her forehead, pleading with you for what she had in store for you. You licked your lips, instinctively feeling what was about to come before she leaned into you, your lips merging as she kissed you. You felt her tongue prod temporarily into your mouth before you felt her retreating, leaving you breathless as you took in the sight of her biting her bottom lip.

She placed both her hands on the chair's armrests, moving her entire body away from you before climbing under the desk. She rolled your chair a little closer to her, pulling your legs forward off of the chair. Her hands towards the hem of your pants, undoing your button and pulling down your zipper. Her hands moved forward once more, now making their way to the space in between your underwear and your skin before she pulled them down slightly, exposing your cock. You could feel her fingertips graze against the tip of your cock as she slowly tightened her grip around your girth, pulling it out of your underwear. “Look at the fucking size of you…” she cooed. Your cock was hidden beneath the cover of the desk, but Nagyung wasted no time. With her hand already firmly around the base of your dick, she took one final look into your eyes, as wide as you’d ever seen them, like prey caught in a trap, unsure of whether or not they’d survive. You had never been harder in your life. You had no attention left for the game. The only thing in the world that mattered to you right now was burning the image of Nagyung sizing up your cock into your memory. With her bare chest pressed against your knees, she planted the softest kiss against the underside of your cock’s tip. Her tongue extended from in between her lips, tilting her head sideways as she traced the entire length of your shaft. The length of you caused her to have to use her hands to push her body upwards to reach maximum height before reaching your base again. “Oh fuck,” you can’t help but let escape from your soul as she maintained proper eye contact with you. Her wet tongue dragged a trail of spit all along of your cock, the only thing connecting you being that same strand of spit once she pulled back. Her eyes steeled with her resolve, as if to tell herself that she can do this.

Your hips buck as your tip gets engulfed by her warm and inviting mouth, your breaths becoming ragged and irregular as she pulls you in deeper, testing her own limits against your dick. She hesitates for a second, not breaking eye contact once. She had taken a little over half of your dick in her mouth before her eyes began pleading with you, begging as if her actions weren't far enough, but you had been passive enough today. “All the way, babygirl.” You growled back, taking command for the first time today. As if under a magic spell, her eyes rolled back and she pushed past her limit. You could feel the barrier of her throat break as the rest of your length slid effortlessly down her throat. She held it there for a few seconds before releasing you back into the cold room temperature with a loud pop. You cupped her face in your hands, cherishing her like the beautiful, erotic flower she was. It didn’t last long before she took your hands off of her face, wiped the back of her hand on her chin removing any saliva, and gave you a satisfied smile. “Back to the game. I’ll only continue while you play.” Her terms were clear, but before your hands were back on the keyboard and mouse, she added one final clause.

“And if you win the game, I’ll let you cum in my mouth.” She teasingly added, sending you over the edge, your cock throbbing in her hands as a little precum dripped out to her promise. “Looks like this guy agrees.” She chuckled, before locking your tip inside of her mouth.

She stayed like that for a while to see if you would accept her terms, but once she could hear the sounds of the keys of your keyboard clacking, she knew your answer. She began swirling her tongue around your head, sucking all the precum out of you and drooling it back onto you. This went on for a couple of minutes, with her switching her technique to pressing whatever length of you she had in her mouth against the inside of her cheek and popping it fully out of her mouth, running the edge of her lips over your entire length before taking you back in.

Her hands grabbed your thighs firmly as gasps and moans escaped your mouth, each one causing Nagyung to increase her intensity. Every time you killed her archnemesis, you reported it right away. She took your word for it at this point, and rewarded you all the same.

Her hand grazed your thigh with her fingernails with the slightest of touches before resting itself around your balls. She then began to slowly massage your sack while she continued to fuck her own throat with your cock, going deeper and deeper by the minute. The occasional glance down at her made it hard for you to even want to look at the game, her doe-like eyes so intent on making you feel amazing. Her shirt fabric was still rumpled up against her neck, giving you a slight view of her meticulous tits. Her mascara began to run thanks to the tears forming each time she pushed further. There was a rhythm to her head bobbing up and down your shaft, and it was intoxicating enough to drown in. The feeling of this naughty goddess servicing you while your attention is forced to perform in the game you’d been grinding for years meant that your focus was impossible to maintain. It was overwhelming, enough to make you feel like you’d pass out. Each glide caused an entirely new wave of ecstasy to encompass your being. It was a miracle you managed to still function in the game, consistently scoring kills to keep her rewards coming. The sounds of her gags, stifled coughs and wet slurps as she did her best to ruin your focus were too good to miss as you kept your headset off for the last part of the game. Despite this extra handicap, you still managed to destroy her antagonist once more. From this point on, you felt like you had earned it. She released from her mouth, took a deep breath, and dived right back in. In an instant, the entire length of your dick disappeared into the back of her mouth. You could hear her gag as she struggled to maintain this and in an effort to help, you moved your hips backwards to give her some space. Her hands dug into the back of your hips however, pushing you forward. This was what she wanted, and you had no right pulling out of her mouth. “Nnnghh, fuck!” Her eyes were all she had to talk to you with, but they smirked. She could do this, and you were more than happy to oblige. You even pushed forward a little, a surprised stifled yelp escaping from beneath the desk below you.

Nagyung was fucking herself senseless on your cock, and there was nothing slow about it. A soft, wet slopping sound caught your attention, as you peeked to catch a glimpse of how she had started fingering herself, her mouth still impaled on your cock.

“Nagyung, I’m about to..” you began to moan out, before she released you from her warm insides, reprimanding you. “No, not until you win! And call me babygirl…” Her eyes now failing to meet yours. “Since I don’t want anyone to find out my identity.” She almost whispered, but you understood. “I know, I’m about to win!” You clarified, her eyes widening in surprise as she peeked out from under the desk to confirm. Sure enough, you were sieging the base, and your, or rather, her win was imminent. “Oh fuck, okay, wait just a second!” She replied in a rushed panic, pulling her upper body above the desk enough so that she could lay into her opponent one final time. It was no lie that you wanted to say you were about to win, but you also were about to cum as well. Her sudden pause did put a little halt to that. “I believe you owe me cumming down your throat, babygirl.” You remarked as you directed her back to her task. Like a content little kitty, she purred and climbed back under the desk. Your full focus was now on her and she knew it. She used the opportunity to prime you some more. She pointed both her index fingers at her mouth. “Right here, oppa. This is where you have to cum, okay?” Her mouth was now fully open now as she melodies out a soft “aaaa” with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. The sight was enough to bring you right back to the edge of almost cumming. For the final stretch, she employed one last tactic. She placed both her hands palm upwards on your thighs, inviting you to put your hands on hers. She smiled as you did so, taking both your hands and placing them on the back of her head. “Now fuck my face, okay?” The lewd request made with the cutest tone imaginable was all it took. You forced her head down on your cock, pushing her all the way to the base before pulling her back and pushing her down again. You were fucking her face relentlessly, her mouth accepting you as her eyes looked at you as if she were obsessed with what you were doing. It took no more than a minute of this before you felt it finally happening. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babygirl!” You groaned, signaling the end. You pushed her head all the way down, holding her there for the final relief. The first shot erupted out of you, blasting into the back of her throat. String after string filled up her mouth, each dose accompanied by a grunt from her asking you if this was the last. The viscous sensation of your cum mixing with her saliva was enveloping you. As much as you wanted to sink into your chair, close your eyes and focus on the feeling, you could not tear your eyes away from the idol struggling to keep all of your load combined with your cock in her mouth. She was unsuccessful however, as droplets began to eek out of the corners of her mouth.

You finally let her off of your dick, but instead of gasping for air or getting mad at you, you were treated to another show. She opened her mouth much the same way she did before you fucked it mercilessly, showing you all of your seed she had accumulated in her mouth. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight. Nagyung closed her mouth and swallowed it all in one go. Another open mouth, another “aaaa”, and her promise was fulfilled. She took the liberty to lick whatever she couldn’t keep clean off of you, before giving you a smile for a job well done. “That was fucking amazing.” You sheepishly commented, to which she gave a cute little chuckle, the corner of her mouth turning upwards. “Hehe, I know.” She winked back at you. She climbed out from under the desk, tucking your now half flaccid dick back into your pants, before taking her rightful place back in your lap. Truth be told, you expected her to have sent you back to where you came from by now. Instead, she took your hand one last time for today and guided it in between her thighs, underneath her pants. You could feel how warm and wet she was from playing with herself, your half-mast flying back to full force in response. “I’ll bring a blanket next time so you can fuck me while I’m on your lap. Sounds good, oppa?” She playfully suggested, her aegyo overloading your senses. “I’ll see you tomorrow for some more help! I want to tell Chaeyoung I got into gold before her!” It was never easy making these kinds of decisions, but today wasn’t going to be your last day at this PC bang after all.

[sillymercury]

“What Are You Doing?”

“I… Was Told There Was an Emergency...”

AzrielxReader

<3

Warnings: none other than the lack of proof reading :p

Word count: 5.5k

(meant to be a blurb lol ig idk how to do that)

Summary: Azriel’s shadows have decided that they found someone far more interesting to listen to.

Thank you @kayjayjwrites for this ask, I’ve had a lot of fun writing it. Sorry it came a little later than I said it would but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

<3

A yawn escaped Azriel as he stared down the papers on his desk. He was behind, three missions he put off documenting. He honestly wouldn’t have done it if Rhys wasn’t hounding him saying he wasn’t getting another job until he was caught up.

He didn’t hate his job, he didn’t particularly love it but he took pride in what he did for his court. What he did hate was the bureaucratic end of things, logging his missions in excruciating detail so they can be stored away on the off chance it might need revisited.

He had caught himself nodding off multiple times. The words would blur and his blinks would get slower and slower until his head hit the desk. His shadows, the pestering presence they were, were quick to wake him up.

Finish, finish this,

Keep working,

Sleep after.

At this point it was sheer frustration keeping him awake, weren’t his shadows meant to bend towards his will? The thought of snuffing out the fae light and climbing into bed with his hands over his ears was becoming more and more enticing as the night droned on. Azriels eyes began to close for the umpteenth time and just when he thought his shadows would give up they began swirling around him frantically. He almost groaned at their dramatics until their whispering bordered screaming.

Get up,

Quickly,

Y/n needs you,

Hurry, hurry.

The shadows all spoke over each other and their urgency had Azriel standing up so quick his chair hit the floor. His heart moved as frantically as his shadows at the thought of you. The thought of you hurt, the thought of you in danger, the thought of you scared and alone and needing him.

His feet matched the frenzy as they carried him to the shelf that held the truth teller, his shaking hands sheathed it. Azriel was a composed man, only cracking under severity; and you… you were severe. You had a way of moving him out of his dark safe corner and into the blinding light of day.

Your eyes could move him to tears, your body would make his hands shake, your laugh kicked open every door he used to keep others out. You were a parasite; infecting every part of him and making it your own.

Azriel was ready to punch a hole through his wall and fly around Prythian raining hellfire until he found you and made you safe again. Where? He thought, where is she?

Her house, his shadows answered dutifully before enveloping him and carrying him there. He was ready, ready to fight off whoever-whatever- was hurting you. Whether the demons were mental or corporeal, he would fight to his last breath. You were everything, everything he wanted, needed, everything he prayed for. You just didn’t know it yet, it hadn’t snapped for you. He didn’t care though, he would spend the next 500 years proving his devotion even if you never felt it.

Within seconds his shadows had carried him through space, into your living room. The scent of you was everywhere, gentle overtaking his olfactory sense and filling him with fierce determination.

“Y/n!” The called out as he surveyed the room, everything looked normal, well, for you. Granted things were strewn about, out of order, and placed haphazardly; but not in a way that was alarming.

“Y/n,” he called again and was met with silence, he moved through your house swiftly and silently. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of you.

Bedroom, his shadows told him. At the end of the hall he pushed open the lightly cracked door and slipped into your room. The room held no sight of you, just thick with your scent. The only noise was light shuffling from your adjourned bathroom. He took a silent step towards the door and in that moment you came out. He froze.

You were fine, you were more than fine. His wide eyes met yours and he tried his best to keep them there but they seemed to have a mind of their own. They trailed to your wet hair that was dripping onto your shoulders. His pesky eyes followed the water from your bare shoulder, to the contour of your breast, to your exposed tummy, around its pretty jewelry, down your hips, before disappearing behind your thighs. Your shocked expression matched his as you stood in only a bra and underwear, clearly fresh out of the shower. He felt the heat climb his face, he wanted to run, hide, avoid any implications. But for some unholy reason he stood, petrified, staring at you half naked-absolutely divine- body.

“What are you doing?” You asked once you finally got over the initial shock of seeing him in your room. Anyone else would’ve gotten a more visceral reaction but this was Az, the only one you wanted to see you like this. You also didn’t mind the way his eyes tracked every curve and dip of your body. You bit your lip to hide your smirk and that snapped his eyes back to your face.

“I… was told there was an emergency…” he shifted on his feet as his eyes darted back and forth from your body to your face.

You bit back your laugh, the feared shadowsinger, spymaster of the night was red faced and nervous. Definitely a sight to behold. “Who told you that?” You crossed your arms under your chest, lightly pushing up the twins. Something he didn’t miss, and you didn’t miss the deeper red his face took. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he seemed to have lost whatever small grip was keeping his shadows in place. They slithered across the floor before circling up your legs, over your bum, around your hips and waist. You giggled at the sensation, seemingly exciting by the shadows as they made their way up, examining the lace that covered your breast. Their boldness elicited a gasp, one that snapped Azriel out of his trance.

“I am so sorry- I don’t- I should go,” his words were quick as he fumbled over himself. He dragged the shadows away and before you could speak, tell him to stay, he was gone and so were his shadows.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a full belly laugh as you walked towards your bed with a little extra pep. The only proof of the encounter being the goosebumps on your skin and the light smell of his arousal in your room.

Azriel materialized in his room and stood there for- he doesn’t know how long he stood there. Trying to come to terms with what he saw, what you saw he saw, and how horrible his shadows had behaved. “What… was that?” He whispered into the darkness of his room, still frozen in place. He was horrified, completely embarrassed, and confused. His shadows said you needed him, led him there for seemingly no reason. His shadows hadn’t defied him since he was a child, scared of his own power.

The shadows didn’t answer him, just danced around seemingly pleased with themselves. He wanted to go back and apologize but he was too mortified, convinced he wouldn’t be able to face you for a hundred years. He crawled under his covers and cursed his shadows, not even brave enough to deal with the tightness that grew in his pants.

-

It was hot, Velaris was seemingly boiling. That didn’t slow down the Illyrians, rain or shine they would train. Azriel had taken off his shirt and the sweat flowed through the contours of his muscles, covering his body in a sticky dew. He had just finished sparring with Cass and was wiping the sweat from his brow when his shadows spoke.

Emergency,

Something’s wrong at the south pond,

Get there quickly,

“Cass!” He hollered to his brother, as he grabbed a two swords. He threw one to Cass who caught it coolly. “We’re needed,”. Was all he offered before taking to the skies. Cass followed closely behind as they swooped from the house of wind towards the small forest that was on the south side of Velaris. The boys were already warmed up, ready to face whatever emergency faced them. They circled the sky around the pond and didn’t see any immediate threat, it just looked like some fae had met up for a swim.

Cass landed first and Azriel was right behind him. They surveyed the scene and just as they saw in the sky; nothing was wrong. The only thing they saw were females, everywhere.

“Alright brother,” Cass clapped Azriel on the back with a shit-eating grin. “Not what I expected but you’re right, they do need us.” He tossed his sword on the ground and started making his way to the bank, at least three females came to greet him; he engaged happily.

Azriel wasn’t yet convinced. Still dragging his eyes all across the domain, trying to spot what called his shadows here. His keen eyes took in everything, every person, until they landed on you.

Walking out of the water you looked like a fae from those raunchy magazines Cass used to steal as a boy. An all too small bikini clung to your wet body as you made your way out of the water, toward him. Three tiny pink triangles covered the important parts but the rest was just string, leaving nearly your whole body one display. He watched your hips sway, your wet hair clinging to your face and shoulders, the glittering belly ring, and the small smirk on your face as you too looked him up and down.

“You’re not going to use that are you?” You stopped in front of him, referencing to the sword he gripped with all his strength. He watched as you flipped your hair to one side and began ringing it out. The urge to kiss the sensitive spot between your neck was so intense his lips were quivering.

“No I…” he once again was at a loss for words, “I just brought it.” Lame. He was so lame he wanted to die.

You just giggled, the sound like a cool wave over his hot body. You reached over and gently wrapped your hands around his, pulling it from his hands and discarding it with Cassian’s. His eyes were trained on your face the entire time, you weren’t put off by his scars. Your face wasn’t marred with disgust or pity, just blissful normalcy.

You smiled up at him, “Are you going to join us?” He just nodded, not even considering no as an option. Cass already discarded his pants and boots and was loudly entertaining most of the ladies. But Azriels eyes were trained on your back… side, as he followed you to the water like a puppy. It wasn’t until his shoes were sopping wet at the bank that he realized he should probably strip as well.

When he was down to only his boxers and he tossed his pants and boots back to safety. The way you shamelessly admired him gave him his confidence back.

The two of you spent hours, swimming circles around each other, splashing, pushing the other under. He would lift you high out of the water so you could do flips back in. He would put you on his shoulders so you could take turns playing chicken with whatever female climbed onto his brother; he was proud to say you won every time. He followed you all the way to the deep end and despite his distaste for swimming he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world as you clung to him, telling stories of your childhood in this exact watering hole. He could’ve stayed in the water forever, content to grow wrinkles all over if it meant you would stay close to him.

When the sun had threatened to leave the sky was when you had decided to get out. Your friends were going to a diner to finish of the night with milkshakes and gossip, you offered and invitation and despite being willing to follow you wherever you asked he had to decline. Rhys had tried to contact him multiple times, all of which he ignored. Based on the aggravated tone, Cass was doing the same. He knew staying away any longer would only cause an angry high lord scaling the streets in search of them.

Cass begrudgingly followed his lead, after kissing more than an appropriate amount of females on the cheek, bidding them all goodnight with the promise of seeing them again.

The boys flew home, landing in front of the town house. Before facing the wrath of their in the dark brother Cassian stopped in front of Azriel and grabbed both of his shoulders. With a wide smile he leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, before he could react Cass had kissed the other one.

“I love you brother,” he said with so much sincerity Az rolled his eyes. “I’ll handle business with you any day,” Cass pulled him into a bone crushing hug that Azriel had to use all of his force to get out of. He wiped the wet spots on his cheeks before shaking his head. He pushed past his babbling brother and made his way to the front door. Cass walked in with an arrogant swagger, one that stayed with him for the next week and a half.

-

The frustration didn’t show on Azriels face, nothing showed on Azriels face, as he trailed diligently behind Mor. Yet another shopping spree he was dragged into with the role of being ‘designated bag carrier.’ He never complained even though he’d rather be doing anything else right now, he didn’t show it. Even though he knew Mor knew that, and even though Mor knew that he knew that she knew that.

“Thank you again Azriel, I swear I’m almost done.” He nodded along, knowing that she was almost done 2 hours ago.

It seemed everyone in the city was out shopping, the streets of the retail sector were jam packed. It was likely that most people were, with a new season approaching all of the soon to be out-of-season styles were on sale. Something that motivated Mor, giving her a much needed excuse for retail therapy.

Azriel kept his wings tucked in tight as he shimmied through bodies crowding the cobble stone. “Okay so we’ll stop at Loraine’s, she has the best Jewelry. Then we’ll have to hit up that new little boutique, hopefully all of the good shoes aren’t gone already. Oh! And we absolutely have to visit Anderson on the end of the block, he’ll kill me if I don’t come check out his sun dresses. He always holds the red ones back for me. Honestly my closet…” Mor continued to ramble on about each and every store that demanded she visit but Azriel tuned it out. Leaving behind the notion of soon as the math of how long he would be out continued to produce a higher and higher number.

Without trying to think about it, he followed Mor into the little jewelry shop that she just spoke about. The shelves were covered in glittering jewels that sat on display behind glass. Nothing caught his interest, he didn’t care for flashy add ons, so he just made his way to one of the plush chairs in the corner. He set the plethora of bags down as he slunk back, enjoying a moment of rest as he knew Mor would be taking her time. His eyes closed but his reaction was short lived when his shadows began of informing him of a situation.

Across the street,

Someone’s not supposed to be here,

Go quickly.

He cracked an eye open and glanced out the window. The streets looked normal enough and he couldn’t hear any commotion over the bustling. Someone’s not supposed to be here? He would have been notified earlier if anyone got through the Velarian wards. He should’ve been notified earlier. He stood up slowly, assessing the street. Just because everything looked normal doesn’t mean it was.

He abandoned Mor’s bags and moved towards the door, when he pushed it open he never stepped out. Instead a shadow slipped across the ground, going unnoticed on the busy street.

He slid under the crack of the door and after clocking his surroundings he determined he was in a woman’s nightwear store. There were night gowns and matching pj’s covering mannequins and racks in the front.

Back,

Behind the curtain.

His shadows informed him of the intruders location and he slid in the corner where the wall met the floor, making his way to the back. The store was relatively empty, only a few patrons; a couple, an older fae, and a young male that looked at the stock like a critic.

Slipping behind the curtain that separated the front from the back he was faced with three small dressing rooms. He materialized and placed his hand on the truth teller that rested on his upper thigh. It was quiet back here, the only shuffling came from one of the dressing rooms. He heard a click and a voice; your voice.

“Mav!” You called out as you stepped out of one of the rooms. He moved, trying to run, trying to get out of there. Realization of the stunt his shadows had once again pulled, dawned on him but it was too late.

“Az?” You questioned. The nickname had him stopping before he could escape sight. His heart beat like a war dum against his chest and he felt his hand dampen on the curtain he was holding. For a moment he contemplated winnowing away, saving the embarrassment for another day.

His turn was slow and painful, when his back was against the curtain he looked down and regretted not running. You were clad in a lace nightgown that barley covered the curve of your bottom. The top was push up, covered in shined lace while the bottom was layers of baby pink sheer material. If he looked closely he could see the diamond jewelry on your belly button and your matching shiney underwear shining through. He attempted to swallow the lump that was sitting in the middle of his throat but it didn’t budge so all he managed was a straggled gasp.

A devilish smirk, the one that tempted his knees, took control of your lips. You leaned against the stall, popping your hip out with a hand resting lazily on top. You tilted your head and looked him up and down, “Don’t tell me there’s another emergency.”

His eyes almost jumped out of his head and pink brushed from his neck, to his ears, and all across his face. You knew, of course you knew, you were the one he was barging in on. He tried to speak but that was impossible, seeing you in something so intimate, something he’d only dreamed of seeing you in, he could only shake his head back and forth.

“Okay so I also found that in this pretty blue-oh!” The young male from earlier had pushed through the curtain and was standing rigid as he looked between you and Az. He was only stuck for a few seconds before a smile that matched yours in mischief graced his face. “What do you think shadowsinger?”

His sultry voice took Azriel back, and the heat in his face doubled, “I- it’s,” he cleared his throat as he looked at the tiny blue dress. Cobalt blue, it was the same hue of his siphons. The thought of seeing you in that…

“It’s beautiful,” you finished for him. You pushed off the stall and moseyed over, closer to Az’s still frozen stature. “I absolutely love this color!” You took the thin fabric in delicate hands, feeling the material. “I’ll put it on,” you took the small thing from your friend before looking Az directly in the eye. You just smiled before walking back into the changing closet.

Azriel let out a low breath before bringing his hands up to drag the course of his face. This had to stop happening.

A snicker came from next to him and he looked over to, Mav, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing glint in his eye. Az briefly wondered if you had told your friend about his little appearing act. The way Mav was looking at him, he’s sure you did. “You gonna stay for the final result?”

Yes, yes, yes! His shadows chanted in his ear and he shook his head roughly to keep them out of his ear.

“No, I gotta- busy!” He practically ripped the curtain with the force he pulled it open. He cleared the store in a few long strides before pushing himself free. In his daze he ended up colliding with a smaller frame.

“Az!” Mor yelled, straightening the dress he rumpled. “What are you-“ he eyes narrowed before glancing behind him, Jaim’s Nightwear was painted in delicate cursive on the windows. “What the hell were you doing?”

Az glanced once back at the shop before at Mor, “Embarrassing myself apparently.”

Mor clocked his flush demeanor before looking back at the window. She squinted her eyes again, tilting her head. She pondered doing some shopping at Jaim’s and Azriel’s speedy ‘no!’ only intrigued her more. She moved to step around him but Azriel’s hands clapped on her shoulder, turning her around and directing her back to the jewelry store across the street.

-

A low hum left the shadowsinger as he climbed up the ramp of the library. He scanned the isles looking for ‘Fiction- Rac.’

He had attended Nesta’s monthly book club with the priestesses, a guilty pleasure only the attendees knew of. He had offered to carry the books back to their rightful spot, an offer he was now regretting. The isle that held the thick fiction books had evaded him, and he had been walking back and forth for a half an hour now. A few priestesses had offered their help but he insisted they return to their work, that he could do it himself.

He decided to try the ‘Rab’ isle, keeping his wings tucked as his presence filled the narrow space. He almost cursed, debating throwing the books on a rack and letting someone else deal with it. His eye had just caught the beginning of ‘Rac’ when his attention was diverted.

You are needed,

Go now,

He ignored the shadows, pushing on towards his destination. He wasn’t about to fall into their trap again, he didn’t think he could handle another awkward encounter.

She needs help,

She needs you.

They insisted but Az just shook his head, looking for the correct author. “I’m not doing this again,” he whispered back. His luck she’d probably be in that little blue get-up and she’d have to clean up the puddle he’d melt into.

Go now!

Or regret it!

She will get hurt!

He groaned as he leaned his forehead against the cool self. The thought of you being hurt, even though he doubted you were, trumped his need to protect his ego. With his shadows whispering in his ear he had to see you were safe, and when you inevitably were he would come back and finish his job.

“Fine, but if she’s in her underwear again-“ the shadows cut him of chanting go, go, go! “Okay,” he was defeated, a slave to the torture his shadows were hell bent on putting him through. “Where is she?”

Home,

Her house.

“Good gods- I’m winnowing outside and if she’s half naked I swear I’m never listening to-“ he was cut off again by his shadows. This time it wasn’t a whisper, the seemed to bellow, angry at his reluctance.

Now!

With the urgency from his shadows he dropped the books on the floor, leaving them for whichever poor priestess found them first. After moving through space in the blink of an eye he landed on your front porch. He lifted his hand to knock, he wasn’t going to barge in and show up in the middle of your room uninvited- again.

Before his fist could connect with the door the sound of you screaming had him stumbling back. “Get out!” Followed by breaking glass. Your voice was shrill and panicked and it lit a protective fire inside of him.

He blinked again and he was inside your living room. Shadows were let loose across the space, crawling from his body to every corner of the room. You were there and so was a clearly unwanted presence. You were pressed against your mantle, gripping a vase like a weapon while the male staggered a few feet in front of you. He didn’t need his shadows to inform him about the alcohol that reeked from the man. His blood boiled and metaphorical claws were bared, he was going to kill the male that intruded on your space.

“Crazy bitch! Where’d you go?” The man slurred out as he waved his hands wildly in front of him; desperate to clear the opaque mist and find his target.

The name you didn’t deserve to be called had snapped Azriel into action, like a tensed spring he shot in front of the man. “I’m right here,” he whispered, mere inches from the drunk. The man made a shocked sound, startled by the new voice and its proximity. The man threw a pathetic punch, a low chuckle left Az’s lips as he caught the fist.

With a skilled spin he was behind the man, pressing his wrist between his shoulder blades in an uncomfortable contortion.

A straggled scream left his throat and Azriel cleared his shadows, wanting a proper look at who he was dealing with. The male was nothing special, skinny and pale with dull brown hair. His blue eyes looked hollow and glassy and the stench of alcohol absolutely assaulted Azriel’s senses at the proximity.

“You’d be wise not to try that again,” Azriel’s dark voice met the shell of the man’s ear. His eyes flickered up to you, wide eyed watching the scene play out. “What are you doing here?”

“Let me go! I just want to talk to her!” Azriel pressed his wrist higher and the male made a noice between a grunt and a scream. “Please!”

Tightening the grip on his wrist Azriel let out a low growl, this male was already too close, Azriel was never going to give him a chance to get closer. “I don’t think she wants to speak to you,” his low voice was eerily calm, steady as he leaned down to speak in the stranger’s ear. “Do you, Y/n?” His eyes moved back to you and watched as you viciously shook your head back and forth. “Well,” the grin in his voice was audible, “that settles that.”

Azriel gave the man a hard shove to which his shadows caught him, they carried him off to somewhere Azriel could deal him later. His eyes scanned the room once more, checking for any lingering danger, any hint of another threat. His shadows scowered the rest of the house, closing and locking any window that could be used as an entry point.

“Az,” you breathed before dropping the vase. The tough glass didn’t shatter, instead it rolled away while you ran. Within seconds your arms were around his neck with your face buried in his chest. He relished in your closeness, arms circling your waist with his nose finding your shoulder. A greedy breath reminded him you were safe, in his arms where no bastard would touch or even talk to you unwarranted. “I’m so glad that worked, I was worried that it wouldn’t, that I pushed to hard with it when you took awhile to get here but-“

“Wait what? What’re you talking about?” He pulled back to look down at you. Confusion had knitted his brows together and pushed his head onto an axis.

“Oh- I well… nothing,” you pulled back and turned away, red dusting your cheeks as your eyes fought to hide from him. Usually he was the flustered one, looking like boy whose hand had been caught in a cookie jar. But the roles were now reversed, you looked like you were dodging trouble of your own creation.

Azriel grabbed your wrist, delicately, turning you around to face him. He caught your chin in his other hand and angled your head to face him, “What did you want to work?”

You turned your eyes down but he just lifted your chin higher, your pink cheeks turned positively rosey and you shook your head. “Fine,” you breathed before pulling away from him completely. He watched as you moved around the glass you had previously thrown and made your way to the couch. “Well,” you started, drawing lines in your the cushion to keep from looking at him, “remember when we met? At that monster exchange?”

He nodded, “Of course.” He would never forget, catching a dove in an underground tavern full of monsters and the beats they aimed to sell. He had been tracking the traveling convention all across the night court, attempting to find who was running the trade. It was a highly illegal exchange and when he’d found you, you had begged to not be arrested, claiming curiosity brought you there. He let you go, told you to run while he dealt with the others.

“Well when I got home I noticed I had a little friend,” she held her hand out and to Azriel’s surprise, a shadow fell into her hand. It had danced out of its hiding spot in your hair and looped around your fingers, stuck to you like it was your own to wield. He just stared, mouth agape, to caught in his own shock to respond. “I started talking to it, they’re great listeners.” A giggle fell from your lips as you wiggled your fingers and the shadow weaved and bobbed through your digits. “And for some reason whenever I spoke of you, of wanting to see you, you would show up.”

You looked up tentatively, worried to see an angry Azriel. Instead you were faced with pure shock, he looked so lost so you felt the need to go on.

“I didn’t know it would tell you to come, not originally. Then after that first night, your shadows told you it was an emergency and I started taking advantage of that. Telling it to fetch you so I could see you again.” You looked back down, clearly ashamed of your admission. You couldn’t see the smirk that was growing on Azriel’s lips. “I know you’re busy, and-and it’s unfair to pull you away from your work like that. I shouldn’t have used your own shadow against you- gods- I’m so sorry. I’ll never-“

Your words were caught off by a laugh, a loud belly laugh. Azriel was practically doubled over. The realization had his face crinkled and his hands gripping his stomach as he gasped for air. You laughed nervously, adding him, “Your not mad?”

He stood up, still laughing but controlling it. His dimples were on full display and you melted a little, feeling ease wash over you.

“No, no I’m not mad,” he moved for the couch, “I’m glad I finally found out why my shadows are so willing to lie to me. It’s because they’re in kahoots with you.” He sat down and took your hand, your full smile matched his, “Never apologize for wanting to see me, I’ll come whenever you call.”

You blushed and nodded, laughing some more yourself. You stuck out the hand that held his shadow, “Here. You can have this back.”

He just shook his head with a smile, pushing your hand back. “Keep it, you can use it to get ahold of me.”

You looked back to him, the look on his face was one of pure ease, happiness and bliss, you loved to see it. You two sat there smiling at each other like idiots when you felt a tug on your heart. The tug got stronger and stronger until it snapped. With a gasp you threw your hand over your heart, as if the bond was tangible, something you could grab with your hands.

“It’s you,” you whisper leaning in slightly.

“And it’s you,” he whispered back after following you in.

You felt a tug on the bond, like he was pulling you towards him, you tugged back with a smile. You had always wanted to find your mate and you wouldn’t admit it just yet but you had wanted it to be Azriel since you met him underground.

You threw your head back, it was your turn to belly laugh. “Good gods! No wonder you always came running!”

He narrowed his eyes and let out a playful growl before pulling you into his arms. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him, looking at him in his eyes. “I’m glad it’s you,” was all you said before offering him a peck on the lips.

He beamed back, “I’m also glad it’s you.” He pulled you down for another kiss which you returned passionately.

“Soo..” you drawled pulling back, “Would you like to see that little blue number?” He responded with a low growl and nip at your ear. You laughed at his answer before jumping off the couch, you grabbed his hand and he happily let you drag him to your room.

A/N: My first request🥰🥰🥰 this was so fun, literally send more I live live live for them. I rlly hope my requester enjoyed this 🥲

Also I’m still working on ‘I’m Not Crazy, She is!’ Pt. 2 but it’s gonna be a long one so give me some time with that🙏🏽

As always if you made it this far I LOVE YOUUU<3<3 thank you so much for reading yall I love doing these.

Masterlist

Tag list: @gorlillaglue25

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

I am NOT a smut writer and you're the resident monsterfucker so i bestow upon you my dream last night in hopes you can do something with it:

You're at a gathering of spellcasters, coming together from all across the land to show off your works to the high council, in the hope of impressing them and being taken into the fold. Unfortunately, they reject you, sending you away and accepting a group of your closest friends instead. What they don't tell you is that this is because you've already been claimed, marked in your very soul by an ancient force. You leave the lofty gathering, dejected and feeling quite sorry for yourself.

You wander the columns of a lush, intensely flowered ruin. The smell of the blossoms makes you feel a bit better, brings heat to your cheeks and a dull, throbbing sensation in your belly. You spin around when you hear gravel crunch behind you, only to catch a glimpse of a thickly furred, feline tail disappear into the foliage. You feel eyes on you, and start to panic. You turn to run- and collide with the muscular chest of a tall, powerful being. His face is that of a tiger, his fur mottled and shifting and *soft*. His wrists are adorned in gold, and he catches your chin, tilting your face up to look at him as his tail starts to wrap around your leg. He leans in to taste your scent, and purrs, "*There's* my queen. I've been looking for you, little morsel."

You try to back away in fear, but his tail holds you tight. You demand to know his name, who he is, where he came from. He rumbles deep in his chest, and his tongue flicks out to catch a nervous tear from your cheeks. "I am the lord of this place. And you, doll, are my mate. I've been waiting a *very* long time for you."

Before you can run, he's got you pinned against one of the columns, rutting into you, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful and strong your kits will be, how he will rebuild his kingdom with you and elevate you to his side as a god. How your glory will be known and beloved by all, how there will be songs and stories of your beauty, how you will be his Queen and how your sons will be stronger than mountains and your daughters as radiant as the sun. First, though, the mating.

Ok! Spent quite a while thinking about this, and going to take a few liberties!

Probably going to be a few parts, because I cannot seem to do porn without plot lol, but anon I have not forgotten you!

I have about 500 words written so far though! Hopefully I’ll be able to post some stuff soon!

Edit: now with a part 1!

[cha-melodius]

firstprince +💚

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed (I said no more than 500 words and of course this is 589 lol. Sorry for the cliffhanger; I just can't help myself. send me a heart and get a ficlet)

When the summons comes, Henry refuses to believe it’s real.

It is, course—heavy paper, dark ink, embossed seal. Your assistance is respectfully requested concerning a matter of some urgency…

Henry doesn’t read the rest. He knows what it says. The whole world knows what it says. Every since the American President’s son was cursed and fell into a deep and unending slumber, which was supposedly only able to be cured by true love’s kiss, there’d been a steady stream of hopeful girls through the White House. Still, Alex remained stubbornly asleep. Henry hadn’t heard of any men being invited, though, which is one reason he’s convinced this was a mistake.

“The palace staff must have mixed up our mail,” he tells Bea, trying unsuccessfully to shove the invitation at her.

Bea just gives him an exasperated look. “It has your name on it.”

“Then someone at the White House made an error in addressing it.”

“Because ‘Beatrice’ is so close to ‘Henry’. Happens all the time, really. The other day I got a polo club invitation meant for you.”

“Really?” Henry asks.

“No,” she huffs. “This is for you, dumbass.”

Henry stares down at it, chewing his lip. “But why me? Out of everyone else?”

“You didn’t hear?” Bea asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Hear what?” He’s been actively trying not to read news about Alex’s condition, actually.

“It’s supposed to be someone he’s touched before. Otherwise, he’d still be awake. Someone must have remembered you two shaking hands in Rio.”

“But Alex hates me,” he says plaintively. This is, of course, the other reason this must be a mistake.

“So, now’s your chance,” Bea tells him with far too much mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Go lay one on him, and he’ll never remember.”

“Bea,” Henry gasps, horrified. “I would never—”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It was a joke, Haz. But the fact of the matter is that you don’t have much of a choice. Think of how it would look for international relations if the Crown refused a request from the President.”

And so, Henry finds himself with sweating palms and his heart in his throat, staring down at the most beautiful boy in the world as he lays sleeping in his bedroom at the White House. The First Family are all wan and sallow as his interminable condition wears on them, but Alex himself looks vibrant, as if he’d just nodded off. Perks of magic sleep, Henry supposes. A terrifying woman in stilettos and pencil skirt gives Henry instructions that he barely hears, then they all file out to wait.

Henry wrings his hands and twists his signet ring and shifts on his feet, knowing he can’t put this off for much longer. He’s not sure what he’s more terrified of—that it won’t work, or that it will.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” he murmurs. For the past, for this, for what may come.

He leans in—and hesitates. The aroma of cinnamon strikes him, drawing him in like a gravitational field he can’t escape, and he sways closer. When their lips brush, Henry feels it—not the kiss, but the fire that it kindles under his skin, the flame that flashes down his spine and out to his toes, the inferno that sets him alight. It’s too much, it’s going to burn him up—

Alex’s lips part and he gasps, long eyelashes fluttering as he wakes, and Henry stumbles backwards. He stares at Henry, rubs his eyes, then looks again.

“It's you?!”

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on 500 followers!

May I please request a Captain Rex x f!reader piece with ruby or ruby and diamond? I’m very partial to smut and spice, but I can live without it too, lol.

Time setting: during any season of the bad batch. Our boy is trying so hard to save his brothers, he needs to remember his partner too :)

Time For Us

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Summary: Several months after the fall of the Republic, little has changed for you, save for the addition of your boyfriend on your ship. But, you recognize that everything has changed for him, and you’re worried.

Word Count: 619

Warnings: Spicy-ish. (It doesn't feel that way to me, but I've been focused on it too long so there's no spice there for me anymore)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Thank you! I hope this is close to what you wanted. I'm trying, really hard, to keep these under 1000 words, and so far I'm managing it! I hope you like it! This takes place sometime during the first season of TBB.

You’re lucky.

The fall of the Republic didn’t affect you, personally, in any massive way. Your job remains secure, and you’re not in any danger of losing your job in spite of the regime change. 

Luckily, the new Emperor has little care as to what a massive magazine does…so long as it continues to focus on wildlife and natural landscapes. And, as a wildlife photographer, you didn’t even need to get a minor talking to, unlike some of your co-workers who often interview people.

So you’re able to continue on as you are. On the private ship that you personally own, traveling the galaxy to take pictures of natural wonders and wildlife.

That said, the fall of the Republic was…awful.

The death of the Jedi is a tragedy that even you don’t have the ability to put into words. 

But your grief is nothing compared to the grief of your boyfriend.

You shift in bed, rolling over to cast your gaze over the hunched over form of Rex. He’s sitting at your desk, his gaze locked on the datapad in front of him, and you hope he’s not watching more news stories about the Purge.

Slowly you sit up, the thick blanket you prefer pooling around your waist as you watch him push his fingers through his hair. He’s let it grow out slightly, it’s now long enough that he can push his fingers through it.

“Rex?” You keep your voice light, “It’s late, why don’t you come to bed?”

“In a bit, cyare.” His voice is rough as he answers, and you frown at his back as you pull your knees up and rest your arms on them.

You should be patient with him. He lost so much…but you fear that he’s in danger of losing himself if he doesn’t take a break. Your gaze flickers to the side, as you try to come up with a way to help him.

Absently, you rub your fingers over the thick material of the shirt you’re wearing, one of his shirts, and then you pause. You look down at the material as half an idea starts to form. 

You kick the blanket off your legs, and swiftly peel the shirt off, leaving you totally naked, and then you stand and walk over to him, your arms sliding around his broad shoulders as you press a light kiss against his neck. 

He sighs, one of his scarred hands coming up to press against your bare arm, “Cyare-”

“You have been working, nonstop, for days.” Your voice is soft, “Am I to watch you work yourself to death, love?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” You kiss his neck again, and then you feel his fingers trailing against your arms, and you lean over slightly to get a look at his face, he looks, adorably, puzzled.

“Weren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“I was.” You reply lightly, “I decided that the best way to get you to take some time for us was to lose it.”

He spins the chair and his dark eyes scan your body, even in the dim light there’s still enough for him to make out all of the detail. Rex tilts his head back, a look of hunger on his handsome face, “I suppose I have been ignoring you,” He murmurs as he pulls you down to straddle one thigh. 

“Only a little,” You reply lightly.

He lazily grinds you down against his thigh, before ghosting his fingers up your sides, “Are you going to give me a show, cyare?”

“Is that what you want?” You ask in turn.

Rex chuckles and pulls you into a deep, passionate, kiss. “Go on, angel. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

[ay0nha]

PLEASE hear me out sanji x witch!reader like sort of the doctor on board with salves and potions to help everyone but she's on the run from those who tried to kill her (sorry lol it's giving salem witch trials...but maybe...hint hint...that's the vibe)

it doesn't need to be fluff maybe reader is super tight with her life before and maybe only fluffy knows it because he's the one who saved her but sanji is determined to have reader open up????

lemme know your thoughts plzzz

PAIRING: OPLA!Sanji x f!reader (doctor on board of sorts)

WORD COUNT: ~500

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, smoking, drinking, attitude lol, Sanji being whipped already, slow burn, reader in her feels, etc.

A/N: These are THE vibes especially in time for SpoOky month?!! I loved the originality of this request!! I have SO many ideas in which ways I can go with this. Who would be interested in this being a series?? Would you read it?? Lemme know!! Comments are ALWAYS encouraged!!! Enjoy.

 

You were found running.

There was no weight in your rhythmic steps as your belongings had been set ablaze with your home, but your muscles burned with ache and detachment. Sudden lightness filled your chest, just shy of euphoria. Yet, the feeling was dissipated into pained anxiety as you collided with someone.

That night Luffy became your advocate, no questions asked. He offered you promises without false bottoms and gave you a place in a world you once refused to enter. This was different, he was different.

No matter the time you spent with him or the others, you struggled to find footing. And yet Sanji thought you fit in so absolutely. 

The rim of your glass was still lined with enough sugar to enjoy dwindling sips. Sanji knew it was gin. Your lipstick left a mark on everything you kissed, the pattern was found on your glass, and the cigarette holder balanced between your fingers. You made everything look so serene. 

Simple.

Your confidence was always envious. It worked silently, exuding from your presence alone. Your magnetism couldn’t be credited to magic but to how you evolved, becoming pointed and moving without fault. Even as you read from a torn book, you were enchanting. 

“A refill, perhaps?” Sanji interrupted you purposefully, a habit quickly morphing into a vice.

“Hmmm?” Lost in your own world, you barely registered you were being spoken to.With pointed eyes, you took his presence in. Even late into the night, he was always so poised.“Oh, Sanji…” 

“I couldn’t help myself…” Sanji exchanged your attention for confidence to step closer. “Gin, right?” He oozed charm, proud of the idea to supply you with something so sweet. “...I took some liberties, but—uh, hopefully it’s up to your standards.” 

The glass before you was chilled and the ice sturdy, swimming in the middle of a delicious concoction. With just a glance you knew it was far better made than what you’d sloppily put together. 

“Didn’t realize your duties extended to nightcaps.” You sucked in a crackling breath, confused by the sudden attention. You offered neither acceptance nor gratitude. 

Sanji prepared for your reluctance, knowing you almost always preferred your own company. However, it never discouraged him from pushing past the facade. “Always.” 

You hummed indifferently, using a free hand for your beginning sips, but you felt. You felt so very much by the action. Loneliness touched with hints of regret, or hope colored by impatience. It was never just one pure emotion. It was always one thing plus another. It was always simpler to conceal than to be perceived.

However, Sanji held a practiced eye. It took patience to not wait for your praise as you returned, entirely engrossed in your book. He took pride in being able to notice you—a flagrant attempt to understand you. It neither felt time-consuming nor inconvenient; it felt natural and worth every quiet moment shared.

[thegnomelord]

OMG CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS!!!!!! how about prompt 30 with trans!ghost? there'd be such a nice mix of battle scars & surgery scars too <3

Thanks! and Anon you have no idea on what kind of a Hyper-fixation fender you put me on with this prompt, like it's 2 in the morning and I've never written something this fast before lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Kissing scars

CW: NSFW, Trans Ghost, Male reader but can be read as GN, afab language, kinda non sexual nudity, body worship, scar kissing, fluff, fluffy fluffy fluff, I'm a dirty tease.

You never know what you'll get when Ghost returns after a mission— Sometimes he'll return so hoped up on adrenaline he'll push you down on the nearest flat surface and ride you until he's satisfied, using you as a living dildo with a firm hand on your throat to keep you hard and quiet; Other times — even the barest brush of skin on skin will have him flinching away with a glare able to put you 6 feet deep.

So when you find him in your room, still fitted out in combat gear and staring off seemingly into space, you approach him slow and loud, making your footsteps echo as you draw close. You doubt he can even feel you brush your pinkies together through his thick gloves, but he jolts as if you're electric. . .but doesn't jerk away.

Creeping slowly until you're face to face with him you hold his hand loosely in your own, giving a gentle squeeze. It takes a few more squeezes before his eyes focus on you, the raging storm inside him turning them from honey brown to dark like blood soaked soil. You can tell his face is tense even with the mask on, the thin fabric helping to keep him together as his resolve slowly depletes like a fraying rope.

Something makes you move and before your mind properly registers it you're slowly taking off his glove, brushing the back of his hand with your thumb before you bring it closer to your face. His sharp eyes follow every movement of your lips as you kiss an old cigarette burn on the pad of his thumb and trail soft pecks across the silvery lines dotting his finger down to the meat of his palm, then back up to the pad of his pointer finger, kissing each knuckle as you go from finger to finger.

This doesn't stop or lessen the maelstrom in his mind, but each new kiss is like a new board to patch up the leaking holes in his boat. His other hand finds your shoulder by the time you're kissing the stab scar on the back of his hand.

His voice is so rough your name is hardly understandable, but gains your attention all the same. "Going soft on me now?" He growls, amused or irritated, you can't say.

Tempting luck you reach out to grab the zipper of his jacket, "Do you want me to stop?" You murmur against his skin.

His eyes narrow until you're staring into a dark void, a small and gruff sound leaving his throat. It's not a 'yes', but it's definitely not a 'no'. So like a miner without a canary, you slowly undress him, dropping to your knees to take off his boots and unclipping all his gear, stopping only when he's down to boxers and a long sleeve shirt when you feel him tense.

"Forgetting somethin' Sargent?" He asks, voice rough like he's ready to bark orders across the battlefield.

You look at him like a worshiper looks at a god, "Please, can I take these off Ghost?" You beg, sticking out your bottom lip for extra measure.

"Only because you look pathetic when you beg." There's no heat in his words, but you feel and see his muscles tense as you take away the last remaining articles of clothing. Only his mask remains, and you don't dare touch that.

He's dry as a bone and you can't blame him, this situation so far from normal for both of you. He lets you maneuver him until he's sitting on the bed, his knees spread just enough for you to comfortably kneel between them.

"That's bettah," He hums as you take his other hand and start kissing the rough patches of skin there, though you're a little surprised when he catches your tongue in his fingers. "You're like a damn dog." But he only brushes the his thumb against the flat of your tongue before letting go.

"Just for you, right?" You hum and start trailing bulletwounds and stab scars across his forearm.

"If yea know what's good for yea." He growls, though you can see him starting to relax, the cold edges melting slowly like the first thaw after a 1000 year old winter.

"Where do you ache, love?" You ask, reaching over to kiss a prominent scar on his bicep while you look at his abdomen. His front looks like a roadmap; full of long jagged scars from knives, dotted with small crates from old bullets, mottled with burns, and other unknown scars caused by god knows what. The only 'clean' scars he has are the two silvery lines beneath the curve of his pecs — the ones he never lets you touch.

"Will you kiss it better?" He mocks, like he doesn't believe you and looks at you like you're insane, but decides to humor you and briefly taps the fresh pink line on his abdomen. He watches you like a hawk as you lean down to lay soft kisses along the entire length of the jagged scar, a groan leaving his lips as your tongue tickles the frazzled beneath healing scar tissue, something like pleasure-not-pleasure sizzling wonderfully up his spine.

"Where else?" You ask, letting him place a heavy hand on your head and guide you where he wants you. His body aches in some way every waking moment, but for this night he can let you chase away the gnawing pain with your lips. He doesn't notice when he ends up splayed out on the bed and tugging you on top of him— another usually hard no with him —his mind growing strangely quiet as every lick and kiss on his damaged skin leaves behind shreds of warmth that build in his chest until he's boneless. It's almost like he melts into the bed, into your lips, his muscles more relaxed than they've ever been.

Then your lips brush against his top scars and a bucket of water gets splashed on his head. He barks out your name, raising his head as he scruffs you by the back of the neck before you can even react.

You don't resist his hold, "Yes, my handsome man?" You ask with a teasing lilt to your voice, your lips brushing against his top scars when he visibly shivers at your words.

"The fuck are you doin'?" He asks the question that's been plaguing both of your minds, but he doesn't sound angry and doesn't try to throw you off him, so you continue to gently worship his top scars.

"What's it look like?" You ask and feel his hold on your neck loosen as you trail from one scar to it's twin on the other side. His hand remains where it is, but his blunt nails lightly scratch your skin as reward for adoring scars like you're doing right now.

"Like you're doing something stupid." He huffs and you can finally see the dark clouds in his eyes parting, his chest rising and falling as he lets out a breath that's been weighing on his shoulders for a while. "But-" He takes your hand and moves it down between his legs, both of you groaning when you find his folds wet and pliant to your fingers, clit hard and pulsing against your hand. "-I can think of a few more places where I 'ache'." He gives a smug smirk that's obvious through his balaclava, his other hand lightly tugging on your hair, "Kiss it better for me, yeah?"

How can you refuse?

[dragongirlie56]

05- Solace in Lullabies

My submission for Zelinktines! (and a one shot i’ve been wanting to write for a while now lol)

I chose prompt 2: Singing!

I wanted to only do 500 word drabble…. but I went to 2,000 words. I’m not mad about it.

@zelinktines

Thanks for hosting this! It’s such a cute idea!!

Ship: Zelink BOTW

Angst and fluff balance!

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Moonlight lit the back of Link's tunic. The faint light cast his weak shadow across the stone. He stood at the edge of the spring with his gaze toward the arch entrance. The legendary sword resting in his grip, the tip of his blade grazing the ancient grounds. His cerulean eyes scanned for any ounce of danger that threatened to push past him.

Flurries of snow descended from above, landing in his dirty blonde locks and his sleeves. He couldn’t deny that it was peaceful up on Mount Lanayru, however, peace was far from the young hero’s mind. He could never ease his mind when Zelda was troubled, especially when they visited the springs.

Zelda was immersed waist-deep in the freezing cold water; her once recited prayers shifted into anguished pleas. The bitter heartache laced in her voice was more than enough for him to tell she was reaching her limit.

It tore his heart in every direction.

“Curse you.” His ears twitched slightly at the sound of water splashing and his heart stopped. She didn’t fall in did she? Right as he turned to check she spoke again, easing his initial panic. ”Every single day I pray and every single day you show no signs in return! I’ve been doing this all my life. I had no childhood just so I could pray to you for some stupid powers that don’t seem to work! Do you really wish for Hyrule to crumble at the hands of that monster? Do you want me to fail so terribly that you’d risk the world? Your people? My friends who are risking their lives? My-“ She choked on a sob. “Are you even there?”

Link closed his eyes, a sorrowful sigh escaping him. The goddess was testing his patience. Was she just like the rest of the skeptics parading around Hyrule who doubted the young princess, including the king himself? His fists tensed around the hilt of his sword… some goddess she was and some father the king claimed to be.

A spike of anger stabbed his gut. Screw Hylia, screw Ganon, screw the faithless, and screw the king. If it wouldn’t result in exile, Link would give the King of Hyrule a piece of his mind.

“What is wrong with me?”

The words pierced him like a lynel spear, tearing him from his thoughts and making his eyes widen. Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with you! He wanted to scream out but his throat went dry. Dry with his oath to the royal guard and his appointed position… he was only her protector. But doesn’t being her protector also permit him to support her and protect her emotionally? The thought made him furrow his brows.

“Tell me! Am I really that worthless? Am I not worthy enough to wield Hylia’s great power?”

Her last cry cut the tether holding him down in place. He couldn’t stand by. Not anymore. The blonde set his sword down and descended the stone staircase.

Ice water surrounded him and he sucked in a sharp breath as he waded through the spring. How did she do this all the time?

“Link.” His pointed ears caught her whisper as she turned around. Her wide, green eyes locked onto his soft, blue ones as they reached for each other at the same time. Her legs gave out as she stepped toward him but Link was quick to wrap an arm under her knees and pull her against him.

Her lips were as blue as the fading sky and her face was paler than the color of snow.

I knew I should have pulled her out sooner. Link gritted his teeth as he internally kicked himself. If she developed hypothermia he’d never forgive himself.

A sob racked its way up her throat and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Link, I-I’m sorry.” She wiped away a stream of tears with her palm. “I feel nothing-”

The knight shook his head, tightening his arms around her shivering form.

She worked so hard, he saw that. Every minute, every day, every hour. She was so dedicated to helping her people, that was what mattered. His chest ached… he wished he could tell her he disagreed with her father’s harsh remarks on her and her training. He wanted to tell her that she was more than a princess to him.

That he loved her.

The thought sent his heart in a frantic spiral. He had broken the biggest rule of all. He had taken a hammer and shattered it with little regret—if any at all.

‘Don’t have any personal relations with the princess, it’s strictly professional. For your only duty is to protect her. It is treason otherwise.’ His captain’s words echoed through his ears. In other words, he warned not to fall for the princess.

But Link didn’t just fall, he stumbled into the inevitable chasm and hit the ground rolling. Which… how could he not? There had to be some exception to that rule because lust wasn’t his driving force, no, he was undoubtedly and truly in love with her.

His father would be ashamed of him—-well the knight side of his father anyway. His captain would absolutely be ashamed of him. Though, Link couldn’t find it in him to care.

He’d tell her, but first he had to make sure she didn’t freeze to death.

Link set her down by the tent he had assembled prior to Zelda’s training. He rummaged through his bag before he handed her a set of her warm winter clothes, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

She sniffled and nodded once. A few wet strands of gold falling into her defeated eyes. He fought the urge to brush it behind her pointed ears.

While she changed, Link picked up his pile of wood to create a makeshift fire. He pulled out a piece of flint from his bag and struck a stray rock against it, creating a spark that fueled the flames.

He tossed a few more sticks in the fire.

”Where should I…?” Link turned toward Zelda’s voice, his eyes softening upon meeting her own. She was standing with her ceremonial dress in her hands; Water droplets dripped from its ruffled edges.

He took the dress from her grasp and gestured toward the orange flames.

”The fire…” he murmured.

”Oh yes, of course. Thank you.”

Link nodded as he laid the dress on the stone—out of reach from the falling snow. He reached into his bag once more, grabbing a spare set of his clothes. He found a secluded area and peeled his tunic off his torso.

The freezing air pierced his skin, making him wince. He seriously didn’t understand how Zelda had done this the last four nights. He would have a word with the king, this wasn’t safe at all.

If he had a daughter, he’d never treat her the way Rhoam treated Zelda and he certainly wouldn’t force her train relentlessly in the frozen mountain with no support or praise. No, if he had kids they would be supported to no end.

Link fastened his spare pair of boots and in little to no time he returned to the camp.

His blue eyes flicked to Zelda who sat on one of the stones near the fire. Color had returned to her face and her lips were back to its pink tint. Her eyes were locked on the dancing flames and her brows were scrunched together.

Oh how badly he desired to see an ounce of her smile. He missed it. Terribly. But with the calamity looming near and the weight of their burdens nearly crushing them, the rarity of the emerald eyed blonde cracking a smile had multiplied tenfold.

Link swallowed and cleared his throat before speaking. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth… voicing his thoughts still wasn’t his strong suit but he’d do it for her.

“Princess. There’s nothing wrong with you,” he finally spoke, wrapping a wool blanket around her shoulders. His forearms rested on his knees as he stared at her.

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Link.” She shook her head, averting his gaze. She let out a sniffle before continuing. “I fear I won’t be able to help you when… when the time comes and you’ll- you’ll die because I didn’t train hard enough. All the great princesses before me were able to unlock it! I’m the only one who-“ She grimaced. “Who hasn’t.” More sniffles. “So there has to be only one explanation. There must be something wrong with…”

His thumb brushed her tears away. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeated, allowing his hand to linger for a few more seconds.

New tears shimmered in her viridescent gaze. ”You really believe that?”

He nodded, though he noticed her gaze drop and the subtle frown on her lips. She was still unsure or she wasn’t satisfied with his answer.

Link moved to sit next to her. His arm brushed against hers, making his heart flutter. He cleared his throat as he leaned back against the wall.

“Yes, Zelda, I really believe it…. I believe in you. And even if your powers don’t come, we’ll be okay. We’ll find another way.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

Their eyes met and she raised her eyebrows as her lips twitched into a smile. The blonde knight returned it; her smiles were extremely contagious… to him at least.

“Thank you Link.”

He gave her a nod before shifting his gaze to the flickering flames. They sat in a peaceful silence until Zelda rested her head on his shoulder. Link’s muscles tensed as her hair brushed against his cheek.

“Sorry- I hope this is okay.”

Link nodded—-the only response he could give at the moment. He really, really hoped she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

After a few moments she shifted and she shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He found himself asking.

“What?” She pulled away to look at him. “No- I’m fine. It’s just cold.” She shivered again and Link hesitantly opened his arms as he averted her emerald gaze.

Seconds seemed like minutes. Blood rushed to Link’s ears.

Why did I do that? I’m crossing a line-

Zelda wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, sending every blood cell to his head.

Oh what am I doing?

He battled his thoughts, insisting he was only protecting her from the harsh cold. Because that's all it had to be. Nothing more nothing less.

“I’m thinking about too many things… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” she murmured.

“You need your strength.”

She let out an airy chuckle. “I guess…. When do you sleep though? I never see you sleep.” Link shook his head. Always the curious one.

“Please try,” he responded to which Zelda sighed.

“Fine.”

Sleep wasn’t something Link had often, even when he was younger. He remembered his mother would check on him and his sister, Aryll, to make sure they were asleep. She always found him wide awake, looking out the window into the starry night sky.

She’d ask him ‘what’s wrong’ and he’d say ‘I can’t sleep’. She’d then sit on his neatly kept bed and say, ‘You get this from your father.’

Link always found that funny, he never believed it because his old man always snored at this time of night and slept until the birds stopped chirping. No way he could’ve had trouble sleeping at Link’s age.

His mom would pat his bed, tuck him in, and she’d start to sing. There were no words to the song, only the melody. As a child, this never failed to ease him into a peaceful slumber. So maybe…

Link closed his eyes and started to hum. His voice was soft as he sang the lullaby, the one that shared Zelda’s name. It was actually his favorite.

His hum carried in the slight breeze. He wished there was a way to stop time so they could stay in this moment forever without a worry in the world.

Zelda’s breaths slowed and her grip on his waist eventually loosened as the sweet melody came to an end.

Link opened his eyes and let his gaze drop to the sleeping princess.

He’d protect her with his dying breath, that was a promise.

The knight leaned down to lightly kiss the top of her blonde hair as if to seal the vow.

///////////////////////////////////////////////

Zelink masterlist

[the-kr8tor]

Speed Drive

🎉500 celebration fic🎉

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 6.2k

Synopsis: You come along with Hobie on a road trip to Glasgow. Aka the fic where I squeezed in multiple dream dates of mine lol

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mention, reader is a history nerd (definitely not projecting), the reader can't drive, sunshine! Reader. Suggestive content, lovestruck Hobie, Established relationship. FLUFF.

A/n: I did some research on the places they went to, if there are any inaccuracies on the geography/ information, please note that I've never been to any of these places, I'm only basing my knowledge on what I've researched and what I've studied in uni.

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms and copy and pasted on any ai software*

Navigation

Masterlist

You grunt as you lift the heavy amp, back straightened so you don't accidentally sprain yourself. Waddling towards Hobie's van, amp sitting heavily near your waist. The sun is just about rising on the horizon, painting the pavement deep blue. The water laps at the house boat's side, the sound familiar, adding to the relaxed atmosphere where you and Hobie are the only ones awake in the entire city. The early morning air nips at your skin, leaving goosebumps on the back of your neck.

Suddenly, strong familiar arms wrap around the amp. "What are you doin'? Told you I've got them" Hobie clicks his tongue, taking the amp from you.

He's annoyed but not at you, he's irritated that he got the short end of the stick, ending up waking up early (too early) to load the instruments. You don't take it to heart, knowing his annoyance isn't because of you. It would've been better if he just helped his band mates load them in, but lady luck wasn't on his side. Unfortunately he also got driving duties, now he has to drive seven hours to get to Glasgow for the band's very first big gig. Leaving the rest of the band to take (a very comfortable) train ride at a later hour. Hobie's a bit jealous on that end, he would've liked for you to see the sights on a train instead of sitting on his old van that creaks when he steers a little too far to the left.

The only silver lining about the impromptu road trip is you. Seven hours on the road with just you is pure bliss, if only he didn't have to wake up in this ungodly hour, he would've been in a better mood.

"Sorry, you were busy loading in the drums. Thought I would help" you look up at him through equally tired eyes. A cloud of breath escaping when you talk. Hobie zips your jacket further up, keeping you warm.

He heaves the amp on one arm, effortlessly carrying it. "Don't be, you're just trying to help." Hobie feels guilty for clicking his tongue at you. He holds your cold hand, sharing his warmth.

"You're definitely not a morning person" you squeeze his hand. "grumpy" bringing his hand to your lips, you leave a chaste kiss over his knuckles. "Is that the last one?"

"Think so," he looks around the area, finding nothing else to load inside the van. "Don't forget to bring in the thermos, you're turning into an icicle"

"Okay, I made us sandwiches" you smile at him, swinging your intertwined hands.

"What kind?" He stomps down his grumpy demeanor at the sound of breakfast.

"Lots!" You grin excitedly at him, Hobie wonders where you got your sudden burst of energy.

"Fuckin' hell, no wonder why you were up so late. You made every conceivable sandwich in the world" he jokes, your happy energy spreading to him.

You chuckle, "not every single one. You have the first pick for waking up so early"

"Yeah? Even though you threatened to splash me with water?" He raises a pierced brow, a smile curling on his lips.

You wince, "yeah, sorry. It finally got you to wake up though!"

"Yeah, yeah, and here I thought you would wake me up with a kiss"

"I did! Like five fucking times. You wouldn't even stir, I got desperate, okay!" You laugh, it echoes around the silent neighborhood.

"I believe you, can you get our bags from inside? I'll warm up the van" Hobie reluctantly lets go of your hand. You feel cold already.

"Get it nice and toasty for me?"

"What are you? Banana bread?"

"Funny" you point at him playfully, walking backwards.

"Don't forget the bloody Thermos!" He yells after you, following you with his gaze, making sure you don't trip because you decided to walk backwards.

You wink at him, "okay, dad!"

"Lil shit" he says with a smile.

—

Munching on your sandwich, Hobie cranked up the heating, you're now warm and toasty in your seat. The leather squeaks when you move to feed Hobie a bite of your sandwich. He *insists that he prefers yours even though you made an identical one. Hobie's free hand is glued to your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, making sure you don't fall asleep on him.

Hobie keeps his eyes on the road, trying to take a bite of the sandwich that you've teasingly moved a few inches away from his waiting mouth.

He bites at air, "Oi, what the fuck" you snicker, biting your lip. Hobie immediately figures out what you're doing, "don't make me swerve this fucking car into that ditch"

"Jeez, okay!" You laugh, leaning closer (as much as the seat belt would allow you to) Hobie takes a generous bite, "you're still grumpy? Do you need more coffee?" You rub at the corner of his mouth with your thumb, cleaning the bread crumbs. He hums appreciatively.

"I don't think that coffee's workin' too well" he says while chewing. "We're not even out of the city yet" Hobie huffs.

"Do you want me to drive for a bit?" You wait for his reaction with a tiny smirk.

"You haven't got a license," He says matter-of-fact, "you don't even know how to drive" he doesn't sound condescending or making fun of you, his voice laced with endearment. He makes a mental note to teach you once you two get back home. His fingers pinches you through your pants.

"I'm a fast learner" you joke, Hobie cracks a sleep deprived smile, oh he's definitely not a morning person. "Give it time, you basically drank the entire thermos. Maybe some music could help?"

"If it's your music, I'm gonna fall asleep on the wheel" He squeezes your thigh, just in case you didn't get his joke.

"If it's your music, It's going to burst my eardrums this early in the morning" you quip back.

"Nice. Sandwich me, love" he opens his mouth, darting his eyes from the road to you before his gaze goes back to watching the road.

You lean again, holding up the almost finished sandwich. "Do you know who invented the sandwich?" Hobie eats the entire thing in one bite, almost taking your fingers off. You glare playfully at him.

He chuckles, mouth full. "No, who?"

"Lord Sandwich, the fourth earl of Sandwich in the eighteenth century"

"You're fucking with me" Hobie takes a left turn, the van creaks, instruments in the back sliding a bit. You watch his hand turn the steering wheel, mesmerized by how his large hand grips the wheel. His rings don't help, you tilt your head, watching intently.

He pinches your thigh, getting your attention. "Hey, where'd you go?"

"Sorry, I was trying to recall the rest of the fact" you blink back to reality.

"Will you be like this the entire trip? Watching my bloody hands, you perv" He read you like an open book.

"What– I wasn't, okay! I was–" you fumble with your words.

He has a playful smirk on his lips. "You were what? Fantasizing my hands wrapped around your–"

"Stop!" You hold his hand that's on your thigh, so he could stop his teasing.

"What? I was gonna say 'wrapped around your hand', honestly what did you think I was gonna say?" He asks you playfully, shoving your shoulder lightly.

"it's too early for this shit" you mumble with a playful pout, intertwining your fingers with his.

He laughs, eyes crinkling into a smile. Hobie brings your hand to his lips, placing a quick peck on your warm hand. "Ah, too early for it? Maybe later then?"

You groan but your smile and the twinkle in your eyes says otherwise.

"What were you talking about? 'Bout the sandwich bloke?"

"John Montagu, he invented the sandwich because he didn't have time to eat a proper meal while he was playing cards and working."

"Bloody rich lord" he grumbles with malice.

"Hey, if not for him you wouldn't be eating one of my Sandwiches"

"I love eating your sandwich" he raises a teasing brow, proud of his innuendo.

"What is up with you this morning?" You laugh, playing with one of his rings, twirling the metal around his index finger. "Seriously, did I accidentally make you coffee with something in it? Is that why it says 'special' in the packaging?"

Hobie laughs loudly, echoing around the van. "You think they'd put an aphrodisiac in coffee?" He lets go of your hand for a bit while he steers the wheel with both hands. "Like ginkgo biloba or somethin'?"

You reach for his free hand immediately after he lets go of the wheel to lay it back on your thigh. "No like pistachio nuts or–" you try to think of another example, "— crab" you giggle when the word escapes your lips.

"Crab?!" He rides with your bit. "Must be some expensive bloody coffee, lovey" Hobie rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "No wonder I tasted something fishy in that coffee"

You gasp, feigning offense. "You did not!" contributing to the bit.

"Now who's crabby this morning, huh?" He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his pun, "argh, can't believe I have to endure seven more hours of this" teasing him, your sentence has no ounce of truth in it whatsoever. More than happy to accompany him on the trip.

"It'll be the best seven hours of your life, sweets" He looks at you through the rearview mirror with a smirk.

You can read him like a book too. Narrowing your eyes, you can just tell he has something planned, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"You've got something up your sleeves? Spill it, Hobart"

He sideways glances at you, hiding his knowing smile. "Don't know what you're on about" Hobie clears his throat, playing it cool.

"Nope, I know you, babe. That fucking smirk of yours, I know it!" You lightly poke at his cheek.

"Lovey, I haven't got a scooby doo. I'm just here drivin' trying to get us to Glasgow"

"You get very detailed when you're lying. I know your tells!"

"That so?" He makes a mental note of what you've said, which might be handy the next time he has a surprise. Hobie opens the radio, cd already inside, it plays a loud tune, drowning out your questions.

"Hey!" You yell through the loud music. Hobie almost gives himself away with a laugh, he bites his lip to stifle it. "Whatever– wherever you're planning to stop at some backroad tourist attraction, we better not be too late for the show!"

Hobie cranks the volume up, "What? Can't hear you through the music" he gestures towards his ear.

You press the 'volume down' button, covering your ears. Now you're definitely both wide awake. "You're an ass, you can't have any more of my sandwiches" huffing, you grab a ziplock of sandwich just to tease him more.

Banter fills the van, laughs and flirty words entertain you until sleep comes back to haunt you. Unexpectedly falling asleep, Hobie lets you snooze away in his passenger seat. Avoiding potholes, slowing down when passing a speed bump. He even uses his arm to act as your second seat belt whenever he turns sharply, hand cradling your head so you don't fall off the headrest.

Hobie has the urge to wake you though, but he needs you at full energy for what he's planning on taking you. Eyes drifting to the van's console, he gazes at your camera, taking a mental note to remember to give you the extra roll of films he bought for you.

—

Hobie shuts off the engine, eyes bleary, he clicks the seatbelt off of him. He has the urge to close his eyes and join you in slumberland. One look at your sleeping face almost pushes him off the edge.

He leans closer to you, hand cupping your jaw, he taps your face with his thumb. "Love" you don't stir, eyes still closed. Hobie's so attuned to you that he knows you're not faking it.

He kisses you chastely, warm lips puckering to wake you up. Hobie calls your name this time, poking your cheek. You still sleep, lips slightly parted. He's absolutely jealous of you right now. Peppering your face with kisses, he fully intends to wake you up. Defeated, you still lay asleep.

A bright idea pops up in his mind. Pulling away, Hobie grips the steering wheel with both hands, arms length away from him. He screams bloody murder like he's about to hit a wall.

You jump away, yelling for a second before seeing the parking lot bare, van parked safely. You clutch your chest, eyes now wide awake. Slapping his arm, you glare at him. Hobie has a shit-eating grin on his face, arm raised to shield himself. His laugh echoes.

"You fucker!" Slap "I could've" slap "gotten a heart attack!" You huff with a pout.

"I'm sorry, c'mere" he tries to hug you, standing your ground, you cross your arms on your chest. "You wouldn't wake up! I'm sorry, please?" Hobie flexes his fingers, face apologetic.

"Are we here? Did I sleep the entire time?"

"No, lovey. We're at a stopover" he points outside with his head. "'m really sorry. If there's any consolation I think you'll like this place"

Your eyes zero in on the sign, reading it loudly, "Stratford Upon-Avon?!" Screeching excitedly. You click off your seat belt with urgency, with the intention of leaving Hobie hanging as revenge. You'll kiss him thank you later anyway.

Opening the door, you step off, stretching your legs and breathing in fresh air. Warmer air greets you, a much kinder one from a few hours ago. Trainers bouncing off in excitement. Greenery and old timey Houses fill your vision, adding to your eagerness.

Hobie joins your side, your sling bag over his broad shoulder. Hiding his disappointment from your lack of hug, he only blames himself for scaring the crap out of you.

"Y/n." The lack of the term of endearment alerts you, whirling around, you see his shoulders slumped, face clearly hiding his true feelings behind a straight face. You know he'll feel worse if you don't try to reassure him. So you do, hand signaling him to hold yours.

He blames the early morning for making him all lovesick, if it was the later hours, Hobie would've stuck to teasing you about your reaction. With a sigh and a weak roll of his eyes, he steps in your arms instead of just holding your hand, head resting on your shoulder, yawning as you knead his aching back; you indulge him.

Good thing it's still too early for tourists to flock the area, save for a few scattered ones looking for a place to have breakfast at.

"Apology accepted," leaning back, you straighten the knots on his forehead. "You need better coffee" you scrunch your nose at his closed eyes.

"Or sleep" he grumbles.

"Do you want to sleep for a bit inside the van?" You feel bad for sleeping the entire time. "I'll stay with you don't worry. I won't fall asleep this time."

He shakes his head, slapping his own face to wake himself up. Jumping up and down with you still in his arms. You don't question it, jumping along with him. Metal accessories clinking together, boots thumping hard on the pavement.

Spluttering, he shakes his head vigorously. You giggle at his face.

"Alright, 'm good. Let's go get coffee"

—

You lead a very sleep deprived Hobie by the sleeve of his hoodie, too warm for his leather one yet too cold for just a t-shirt. He lets you drag him along, not because he's disinterested, sleepiness just got the best of him.

Gasping, you point at a unique streetlight. Little statues of a donkey and a man sitting on the metal sides, a curious owl placed on top, looking down on the street.

"Look at that donkey with a guitar!"

Hobie squints through the haziness, "think that's a lute. Kinda looks like you." He still finds the time to tease you even with heavy eyes. A smirk playing on his lips, watching you closely.

"You're the owl then" you let go of his sleeve, taking the camera from your bag, positioning and angling it for the best lighting. He watches your face full of concentration with a faint endearing smile.

Click.

"Got it" you smile, spotting a stand full of maps and information about the place. "Oohh" skipping over the display, you take one. "Hobie, look! Babe?" You look up from the pamphlet when Hobie doesn't reply back.

He walks towards you at a snail's pace. Grunting back in acknowledgement.

You wince, practically feeling his tiredness ooze out of him. "Let's get that coffee. There's a café near here."

"Overpriced coffee" he could only mumble out a protest. While you guide him towards the shop for some much needed refuel. It's not like he has any other choices, all the coffee shops near the area are unnecessarily expensive, save for gas station coffee– which is too far to get to right now, he might fall asleep while driving to it.

Hobie can't let himself drive through the fog of sleep, especially that you're with him. So he surrenders with the promise of getting his pep back so he can drive you safely to the next destination.

—

After gulping down two cups of coffee that made Hobie seethe after hearing the price, he leaves you on the table to go to the loo, your eyes glued on the leaflet, absorbing every word and information on it.

Hobie makes his way back, now wide awake, he watches you put too much milk on your cup, too distracted with reading– it overflows, spilling the hot liquid on the table. He has never loved you more when you jump in your seat, quietly yelping, clumsily wiping at the table with a napkin. He shakes his head with a fond smile and soft eyes.

Hobie asks for more napkins from the cashier, promptly heading towards your table. He helps you wordlessly, wiping, avoiding spilling any more expensive tea.

"Sorry" you expect Hobie to chastise you for spilling your drink, instead, he looks at you with concern and fondness.

"You alright? Didn't spill any on you?"

You smile softly, thankful eyes staring back at him. "I'm okay, it's not that hot anyway"

"Sure?" He takes his tea stained finger on the tip of your nose, leaving a wet patch over it. Green tea wafts your nostrils. "There's some on you"

"Ack!" Wiping it with a clean tissue, you roll your eyes; faint smile telling him otherwise.

"That's how it is then?" He chuckles, satisfied with your reaction. He sits down next to you, drying his hands on a napkin. Arm instinctively flying around your shoulder, holding you close. "Where to go next?"

"Hmm?" You hum, drinking what's left of your tea, "I thought you had it planned?"

"I planned on stopping here, thought you got the next part since you've always wanted to go here, y'know planned the entire trip in your head before"

For a second he thinks that you're disappointed in him for not planning ahead. The thought stops the second you beam at him, hands on his shoulder to anchor yourself on him. lips puckering to kiss him on the cheek quickly since you're in public. Hobie doesn't protest, leaning towards the kiss, angling his face so that your lips just about graze the corner of his lip. You know exactly what he's doing, you let him, moving slyly closer to his lips.

"Oh, you know me so well!" You say excitedly, pulling away, shaking his shoulder for emphasis. "First stop! The river Avon!"

—

"The ferry's closed" you come back to his side with a frown. Gusts of cool air rushes past, rustling your jacket, the leaves on the trees whisper and rustle in the wind, big fluffy clouds providing shade. The river laps at the dock, adding to your downturned lips. "The employee also said Shakespeare's house and the other houses are closed since it's too early"

"We'll just have to come back on our way home then" your frown turns back into a smile, poking his sides teasingly.

"You'll take me back here?" You say with a smirk, playful eyes smile back at him, finger poking his waist. "Ohhh, you're so smitten"

He takes your poking finger with a roll of his eyes, hiding the growing smile on his lips with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. Where to now, tour guide?"

"The butterfly farm is open early. Is that okay?"

"Why not?"

"We have to walk there, it's a bit of a trek" you shrug, "it's okay if we don't have time for it"

He calculates in his head, if you only stay an hour more, you two can be right back on schedule; just on time to get to Glasgow without being late for the show.

"We've got time to spare"

"You sure? I don't want us to be late" toe to toe with Hobie, finger still encased in his hand, you ask him anyway even though you know what his answer will be.

"Yes, let's go before people flock this place"

Hand in hand, you take in the sights, stopping from time to time to shoot pictures of the historical houses and buildings. Hobie becomes your model, posing like a natural in front of the lens. He wrangles the camera from you to take your picture right in front of Shakespeare's home and school. Shyness slowly edging away for a while as Hobie hypes you up. Instructing you to pose here and there.

You ran out of film before reaching the butterfly garden, stopping right in front of the royal Shakespeare theatre. The red bricks and dome like structure looms overhead.

"Aww, I think we used it all"

"'ve got more" he takes an extra roll of film from his pocket. You stare at him like he just did magic right in front of your eyes.

"Where'd you get this?" You say, bewildered.

"Brought it with me" he says nonchalantly like he didn't do the sweetest thing just for you.

"Have I told you lately that you're really amazing?" You load film inside the camera, quickly snapping a picture of his smug face.

"No, maybe you should say it often"

So enamored, chest filled with love, you agree. "Mm-hmm, maybe I should. Now, can you stand right there while I take a picture of your amazing face"

—

You finally make it to the butterfly garden. An arch with a large colourful butterfly display greets you. Inside is a beautiful glass greenhouse with a dome ceiling, it shines brightly in the early morning sun, adding to your excitement.

Once paid for the tickets, you and Hobie head inside, you're practically jumping off the glass walls. Hobie's hand leads you inside, preventing you from sliding on the gravel and breaking your ankle on the rough ground.

You're in complete awe of the place, it looked beautiful outside but nothing compares to it once inside. The sun glows brilliantly, bouncing its rays on the glass ceiling and walls. Flora and greenery as far as your eyes could see, strategically placed around the massive greenhouse. The flowery and sweet smells entranced you to explore the entire place, not to mention the colorful butterflies in all shapes and sizes fluttering all around you. Birds make their morning sing-song adding to the fantastical atmosphere.

The look on your face makes waking up a few hours earlier than scheduled makes it all worth it for Hobie. He softly smiles at you, hands clasped comfortably over yours. Eyes sparkling, mirroring yours, he guides you further inside. You let him, neck craned up, watching as butterflies swirl overhead.

Gravel crunches under your footsteps, Hobie stops walking. You almost bumped into him, he tugs at your hand, pointing down on the shrubbery.

"What is that?" You squint, jumping when something green slithers further away from you two and into the thick greenery. "Woah!"

He chuckles at your reaction. You fumble for your camera to capture a photo of the iguana lounging in the warmth, scales as green as the leaves around it.

Click.

"Look, it's you!" You point at its sharp spikes, looking at Hobie with a teasing smile.

"Careful, he bites" he taunts back, making you retract your finger back.

Strolling around more, you take so many pictures, the film Hobie gave you is almost full. You've even snuck in candid pictures of Hobie, and by god, he looked great in all of them. While all your pictures looked like you were at a field trip with your parents, posing with a goofy smile on your face as a butterfly lands on your shoulder.

It's been almost an hour of exploring, so you hold his hand again to tug him towards the exit with a promise of going back, without a time constraint next time.

Crisp air greets you two, hand in hand, you walk by the river, watching as ducks and swans swim on the surface. Their quacking and honking gets louder and louder as they notice you, asking for food.

"Maybe we should've brought rice with us" You mumble, looking at the birds with an apologetic look as if they can understand you.

"Do you think if you fall in they'll eat you?" Hobie asks with a serious look on his face, a small smirk curling on his lips, the only indication that he's fully joking.

"I don't think they'll like me very much, I'm full of bread, which isn't nutritious for 'em" you playfully quipped back, squeezing his hand. He chuckles at your comment.

Hobie slyly moves you away from the river, just in case you actually fall in. He guides you to his right, so that he's the one nearest to the water instead of you. Hand holding your left one, you lean to his side, full of affection in your chest, you softly kiss his shoulder. Whispering softly a 'thank you'

—

You've been quiet for an hour, Hobie side eyes you from time to time. The sudden silence makes him concerned, moreso when your face has contorted into a grimace, eyebrows furrowed, you bite your lips with a sharp inhale.

He's worried since you've been extremely chatty an hour ago, voice filling the van, you help him stay awake. Well until he hit a speed bump that made you squeak out.

"You alright, lovey?" Hobie asks with a squeeze of your thigh.

You sit with a fluffy blanket over your lap, a neck pillow under your head. You look comfortable enough, so why do you look like you're in pain?

You exhale, looking at him through the corners of your eyes without moving your neck. "Mm-hmm"

"Mm-hmm? What's wrong? Is the seat not warm enough?" Hobie looks at you through the rearview mirror, seeing your knitted eyebrows.

You ball the blanket under your knuckles. "I'm okay"

He nods, unconvinced.

After a few moments of smooth driving on the highway, cars drive past, you squeeze your thighs together. Controlling your breathing, you try not to think of water.

"Love" he calls for you, "did you see that car with the flame decals on it?" Chuckling softly, he places his hand over your thigh again. Hobie feels the tight muscles under your pants, eyebrow raising in question.

"Y/n" he snickers under his breath. Hands kneading softly at your thigh. Hobie translates the squeezing of your thighs together and your elevated breathing, "I swear if you're hot and bothered, I can't park right here–"

"I need to pee" you say embarrassed, avoiding his eyes. Only finally admitting it so he doesn't actually think you're aroused for some reason.

Hobie laughs loudly, hand slapping the steering wheel. "I told you to go before we left"

"Hobie," you whine. "Not funny, I've been holding it for so long"

"Alright," he clams up, still smiling at your predicament. "There's no gas station near here, love. We're too far away to turn around but we're thirty minutes away from Manchester. We can stop there"

"Thirty?!" You're in agony, hands tucked in between your legs in an attempt to tamp down the need to go.

Hobie moves his hand from your thigh to the back of your neck, kneading softly. He presses the gas, if he hurries you can make it in twenty five without breaking any traffic laws. He makes a joke about you peeing in a bottle which you only glared in return.

Twenty minutes later, you're folded in half on your seat, head layed on your lap, trying to distract yourself by counting the threads in your blanket.

"Almost there, love. Hold on" Hobie pats your head in reassurance. You groan out a reply.

—

You jumped from your seat after a second of Hobie parking the car in front of a gas station. Hand tightening around your travel sized toilet paper.

Hobie patiently waits for you outside the door. Fingers fiddling with his web shooters tucked under his sleeve.

The door creaks open. His neck cranes up to meet your relieved face. "Success?"

"Remind me to not drink anything until we make it to Glasgow."

"You still need to drink some water y'know" he walks back to the car with your pinkies linked together.

"Are we still far?"

"A bit, let's stop by Liverpool to eat lunch" he opens the passenger door for you. You smile sweetly at the gesture.

"Thank you, sorry for being annoying" You hug his waist with one arm briefly just before you hop to your seat.

"Not annoying, tell me next time, yeah?"

"Okay" you lean down to press a kiss on his lips, savoring the moment. He hums into it, his hand right over your shoulder so that you don't fall off.

—

As the van passes through Manchester, you spot the canals, houseboats parked on the side, you get reminded of your shared home.

"Look! That one looks like ours, same color too"

"Missing home already?"

"Kind of. Wish we could stop here, they've got the oldest library in Britain" You lay your head over the window, watching as landmarks pass by in a blur.

"They also have a serial killer too"

You scoff, "in this day and age?" Looking at Hobie's face, you don't see any lie to his comment. Your face falls, "wait, you serious?"

He shrugs, side eyeing you. You have absolutely no idea if he's joking or not, Hobie's good at acting like that, especially if he's teasing you.

"Hobie, you're joking right?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there actually a killer on the loose here?" You instinctively check the door locks.

He doesn't respond, adding to your fear. You completely miss the mischievous look on his face though.

"I don't want to stop here anymore" you mumble.

"We could always take a detour right now–"

"Nope, no thank you" you answer lightning quick.

He hides his smile behind his hand. Maybe he'll tell you all about it on the return trip.

—

An hour later you're sitting down outside a local restaurant in Chinatown, waiting for your food to arrive. The air blows softly, fluttering your lashes. You close your eyes, head resting on your hand, elbow over the table. You can see the faint outline of the Liverpool cathedral underneath the fog. It's gotten a few degrees colder since you've arrived, the streets shine from the earlier rain, petrichor wafts your senses.

Two bowls of warm noodles are placed in front of you. Side dishes, dimsum and xiaolongbao makes your stomach rumble at the sight and savory smell.

"Thank you," you smile at the waiter.

Wondering where Hobie went, lo and behold, he emerges, walking towards you with a paper cup of convenience store coffee. "Food is here, you still need coffee?"

He sits down across from you. "Yeah, needed another boost" Hobie scrunches his nose before standing up again, moving his chair right next to you, avoiding it from scraping the concrete. He sits back down, arm thrown over the back of your chair.

You look at him with a fond smile, heart eyes staring back at Hobie.

"What?" He challenges you with a raised eyebrow and faint smirk.

"Nothin'" you shove him lightly with your shoulder.

"Hm" he hums, you translate it to an 'obviously'

You eat with content, letting him steal some of your broth from your bowl, in exchange, he gives you a dimsum from his share.

—

You do your best at reading the booklet about Liverpool that you've bought before leaving the city while the vehicle moves.

"The guy who designed the cathedral is the same person who designed the red telephone box"

Hobie listens intently with coffee coursing through his veins, stomach full of food, he's properly fueled to drive for more than four hours to Glasgow. His band mates better be there already when you two arrive or he'll wring their necks.

There won't be any more stops until you get to the destination since there'll only be the highway to drive on. It stretches far, cars whirring past. With Sprawling green hills, and mountains curved around the highway makes the drive much more serene. Powerlines on the sides ground you, making it all seem familiar. The weather is foggy, blanketing the England to Scotland border.

The van rattles as Hobie swerves the car to the right. He plants his hand back in your knee, palm circling the curve of it affectionately.

"Ohh, they've got a beach" you stare at the picture of the nature reserve with its sandy windswept dunes, and grassy knolls.

"Add that to the list"

"Okay" you take out a pen from the glovebox, biting the cap off with your teeth, you scribble it on the back of the booklet where there's an empty space. Using your thighs as a table, you add the destination on your little list right under 'old thatch tavern'

"There," you hum happily.

"Is there anything on there 'bout Glasgow?" He kneads your knee with his knuckle.

"A tiny bit" you flip to the back, "they've got a mural trail, we might pass through it on the way. Ooh they also have a glasshouse."

You two pass the time by giving him facts about the places you've passed. Hobie listens in, adding his own knowledge to the mix. An hour later, you're both jamming to his music cassette. You try to make him laugh by banging your head to the song. Whipping your head too hard, you end up banging it on the dashboard.

With wide eyes and laughter threatening to spill out, Hobie comforts you with his palm over your forehead.

You two chat about with you feeding him crisps in between, exchanging stories and playing 'I spy' Hobie ends up winning with his enhanced vision, you challenge him again with a huff. He still wins the second and third round. His prize? Hobie tells you he's gonna hold onto it until you reach Glasgow.

At hour three, the car makes a metal groaning sound in the middle of the highway, you and Hobie looked at each other in fear for a second, silent and waiting for the van to keel over. You both sigh in relief after a few good minutes of silence with the car still running smoothly. Good thing it did because you have no idea how you'll make it to Glasgow if it did decide to just die in the middle of the road.

Before you know it, Hobie parks the van near the venue. Clicking off his seatbelt while you stretch in your seat. Hobie leans towards you, elbow right over the center console, he helps you with your seatbelt before promptly moving his hand to your cheek to face him.

"Can I help you?" You giggle, pecking the tip of his nose. "Are you claiming your prize?"

"This isn't my prize, lovey." He softly says against your lips. "That'll wait for later"

"Okay," you feel like your cheeks are on fire.

"This is my thanks" He meets your waiting lips, moving with yours. Cupping his jaw, thumb rubbing his cheeks, you breathe through your nose so the kiss would last longer yet it still leaves you breathless. You feel his hand around your nape, deepening the kiss further.

Hobie pulls away, seeing your pupils completely dilated, chest heaving for air.

"Thanks for what?" You ask breathlessly.

"Comin' with me" with his finger, he wipes the sheen off your lips, it stays there for a second, savoring, longing. For everything.

"You could've asked me to go anywhere and I still would've gone. As long as it's with you."

He answers with another kiss, laced with so much love and thankfulness, you feel it all through it.

A sudden knock has you pulling away, Hobie clicks his tongue at the intrusion. Turning around, he spots his bandmates whistling and wiggling their eyebrows. One was making a gesture that made you hide your face.

"You fuckin' wankers!" Hobie opens the door, slamming it on his friends' faces, they scatter, hooting and hollering, taunting him.

You watch as Hobie play fights with them, arm choking his bass player. With a lopsided smile on your face, excitement bubbles in your chest, the return trip and his promise makes you excited more than anything.

A/N: this fic is long overdue that we're at 700 already! Thank you all so much for reading and interacting with my little stories! Love all 700 of you ❤️

[stereopticons]

Fic Writing Review 2024

Thanks for the tag, @kiwiana-writes

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Words and Fics (fics written in 2024 only)

24,701 words published to ao3, which is a little less than half of last year’s total, but there was a lot of life happening this year that made writing difficult.

My writing tracker only lasted until April so I don’t honestly know how many words I’ve written, but I did work on several things that are still WIPs.

I’ve published in two fandoms: Schitt’s Creek and RWRB.

Most recent drop: you can call me, call me, any time, aka kinktober day 10, published in November lol.

Longest published fic: stronger than iron, stronger than steel at a whopping…3714 words lol.

Longest WIP remains indie band Patrick which is just over 29k

Top Fics by Kudos (fics written in 2024 only)

you can call me, call me, anytime [firstprince, E, 500 words]

head in the clouds but my gravity’s centered [firstprince, E, 1.1k]

bells will ring, the sun will shine [firstprince, E, 861 words]

love just leaves you bruised [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

I don’t wanna play if I’m gonna lose (but I don’t wanna lose ‘cause I didn’t play) [firstprince, M, 1.4k]

Miscellaneous Data From My Unhinged Spreadsheet about 2024 fics

The fic with the highest percentage of private bookmarks is you can call me, call me, anytime which is a little surprising.

Out of 14 published fics, 11 were E, 1 was M and 2 were T, which is a very different distribution than usual, but that’s because 10 of the 14 fics were kinktober lol.

I wrote David/Patrick, Alex/Henry, and June/Nora. Also started a Stevie/Alexis kinktober fic that I have yet to finish.

1 title came from canon, 1 didn’t have a source, and the other twelve were from the following artists (1 each): The Bens, Mariah Carey, Billy Joel, Regina Spektor, the Neighbourhood, MUNA, Chapterhouse, The Dixie Cups, West Side Story, Noah Reid, Matt Nathanson, and Blondie.

Highest kudos to hits ratio is a long winter of indifference

I published 8 fics in October, 2 in November, and one each in January, February and March. Not publishing anything in April broke a 2.5 year streak of publishing at least one fic per month (October 2021-April 2024) and I had a lot of feelings about it.

My average fic length this year was 1,645 words.

Stats specifically about Kinktober

Ten total fics and 13,792 words published so far - hoping this updates before the end of the year.

Five were David/Patrick, 4 were Alex/Henry and 1 was June/Nora

3 were David POV, 2 were Patrick POV, 3 were Alex POV, and 1 each were Henry and June POV.

Longest was I feel dizzy, I feel sunny, I feel fizzy and funny and fine, because apparently I have a lot to say about Patrick in lingerie, which is very valid of me tbh.

Shortest was you can call me, call me, anytime, which was epistolary.

Most popular by hits was head in the clouds but my gravity’s centered. Least popular by both hits and kudos was I know it gets hard just to breathe sometimes (I’m never gonna forget your name) which was breathplay so that’s fair.

The Rest of 2024

I have an exchange fic to finish and also am really hoping to finally get the exes to lovers fic finished. Potentially other kinktober fics, and maybe if I’m really on a roll, either the black swan au or the pretty princess fic. We’ll see!

Tagging people who either may want to participate or maybe are just interested? Idk.

@hippolotamus @blackandwhiteandrose @rosedavid @ninzied @indestructibleheart

@mostlyinthemorning @filet-o-feelings @carolrain @tyfinn @jamilas-pen

@rmd-writes @welcometololaland @lizzie-bennetdarcy @jettestar @thesleepyskipper

@ships-to-sail @beaiola @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 @chelle-68 @missgeevious

@dinnfameron

[lilacfiresoul]

cheat, april 2 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 1,144 words

kind of went a little over here lol because this was so fun to write! anyways, enjoy <3

-----

“That’ll be 850, please,” Regulus says smugly.

Lily, rolling her eyes, reluctantly hands over a sheaf of brightly coloured Monopoly money. “And now I’m basically broke. Regulus takes my money yet again.”

Glancing over at his boyfriend, James watches Regulus add the notes to his bank, all of them arranged neatly from highest to lowest in a line next to his properties. They’re already quite far into the game, with several houses on the board and the odd few hotels, mainly on Regulus’ properties. He’s the banker, and James is unsure if that’s the reason for his success, or if he’s genuinely just a good player.

Sirius seems to think the former, as he angrily tosses the dice onto the board and lands, surprise, surprise, on one of Regulus’ properties. Again.

“No!” he howls, slapping his hands on his forehead, earning a bemused look from Remus. “I swear he’s rigged the dice!”

“Sirius, how I can rig dice?” Regulus responds brusquely. “That’s 330.”

“Lily, you shouldn’t have let him be the banker,” Sirius accuses, glaring at Lily. “Whenever he’s the banker, I lose!”

James leans over to Regulus, resting his arm on the back of the chair, mumbling, “Sirius seems to think you’re a cheat, Reg.”

“He’s just a sore loser,” Regulus informs him matter-of-factly. “Every time I’m the banker, he says—”

“—It’s bad luck, Lily, he rigs it—”

“That I’m a liar,” Regulus begins.

“He lies, he schemes, he plots, he—”

“—Plans.” Regulus nods. Sirius flashes him an irritated look, but Regulus doesn’t even sound upset about it, just amused, as if he’s heard all of this before. His fingers are laced together in front of him, a businessman about to suggest a proposal. “You need to get more creative at your insults, Sirius.”

“Oh, shut up,” his brother growls, flinging the money at Regulus in a shower of coloured paper.

James can’t help chuckling, leading to Sirius narrowing his eyes at him. Caught, James drops his arm, straightening in his seat.

“I see how it is,” Sirius announces. “James is helping him.”

There’s a beat, and Regulus laughs. “I don’t need help. I build my Monopoly empire with my own blood, sweat, and tears.”

The game continues. Sirius stews in silence as Remus rolls the dice, missing Regulus’ properties completely and landing safe on an unclaimed plant. Then Mary rolls, grinning as she gives Lily 100.

“I don’t mind giving you my money,” she tells Lily, who swoons.

Regulus goes, where he lands on one of Sirius’ properties. He has to hand over 200 through gritted teeth, like it pains him to part with his fake money, much to Sirius’ delight.

And then it’s James’ turn.

It honestly couldn’t have worked out better. James rolls six, putting his figurine right on one of Regulus’ properties.

With a hotel.

“Ha!” Sirius crows, jabbing a finger at it.

Defeatedly, James asks Regulus, “How much do I owe you?”

Regulus looks at his cards, though James and everyone else at the table knows Regulus is doing it just for show, pretending as if he doesn’t know exactly how much James owes him.

“1150.”

Even though he’s played Monopoly so many times, James has never won at it. One time a few years ago, he’d played with his parents and Regulus. It had gone on for hours, and both him and Effie had lost, leaving it a tense battle between Regulus and Fleamont. James’ dad had won by the skin of his teeth, and has never let Regulus live it down.

James can’t help comparing that time to now, how he only has 500 left, majorly under the rent due, and how the same thing had happened last time. Regulus had let him lose then, hellbent on beating Fleamont, but now he has a mischievous gleam in his eye as James presents him with the last of his money.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Regulus continues. “It’s a hotel. I’ll let you stay there for free, if you give me a kiss to make up for it.”

“What?” Sirius explodes. “That’s not— You can’t do that— Lily—”

Lily holds up her hands. “It’s just my game, I can’t control what he does.”

Scrabbling for the box, Sirius finds the rulebook and flicks it open. “It’s against the rules.”

“I’m the banker.”

“That means nothing—”

Remus and Mary are silently laughing behind their hands, tears in Mary’s eyes as she tries to keep quiet. Lily’s eyes dart between the two of them, pressing her lips together.

“Are you calling my boyfriend a cheat, Sirius?” James asks innocently. “I don’t think it’s in the rulebook.”

“He’s also my bloody brother, James—”

“It’s not in the book,” Remus confirms.

A charged silence falls over the table. Regulus, grinning, hooks a finger under James’ chin to tug him closer. Entranced, James follows, like a dog with a bone, the tide to the moon, the planets to the sun.

The kiss is chaste, sweet, as people are watching, but underneath the table, Regulus squeezes James’ thigh, the promise of more to come later.

They part, and it’s an effort for James not to grab him by the neck and kiss him senseless, but he refrains, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the wink Regulus sends his way.

“Cheaters,” Sirius huffs. “Thought you did this alone, Reggie. If you’re doing that, I’m also doing it.”

“Be my guest. You don’t have to hotel yet,” Regulus quips.

The game continues for another few rounds. Mary goes out first, after divvying out her savings to Sirius, of all people. Remus goes out second, unable to pay his debt to Regulus. Lily is soon to follow, tossing her leftover bits of money to Regulus as well. Sirius is the fourth out, coming dangerously close to flipping the board as he also hands all of his money over to Regulus.

It’s just him and James left.

And James, in a cruel, or rather predictable, twist of fate, lands on one of Regulus’ properties. Again.

It’s laughable, honestly.

Sirius puts his head in his hands and wails because his brother has won. Mary, bursting into laughter again, excuses herself to get a glass of wine, and Lily and Remus try to smother their laughter at Sirius’ dramatic reaction.

“You going to steal all of my money?” James whispers. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

“Don’t need to. I’ve already won anyway.”

Regulus kisses him again, and Sirius, mumbling something about cheaters, best friends kissing brothers, and how shitty this game is, flips the Monopoly board.

[jessiemeows]

Lost & Found

Chapter 2: Companionship and Sunsets

A/N: Hello! I wanted to say the first 2-3 chapters are a little slow and are basically retellings of what happens amongst the Amaya/Astarion universe that I created. The next chapter though is when their story begins to officially start :) Pls go easy on me, I don't have any proofreaders and I tried reading this a thousand times to make sure the grammar and spelling are good lmfao. ALSO! Love and smut won't be introduced till later chapters, right now its going to be painfully obvious that Amaya and Astarion are crushing on one another. So in other words it's a slow burn. OH, one more thing, I haven't posted much but I am pretty much done with the next chapter, I have to add in a few things that I forgot I wanted added in so maybe(hopefully) I'll post it by the end of the week? I plan on reading it and adding in more stuff tomorrow night, and then I have to get over my fears of posting it for a few days by rereading it 500 times lol.

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, basically durge things if you know how that character is

WC: About 2300

Previous chapters: Prologue | Ch 1

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Story:

The wreckage of the nautiloid stretched behind them as Astarion trailed a few steps behind Amaya. He watched as his new companion led him in what seemed to be an increasingly familiar pattern.

"Any idea where you're going, darling?" He said with his voice filled with amusement. "Because it seems to me we're walking in circles."

Amaya's shoulders tensed. "Yes, I know where I'm going." The words came out clipped, and Astarion suppressed a smile. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh earlier—the knife to her throat, shoving her into the dirt but, what was done was done. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn't particularly care.

"I'm looking for someone," she continued, her voice softening. "She can't be too far from the beach. Unless she's dead, but I..." Her words trailed off into the now cooling evening air.

"And who might this mystery person be?"

Amaya twirled to face him, walking backward with surprising grace. "A half-elf who helped me on the ship. I don't remember her name, but I think she's a cleric, like me."

"Ah, clerics." Astarion clicked his tongue. "I've never much cared for the gods. Rather exhausting business, all that worship and devotion."

Her expression turned thoughtful. "True but, I don't know why I worship Selûne, to be honest. When I woke up on the nautiloid, I had only faint memories of her, but I could feel her presence, feel my magic flowing from her." She turned to walk beside him, their steps falling into sync. "Her presence felt light and hopeful, which was nice compared to..." Her voice faded, and Astarion caught the shadow that passed across her face. He chose not to press.

Instead, he studied her with new interest. "You don't remember anything?"

"Just my name—Amaya Othzál—and fragments that keep surfacing. The details are..." She shrugged, offering a faint smile. "Hazy."

"Must be the tadpole's doing."

"Or I hit my head really hard." Her giggle was soft and musical, and Astarion found himself oddly charmed by the sound.

"Yes, that would certainly explain a few things about you," he scoffed playfully, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a low chuckle.

Amaya then halted suddenly, causing Astarion to collide with her, nearly losing his footing to almost knock her over. "Do you think by any chance you could not stop so abruptly," he hissed.

"There's a wounded mindflayer," she whispered, pointing ahead.

"Better it than us," he remarked coldly. "But do be careful near that thing."

Amaya then approached slowly, her divine magic radiating a blinding light at her fingertips. Astarion watched as she hesitated to kill the abomination, kneeling before the creature within seconds.

"What in the hells—what are you doing? Get away from that thing!" Astarion then yanked her backward by the arm, breaking the creature's hold.

Reality crashed back, and almost immediately Amaya brought her boot down on the monster with crushing force. "Death is too good for it," she then turned to Astarion with apologetic eyes. "Thank you."

"Just don't do that again," he muttered. Amaya nodded.

The two had walked on for several more minutes completing a full circle back onto the beach when suddenly, Amaya bolted forward. "Wait! I think that's her!" She sprinted toward a prone figure in the sand. "How did I not see her? She was so close." Dropping to her knees, she checked for signs of life. "She's breathing- just unconscious."

The half-elf stirred at Amaya's gentle touch. "Y-you're alive," she mumbled, blinking in confusion. "I'm alive. How is this possible?"

As the women spoke, Astarion hung back, only half-listening until he heard his name mentioned. Amaya was recounting their earlier encounter while the half-elf—Shadowheart, she called herself—cast a healing spell. Shadowy magic knitted Amaya's wound closed, though the skin remained angry and red.

"You kept him around after he tried to kill you?" Shadowheart's green eyes bored into Astarion.

"He's infected, just like us." Amaya glanced at him with those big and round yet unusual eyes of hers—deep red and glowing, but it was as if the color itself was wrong somehow. The bridge of her nose had started to burn in the sun, making her constellation of freckles stand out even more. "I would've done the same, I think."

"Well, it's all in the past now, isn't it?" Astarion drawled. "We should be moving forward, shouldn't we..." Astarion awaited for the half-elf to give him her name.

The half-elf's response was as cold as winter. "It’s Shadowheart."

“Shadowheart. Let's go now.”Astarion scoffed at the half-elf giving her an equally challenging stare back. Rolling her eyes at Astarion, Shadowheart then carefully wrapped Amaya's wound. "Thank you so much," Amaya said.

“Anything for the person who saved my life.” Shadowheart said, smiling at Amaya her eyes lighting up. “Now let's get moving, lead the way.”

After looting a couple of dead goblins, their path led them to roadside cliffs overlooking what appeared to be temple ruins. As the party approached, a strange rune carved into the ancient stones caught her attention. Amaya paused, "There's something unusual about that rune," she murmured, cautiously moving closer to investigate.

“Amaya, do be careful,” Astarion warned. He had no desire to rescue her from another predicament as he had with the mindflayer. Ignoring the warning from him, Amaya reached out and faintly touched the rune with her fingers, causing her to recoil in pain. Amidst the eerie glow of the rune, a hand abruptly materialized, causing the trio to jump.

“A hand? Anyone?” cried a disembodied voice from the sigil.

Astarion's eyes remained fixed on Amaya, whose complexion grew pale as she stared transfixed at the spectral limb before her. Without any warning, she swiftly slapped the hand.

"Ow!" the voice exclaimed. "Perhaps I should have clarified—a helping hand? Anyone?"

Astarion couldn't contain his laughter. In their brief time together, he'd sensed a kindred spirit in Amaya's mischievous nature. After Amaya interrogated the sigil, she managed to use what was left of her divine magic and successfully pulled out a man. The sudden recoil from the conjuration caused the tiefling to stumble and fall, crashing directly into Astarion, he quickly reached out and grabbed ahold of her waist before she could hit the ground. 

“Hello, I’m Gale of Waterdeep!” the strange man said while dusting off his deep purple robes as the trio surrounded him.

In the corner of Astarion's eyes, the setting sun caught his attention. The sky blazed in a brilliant transformation, shifting from molten gold to soft coral to dusky rose—colors he had not truly seen in nearly two centuries. The fading light painted the landscape in an ethereal glow, turning the mundane into something magical. 

Only half-listening to the conversation behind him, Amaya boasted to the wizard, "I took control of the ship, landed it safely, and saved the day." Astarion couldn't help but snort at her words.

"That vast, burning wreckage behind you somewhat contradicts your story, but here you stand, so who am I to argue?"  the wizard responded sarcastically back at her with amusement.

Lost again in the sunset, a gentle touch on his shoulder startled him from his reverie. Amaya stood beside him, her unusual red eyes reflecting the sunset's dying embers. "Are you coming? We're setting up camp here for the night." She studied his face with quiet curiosity. "Do you like the sunset?"

"I'm used to the busy city," he lied smoothly, "so it's rare to see it like this." The truth—that he hadn't properly watched a sunset in two hundred years, caught in his throat.

"It is beautiful," Amaya murmured, her words trailing off as she gazed at the painted sky. Then, practical as ever: "But you should set up your tent before darkness falls, unless you fancy fumbling with poles in the pitch black." She turned away with a small smile, heading toward a flat patch of ground. Astarion sighed and followed, his feet dragging slightly in the dirt.

Gale, who seemed to be the ever the show-off, had his tent erected in minutes through a series of precise magical gestures. With another flourish of his hands, he conjured a blazing fire in the center of their makeshift camp. The flames cast dancing shadows across the clearing as twilight deepened around them.

"I hate to be bossy," Gale announced, though his tone suggested otherwise, "but I'm designating myself camp cook. Our supplies may be limited, but I promise to make something satisfying for us all."

Shadowheart's response was laced with sarcasm. "Fine, Gale."

Amaya chuckled at their bickering as she scanned the campsite, her smile fading when she noticed Astarion's empty tent. "Hm," she murmured, concern creasing her brow before she pushed the thought aside.

Inside her own tent, Amaya carefully arranged her few possessions. One particular possession made her smile, an old stuffed bunny—somehow preserved in her bag of holding took pride of place on her thin mattress. She found herself imagining ways to make the space more homely: perhaps some hanging plants, or a few cozy blankets. 

Changing quickly from her tattered armor, she borrowed a pair of black trousers from Shadowheart, cinching them with rope to fit her smaller frame. Her dark red underclothes would have to suffice as sleeping attire for the night. As she folded her armor, several gold-plated medallions caught her eye. Most were too damaged to read, their engravings worn smooth or broken, but one bore a partial image—half a skull surrounded by droplets. The symbol tugged at her memory, but like so much else, remained frustratingly out of reach.

Night had fully settled when Amaya joined the others by the fire. Crickets sang their evening chorus as torchlight flickered between their four tents. Gale offered her a bowl of dried fruits and meat with a gentle smile, which she returned gratefully.

"Where's your pale friend?" Shadowheart's question cut through the peaceful silence.

Amaya toyed with a piece of dried meat between her fingers. "Oh, he set up his tent and wandered off somewhere."

"I'd be careful with him." Shadowheart's green eyes bore into her with intensity.

"You don't trust Astarion?"

"Trust is a rare currency, Amaya. I'm not sure I would spend it on someone who drew a knife on me moments after we met." The words fell between them like ice.

Gale choked on his food. "He did what?"

"It's fine," Amaya insisted, though her head began to pound. Dark, unsettling thoughts from earlier crept back, visions of severing Gale's hand and slitting Astarion’s throat caused her to shudder. Amaya then pushed the thoughts away, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Fine," Shadowheart conceded, her gaze fixed on the flames. "But I'm watching him."

----

An hour had passed, and there was still no sign of Astarion. Shadowheart had already retreated to her tent while Amaya tried to focus on Gale's lecture about ceremorphosis, but her headache made it difficult to concentrate. His words blurred together as she stared into the fire.

"Now we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti. That's not abstract."

"I'm not too worried," Amaya offered weakly. "We'll find someone who can help."

"That's the spirit! Let's be up with the lark—find a healer before the wee one gets hungry. Oh, hello Astarion!"

Amaya turned around to find the elf had changed into simpler attire: a light blue shirt with ruffled collar and low neckline, paired with well-worn brown trousers and ornate shoes. The clothing showed signs of careful mending, a stark contrast to his earlier pristine outfit.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he said as Gale thrust a bowl at him, his lip curling slightly at its contents. "Sorry for disappearing. I needed a walk."

"Nonsense!" Gale waved off the apology. "It's been a difficult day. But this wizard needs his beauty sleep, or I'll be absolutely insufferable tomorrow. Goodnight to you both. I should check if Shadowheart's still awake..."

As Gale departed, Astarion settled beside Amaya, setting his untouched food aside.

"Not hungry?"

"Not particularly," he replied tersely.

"I only ate half of mine because I felt sick," she offered. "So you're not alone." Despite his prickly exterior, she found conversation with him came naturally. While she felt a connection with Shadowheart too, something about Astarion's presence put her at ease.

They both started speaking at once, then stopped. "Oh, sorry—you go first," Amaya insisted.

Astarion paused, choosing his words carefully. "So, we're resting here? Turning in for the night?"

"It's no feather bed, but it'll do." She hugged her knees to her chest, pushing dark curls from her face.

"I suppose." His crimson eyes darted around the clearing. "I'm not sure what I expected, really. This is all rather new for me. My nights usually involve bustling streets and bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt is... a little novel."

"I could make you some tea with calming herbs," she offered. "Help you relax."

"Ah, no—tea isn't really my drink." He tapped his temple. "I'll be awake anyway, processing all this. You sleep, I'll keep watch."

"Thank you, that helps. But first—what do you think of our new companions?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Ha! Well, we've picked up a wizard who managed to get stuck in his own portal—hardly a promising introduction. And then there's someone whose parents hopefully meant well by naming their child Shadowheart. Rather ominous, don't you think? Unless she chose it herself, which would be even more concerning."

Amaya couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose you’re right but they are all we have currently," She stood, brushing off her borrowed clothes. “You’ll have to excuse me now, I should pray before bed. Have a good night and try to get some rest yourself.”

"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams," he murmured, watching her silhouette move through the moonlight toward her tent.

[misc-obeyme]

Hey i believe I have what you call a suggestion to write; MC who doesn’t tell anyone their birthday because they view their birthday as a bad omen because things always go wrong and ruin it.

If you don’t feel like writing for everyone with this scenario and how they find out I’d appreciate it if you could do Lucifer, Dia, and Simeon.

Again I’m not very sure if this is what you mean by suggestion for writing if it isn’t feel free to ignore this.

Hello there!

Okay, so I tried to briefly explain the "suggestion" thing in my rules, buuuut I don't think I did a very good job lol.

The idea was that I would be able to write little short things in between longer requests and the like. I was thinking along the lines of the sort of short scenes I did for the 500 followers prompt event. They're about 500 words and feature a single character. Because I can do those somewhat quickly, so I was thinking if people were okay with little short scenes like this instead of full headcanon posts, they could send me a suggestion while my regular requests were closed. I would be okay with doing two characters as well, but they would both be in the same scene as opposed to writing separate ones for them.

So I did an example with your suggestion! I wrote a little scene about Lucifer discovering MC's feelings about their birthday. This was the kind of thing I was going for with the suggestions. If you'd like little scenes for multiple characters or something more like headcanons, please feel free to send the idea again when my requests are open!

Thank you for the suggestion!

GN!MC x Lucifer

Warnings: none!

Lucifer was sitting at his desk, organizing his papers. There were so many piles and he had really let them get out of control. He was attempting to put things in some kind of chronological order and was amazed at how far back some of these things went.

That was when he stumbled upon the form that was all about you. The one that had caused him to choose you for the exchange program. It had all your details on it. Lucifer lingered over the page, remembering how it felt to read about you for the first time, surprised at how different he felt reading the same things now.

And then Lucifer saw your birthday and immediately put down the paper. Your birthday was in only a handful of days and you hadn't said a single thing about it.

As though summoned, you arrived in his doorway. It was late in the evening and you looked like you were about to go to bed. But first you had brought him some coffee. You walked quietly into the room, setting it on his desk and smiling at him before sitting down across from him.

"I thought you might want some coffee," you said.

Lucifer returned your smile, taking the mug and sipping at the hot liquid. The bitterness hit him and he chuckled. "Hell coffee?"

You blushed and looked away. "Maybe."

Lucifer shook his head fondly for a moment before becoming serious again. He picked up the paper he'd been holding before so you could see it.

"Why didn't you tell me your birthday was coming up?" he asked directly.

Lucifer watched as you paled and seeing it made his gut twist unhappily.

You shrugged and looked away from him. "It's just… it always goes wrong. It always gets ruined. So I kinda see it as a bad omen now. Not something to celebrate."

Lucifer frowned, tapping a finger on the side of his mug. "I understand if you don't wish to celebrate. However, I would still like to request that you give us a chance."

You looked over at him again, surprised and a little confused. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how things are in the human world or what has caused you to feel this way," Lucifer said. "But I know my brothers would wish to celebrate with you."

You shifted in your seat uncertainly, clearly unwilling to say yes, but also reluctant to say no.

Lucifer put down his mug and met your eyes across the desk. "I would personally ensure that your birthday goes smoothly. Would you truly deny me the pleasure of seeing your smiling face?"

You blushed again. Lucifer knew his gaze was intense, but he needed you to fully understand just how much you meant to him. Your birthday should make you feel loved and wanted, not scared and uncertain. And he was prepared to be the one who made sure your feelings on it changed.

Lucifer was pleased when he saw your expression become resigned. You smiled and shook your head a little. "Well… I can't really say no to you."

Lucifer sat back, smiling with satisfaction.

True to his word, Lucifer spent the next several days planning for your birthday. He subtly figured out exactly what would make you happiest and when the day itself came, put all of that information into action. It turned out to be the best day you'd had in some time. And at the end of it, you spent a fair amount of extra time in Lucifer's arms.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[crimeronan]

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