#do i like the part of myself that makes it very very very hard to finish projects i start? nah. but i am trying to like it more

[keezybees]

HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST OMGGGG

I worked really hard on it tbh haha. A few years back I went through a long period of intense perfectionism where I slowed down to a crawl (like five comic pages in 4 months). I finally decided that that wasn't working for me, and so I started implementing my motto: shitty is better than incomplete!

Basically it's about the idea that it's more important to me to get the ideas and stories out there than it is for them to be perfect. I have a lot of stories I want to tell, and there's only so much time for me to tell them. It helps to remind myself of this as much as possible!

As for technical tricks, I do a few things that really help:

Draw a lot! Practice is truly one of the number one ways to improve speed, as annoying as it is to accept

I don't zoom in too far

I only use 1 brush at 1-2 sizes for inking (outside of specialized stuff like stippling)

I put hard limits on a lot of stuff--how much shading I do (if any), or what shape my comic panels are (only squares, no diagonals or weird shapes), for example

My characters (comic characters especially) all have pretty simple designs and outfits

I write down every idea for an illustration that I have, even if I'm not ready to tackle it yet. That way when I have a chance to sit down, I've got a whole list ready to go and I'm not waffling around in the concept stage

Finally, I've learned to accept my imperfections as a neat part of my art! It's not easy, and I slip back into bad habits sometimes, but I try my best to see every misplaced mark or color that bleeds outside the line as proof that a human hand made this. I don't spend a lot of time correcting mistakes or painstakingly trying not to make them.

Here's an example from Hello Sunshine, where if looks fine from far away, but if you zoom in a bunch, you can see all kinds of little "mistakes." gaps in the ink and color, the line of Alex's ear doesn't match up, very sketchy linework where their faces meet, haha.

But then when you zoom out even a little bit, you a) don't notice those things nearly as much, and b) I think it gives it a kind of traditional charm. Just because you CAN use ctrl-z doesn't mean you HAVE to.

Anyway I hope that helps!!

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / A03

Turns out being a mall rat was a lot more fun than it looked.

Or at least it was when Eddie wasn’t dragging them all into his new favorite hobby: salivating over Sailor Steve.

“This feels a little…” Gareth started, sitting at a table behind a massive, planted bush.

“Adventurous? James Bond-like?”

“Creepy.” He finished, as they all watched Steve do some kind of sarcastic looking dance at Robin.

“It’s the binoculars, man.” Jeff added, watching Eddie lean over the bush. “It’s too much.”

“He’s trying so hard to win her over.” Eddie raged on. “He’s like one of those birds looking for a mate, doing all these fancy moves and--and spins!”

He sniffed loudly, offended both at Steve and on his behalf. “We’re getting her fired.”

Jeff gave a long suffering look to the ceiling. “We’re not getting her fired.”

“If we get her fired,” Grant said, in that ‘thinking aloud’ tone he had, “Would Steve be the new manager?”

“We could get so much free ice cream.” Eddie wheedled at Jeff, who frowned back at him.

“Once again I find myself asking how I became your conscience.”

“If the shoe fits, Jiminy Cricket.”

Gareth and Grant cackled, as he returned to staring at his beloved ex-jock’s attempt to befriend (or flirt with, if one asked Eddie) what had to be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

Sans Tiff, of course.

“As much fun as watching Steve work is, can we please go back to what we were actually supposed to be doing?” Jeff tapped on the spiral bound notebook he’d brought with him.

It held the words “potential song lyrics” and absolutely nothing else.

“Aww Jeffrey,” Gareth cooed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you really think that Eddie wanted to work on band stuff at the mall?”

“We’ve got to work on your gullibility.” Grant piled on, as Jeff made disgusted noises in response.

“No, I saw this coming. But we do need at least two more original songs to make an EP.” It was a goal they’d chased all year and spectacularly failed to achieve.

Frustrated, Jeff added; “I don’t care if Eddie’s not on board—you two are helping me write lyrics or I will derail every D&D campaign hereafter with petty arguments."

The unspoken truth was that Eddie, much like with D&D, was a control freak when it came to Corroded Coffin. It was his band, no matter who else was a founding member (Jeff), and the moment actual work began on anything, he’d be drawn in like a moth to a flame.

As expected, Eddie took the bait.

“You’re not choosing anything without me!” He barked, finally abandoning his Steve-stalking. He spun to face Jeff, eyes alight with challenge. “And for the record, I do have an idea.”

“Is it a real one?” Jeff asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook. “Or another round of dick-and-balls limericks?”

“How very dare you make fun of my genius, that was a legitimate song!”

“You rhymed balls with walls, and dicks with bricks--”

Eddie didn’t wait for him to finish. He snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands, earning a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man. “No, this one’s serious! It’s a proper track, I swear, I-- I need a pen. Jeff.” He turned to his bandmate, desperation in his eyes. “Give me your pen.”

“No.”

“Je-eeeff--” Eddie began in a whine before Grant, rolling his eyes, decided to end the nonsense by tossing one his way.

“See? Grant loves me.” He muttered indignantly as he snatched the pen and hunched over the notebook, scribbling furiously.

Words—actual, coherent words—began appearing on the page, and Jeff wisely kept any retaliatory retorts to himself. There was always the slim chance that Eddie was actually taking this seriously.

The others followed suit, falling into a hopeful silence.

Corroded Coffin prided itself on being a collaborative effort, but there was no denying Eddie was the strongest songwriter in the group. When he got inspired—or decided to stop screwing around—he could churn out stuff that felt electric. Like it had a real future and the band with it.

That was what they lived for.

“There!” Eddie declared, triumphantly shoving the notebook back at Jeff, grin practically screaming creative genius at work. “It’s rough—just a few lines and a chorus—but it’s solid. A starting point.”

Jeff snatched it eagerly, scanning the page as Gareth and Grant leaned in, eyes locked on his face.

Would this be something raw and heavy, in the vein of the few solid tracks they’d hammered out before? Something loud, fast, and undeniably metal? Or had Eddie finally given into all his threats and written them a love song?

(Gareth honestly didn’t care if it was a love song. He’d been expecting one for a while, given Eddie’s increasingly ridiculous heart-eyes at Steve.)

Except Jeff’s expression was rapidly imploding. His brow furrowed, lips flattening, until he finally slapped the notebook down on the table and leveled Eddie with an incredulous stare.

“So?” Eddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thoughts?”

“We’re not writing a song about the You-Suck Board.” Jeff deadpanned.

Oh, for the love of—

“Absolutely not!” Gareth cut in, throwing up his hands. “We already hear enough about that stupid thing. I’m not singing about it!”

The infamous You-Suck Board had been a sore spot since its inception, mostly because it involved Robin gleefully encouraging Steve to flirt with every single eligible woman who walked into Scoops Ahoy.

That he was, for what had to be the first time in his life, bombing out, appeared to only be suspicious to everyone but Robin--and, somehow, Eddie.

(“Why did it have to be flirting!” He’d snarled on the day of its creation, as Gareth had struggled to keep himself from jumping ship and hurling himself away from Van Halen. “Why couldn’t they have taken bets on anything else!?”

“I think it’s more that Steve flirts a lot given how many chicks come in to get ice cream--” Jeff had not so helpfully added.

The turn Eddie took in retaliation nearly cracked his head against the window.

“She doesn’t need to be encouraging him!”

“You realize if you just talked to him like we told you too, he probably wouldn’t be flirting with every single women that--”

Eddie took another wild turn, tires squealing in protest. Gareth abandoned any pretense of being cool and latched onto the handlebar, cursing loudly.

“And ruin our fucking friendship?” Eddie spat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Yeah I don’t think so.”

If Gareth hadn’t been busy actively praying for his life, he might’ve exchanged a long-suffering look with Jeff.

Who, unfortunately for everyone involved, was far braver—or stupider—than anyone gave him credit for.

“You know,” Jeff began, his voice surprisingly even despite the chaos, “you can’t be mad at him for flirting if you’re not willing to make a move.”

The van screeched through another corner, tilting so sharply that Gareth was convinced two wheels had left the ground. He yelped, adding another string of curses to the air.

“You can’t be mad at me either!” Jeff’s voice climbed an octave as Eddie took his frustrations out on the accelerator.

I’m not mad. Do I look mad!?” Eddie said, rather madly.

“Yes!” Jeff and Gareth both chanted, before Jeff finally smacked hard at their eldest friend's shoulder.

“That is it, you have lost driving privileges, pull the fuck over--!”)

“I’m just saying--” Jeff was trying to argue in the present, only for Eddie promptly flung himself away from the table, before dramatically stepping atop it.

He cleared his throat as they all groaned at him, Gareth scrambling to get his shit out of the way before it got stepped on.

“I declare a mutiny!” Eddie declared, voice ringing out and startling several nearby shoppers. “Mutiny from my own beloved crew! My brothers in flesh and blood!”

“Oh God, here we go.” Gareth muttered as Grant swatted ineffectively at Eddie’s pant leg.

“Have I not led you into battle? Given you victory after victory in the realms of--” He stopped abruptly, a deer in headlights, before the dorkiest smile Gareth had ever seen overtook his face.

Now the groans were for different reasons--because clearly, Eddie had been spotted by Steve.

Sure enough, when Gareth peeked over the hedge, Steve was staring straight at them.

His face lit up as he gave a small wave, and Eddie, ever the hopeless fool, couldn’t help but wave back.

Witnessing this, Grant turned and leveled Gareth with a flat look. “This is pathetic. I am officially requesting that you do something.”

“What?" Gareth sputtered in response. "Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why not Jeff!?”

“Because I’m his assigned conscience. Grant,” Jeff jerked a thumb in his direction. “got the right’s to his creative side and you," The finger flicked back to Gareth,  "get to tackle romance.”

“When did we all agree to this shit?!”

“Suck it up Emerson, the fates have decided.  Now sort this out before one of them pushes the other over the edge and we end up caught in the crossfire.” Jeff gestured upwards at Eddie, who had tuned this entire conversation out in favor of trading faces with Steve.

Presently his tongue was out, hands up in his classic “horned” pose.

“This is just sad.” Jeff finished, knowing damn well Eddie wasn’t listening.

“How am I supposed to fix it!?” Gareth protested but it was weak. He had a feeling it was going to come down to this--Eddie, for all his supposed edges, sure as shit wouldn’t make a move and Steve…

Honestly, Gareth couldn’t quite get a read on Steve—or whether Steve even realized he occasionally flirted back with Eddie. The guy had a crush, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind, but having one and acknowledging you had one were two very different ball games.

And Gareth sucked ass at sports.

“Figure it out.” Grant said helpfully, and got the finger in response.

He could handle this.

He just...

Needed a plan.

Things were easier with plans--right?

(Wrong.)

xXx

“There’s something seriously wrong with this mall’s security.” Eddie announced as he barged into Scoop’s the next day, Gareth on his heels.

Steve, who’d just finished slinging ice cream to a troop of Girl Scouts, didn’t even look up.

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Because there’s an insane number of them, but they only seem to guard the loading dock?” Gareth answered truthfully.

it was weird that there was tons of dudes with shifty eyes and bad hairdo’s running around outside the mall--and never inside of it. Like yes sure, product shipment and shit, he got that but…

Wasn’t loss prevention focused on preventing loss in the stores? Where people like say, himself and Eddie, could pocket it?

“It’s like they’re not even trying!” Eddie scoffed, as he proceeded to empty his pockets, lining up the day’s treasure on the counter. "The one guy we saw spent the whole time talking in Russian to a delivery driver." 

That had been notable because Eddie had stolen something right in front of the guy, who had just turned away to avoid the obnoxious teenagers.

(And, of course,  gone on to speak in a terrible Russian accent for several minutes afterward.) 

They’d both stuck to small items--stickers, jewelry, and in Eddie’s case, an entire case of bouncy balls, but judging by the complete lack of reaction, Gareth had a feeling they could clear out the store and no one would even bat an eye.

It was odd, to say the least.

So was the fact that the construction company kept showing up to “fix” things. Massive semi trucks towing in materials with ‘Anodyne’ printed out in big ass letters along the side. Gareth and Eddie had spent a lunch watching one of the trucks load in, a literal swarm of people pulling out crates and sheets of metal down the largest service elevator Gareth had ever seen.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then, when did anything in Hawkins?

With a flourish, Eddie revealed his final treasure of the day. A button, with the words ‘Not a Prince, but I am Charming’ blazed across it in bright yellow lettering.

For you, Sailor." With an exaggerated bow and open palms, he presented it to Steve, his tone dripping with theatrical flair.

“Maybe securities just no match for you two.” Steve teased back, picking up the button and proudly pinning it to his shirt.

This caused Robin to snort loudly behind him.

She was given two different middle fingers in response.

Unfortunately, her normally sneering expression began to look dangerously contemplative the third or so time Eddie “adjusted” the button on Steve’s shirt, the two of them half slapping at each other over it and Gareth shot into damage control mode before the idiots outed themselves to her.

“Anyone else here yet?” Gareth asked, shoving at Eddie as he pretended to fight for countertop elbow space.

He was shoved back, but at least everyone seemed to get a clue, Eddie abandoning Steve’s button to slump on the counter in a way he knew Robin hated.

Steve made an obvious show of checking his watch. “Nope, but none of you freeloaders tend to show up for another hour anyway. You two are early.”

Eddie gasped, hand leaping to clutch at his chest, above his heart. ‘Steven! I know you didn’t just call me, one of your closest, bestest, friends, a freeloader!”

“You’re one of the worst offenders." Steve deadpanned. "Frankly you’d be number one if the dipshits weren’t constantly in here harassing me to let them sneak into the movies.”

Another loud gasp. “You’ve been letting the children sneak into movies and not us?”

He got a smirked at for his efforts. “You’d get caught.”

Playfully offended, Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“And the loud shrieky one won’t!?”

“The loud shrieky one is controlled by Lucas and Max.”

“Such disrespect! After I bring you a present and everything!” Eddie sniffed. Robin was still watching them, Gareth noted, though this time it looked less confused and more like the expression on his parents face when they watched something weird happen on a nature documentary.

It was still too close for comfort.

Thankfully a proper distraction arrived, in the form of the rest of Hellfire. 

“Guess who's working that new cookie kiosk?” Stewart announced as the group breezed in, saving Gareth from having to stomp on Eddie’s foot (or start a sprinkle war or any of the other ridiculous shit he’d had to pull the last few days.)

“James Heartfiend.“ Steve said flatly. 

"It's Hetfield, which I know you know, just like I know you're mispronouncing D&D names on purpose."  Eddie told him. “Which is a sin, I’ll have you know.”

“Would this be the same kind of sin as washing dishes or--”

“No--shut up Eds--Steve!” Stewart yelled over Eddie. “Guess again! Steve!”

"I know you didn't just tell me to shut up, Stewart--" 

“Whatever you’re doing, Gary,” Jeff whispered as two different arguments broke out on top of each other, “do it faster.”

He didn’t have to specify what he meant, given how Eddie was blatantly competing for Steve’s attention.

“I’m trying.” Gareth hissed back, annoyed. “I don’t see you helping any!”

“He,"  Jeff pointed his head in Eddie’s direction, making it clear who he meant, "called me at 10pm last night because Steve finally got a You Rule point. He ranted me to sleep.”

“Well that’s not helping, is it?”

“It’s torture. I am being tortured.”

“That isn’t torture, Jeff. Torture is waking up to go on a jog with Steve only to have him derail every attempt at discussing relationships because you’re running wrong--”

“It’s Alex Copeland.” Tiff announced loudly, cutting off the increasingly loud conversation happening around them.

Silence abounded as everyone took the name in.

“I don’t know who that is.” Robin said cautiously, peering at Hellfire as if waiting for some grand reveal.

(She startled about three different people in doing so, Gareth included. They had got to get better at remembering when she was there.) 

“Neither do we.” Jeff said as he abandoned Gareth to shoulder his way to the counter, throwing a handful of bills down on it as Grant groaned in the background. 

Steve apparently, had been making ice cream while everyone was arguing, because Jeff’s usual order was handed right over in return.

The fucking overachiever.

“Honestly we don’t either.” Jeff admitted, as he began shoveling ice cream in his mouth. “Grant won’t let us see her.” 

“He’s so embarrassed about it, it’s hilarious.” Gareth added, snatching up one of the free sample spoons and stealing a bite as payment for all the comments. 

He was doing the best he could here, and given he had somehow been assigned the Herculean task of trying to get two of their closest friends to realize they liked each other, he figured Hellfire as a whole owed him.

Turns out it was pretty fucking hard to sit your good friend down for a “I know we kinda talked about it, but you do know you’re not straight, right?” conversation, and spinning it further into “also I think you have a crush on Eddie” downright impossible.

He made another go at Jeff’s ice cream.

Jeff turned, sticking up an elbow to block as he made a face. “Get your own!”

“Why bother when I can have yours?” Gareth countered, ducking around the offending elbow and moving to get back at the bowl.

The older teen turned again, resulting in a sort of dog-chasing-its-tail effect as Gareth continued to turn with him, the both of them spinning faster.

“We’re convinced it’s a fake name.” Tiffany added, completely ignoring her friend's shenanigans.

“It isn’t!” Grant protested far too loudly, blushing fire engine red. 

“So who do we think it actually is?” Steve asked, catching onto the gag immediately.

“All we know is that it’s an older woman, who “is super sweet”,” Tiff made quotation marks with her fingers, “calls him hun, and has the photobooth gig as a part time job.”

“Okay…?”

“Joyce Byers.” Jeff said loudly, before snapping his teeth at Gareth's hands in a threat to bite.

Steve broke into laughter immediately.

“What.” He wheezed, nearly dropping the scooper he was playing with.

Grant moaned like a dying thing. 

“See, our dear friend here had a small crush when he was a wee child…” Eddie started, with his usual flair.

“Which he denies to this day but he still gets all anxious if she’s around--” Gareth continued, undeterred by Jeff’s threats.

“Jonathan’s mom!?” Steve continued to wheeze, as if there was a different Joyce Byers running around.

"Lies!" Grant himself snapped. "Lies and--and slander!" 

“Grant is a sucker for cougars.” Jeff said over his protests, still spinning.

“Oh, screw you  Jeff!”

“Sorry but I can’t, Grant.” Jeff turned the other way, trying to trick Gareth out. “What would Miss Byers think?

“Gary,” Steve called out as Grant bit out more protests. “Stop pestering Jeff and come get your own.” He pulled out a bowl and shook it, just like you would to call a pet.

“I don’t have ice cream money!”

“I’m giving it to you, idiot.”

"Oh. Thanks!" 

“You guys are so weird,” Robin interrupted, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, giving the same look teenagers on TV give when asked to do something gross. 

Eddie beamed at her, to her clear disgust. “Damn right we are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you please go be weird elsewhere?” 

Which was not the first time Robin had made that particular plea. It wouldn't be the last, either. 

“Sorry Buckles,” Eddie said, leaning on the counter once again. “But Hellfire sticks together. You have one of us, you get all of us.”

Robin pondered that longer than Gareth thought was necessary, tilting her head in thought.

“So, if I fire Steve, does that mean I get rid of all of you?” she asked, challenging them.

Eddie tapped his finger to his chin. “Well…”

“No, no.” Steve directed the first to Eddie before spinning and stressing the second at Robin. “I need this job. No firing!”

“Pretty sure that's the manager's decision, Steve.” Grant teased, happy to throw him under the bus if it meant people stopped talking about Joyce Byers.

“She’s the assistant manager!”

“To a guy we have never met! And,” Eddie turned to Robin, as though expecting her to back him up, “as Lady Buckley just pointed out, we are here all the time. Therefore,”

He smacked the back of one hand into his palm, “I declare that there isn’t actually a manager and Robin can hire and fire as she likes!”

Steve was starting to look desperate, as though Robin might actually buy any of this nonsense. 

“Eddie.”

“No firing.” Gareth cut in, as if he had any authority on the matter, digging happily into his ice cream. 

"Fi-iine." Eddie grumbled, collapsing onto the counter with all the grace of a fallen deer. "Say, Stevie, could I possibly get some of that sweet, sweet free ice cream in mint flavor?"

Under his breath, Jeff told Gareth; "You don't deserve yours." 

Gareth didn’t respond right away, his attention caught by Eddie poking at the ridiculous button he’d given Steve—and how Steve just... let him.

It made him think about how Steve used to be—and how, in many ways, he still was when it came to anyone in his space. How different he was now.

Steve wasn’t the kind of person to seek out touch, but the Steve they saw now was much closer to the one they had grown up with—without all the “King Steve” nonsense.

He was loud. Playfully rude. Just the other day, he slapped Grant on the shoulder in excitement about some basketball game and didn’t even seem to notice he'd done it.

Eddie had done that. Hellfire had helped, absolutely, but Steve wasn’t haunting Jeff’s house or Gareth’s garage, or Grant's basement bedroom. Off-shift, the guy could usually be found with Eddie, and if not, Eddie would always know where he was.

It was why Gareth had taken the approach of talking to Steve first, instead of pushing Eddie to confess.

If they messed this up...

It could blow up not just their friendship, but all of Hellfire’s with Steve.

And that wasn’t fair.

"No, I do." Gareth muttered, trying to push away the weight of all the ways this could go wrong. "I definitely do."

When it was all said and done, he deserved far more than free ice cream, and he fully intended to collect on that.

...If he could just get Steve and Eddie to make some progress first.

xXx

On a random Sunday (or if you were Gareth, on Attempt 15 of The Dating Talk) Dustin Henderson returned from camp, greatly annoyed about his friends but looking forward to seeing Steve.

Gareth would stare, with a look on his face that could only be described as “delighted” as the two of them proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake on Earth, complete with lightsaber noises and Steve tragically dying at the end.

“Do not tell Eddie about that.” Steve would hiss, finger pointing threateningly in Gareth’s direction.

“Swear it on my life.” Gareth would reply--only after making eye contact with Robin.

She might be Eddie’s enemy at the moment, but he figured this was a solid way to win her over—especially with Steve so hell-bent on becoming her friend.

After all, he was here for yet another round of their never-ending “feelings” talk—not that he planned on having it in front of Robin, but rather to steal Steve away during his break (and maybe score a free lunch in the process).  Getting on Robin's good side would mean fewer complaints from her about Gareth haunting Scoops—and about Gareth constantly pulling Steve away.

Too bad he’d failed once more, his frustration mounting as he made no absolutely zero progress. 

(Steve, as it turned out, had an almost supernatural ability to detonate entire conversations, and he was presently using it for evil.

A carefully placed question here, a scoffing remark about elves there, and before Gareth knew it, the bastard had sidestepped every trap and sent them careening into uncharted territory. By the time Gareth noticed, Steve was long gone.

Pinning him down at work was becoming his only option, given the older teen couldn’t just up and vanish, but even that hadn’t exactly worked out today.

Thus, Dustin’s interruption had been appreciated.

Stewart's, on the other hand, wasn’t.) 

“Steve!”

Robin glanced up, before making a face. “Oh look, here comes one of your little fanclub.”

“It’s not a fanclub, Robin."

“Yeah? Then why is he screaming your name?”

“She’s got you there.” Dustin told Steve, the traitor.

“Ste-eeve!”

Stewart was breathing hard, eyes shining as he slid to a stop in front of Scoop’s counter. With the excited air of someone who’d just scored the winning goal, he slammed a cylinder down on the counter.

One that glowed a familiar, sickening green color.

“Who sucks now!?” He bellowed, as if that part of the board had ever in any way shape or form applied to him.

“Motherfucker.” Steve cursed instead, staring at the thing in horror.

“Why Steven,” Dustin clucked his tongue with a grin. “Such uncouth language!”

“And in front of children too.” Robin added dryly.

Steve dropped his head to the counter while simultaneously raising his middle finger.

“I hate my life.” He moaned.

“No you don’t.” Eddie declared, announcing his presence by flinging Scoop’s window open with a bang! “Not when you’re a grand adventurer, setting sail on the ocean of flavor!”

Without picking up his head, Steve blindly grabbed a spoon and hurled it at him, striking the center of Eddie's forehead with perfect aim.

Gareth and Dustin both applauded. 

“Munson we talked about this, you cannot be behind the counter let alone in the backroom!” Robin shrieked, hands going to support the You Suck board as it wobbled dangerously.

(It had been modified at some point the day prior, and was now split into thirds, reading “You Rule” “You Suck” and ‘Fountain”

Underneath ‘Fountain’ was three Xs and a poorly drawn skull.

“We really need to put a leash on him.” Tiff said when she first saw it, with the air of someone whose puppy had chewed through another shoe.

“We need to burn it.” Eddie had responded darkly, and then the topic of conversation was quickly changed before he could get another rant going.)

“Hate life later. Where did you find this?” Dustin asked, reaching out as if to grab the goo, and immediately getting his hand slapped down by Steve.

“Tell me it wasn’t in the water fountain.” He added, as Eddie walked himself to the front, Robin glaring daggers at him the entire time.

“What--no!” Offended, Stewart shrieked, as Steve batted Dustin’s away a second time and promptly ended up in a slap fight.

“How did you even know about the fountain you little shit, you haven’t even been here!” He continued, clutching at his home made plaid vest like a string of pearls.

“Legendary tales travel, Stuck Stewart.” Dustin told him, eyes narrowed in concentration as he ducked and dodged. 

“Your betrayal is noted, Harrington.” Stewart snarled, correctly guessing exactly how that tale had traveled.

“Oh my God.” Dustin said suddenly, reaching out to snatch at Steve’s arm, halting him mid slap. He shook it wildly, a grin overtaking his face. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Gareth asked, because he wasn’t yet aware of what Dustin’s “I figured something out” song and dance meant yet.

“The weird code I was talking about! Steve, Steve-- I bet this is related!”

“No.” Steve said, hand ripping away from Dustin’s to slash wildly in the air. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” Dustin countered gleefully.

“You guys realize it’s not code, right?” Robin cut in. “The shitty noise you’ve been playing, super loudly by the way, in our breakroom for like two hours? Yeah, that's Russian.”

At their blank stares she deadpanned; “It’s a language.”

Like she thought the lot of them were stupid.

(Because she did.)

“And how do you know that?” Steve asked, and the same time Dustin spun to look at her and demanded;

“Do you speak Russian!?”

“No, but,” Robin gave them a slow, calculating smile, “I could.”

“She could.” Dustin repeated to Steve, practically beaming.

‘She could.’ Eddie mouthed sarcastically at Gareth, turning so only he and Stewart could see him do it.

Following Steve’s footsteps, Gareth threw a spoon at him.

(He missed but it was the thought that counts.) 

“What we should do is give that,” Steve pointed a single, accusatory finger at the goo vial, “to Hopper and let him know we found it at the mall. Which is a super weird place for it to be.”

Which was true. Gareth honestly hoped this was another case of some kid or teenager finding and abandoning it, and not an indication that Starcourt was involved in the supposed clean up Hopper had swore was coming.

“If this is at the mall,” Stewart said hesitantly, “Then do you think that uh, other things, might have followed it?”

“Unlikely, the mall’s too busy.” Dustin dismissed easily.

Too easily, for Gareth—he’d watched that damn Manticore disappear into the wall. If it could move like that, it could just as easily hide itself, crowded mall or not.

“What other things?” Robin asked, before making a move like she was about to grab the goo. “What even is this, anyway?”

“Drugs.” Steve said, at the exact same time Dustin answered; “Nothing!”

They turned and glared at each other while Stewart carefully pulled the vial out of Robin’s reach.

(And then Eddie’s, when he looked like he might try and grab it too.)

“We’re not really sure what it is,” Gareth told Robin. Thinking quickly, he tacked on; “but we found some earlier and the cops were interested in it. They said they’re being careful after the whole thing last year.”

“Thing? Like the Hawkins lab thing? Where people died?” Robin was looking more alarmed by the minute. “This is an ice cream shop, we can't have that in here! ”

“Well no ones going to eat it.” Steve scoffed.

“Is that a challenge?” Eddie said with a grin, making grabby hands at the vial.

“One of those Girl Scouts was licking the table the other day, someone absolutely will!" Robin's voice grew in pitch and volume, eyes wide as she stared a the goo. "What if it melts things or blows up, or--”

“Hey--hey, calm down.” Steve soothed, turning on the Harrington charm full force. He reached out, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “If it was going to melt don’t you think it’d have gone through the container?”

Gareth watched it happen with a raised eyebrow--he more than anyone knew Steve didn’t often casually reach out to people like that. Logic said he was doing it because Buckley looked actually panicked and Steve was a fucking softie at heart but--

Logic also said that Eddie wouldn’t read it that way.

Sure enough, Gareth cut a glance towards his best friend and found him watching Steve soothe Robin’s fears with a stiff back, hands clenched at his sides.

(Ruh-roh.)

“Not if that's a special container, Dingus!”

“Maybe she’s right.” Eddie said, voice a touch off and oh, fuck, the jealous bastard was going to make things worse.

Gareth turned to him to give him a warning look, only for Eddie to lean around him entirely.

“Maybe this container is made from a rare metal and if we open it, it’ll chew right through the floor--or a hand, even.” He grinned, a nasty looking thing, before reaching towards the vial. “Only one way to find out…”

“Eds.” Steve admonished, sending him his own warning look as Robin shrieked out a curse and Stewart danced backwards, away from the group, goo vial in hand. 

“We never did play with it.” Dustin said thoughtfully. “We should experiment, see if we can figure out what it is.”

Which was a far more terrifying sentence than anything Eddie could whip up, because unlike the older teen, Henderson meant it.

“Absolutely not!” Steve and Robin yelled at the same time, before casting surprised looks at each other.

Steve’s face broke into a smile, and for two entire seconds Robin’s looked like it might as well before she caught herself.

Eddie’s own smile sharpened in return, and Gareth groaned inwardly.

If Robin got into a relationship with Steve before he could properly intervene about all things Eddie, Hellfire was going to be in for a rough ride.

(He could already picture it.

Steve, lovestruck and oversharing in front of Eddie, leading to inevitable chaos for everyone else. The man could rival a PTA mom whose cookies were branded “fattening” when he got tangled up in a snit, and Steve dating anyone right now would cause problems--but Robin?

Who spent most of her time insulting him and Hellfire both?

Yeah.

Gareth would gladly suffer another character death in D&D than go through that.)

“Stewart, give it to Hopper.” Steve all but ordered, while Gareth and Eddie both catastrophized in different directions. “Dustin, let Robin listen to the stupid code. See if her oversized brain can figure it out.”

“Oversized?” Robin asked, though they could all tell she was still distracted by the way her eyes were glued to the glue. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Steve's hand went to his hips, cocking them sideways the way a gangster cocked his gun. “I thought you said you could translate Russian, but if you can’t…”

Robin went from fearful to offended in an instant.

“Shut up Dingus, of course I can!”

Which was the second time she’d used that nickname in as many minutes. Eddie’s expression darkened, a storm cloud of repressed rage encircling his head, and Gareth resisted the urge to duck for cover. 

“I’ll take it to Hopper but only if someone comes.” Stewart said, seemingly oblivious to the cliff they were all hurtling towards. “That man is terrifying.”

Robin ignored him, sticking a hand out, palm facing upwards. “Give me the code." 

Steve ignored him too, in favor of egging on his coworker. “Show her the recording, Dustin, let’s see the great Robin Buckley in action.” He taunted as Dustin dutifully handed over the tape recorder. 

“Anyone...?” Stewart asked hesitantly, and Gareth made sure not to meet his gaze.

(He already had his hands full with the whole Steve-and-Eddie situation—he was not taking on Hopper too!)

“Guess I’ll go with Stewart then.” Eddie sniped, shoving himself off the counter. “Since you guys would rather play spy with the radio.”

His tone was cutting enough that Steve took notice, a frown flicking into life. 

“What's got into him?” He asked Gareth, puzzled, as Eddie stormed off, loudly commanding Stewart to follow.

“No idea.” He lied. “Now about that code…”

If he kept them all focused on it, he figured, Dustin would hang around. That would in turn, successfully derail the majority of Steve’s stupid charms--to at least delay things enough that Gareth could pin him down to finally have a talk. 

You know, if Steve finally let him do it.

(Steve did not let him do it.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t believed it was humanly possible to learn a language that fast.

Robin Buckley, apparently, wasn’t anyone. After witnessing her rattle off full sentences with unnerving confidence, he decided he’d never question her abilities again—not for the rest of his natural life.

“I can’t speak it.” Robin corrected when she finally decoded the word they’d all been struggling over. “This is just a basic translation.”

“Yeah, but you actually understand it.” Steve said, clearly impressed. “You had most of the code translated in like, one shift.”

“It still doesn’t sound right though.” Dustin complained, staring at the white board they'd confiscated. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly?” 

“You’re forgetting the music.” Steve pointed out and was met by a chorus of groans.

“Yes, the one you’re convinced belongs to the toy horsie ride near the movie theater.” Dustin rolled his eyes, and Gareth rolled his own right along with him.

'Horsie.' Gareth mouthed at Steve, who mouthed it back with a grin. 

Steve was this close to pulling them all towards the damn toy horse, Scoop’s be damned, but that would mean the stupid recording had been done at the mall--and what were the chances of that?

(“Honestly they’re pretty decent, Cerebro can pick up far away signals.” Henderson had started, when Steve first mentioned it, kicking off an entirely separate argument with Robin regarding radio wavelengths and other terms that flew over Gareth’s head.)

“It sounds exactly the same!” Steve protested, with all the conviction of a teenage boy who’d been wronged.

"The point I'm making," Dustin sassed back, "is that your translation sounds like nonsense." He turned to Robin accusingly.  "Ergo, you probably translated it wrong." 

Which almost sent them right back around to the start of the argument they’d been having all morning, but fortunately for Gareth's incoming headache, fate had other ideas. 

“Does anyone else think Billy Hargrove has a screw loose?” The elder teen interrupted with his usual flair, popping up in Scoop’s like a Jack in the Box after sneaking through the door.

No one jumped this time, which appeared to disappoint him greatly.

“The entire high school I suspect. Maybe some teachers. Why?” Robin asked, because she’d grown comfortable with their fast changing screwball conversations.

Gareth thought she might even secretly enjoy some of them, not that he was going to call anyone's attention to that.

Regardless, he watched Eddie warily—this was the first time Eddie had come back to Scoop’s since storming off to take Stewart and the goo to Hopper.

Which he knew they had done, because Eddie had called him afterwards, frantic for a second opinion on whether Hopper had been threatening him, apologizing, or some odd mix of the two.

(“It sounded like he was reading from a script he couldn’t remember,” Eddie had whined. “And he kept insisting he wasn’t trying to growl at me, for some reason?”

“That’s fucking weird man.” Gareth said. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Eddie hesitated, then blurted out, "You don’t think Steve said something, do you?"

"I don’t think he and Steve are that close."

"God, I hope not." Gareth could almost hear the shiver in Eddie’s voice. "Can you imagine?"

He could, actually, but he wasn’t about to share that with Eddie.

Though, the thought of Steve in Scooby Doo pajamas was kind of hilarious…

“He's lifeguarding at the pool and he seems a bit more…” Eddie trailed off, clearly fishing for the right word. “Unhinged, than usual.”

“What does that even look like?” Dustin said with a snort. “Is he spitting fire? Did he finally grow horns?”

“Maybe he ate a child.” Gareth added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Eddie was frowning though, instead of piling on. “He’s weird for sure.” He said, which was about as vague as he always got when it came to Billy Hargrove.

Gareth knew why. Hellfire’s fearless leader saw something of himself, or something he could have been, in Hargrove. It was that dumb little empathetic part of him that led him to being who he was--defender of nerds, king of the freaks.

A core part of him, that Gareth, and frankly all of Hellfire loved but…

Well.

Gareth had locked eyes with Hargrove once. Just passing by, in the hallways.

It felt like locking eyes with a crocodile. Power and violence wrapped up together in a way that felt instinctive--reactionary.

Not exactly something you could reason with.

Eddie saw him differently (saw everyone differently, by his very nature) but this felt an awful lot like playing with a wild animal. The only thing that determined whether you or someone else became dinner was who said animal noticed first.

“You can always ask Max, though Hargrove’s a sore spot for her.” Steve said. He too, Gareth realized, was eyeing Eddie. He had assumed their jock had brushed off the strange behavior from the other day, but maybe he was more perceptive than Gareth had given him credit for—at least when it came to Eddie.

Dustin looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t ask Max about Billy.” He said, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Very much a first for him, given his usual “charge in anyway” attitude, and thus very noticeable.

“He’s a dick, and he’s working.” Steve dismissed with a shrug.  “Dude’s unhinged, yeah, but he has calmed down a bit.”

Gareth couldn’t have disagreed more. He’d finally gotten the real story behind the Hargrove-Harrington fight—none of the wild rumors like “Harrington tried to date Hargrove’s little sister” or “Hargrove and Harrington started a fight club." 

Now he understood why Billy kept his distance from Steve, but even that uneasy not-quite-truce felt like it could snap at any moment.

(Eddie’s uncanny ability to sense when someone was dealing with something wasn’t exactly helpful in situations like this either.

His strange little internal radar for People In Distress was sharp enough that Gareth was sure Hargrove was grappling with some sort of issue—meaning Eddie, true to form, wouldn’t just leave it alone.

Eddie had always managed to wriggle free from whatever trouble he stumbled into, but this time? This time Gareth was uneasy—probably because Steve had once shown them the too-shiny scar along his hairline, a souvenir from his own run-in with Billy.

Steve was a fighter. A tank. A goddamn paladin. He could weather hits like that and somehow keep going, battered but alive.

Eddie…

Eddie wasn’t built the same. And Gareth had no desire to see just how far luck would stretch.)

“He still buys from me.” The man himself was saying, stubborn conviction coming to life. “I’ll talk to him.”

Steve was alarmed immediately.

“Could you at least take someone with you?” He asked, and Gareth gave it to him--the guy had learned fast that was better than attempting to ask Eddie to not go at all.

“To what? Help protect me against the scary mean jock? I’ll be fine.” Eddie stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry. “Besides, bringing someone else means I couldn’t just cut and run if he gets uppity.”

Despite all clear and present stressors, the teasing had Steve visibly relaxing.

Apparently Eddie's snits were more obvious than even Gareth had realized.

“I’d love to see you, who I am pretty sure skipped all of PE class but definitely anything involving running, manage that.”

Eddie winked at him. “Trust me big boy, when it comes to my life, I can run.”

“I trust you.” Steve said, painfully earnest. “Just…be careful, yeah? Hargrove’s not…”

He trailed off and Gareth mentally filled in the rest.

(Not sane was a strong contender, though “Not all there” was equally likely.)

“Just be careful.” Steve finished.

Eddie grinned, before reaching out and booping him on the nose.

“Always am!”

“He’s not.” Gareth said truthfully, as Eddie wiggled his way out of the store. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Steve touched the tip of his nose where Eddie booped it, looking both annoyed and slightly red about it.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“For you?” Gareth teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Anytime.”

He sent his own, exaggerated wink Steve’s way and basked in the loud boos Robin and Dustin both gave him for it.

Bonus

In the wee morning hours of 9 AM, Gareth sat on the counter of Scoop’s and tiredly watched as a group of grim men walked by with some sort of construction material covered by a tarp.

The tarp had the words ANODYNE blazed across it--or would have, had someone not taken paint and changed it to “ANAL ONLY.”

(That person might have been Gareth, not that he’d ever tell.)

“So you know how you’ve taken to calling Eddie nicknames?” Gareth started, wondering if the key to all this was just being fast enough to say it before Steve could spin them off topic.

“Yeah?” Steve said.

“You know how you don’t call anyone else by a nickname?”

“I literally called you Gary five minutes ago.” Steve refuted. “Also I’m pretty sure Tiff’s full name isn’t, you know. Tiff.”

“I don’t mean those kinds of nicknames.”

He meant the fact that Steve had decided, after months of tolerating ‘Sunshine’ ‘Sunlight’ and various other variations Eddie came up around the word “sun” he’d finally given Eddie a special nickname of his own.

A cute one even, that had made Eddie blush when he’d first heard it.

“I’m not following.” Steve told him as he flung up the gate that stood guard over Scoop’s Ahoys' entrance, with a motion so smooth Gareth was briefly mad at him for accomplishing it.

Stupid athletes and their jock powers.

“You know damn well what I mean.” He said, exasperated with all the dodging.

Something Steve must have picked up on, because he sighed.

“If you haven’t noticed, Eddie's been kind of clingy lately. Octopus level clingy.” Steve told him as he finished setting up (and Gareth in turn, did absolutely nothing to help. Hey, he wasn't the one getting paid!) 

He didn’t have much time—Robin was apparently opening, and Steve had only gotten there first because of his odd habit of going for morning runs. Since the two of them were determined to crack the stupid code today, Henderson would probably show up soon, too.

Gareth was only up this early out of a love for two friends that he better be thanked for at their wedding. He could be asleep right now but noooo--

“He’s been acting kinda weird, too." Steve continued. "He won’t say why, so I thought giving him a nickname back might make him happy.”

Before Gareth could dig into that, Steve picked up a towel and whipped it towards the younger teen. 

“Now get off my counter, I don’t want to give Robin any reason to bitch at me today.”

Gareth leapt out of the way, mindful of the towel after the first time he learned how much the damn things hurt. “Do you really care what she thinks?”

It was an honest question--Gareth had a hard time getting a read on what, exactly, Steve was trying to accomplish with her.

He got where the You Rule/You Suck board had come from.

Understood how that ballooned into a game where Steve flirted--and greatly annoyed--every chick who waltzed past.

What he couldn’t understand was why Steve was working so hard to be nice to her. From every angle, it seemed like he was trying to win her over. If that’s what Steve wanted, then Gareth wasn’t about to get in the way, but…

He needed to stop flirting with Eddie, if that was the case. Needed to be told he was flirting, and that Eddie didn’t deserve it if Steve had no intention of following through.

Steve made a face, like he was trying to decipher his own emotions. “Kind of?”

And finally, Gareth had his opening.

He pounced. 

“Do you like her?” 

“As a person I do.” 

Annoyed with the non-answer, Gareth was quick to lighten the noose. “And as a date?”

Steve wiped down the counter with the towel, once. Twice. 

“Nah.” He admitted. He averted his gaze down into the endless rows of ice cream. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Gareth pressed. 

Steve frowned, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about the answer. Gareth let him, knowing he got like thi when he was actually thinking something through, and wanted to phrase it the right way.

Pity their time had run up.

“Harrington, what did I say about letting customers in here before we’re officially open!?” Robin snapped as she strode through the back doors, sending a glare Gareth’s way.

“Gary said he wanted to apply to work for us.” Steve returned, sending a downright evil smirk Gareth’s way. “So technically he’s not a customer.”

Robin stopped dead in her tracks to stare at them, eyes narrowed as she attempted to suss out if Steve was lying. “Really?” 

“Absolutely not.” Gareth spat. 

Then, as petty revenge for the denial of the answer he’d been chasing, tattled; “Also Steve forgot to check the walk in.”

Gareth!” Steve called, twisting the towel in his hands like a weapon.

“Sorry, not sorry!” Gareth chanted, bolting for the exit before the towel could strike.

It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for, but for the moment, Steve’s little confession felt like a small victory.

A place to start.

And that filled him with absolute glee—until he ran past the construction workers, hollering apologies when he nearly knocked one over (and almost sent the entire group toppling with him).

“My bad! He called over his shoulder, hearing shouts of “Idiot!” “Stupid boy!” and something that sounded suspiciously like Russian—

Which Gareth, of course, understood. He’d spent nearly as much time on the stupid code as Steve and Robin had, after all.

He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he looked back at the angry crew, noticing one of the Russian-speaking security guards Eddie had mocked was with them.

There was no way Steve’s wild theory about the code being recorded in the mall was true, except...

When you combined it with the goo vial Stewart had found and the music, it started to look like it might be.

‘Well,’ Gareth thought. ‘Shit.’

[befallenstars-archive]

Oh, my...I did not read the 15k words part. However, we are here.

Before I yap— Eris, have I ever told you that there's something about the way you write that catches my interest? Can't really put it into words just yet. Maybe if I read more I'll eventually formulate that feeling into words~

Alright, spoilers under the cut! And LOTS of yapping~

Blade

Going for the single bed trope I see...this'll be interesting (¬ ͜ ͡¬)

Okay, but I do find it funny that the reason he wanted to share the bed was for the reader and him to get better rest. Only for the two of them to NOT get a wink of sleep. Reader toss

Love to see a reader that doesn't back down and even takes on a challenge. And oop— would you look at that. Nobody's really getting any sleep now. Hopefully, the bed frame's sturdy enough! And that the walls are thick enough for the sake of the neighbors.

"Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you." Mnhmmm...I'm sure it did.

I think the maintenance of professional distance flew out of the window the moment he said they should share the same bed— to which was literally made for a single person alone. Also when the reader agreed.

Please, just fuck already—

Did I get slightly absorbed in reading that I forgot to make comments? Yes. Sorry. I actually came back to drop a comment about the headboard bc I'm praying for that thing to survive the night.

Also...whoooo *fans self* there's a reason I was a bit occupied with reading than commenting. That bit was VERY distracting.

Ah, a touch of sadomasochism. Love to see it.

Personally, I've always been weak when it comes to the magic phrase "pretty girl". Always will be actually.

Hey!!! The bed frame survived. At least they'll be able to sleep comfortably now.

And the softness of the ending. From passionate and almost feral but gently holding each other and savoring the moment <333

Sunday

THE TENSION.

Ohhh, the underlying yearning and fear of speaking out because of the status. Wanting to just close that small gap and yet it feels like such a wide wedge between two people who simply want to love one another.

I am unwell.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours. You don't.

What if I flatline—

Yes. Go, reader! Tell him! That man's holding back too much when he already has such a gorgeous being in his arms who clearly wants him. Stop trying to play hard to get, Sunday.

Did I get distracted? AGAIN? Yes. Yes, I did.

Came back to comment when he said that he'd be gentle. Oh, his constant reassurances, and the way he does his best to memorize and savour the intimate moment with the reader. I am sighing out dreamily and swooning into a fluffy couch. He's even focusing on the reader's pleasure and comfort!!

...all these praises have me looking the side blushing and fanning myself—

THE CONFESSION. I'M TEARING UP AS WE SPEAK. THE WAY HE'S BEGGING??? I'M ON THE FLOOR.

I actually wanted to pick a dialogue to put here and fawn over but all of them are actually too good. I can't pick one. All of them are just— URGH

"His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go."

Lemme see if I can find that one specific meme that describes how I feel rn...

AHA! FOUND IT!

Did you know? I'm actually an absolute sucker for the lines that go "You're home". Very much so. That was the final nail to the coffin.

Agrenti

Oop— fanboy behavior, huh?

Ngl, I'm fairly new to HSR so I don't really know this character. But he seems like such a sweet guy. Deserves tons of kisses.

"He didn't know whether to laugh or combust." Pretty understandable if someone as lovely and amazing as the reader offers to be your first kiss.

...giving me a wolf hidden in sheep's clothing vibes rn. Interesting. Nvm, he's still a sweetheart <3

He reminds me of a bunny somehow. Like I just wanna pet him and reassure him that he's fine. Very adorable too hehe

Reader has this man completely in the palm of their hand, I fear. Dude is absolutely SMITTEN.

He's so sweet huhu

The ending!! So soft and lovely. Just two people just enjoying the connection they have.

Aventurine

I will never tire of the way you write the reader, Eris! The sassy and confident attitude? Oh, please! I might just started simping for her instead of the men at this point—

"I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.” IM WHEEZING AS WE SPEAK.

“What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.” *cue incoherent fox wheezing noises* NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE REMARKS.

I just know the dealer's just there looking up to the ceiling and praying to whatever aeon there is to let the reader and this man just get a room before he has to call for both security and clean-up service.

Was the gap between feedbacks a bit...lengthy? Yes. But in my defense it's only 'cuz a certain writer over here really knows her way with words on how to make the tension so thick and palpable that I'm too busy drowning in it to make any comments.

"Let me take care of you." I dunno if you'll be able to tell which part I am on rn but I promise you that I am absolutely blushing and burying my face against my pillows.

"He moans in response" I am currently dying from a nosebleed.

Unsurprisingly, I'm weak towards the specific petname "love"...

I absolutely adore the softness of it all afterwards. My heart's melting huhu

Dr. Ratio

*breathes in*

THE INTIMACY—

Good gods, I am over here just reading the first scenes and I can already feel the tension seeping into my bones. I'm just here with a hand over my mouth, and completely invested in the way this all unfolds.

This one feels so...intimate somehow. I can't really explain it and I am absolutely loving it. I think it's in the way that most of the time the reader is more fiery and sassy while here? It feels like there's a bit more depth to it. Such a good read and I'm literally still at the first part.

"Let's move somewhere private." Yeah, I agree since I recall Aventurine saying they'll be back in a bit. Hell, I'm not even gonna be surprised if they were in the shadows making bets about how this all goes, and didn't want to disturb the moment.

"His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing." + "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

I AM WEAK IN THE KNEES FOR THIS.

"He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him..." Hands on my hips rn. I also had to take a moment to go 'Really?' with an exasperated expression on my face.

Devotion. First word that came to mind. I adore that so so very much.

I am feeling this fic was definitely the favorite child.

Wait. Just finished the fic. Lemme gather my thoughts. That— I...uhm..how...wow. Who knew a smut at 8AM could render me speechless in a good way, eh?

I just KNOW this fic was definitely the favorite child. Though the ending was a lot more bittersweet than I expected huhu

Jing Yuan

Ah, last but not the least. Unsure how to feel abt this one since I found him unnerving when I first met him in-game.

"Stop thinking so much." Goddamn, I wish it were a switch I could just turn off—

WELL, THAT THREW ME OFF-GUARD.

Was I once again sucked into the tension that I completely forgot to make comments? Yes. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Eris writes them too well.

By this point, I truly have a love and hate relationship with this man. Do I still find him unnerving? Yes. But he also extremely attractive that it's unfair when matched with the honeyed-tongue of his.

Struggling rn/lh

...having even more mixed feelings abt Jing Yuan bc of this fic—

But alas! Setting that aside...

Eris, I am positively in love with your writing <3

༉‧₊˚. Turning Page ˚.₊༉

Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti

sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)

a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333

༉ - 2k

The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.

You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.

But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.

The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.

You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.

“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.

“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.

He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”

It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”

You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.

He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."

It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.

"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.

Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.

He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”

You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.

Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.

You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.

You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.

You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.

"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.

The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.

"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."

You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.

His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.

"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."

The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."

You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.

"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."

The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.

His hands gripped your hips,  "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, your lips skimming his.

His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.

"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."

With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."

You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.

"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."

Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."

He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.

Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."

Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."

His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."

Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.

"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.

Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.

Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.

Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.

"That was..." you started, but words failed you.

Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."

༉ - 2.8k

The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.

The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.

"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.

Your brow furrows. "Were they?"

He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".

You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".

He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”

His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”

You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.

"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.

For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.

"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."

Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".

"And what if I don't want to?"

The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.

“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.

"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.

He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".

Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.

"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.

He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."

You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.

"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.

"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.

"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.

"I already have."

He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.

You don't.

His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.

His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.

"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.

"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.

He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.

“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”

Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.

The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”

You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.

His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.

"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.

That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.

His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”

You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Don't-please-."

He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.

You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”

His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”

As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.

He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."

As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.

"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."

He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."

With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.

He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."

With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."

He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.

"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."

He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."

He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.

"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."

His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."

He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.

"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"

You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."

The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.

"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."

His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."

You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."

His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone. 

"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.

"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."

His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.

"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. 

He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."

You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."

He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."

You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.

༉ - 3.1k

Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.

“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.

“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”

Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”

“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.

You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”

You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”

“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”

You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”

“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.

“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.

His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”

He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.

Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.

Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.

The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn’t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”

But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.

“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”

Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”

You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”

The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.

He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.

"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."

He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.

When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.

He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.

Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.

He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.

Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.

“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.

Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.

He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.

You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.

You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.

Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.

"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.

You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.

You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.

He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."

You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.

Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.

Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.

Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.

Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.

"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."

Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.

Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.

"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.

Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.

His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.

Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.

He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.

When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.

Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."

༉ - 2.5k

The casino floor was alive with energy, especially  at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.

“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”

Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”

You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”

Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.

Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”

The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.

“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”

The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.

He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”

Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.

You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”

He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”

—

You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.

Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."

You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."

He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."

Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.

His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.

You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.

He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.

He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."

And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.

You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."

You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."

"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."

And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.

"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.

Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"

He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.

He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”

You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”

You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.

"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."

He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.

With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.

"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."

You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."

You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.

He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.

"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.

The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.

You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."

You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" 

His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”

༉ - 2.8k

Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow  that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played  that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.

“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.

You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.

The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.

“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”

The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?

“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”

His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.

“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”

Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.

“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.

“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”

His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.

The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”

You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.

“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.

You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”

Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”

He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.

Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."

His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.

Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.

"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."

His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.

He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.

You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.

Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.

Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.

"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."

You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.

Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."

The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."

You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.

"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."

His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.

You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."

You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.

Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.

Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.

He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.

He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”

You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.

Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.

His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."

His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.

You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He  collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.

Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.

He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.

༉ - 2.5k

The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.

The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.

Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.

“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.

The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.

“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.

Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.

"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.

You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.

He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.

"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."

The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.

“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.

His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.

Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.

The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.

You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"

But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."

The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.

You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.

Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."

You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.

Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.

As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.

Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.

Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.

Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.

His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.

"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."

His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.

He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward

Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.

"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."

You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.

His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.

"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.

As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.

"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.

You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[aesthetically-dying101]

Strictly unprofessional

A/N: the very requested part two to Strictly Professional. Thank you all for the enthousiasm, it was very kind of you all (both on ao3 nd tumblr), so hooray! also look i added a dni banner (im so proud of myself), made by @mikeykuns

Warnings: smut. like this is all smut (exept the ending) but yeah, unprotected sex (wrap ur shit up), cunnilingus, p in v, fingering, female reader, nanami is a sex god apparently, don't ask me abt positions, i don't even know

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The air inside felt heavier, charged with something unspeakable. You could hear the soft drip of water from Nanami’s damp hair, see the way his chest rose and fell with measured breaths.

And God help you, that towel.

It was criminal.

It sat so low on his hips that it was barely hanging on. You forced your gaze upward, fixing on his face—his unreadable, devastatingly gorgeous face.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You tucked your arms around yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the oversized shirt and shorts you’d thrown on.

“You didn’t,” he replied simply, his voice steady. But the way his eyes moved—tracing the line of your throat, lingering on the curve of your shoulders—told a different story.

You hesitated, the words you’d rehearsed in your head earlier slipping away.

“I just…” You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. About you.”

His expression shifted—barely, but enough to make your stomach flip. A flicker of surprise, quickly swallowed by something darker. He stepped closer, his brows furrowing.

You blinked up at him, almost expecting him to make a move- to do anything.

Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Yes?” he asked softly.

He smelled like soap and something distinctly him. Heat radiated off his body, wrapping around you like a second skin.

“You’ve been in my head all night. And I—” you admitted, your voice trembling. You broke off, biting your lip.

He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he might step back, ask you to finish your sentence, put that impenetrable wall between you. But then—

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he said, his voice low and strained.

You blinked, stunned. “I—what?”

Before you could process, his hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His touch was firm but impossibly gentle, like he was holding something precious.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Do you?”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he repeated, his voice raw.

“Show me,” you murmured, your hands sliding down his chest.

Something dark flickered in his eyes, but instead of answering, he scooped you up effortlessly-fuck he was as strong as he looked, his arm sliding under your thighs. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down carefully, his eyes never leaving yours.

He knelt over you, his broad shoulders blocking out everything else. For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze heavy and intense, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Your cheeks flushed, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing the words from your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, sliding under your shirt to find your bare skin. His touch was firm, deliberate, leaving trails of fire wherever he went.

You arched into him, your hands finding his towel. It took a moment to undo the knot, your fingers trembling, but when the fabric fell away, your breath caught. He was perfect. Every line of him, every inch, was made to drive you insane.

You reached for him, pulling him down to you, and he groaned as your bodies pressed together. His hips rolled against yours, and the friction sent a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with restraint.

For a second, your breath hitched. He was so close, his body crowding yours like he wanted to shield you from the world, to claim you and keep you all to himself. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his heat seeping into your skin, and you realized you couldn’t think straight.

Also you kinda wanted to bite his perfect skin-

“Y-you,” you stammered, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as if your words had snapped the last tether of his control. Nanami shifted above you, and for the first time, you took him in without interruption. The faint golden light from the bedside lamp played across his damp skin, highlighting every cut of muscle, every curve of strength that was somehow impossibly elegant. His body looked sculpted, as if he’d stepped straight out of some classical masterpiece.

Unfairly pretty, you thought, your breath catching in your throat. A perfect, living rendition of the David—but warmer, more alive, and infinitely more captivating.

He was all-consuming, and it was almost too much.

“Kento,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your hands roamed over his chest, marveling at the smooth expanse of his skin, the hard lines of muscle under your fingertips. He felt real and unreal all at once, and the way his body moved as he leaned down made your head spin.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw. His tone was teasing, but there was a vulnerability there too, a quiet uncertainty that made your chest ache.

“Can you blame me?” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.

He huffed a soft laugh, but it broke into a groan as your nails dragged lightly down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abdomen.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, his voice rough, like he was trying to hold himself together.

You shook your head, biting back a grin. “I think you’re the dangerous one.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped. There was something raw in his gaze, something that burned hotter than anything you’d ever known. He dipped his head, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was hungrier this time, less restrained. His tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open, and you moaned softly into his mouth.

His fingers splayed across your ribcage, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes heavy with want.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, your hands gripping his hips to pull him closer. “Please, Kento.”

That was all he needed. In one smooth motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned down, his lips trailing over your collarbone, his hands skimming your sides as he kissed his way lower. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate, like he was memorizing you.

When his mouth closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed. His tongue swirled in slow, torturous circles, his teeth grazing just enough to make your thighs clench around his hips. He shifted, his knee pressing between your legs, and the pressure sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me,” you said, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire. “You drive me insane—in the best possible way.”

Before you could respond, his hands hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down in one smooth motion. His eyes darkened further as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly like he was trying to catch his breath.

“Perfect,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them just enough to settle between them. His touch was firm but reverent, like he was handling something precious.

And then his fingers found you, tracing the slick heat between your legs. You gasped, your hips jerking instinctively, but he held you steady, his touch achingly gentle.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Only for you.”

His groan was low and guttural, and before you could process, he was leaning down, his mouth trailing kisses along your inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, your entire body alight with need.

“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed softly against your skin, his lips brushing just above where you needed him most.

“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was as strained as yours.

But when his mouth finally found you, the world shattered.

The first stroke of his tongue had your back arching off the bed, a sharp gasp tumbling from your lips. Nanami groaned against you, the vibrations sending another wave of heat coursing through your body. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he licked into you with slow, deliberate precision.

Damn him and his precision.

“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his damp hair. You couldn’t think—could barely breathe. Every movement of his tongue was devastating, every flick and swirl drawing you closer to the edge.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his chin glistening, his expression nothing short of worshipful.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Your cheeks burned, but before you could respond, he was back on you, his lips closing around your clit. The suction was gentle but relentless, his tongue moving in maddening circles that had you writhing beneath him.

“Please,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth.

“Please what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. His breath was hot against your skin, and the way his hands squeezed your thighs made you shiver.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breaking.

His groan was low and guttural, and he didn’t stop—if anything, he doubled down, his movements growing more insistent. His tongue flicked against you with precision, and when he slid a finger inside you, your entire body tensed, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice thick with wonder. He added another finger, his pace slow and deliberate as he worked you open. “You feel incredible.”

Your head tipped back, a string of incoherent sounds spilling from your lips. You were so close, your body coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every stroke of his tongue.

“Kento, I—” Your voice broke, your body trembling as the tension reached its peak.

“Let go,” he murmured against your skin, his tone both commanding and tender. “I’ve got you.”

And that was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you through it, his movements slowing but never stopping.

When the waves finally subsided, you collapsed back onto the mattress, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Nanami pressed a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up your body, his hands bracketing your waist as he hovered over you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his brow furrowing with concern.

You nodded, a shaky laugh escaping you. “More than okay.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, and he leaned down to kiss you, slow and tender. You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your cheeks flush.

But then you felt him against you—hot, hard, and insistent—and the heat in your belly reignited. You shifted your hips, pressing up against him, and he groaned softly, his restraint visibly fraying.

Not so composed now? You thought.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands sliding down his back. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his jaw tightening as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

And he did.

He pushed into you inch by inch, his movements careful and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if he needed to see your every reaction. The stretch was overwhelming, but the way he filled you, the way he held you—it was everything.

The stretch was agonisingly delicious, you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like he was rearranging your insides, because Nanami Kento was not a small man. Nowhere in his anatomy was he.

Thankfully, he paused midway, letting you catch your breath, peppering your face with kisses.

Then he moved again.

“God,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel… perfect.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. “So do you,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

The way he filled you, the way he moved—he wasn’t just touching your body; he was touching something deeper, something you hadn’t even known was there.

Maybe that was your cervix- who knows??

"Ke-n-" You gasped, your teeth sinking into his skin, the tip of his cock bullying your insides.

He hissed in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted you—so much.”

As the tension built between you, his Olympian control began to slip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your lips, his voice strained, his cock moving in and out, and you were pretty sure your brain was loosing track of time and space, because his dick was pressing, each and every time, against your g-spot.

“It’s not,” you said quickly, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the strong lines of muscle beneath your fingertips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths mingling, the way he looked at you—like you were something fragile and sacred—made your heart thrum wildly in your chest. Add to that the rhythm of his hips snapping to yours, his cock reaching deep inside you, hitting all the right spots, and you were in heaven.

He shifted his weight, pressing you deeper into the mattress, and the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, his unyielding presence—was all-consuming.

Oh wait, he was kissing you again. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he moved, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered- because in that moment, you were.

His hands moved to your hips, guiding you as he thrust to meet you, and the two of you moved in sync, a rhythm that was all your own.

And fuck, his cock was making you see stars, every thrust was so fucking good-

"Ah-a, Kento-" You tried to line up the words, to tell him how good he was making you feel, but nothing even made sense.

He groaned in response, his lips finding your throat, kissing and biting as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“So close,” he muttered. “I can feel you… God, I can’t get enough of you.”

His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Oh you were so gonna bruise tomorrow.

Inside and out.

"Ken- fuck I'm close." You gasped out.

"I know sweetheart."

Oh okay.

You groaned, and Nanami let out a broken chuckle, his hips snapping to yours faster, his balls slapping against your ass. He was going faster and faster, the fat head of his cock alternating between your g-spot, your cervix, your g-spot, your cervix....

Then he slipped his hand down to your clit, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing small circles and- oh!

You hiccuped, your back arching, your orgasm came on way too fast, too unpredicted, too soon.

"That's it sweet girl.." Nanami mumbled, but you were milking him, squeezing way too hard. He urgently pulled out, his cock twitching against your stomach, even as your poor cunt was spazzing around nothing, but Nanami was too much of a gentleman to leave her without company.

Naturally he quickly slot two thick fingers in your quivering pussy, with his thumb slowly rubbing your clit, working you through your orgasm.

It took you a second to actually connect your thoughts back together. As you did, he slid his fingers out, covered in your slick, which he quickly popped in his mouth and licked clean, because of course, why waste?

You looked down at yourself, blinking in surprise as you saw that he had came so hard it had squirted halfway up your chest, on your tits and collarbones. You'd only wonder about the physics of that later.

Then your eyes landed on Nanami.

Oh.

Your body was still humming, every nerve alight. Nanami was always composed, always so controlled, but the look on his face now was nothing short of… adoring.

He didn’t look at you like you were just there. No, the way his gaze flickered over every inch of your face, the way his pupils dilated as he admired you—he was looking at you like you were something divine.

A goddess, a force of nature. It was as if you had turned the world upside down, made everything else fade into nothing.

His lips were swollen, still parted, and his hair was a little mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead in that charmingly tousled way.

He was so beautiful, it almost made your heart ache.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly, even though you knew it would only make him more flustered.

"You're... you're incredible," he murmured, his voice hoarse, like he'd just run a marathon, but it was far more intimate than any casual comment.

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered, your fingers lightly brushing the side of his face. His skin was warm, flushed from the exertion, and you could tell he was still shaking, just a little.

But instead of basking in the aftermath of his compliment, Nanami—ever the caretaker—shifted beside you. His breath still coming in shallow bursts, he gently pulled himself upright and reached for the soft tissue box on the nightstand.

He paused, staring at your tits overall chest- where he had came... with a very specific glint in his eyes, oh? He liked what he saw.

Then he moved. You didn’t realize just how dishevelled you both were until he tenderly cleaned you up, his movements soft and careful, as if he feared even the lightest touch would break you apart.

You let him, unable to stop the flutter in your chest. The vulnerability of the moment made you want to combust. The man has just rearranged your guts, and given you two amazing orgasms and now this??

You had always known Nanami as a man of few words, but tonight—tonight he was nothing short of tender, every movement meant more to him than you’d ever truly known.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice still thick with affection. You hadn’t even realized how still you’d become, how lost in his gaze you’d been, until he stood and gently helped you sit up.

You let him guide you to the bathroom, your body feeling a little unsteady, still buzzing from what had just happened. You noticed, as he helped you step into the bathroom, that his hands were steady—careful, protective—but there was a certain gentleness to his touch that sent a strange warmth through your veins.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern, his brow furrowed in that protective way he always had. There was no urgency, no rush. Everything felt slow and intentional. His every movement, every glance, was designed to make you feel safe, cared for.

Is he really this perfect?

Well actually you knew he was. You could see it in the way he took care of you, in the way his eyes softened when they met yours, in the way he treated you like you were something sacred.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice feeling soft and content. “Just a little… dizzy. That’s all.”

Nanami chuckled softly, and you swore it was the sweetest sound in the world-yet you could tell your comment did inflate his ego.. just a little. He wasn’t just taking care of you in the physical sense. He was taking care of your heart, your mind.

When you finished, Nanami made sure you were settled back into bed, his body never leaving yours for more than a few seconds- he slipped into boxers, and gave you the clothes you had arrived in back (your oversized shirt and shorts). He covered you with the blankets, tucking them around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You lay there, in the softness of his embrace, his warmth, his care. The space between you seemed impossibly small, yet in that quiet intimacy, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you—safe, and wrapped in the afterglow of something beautiful, something real.

And you also felt a tiny bit smug, that you had managed to get this hunk of a man in your bed.

A/N: I hope this satisfies the people that were asking for a part two!! I absolutely had to call nanami a hunk bc uhhhh why not, it a funny word, in french we have a saying: "homme capable" (translates to: "capable man"), which i think defines nanami quite well.

Masterlist.

:)

[e-dubbc11]

A Christmas Wish

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, smooches, mentions of Billy’s shitty childhood and a couple of swear words.

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: You love decorating the Christmas tree but Billy doesn’t and he tries to put on a smile for you so you try to make it better by giving him a few special gifts.

A/N: Greetings and Happy 2025 to my lovely friends! Hope you are well and I apologize for being quiet lately. I’ve been sick and my entire week off from work was spent trying to recover from whatever lovely cold is going around.

I tried to put this out before Christmas but obviously that didn’t happen and I’ve also been a little bummed about friendly interaction, everyone seems to have disappeared but whatever, I digress.

Oh I’m also thinking about trimming down my tag list again just because I don’t feel like wasting anyone’s time if you’re not interested in reading my fics anymore. I dunno, I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure it will pass…

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Some of them were very delicate.

The ornaments were old, made from very thin glass and passed down to you by your parents, that they received from THEIR parents. There were a handful that said “Baby’s First Christmas” followed by your name written in beautiful script. A pink bulb that was stuffed with “angel hair” was one of your favorites. That’s what your dad used to tell you when you were little which you thought was a cute story.

Billy had taken the ornament tote out of storage so the two of you could decorate the tree together. Mostly, he just sat back and let you decorate the tree. He wasn’t particularly fond of this time of year or any holiday.

A brass ornament with a sleeping baby and the year you were born, a red bauble with your name written in silver glitter on the side, and a bone ornament with your childhood dog’s name on it were a few more of your favorites.

Each ornament had a story like who gave it to you and what year, and if there was a reason they picked that particular one. The dates ranged from the time you were born up until recent years. Some of them were handmade from when you were a child that your father thought you might like to have along with the one he gave you last year with a picture of you and Billy inside for your first Christmas together.

Trimmed to perfection, which was obviously Billy’s doing, the tree stood impressively in front of one of the large windows in the penthouse so it could be seen by others, looking out from the tops of their buildings. The warm white lights shined against the dark green needles, giving off an enticing invitation that made it so you couldn’t help but stare at it.

The branches were full and abundant with plenty of room for all of your ornaments as shades of red, green, and gold bounced off the delicate glow of the white lights.

This time of year brought back so many fond memories for you. Billy couldn’t say the same thing. Growing up without a family, this time of year was just a reminder of all the holidays he spent in the group home, alone.

He didn’t have any ornaments from childhood to hang on the tree.

“The decorations they put up just made me more depressed.” He had told you. “The old pathetic little fake tree, it was all bullshit, and it just made me hate her even more for leaving. They called the group home Ray of Hope but there was nothing hopeful about that place.”

He had a mother, she had been out there somewhere but she didn’t want him. She never did. That shattered your heart, twisted your stomach into knots, and left you wondering how a mother could do that to her own child.

The darkness that comes with the winter months is hard enough so you thought a tree would light up that darkness, make it colorful, and maybe brighten his day just a little bit.

Billy put the tree up for you, because you wanted it and because he loved to see you smile, even though the Christmas season didn’t bring him any happy memories like it did for you.

But you were determined to make it better, he deserved it and you loved him more than anything.

**********

If he had ever wanted to talk about it, Billy would be the first one to tell you that his childhood was shit but he worked hard to make sure children in need would have a better Christmas than he ever did so he helped out collecting Toys for Tots during this time of year.

So he had a lot of long December days where he wouldn’t get home until late.

The lights in the penthouse were dimmed to create a warm and cozy environment for when Billy came home. The presents you had for him were nicely wrapped and sitting on the large coffee table near the couch, you picked up his favorite cookies from the bakery, and had a glass of his favorite bourbon ready and waiting for him.

His keys jingled in the door handle as he walked through the door.

“Another late one, sweet girl. I’m sorry.” Said Billy.

He was always so apologetic when he worked late but you understood.

On cold nights like tonight, you loved to sit in the dark, a fire blazing in the fireplace, relax in comfortable clothes, with nothing but the Christmas tree lights on, and quietly look out at the city skyline. You had been enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and reading your book when Billy walked through the door.

He walked over to the couch to give you a quick kiss and then head to his office but you stopped him.

“Can you sit for a minute, handsome? Please?” You asked.

He desperately wanted to get more work done before really calling it a night plus he liked to find any excuse he could to not be near the Christmas tree.

“Can it wait, baby? I just wanna get a little work done.” He said, firmly.

Normally, you could wait a little while until he was finished but tonight was different, this was for him, and you just really wanted to give him something special.

But you decided to put your foot down.

“No…actually, it can’t wait, Billy.” You said.

Billy hated to disappoint you or make you angry with him so he sat down on the couch, next to you. He noticed the present as he took a sip of bourbon.

“Did you get an early present from someone at work or somethin’?” He asked.

Biting down on your lower lip, you shook your head and tried to keep from smiling. You were excited to give him his presents.

“It’s for you, Billy.” You said, softly.

Billy set his glass down, looked at you and then looked at the box.

“But Christmas isn’t for two weeks, sweet girl.” He said with a slight smile.

You replied, “I know…open it.”

The wrapping paper was all white and you had tied a perfect bow with royal blue ribbon. His long fingers carefully untied the ribbon and set it aside. Billy then tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a large white box. As he removed the top, he stared at the blue tissue paper inside for a minute before digging around for the gifts underneath.

Billy first pulled out his United States Marine Corps ornament. He read the saying on the back out loud for you.

“From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli

We fight our country’s battles

In the air, on land, and sea;

First to fight for right and freedom

And to keep our honor clean;

We are proud to claim the title

Of United States Marines.”

Billy looked over at you and started to say, “Baby, this is…”

But you stopped him.

“There’s more, my love. Keep going.” You said, kissing him on the cheek.

He found his Christmas stocking next. It looked like yours except his was red to go along with your green one and his name was embroidered at the top, in the same font to match yours, and a hook to hang it from, over the fireplace. The final gift in the box was a plain red bulb ornament with his name written in silver glitter on it, just like the one you received as a child.

You wanted Billy to have ornaments that were his and his alone for him to hang on the tree. You hoped it would make this time of year a little happier for him.

“Sometimes I forget that this time of year isn’t pleasant for everyone. I was hoping to make it a little better for you, Billy. So I got you ornaments that are just for you.” You said.

He replied, holding the stocking and glitter ornament in his hand, “They’re just like yours.”

“I wish I could take away your bad memories, but I can’t. So I thought maybe if you had new memories…that, um…” You trailed off with a hitch in your voice.

Billy didn’t let you finish. He just leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips, the sweet taste of vanilla and a little spicy from the nutmeg on his from the sips of bourbon he had a few minutes ago, and the woodsy scent of his cologne floated past your nose as you kissed him back.

The warm white lights reflected in his onyx colored eyes and his smile traveled from the curl in his lip, up to the lines around his eyes. Billy didn’t have to say how he was feeling, you could see it in his eyes, see it in his smile, and you felt it in the way he kissed you.

“These are just…I don’t…thank you, sweet girl.” Said Billy.

He looked over at the tree for the first time since he arrived home and actually smiled. Billy finally had his own ornaments to hang on the Christmas tree and he looked excited about it.

“Go ahead, baby.” You said with a warm smile.

Billy rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, loosened his tie, stood up while carefully holding his ornaments, walked over to the tree and pondered about where he should place them. You knew the perfectionist in him wanted to pick out the perfect spot for them.

He found your ornament with your name written in silver glitter and he placed his on the branch next to it. Billy then found a branch near the top for his Marines ornament that he needed the stepladder to reach and he hung his stocking on the opposite end of the fireplace from where yours was. He said he had to keep it “symmetrical” which made you chuckle. There’s that perfectionist trait hard at work again.

Billy actually looked content, finding places for his ornaments and hanging his stocking on the fireplace. He finally had the experience that he didn’t get to do when he was young.

Forced to grow up faster than he should have, Billy Russo’s childhood was stolen from him by the person that was supposed to protect him and love him but she didn’t. His mother left him and never looked back so it really wasn’t a mystery of why he didn’t trust anyone, why he never got close to anyone, or why he never had a long term relationship.

You were helping him work through some of that pain and building trust so he would never have to go through any of that hurt ever again.

As he sat down, you let your head gently fall against his chest as he kissed the top of your head. You felt your eyelids getting heavy and it was a relief to close them as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. His body was a warm cradle for yours.

“I love you.” Whispered Billy, kissing the top of your head again.

With your eyes closed still, you smiled and replied, “I love you too, Billy. I just want all your Christmas wishes to come true.”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, my love. My only wish is I wish I didn’t have to wait so long for you.” He said in barely more than a whisper.

Tears stung the back of your eyes as your heart began to race and your fingers started to tingle. All Billy had ever wanted was to be loved and something as simple as a Christmas ornament with his name on it, you knew he’d cherish it forever because it came from someone who showed him he deserved to be loved and he was worthy of affection.

You finally understood why Billy always kept you close, why he never let you wander too far from him, and why he had a hand on you at all times. Sometimes he held on a little too tight but it was because he didn’t want what he had to go away or be taken from him like it had all those years ago.

The little toy soldier that was attached to his keys was the first thing you ever gave him and he was constantly reaching into his pocket to make sure it was there. Just like the ornaments, the toy soldier might seem insignificant or small to anyone else, but to him, it was everything.

You gave him back some of the childhood that was taken from him and you will never forget the smile that stretched across his face.

Your parents always said that it was better to give than receive…and giving Billy a happy Christmas memory allowed you to finally experience what they had been talking about.

And they were absolutely right. Making Billy Russo smile really was the best feeling in the world.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @vaguekayla @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf @sweetserendipity65

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads @jediwizardelf @thejanecampaign @milea @folkloreofyennefer @mysweetlittledesire

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

[m4rs-ex3]

the season 7 quotes ever: personal favorites (aka wildcard) edition

“oh? i suppose you’ve seen that written in the stars?” “no, no. i’ve seen it written in his eyes.”

“part of me wishes i hadn’t seen you. but my eyesight is perfect.” “then just look away, Soren.”

"you're stuck with me now."

“you speak the name of a Ghost.” “i speak the name of my daughter.”

“it’s not enough for me to watch the world. i want to make a difference.”

“we’ve been sitting here eating dessert, Rayla. DESSERT.”

“each of us pledged a part of ourselves for that mission. your son pledged his blood for justice. and the thing is, no one should have to spill their blood for justice.”

“now what?” “now, we wait for Callum to catch his breath. and then, he will decide whether you live or die.”

“Runaan, be kind to the boy. it’s not easy getting to know his girlfriend’s parents. he’s nervous.”

“i have to stop you.” “i know you have to try.”

“i never asked for this. i wasn’t ready to be a king, i’m just a kid."

“besides, my home now? it’s wherever you are.”

“what do you think, Callum?” “i think, uh… i think i agree with Barius. pretty sure he had a… a good point. everyone nodded.”

“history has a way of burying the ugly truths of those who write it.”

“you’re ridiculous.” “thanks. i mean, i think thanks. y-you meant that in a nice way, right? ridiculous can be a-a compliment, in certain contexts.”

“the Pearl you brought to the Starscraper… it was made of candy. we ate it.”

“Ghost. i thought you’d run away again.” “i’m here. but not to give you what you want. i’m not going to beg you to forgive me.”

“well, i don’t want you here.” “you mean, you don’t want you here?” “i said that! but not me you. you you!” “me?” “yes.” “me.” “no. oh, what am i doing? i’m talking to myself.” “yes, you am.”

“well, that was salty.” “the tears.” “yeah.”

“feel his hair! it’s… so greasy.” “why does everyone keep saying that? i-i wash it regularly.”

"Rayla loves me. she believes in me. this version of myself.” “it’s not about you, is it? if you love her, you’ll be the you who can save her."

“like the moon itself, all of us may be reborn from darkness.”

"i was trained to accept that i was already dead, so that i might carry out my dark work without fear. but… i am not dead. i am alive! i have a family i love. i have so much to lose, the very things i took from you.”

“i mean, at the end of the day, you’re at the top of the org chart.” “we have an org chart?”

“yes. yes i do. i love her. i love her very much.”

“confirmed. regular sap.”

"i still need you, Ezran. i know it’s been a hard time, but i really hope—” “i need you too.”

“so, how’s your book?”

“the three of us have been through a lot together. we’ll get through this, too. right?”

“the stars have never smiled upon their creations.”

[wetcatspellcaster]

2024 fic wrapped

I was tagged by @cursedhaglette to do this tag-game, but I found the focus on stats made me a little uncomfortable! (also, no one needs to know how many words I wrote while having multiple breakdowns last year, truly).

But, I didn't want to ignore Mia's tag! so instead, I'm going to take @cinnamontails-ff wrapped tag-game, just bc I sympathise with the logic and I like this set of questions a lot more!

Thank you Cin for coming up with questions that don't focus so much on productivity. And thank you again, Mia, for including me in the original game :) hopefully this is an acceptable substitute!

What's been your biggest learning point this past year?

I guess, what it feels like to be a 'popular' author - and the answer is, 'both good and bad, in fact, extremely mixed'. Obviously, many parts of it are wonderful: more people interacted with my work in the height of the BG3 fandom than I've ever had before, I felt like my writing mattered and I enjoyed every conversation I had about it. I also felt under a lot more scrutiny, very hyperaware of how I acted in 'public' (ie. on this blog), and aware of the people I'd disappoint with the directions I took my stories and what I chose to include. I also had to watch the baffling half-life of modern fandom! BG3's 6 month peak and 1yr trough was wild to me, as someone who joined dragon age 8yrs after the game was released. But I've decided I actually really like the middle-road of interaction, with much less noise and dedicated, recurring readers who I recognise and who make me smile and laugh every single time they comment or tag my work. I'll probably never experience whatever the fuck Pieces was ever again, and I'm honestly... ok with that, currently? Not to sound awful, but I'm not sure I liked it lmao.

In terms of my writing, my biggest learning point was "you're good at this, actually". Chanting this to myself in the mirror while I white-knuckle the sink.

How has your writing developed this past year?

I'm genuinely not certain. Pieces was certainly my most ambitious story yet, but a lot of the outlining of that took place in 2023 so it feels like the development happened then... though I suppose landing the dismount was something I worked very hard to do. I guess the main development this year was that a lot of what I wrote was extremely, extremely angsty. I wrote Pieces, I wrote This Is Not A Love Story. and I gave Rosalie to Orin :))))) this doesn't necessarily surprise me, given the way my writing often reflects things I'm dealing with in my life, and I've been trying to both recover from - and desparately stave off a relapse into - depression. I think that I can see why I keep making characters into the worst versions of themselves (this goes for Astarion, Rosalie - bc Pieces Rosalie is NOT in a good place, Gale and my Durge) and then watching them claw their way back to happiness in the hope of proving to myself that that's possible.

But jfc, it all got a little heavy. I've decided that 2025 is the Year of the Rom Com™.

Good writing habits?

Committing myself exclusively to what I want to read and sticking to my guns - which means I actually finish the thing, rather than getting into my own head about it.

Stretching my comfort zone a little (writing something vaguely smutty, writing something very different in style, switching genres for a bit) without losing my own voice.

Not falling into any jealousy/existential crises about my own writing, which I guess is much easier when you're experiencing a bout of 'success', but I've managed to keep it up even after the success began tailing off :)

I wrote a lot of words last year. I'm not putting the stat down but god. It was a lot.

Bad writing habits?

Overwriting everything. Everything. All the time. Party Favours was so short!!! I used to write novellas!!! Why are my chapters so fucking long now?????

Having multiple fic wips when I promised myself I'd wind down fanfic and start writing original work again :')

I wrote a lot of words last year. I think I did this bc I was extremely unhappy, and productivity is how I define myself. when I feel bad, I write and post bc it makes me feel good. And I felt very bad this year. So anyway, I think my wordcount is both a good thing and also a wee cry for help :'))))

Favorite thing you wrote?

Chapter Twenty-Three of Pieces (Mephistopheles consultation and my Ascended!Astarion meta-reveal)

Chapter Four of Cooler Than Me (putting the blorbos in a formal-wear situation)

I also liked my sex scene in Pieces :') it was tame but it was written for me specifically x

Favorite reads?

for fic!

long summer days can lead to lazy vices by @pouroverpaloma

eyes like fire by demonsbanebard

only once by @bearhugsandshrugs

and of course stitched into your sleeve by the bestie (@violacae)!!! my first ever gift fic!!!

for literature!

The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door by HG Parry

Long Live Evil by Sarah Rees Brennan

Deeplight by Frances Hardinge

Biggest win?

god. I'm endlessly grateful for my gift fic and for my fanart, but... it's got to be bookbindings. I used to daydream, about somebody ever wanting to have my fic bound, but I thought it was impossible and would never happen! I now know of 3 copies of my work that exist in the world :D and the ones I've seen were fucking gorgeous, like oh my fucking god.

I am also very proud I finished Pieces! It was my most ambitious project, and writing the ending presented even more challenges than I expected - as I discovered how much you write yourself into a corner when you resoul Astarion. I still haven't managed to read the completed work in full yet, but I'm proud it exists :)

Goals for the new year?

finish outstanding wips, and then see where my writing takes me next. I want to write original work, but I also don't want to make it a resolution. As long as I continue to enjoy writing, that's what matters most to me!

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times?

I think I use '[x character] froze' a lot, but rather than focusing on my repetitions I want to focus on some of my favourite turns of phrase that I managed to pull from the ether! :)

'before her brief courtship with death threatened to become a commitment' - from the risk and the reward

'We can all still be butchered. We cut away the parts of ourselves to make us fit' - from this is a love story.

"He played an androgynous, morally-grey vampire, of indeterminate gender! In a nice coat! Anyone who had two working eyes and a relevant Kinsey Score read the porn, back in the day!” - from cooler than me

What are you excited for in the new year?

act 3 astarion characterisation for honest lie! the first big romance moment in cooler than me! and then just romcoms! 2025 is the year of the romcom! I want to write exclusively happy things!!!!

tagging: @cursedhaglette (as it's a different set of questions lmao), @imscissorbladez, @violacae, @eraserspiral, @scaryanneee, @sitting-in-the-sink, @pricemarshfield, @pouroverpaloma and anyone else who wants to give this a whirl. anyone is welcome, and if you tag me in it I'll share x

[mawlbone]

LUCKY RABBIT’S FOOT - KÖNIG

SNIPPET: Preparing for the winter means a lot of preserving and curing food for the long nights ahead. So when a giant rabbit falls into your traps, you can only sigh as you release it once more… And again, again, and again.

[CW: gender neutral reader, socially awkward reader, giant flemish rabbit hybrid König, hunting, mention of dead wild animals, childhood neglect, bullying, bad memory, and loneliness.]

[COMMENT: So many bunny König posts going around… Makes me very happy! Apologies for being very late to the party, but I brought this, have a fluffy little guy to hold. Also I should probably make a hybrid au post like my pet au one, but I will think myself into exhaustion assigning everyone a creature. But in short, like pet au, hybrids are kept as an open secret, kind of, but mostly reserved for military work.]

You realized from an early age that you were a surprise as many of your relatives liked to call you, which in adult-speak is a socially acceptable way to say you were unwanted. For as much as adults likes to underestimate what a child know and doesn’t know, it’s not hard to tell when everyone immediately goes silent when you enter the room.

It’s not like you asked to be born, neither did you asked for much. So why? Why cannot you even get a morsel of the attention that your peers can get. It doesn’t matter, children are adaptable therefore children too get used to feeling disappointed.

Crying gets you nowhere there’s no one willing to find you.

It’s not like they were abusive, there’s enough food on the table and a bed for you to sleep in, but nights at the dinner table while everyone else was out and about without you still inevitably stings. You rarely hear your family anymore, signing off your own paperwork for your own education and attending your own graduation by yourself. No effort in remembering anything about you at all, even at times forgetting your age.

So you don’t know how to act whenever you’re around people. It’s hard to gauge what you’re doing correctly or not when you have no practice whatsoever in knowing how to act. So parties at family friends’ house usually consist of you standing in the background and watching instead of participating in the play that everyone seemed to be part of, except you. So usually you find yourself just fiddling with your clothes or touching any textures your brain found enough fascination in.

Despite everything, if there’s one good grace you get from your family was your grandfather’s house, which you get to visit every summer. He was your stereotypical man: grumpy and grey from a bad leg injury during his service and not much of a talker. You’re sure he puffs more than he breaths in the many times you came to see him, but he made it a point to never do it in the same room as you. You never met your grandmother, she died before you can be born but from the giant portrait of him and her on the wall, you can guess he deeply cherishes her.

When you were old enough, you can remember taking you out for hunting trips with him. Long drives in the car with nothing more than lunch and his old rifles as he lectures you about gun safety time and time again.

During these moments, he’s the most talkative to you. Gently guiding you to the handle and teaching you how to be careful around animals and use every part of them.

Leave nothing behind, it’s the least you can do for taking a life even if it’s for your benefit.

Perhaps such an act would had raise eyebrows from anywhere else but humans are the scariest thing to you, so you ignore them for the most part as you gradually increase from small rabbits to the deers that overpopulate the area.

You’re not sure if you’re his favorite grandchild, but the effort he had done into at least spending time with you made him your favorite family member, you would had invited him to your graduation if it wasn’t for his worsening health.

An inheritance, a little cabin in the woods was what you had received in your grandfather’s will with a considerable sum of money to get you started, no word left behind as usual. Typical grumpy old man he was, you left behind his favorite cigars and flowers at his bed. Though you had to say, you had gotten a bit of a kick in getting the appliances while everyone else was arguing over family heirlooms. Hey, products are not meant to last nowadays, might as well get the oldies.

So here you are, living alone with your company only being the occasional visiting deer outside your window. And your visit into town only consist getting your medicine and last minute groceries nowadays.

It’s nice… The escape from everyone.

No longer did you had to deal with snippy comments for every little action you do in the endless bullying from your household. Still, it doesn’t satisfy that emptiness in your stomach.

You’re not sure what you hunger. It’s hard to tell with the limited amount of energy you have nowadays.

Scattered scribbled notes litter your bedroom and trash reminding you to maintain your schedule: brushing your teeth, taking a shower, making phone calls with your client to pick up their orders… All of it so you can feel some sort of maintenance in your life, at least normal enough to pass for your own self-satisfaction.

You’re too nervous to go to a therapist anyways.

But taking over your grandfather’s hunting business wasn’t what you expected in your career plans, not that you are complaining, it keeps the bills paid: selling the meat, bones, and using what couldn’t be sold to feed yourself from your trips to the woods.

However, the last thing you could had expected while checking on the last of your traps was the fattest rabbit you ever seen stuck in one of your footholds trap with a broken front paw laid in front of you.

All black with the slightest blond stripe down its face, you can only stare as it huffs and thumps its foot down at you. Almost daring at you to pick it up and find out. Hard to look intimidating with giant floppy ears though, as you laugh at the trapped animal.

It’s awfully cute. A flemish rabbit, you learned later after tucking the animal underneath your arm to take back to your truck. Too weak and exhausted to fight back with its injury.

You didn’t kill it.

After all it may had been someone’s pet if anything with how well-maintained its fur is. Though you were met with the fluffiest kick in your life when you had to check its sex wondering about whether it needed to get fixed or not.

You didn’t dare to give it a name, attachments is scary enough as is but taking care of him was probably the most interesting aspect of your year.

His fur was unbelievable soft, better than any fox or deerskin you had touched before when you brought him home. It’s embarrassing how you got yourself in a bit of a giddy after you removed the trap and wrapped the poor thing’s leg after contacting your closest veterinarian for help. Pressing your face into his dense coat while he laid on your lap and eating your greens all while huffy didn’t bother you, it’s probably the closest physical touch you had in years.

Animals were a lot easier to handle than people, you think as you settle him inside a large box of yours laid between thick old blankets you no longer use before in your living room. Just feed and love them enough and they’ll stay with you.

How nice…

You’ll call later to see if anyone lost their pet rabbit, but for now, you get to enjoy laying beside the rabbit and watch as he hides his squishy face from you. You had to hold yourself from squealing at the adorableness of his actions. Even if you panic whenever he gets too close to any one of your notes, fearing he’ll eat them and make him sick.

In weeks time, he’ll make a full recovery and be out of your life. So you’ll enjoy what comfort you can get from this new little creature in your life before he’s inevitably gone.

-

When König escaped into the woods after unexpectedly being ambushed from wrong intel, the last thing he could had expected was for himself to be trapped within a hunter’s trap for hours on end with a broken leg if anything.

A human’s trap to make it worse, as his ears perked up, hearing the crunching of leaves and branches being brushed aside before beady eyes meets you, a painfully ordinary person, he thinks as he watch in dismay as their eyes gaze over his shifted form stuck in their machinery.

Should he be mortified? Yes, yes he should at the threat of a towering human nearby making him feel ever so small again.

All weak and pathetic.

He’s old, experienced, and definitely killed enough men to fill an ocean, so why? Why is he feeling like he’s back in the halls again dealing with spitballs being flung on the back of his head, older children slamming him against the walls for fun, and dealing with daily beating at the back of the school and for the first time in decades…

He feels scared.

For all his muscles and size, he couldn’t save himself for what you plan to do with him.

Maybe it’s the grace of humans to be given enough intelligence to feel merciful towards the small. He doesn’t know. He’s too tired to fight back anymore as you settle him inside the truck after weak attempts to escape. Might as well die without pain, he so thinks.

But nothing could had prepared him for the absolute babying he received once he arrived inside your home. Honestly, it’s almost sickening if he’s wasn’t enjoying it so much as you cooed and pamper him, wiping his paws and checking his bandages regularly with a giant bowl of fresh veggies for him to eat regularly. Hell, even massaging his fur! Never in his life had he been treated as a pet as he cries at the loss of his dignity. But fuck, if he’s not enjoying the sensation of your nails pressing against his skin and soothing him to sleep regularly.

Sure, you may be giggling like some freaks he know every time you press your face into his back but at the end of the day, he’s breathing, alive and even thriving at this unexpected vacation he found himself in. But you have duties to do, your hunting. So often times, he will find brief moments where he’s alone while you’re out hunting to shift and stretch his muscles and do some snooping around your cabin.

He never got the chance to properly take in all the notes taped to the walls of your bedroom as he was placed in another spare room but the sheer amount of paper covering everything was truly a sight. It was nothing important per se, if anything they were just mere instructions on the wall and dates of various kinds of all sort all litter around like a brain and its thoughts. Yellows mixed with blues and pinks and all sort of post its on your mirror and bathroom had him loss in all its vividness. Perhaps the strangest wallpaper he had ever seen if anything.

What a lost human.

He doesn’t know what to feel, perhaps a sense of pity at you or gratitude, which one first would be acceptable? He truly doesn’t know. Emotions are hard and it’s easier to numb everything out.

He’ll have to check in on you often if anything, he concludes once he shifts back after hearing your keys jangle into the front door and hearing the familiar noises of you gently scolding him for getting his bandages all unwrapped again.

When the time comes for him to leave after his leg is all healed up, hopefully he doesn’t get grilled out by his superiors. For now, his mission is to accompany your time as he settles beside you on the couch to rest near the fireplace for warmth this chilly winter.

Goodbyes will be hard, but you won’t be alone anymore.

—

The next spring when you released your rabbit into the bushes, you had to stop yourself from shedding some tears when he refused to leave your lap and letting you have some last minute cuddles. His fur coat is shinier now, all soft and sleek from your endless pampering of the creature and truly did the black fur sparkle in the sunlight as you held him tight before he ran off to the depths of the woods with nothing more than the platters of his feet against the dirt road.

Truly, you thought that will be the last you seen of him. He didn’t appear the following summer or fall much to your disappointment with every pitter patter of your heart, which you desperately tried to ignore. Life still continued, and you’re alone once more with nothing more than your notes and mind to accompany you. But when a peek of black fur comes across your view in the middle of your checkup standing right next to your trap with a familiar thump.

Your heart had quicken as you crashed through the brambly bushes to see your dear bunny looking all grumpy and white from the snow falling down onto his black coat. You were met with 20 pounds of softness as he jumped onto you, giving you enough time to brace yourself as you carried the loaf around and cheering, swinging your rabbit around and around in an excited rampage before settling down once more to inspect him.

His leg is all fine, but there’s a glaring red collar wrapped around his neck with a tag on it.

So he is someone’s pet, you muttered quietly to yourself as you flipped over the sliver tag and brush your glove over the cold metal to find a name embedded onto its surface.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise once you read it. How fitting for such a large creature…

König, a king, hm?

How perfect, you think to yourself with a nothing more than a smile before your rabbit nudges you to focus back on him with a firm thump against your lap to cuddle him some more, even nudging its head against your check to redirect your focus on him, which you can only laugh at as your hands immediately scrunch his warm sleek fur.

It’s always lonely during this time of the year for you in the silence of nature, but for the first time in years, you get to enjoy it with a floppy eared friend for many more winters to come.

[breelandwalker]

I have adhd and I'm constsntly getting interested in various topics about witchcraft, which leads me to buying books because I NEEDED right now and saving podcasts and YouTube videos and tumblr posts to listen/watch/read later.

And then I get paralized. I feel like i'm never developing in the craft as I should because I struggle to focus on one topic and really learning it before going to the next

Oh honey, you are preaching to the proverbial choir. I have ADHD as well and I have the same damn problem. So much information, so little attention span, so much Decision Paralysis.

Saving things to a Watch Later is a really good hack. Bookmarks and Notes To Self are my lifeline when it comes to keeping track of those random little ideas that flit in and out of my head all day. Choosing a thing is indeed the hard part. Sometimes I just pick a random book or saved thing to explore and if it scratches the itch, I continue with it. If not, I try again later (because going back to the Decision part can be too overwhelming).

What finally worked for me was figuring out that I could totally multitask and do things piecemeal as my interests dictated. It meant that I didn't progress in any one thing very quickly, but it meant that I was making small amounts of progress in several things at once, which was better than nothing. Sometimes, I'd sit down with a stack of books and start to take notes on one of them at random. It was rare that I'd get through more than a chapter or so, but having the other options there in case my interest waned was helpful for me.

Also, learning about various topics when they caught my attention helped me start to see connections between ideas and subject matter that made things easier to understand. It was a slow process, but a lot less frustrating than trying to make myself focus on one thing at a time.

The important thing is to be patient with yourself. The progress you make is entirely at your own pace and there's plenty to learn, so there's no need to rush. That way lies frustration and burnout. Pick and choose the things that resonate with you. Do what you can when you can. Small steppy is better than no steppy, as the meme says.

Something else that helped me was sitting down occasionally and reviewing my progress from the previous year. I keep records of the spells I cast and the research I do, and it's surprising how much you can learn over the space of a year without hardly realizing it. If you want, you can check out this list of Witchcraft Exercises I put together. Some of them might be helpful. 😘

Good luck!

[jadeshifting]

hi jade! question, how do i go about naming myself when scripting my dr? i still want my first name to be avery but i dont know if i should choose a last name or just go by avery. like i feel like i should have a last name !!

inserting personal aspects into my scripting is hard because i don’t want to be majorly different but also not exactly the same. and im worried if my dr isn’t specific enough or doesn’t have enough information it won’t turn out how i want 😓

it’s like you just sense when i wanna talk about things 🧘‍♀️ i spend SO much time thinking about this and i very, very carefully select my names in all my DR’s, i hope some of this helps:

— WHAT’S IN A NAME? ( choosing the perfect name for your DR self )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

picking a name for your DR self might seem like a tiny detail in the grand cosmic scheme of hopping realities, but it’s actually kind of a big deal for you. it’s not just about what you’re called; it’s about who you are in that world. a name anchors you, makes you feel distinct, and helps you slide into your DR like you’ve been there your whole life (which you have.) but don’t stress—this isn’t some life-or-death decision. let’s dive into how to make this process fun, meaningful, and totally you

YOUR NAME, YOUR RULES … first things first: you don’t have to change your name. if you love the name you’ve got now, keep it. own it. your current name can absolutely exist across realities, no questions asked. but if you’re craving a little spice, you’ve got options. maybe you want to keep your first name the same but add a nickname that makes your DR self feel a little more a A nickname can add just enough flair to feel fresh, while still letting you hold onto your original vibe

( for example: in my Walking Dead reality, i got the nickname ‘Jade the Spade’ for wielding a shovel. people call me Spade sometimes. and in my Supernatural reality, lots of people call me ‘Bunny.’ no reason, other then that i like it )

SURNAME STORIES … most people are attached to their first names, so last names is where you’re probably gonna go full-on creative mode. your last name is a chance to add depth to your DR identity. it’s like an easter egg about your heritage, your family’s legacy, or even your role in your DR. maybe you choose something classic and elegant, or maybe you pick something that screams symbolism

your last name can also connect to your DR family. are you part of a noble house? a witchy bloodline? a small-town clan with a long, long legacy? choose a name that ties you to that world and makes you feel like you belong. It’s all about creating an identity and a past that feels real and lived-in, one and you can truly connect to and ground yourself in

NAMES AS BRIDGES … names are grounding. they’re one of the first things people associate with identity, so giving yourself a distinct name or nickname can make it easier to connect to your DR self. but let’s be clear: your name isn’t going to make or break your shifting success. your DR self is still you, whether you’re rocking your current name, a new one, or something as simple as “babe” because everyone there is obsessed with you (duh)

DON’T OVERTHINK IT … let’s get one thing straight: you could spend weeks debating the perfect DR name, but at the end of the day, it’s not that deep. your name is just one tiny piece of the puzzle, and it’s not going to keep you from shifting. stressing yourself out over it isn’t worth it. you can always change it later—or script that no one will even notice if you do. reality shifting isn’t that picky !!

pick a name that feels good in your gut, write it down, and keep it moving. and if you wake up in your DR and decide “nah, this actually doesn’t vibe,” you can tweak it on the fly. the multiverse is flexible like that :)

MAKE IT FUN … choosing a name should feel exciting, not stressful. play around with baby name websites, write out a list of cool surnames, or steal inspiration from your favorite books and movies. test out how it feels to hear someone call you by that name. imagine introducing yourself in your DR and see what clicks. and remember, you don’t need to justify your choice to anyone. if you want to call yourself “Starlight Moonbeam”, do it. If you want something subtle and low-key, that’s cool too. your DR name is yours

A FINAL WORD: YOUR NAME DOESN’T DEFINE YOU … here’s the bottom line: your name is just one thread in the tapestry of your DR self. it’s important, sure, but it’s not the whole story. whether you’re rocking a totally new identity or keeping it classic, what matters most is that you feel connected to the version of yourself you’re becoming aware of. so, pick a name that makes you smile and feels true to your vibe, but don’t sweat it too much—you’ve got bigger things to focus on, like actually becoming aware of your desired reality. and trust me, your DR self is going to be fucking cool no matter what name’s on your coffee cup

hope this helps avs! i have different surnames in all of my DRs based on the vibes, it’s such a fun part to me !! happy scripting & update me with what you pick :^) xoxo

[shiny-jr]

Please yap away about your new Empyrean series~! I’ve been watching a bunch of videos and reading about Genshin Impact so I can better understand the world and dynamics you’re planning to write about and absolutely fascinated with everything~

Is there a specific dorm you’re looking forward to writing about or possible side arcs/missions in between the MC meeting the different Archons like the events in Twisted Wonderland? Were some of the dorm leaders easier to place as the different Archons elements than others and if so who did you struggle with?

Oh god, where do I even start? How much is too much to say? I don't want to spoil whole parts. I haven't actually written anything for it, but I do certainly have ideas. Ideas that have been accumulating slowly but surely.

Uh, I think first thing's first, none of the TWST cast are going to be just human. How unfair would it be if, say, Riddle was an archon (god) and Ace was just human? Kinda unfair. Which is why all the characters are going to be something else. I'm still figuring some of this part out.

Keep in mind, my knowledge of Genshin Impact extends as far as Inazuma and no further. Anything I know beyond that was through tiktok, that is it. So I'll be taking heavy inspirations from the first three regions.

Pairing the element to a character wasn't too hard actually. So first I focused on the archons, and I looked at the dorm leaders and what they stand for and what type of magic they use.

We know Riddle uses a lot of fire magic based off his SSR Dorm Uniform card. Additionally, the color scheme just went well with his hair color and the roses and all. At first I thought it seemed uncanny, because how could a green region based off of Britain be symbolic of the pyro element? Well, then I considered that since it borders Savanaclaw, it could make sense.

For Leona, I took into account the volcanoes that act as a natural border between his land and Riddle's. Additionally, his unique magic made it a very easy choice. I mean, turning things to sand? Slapping Geo on it and calling it a day.

On Azul's, I was actually torn. I know it seems like an obvious choice of hydro, but listen, at first I actually considered giving Kalim hydro due to his own unique magic. Then I thought maybe Azul would get cryo, but in my mind, leaving the other elements to the remaining characters just didn't make much sense. So, ultimately, Azul won the hydro element.

Giving Kalim the dendro element just happened to coincidentally align with the Sumeru region's main element. I wanted to give Kalim the next best thing if he couldn't have hydro, which was dendro. As I see it as a very "good" element with positive qualities, which he deserves.

Vil was one of the others that gave me trouble when assigning him an element. For a very brief moment, I considered giving him dendro, but that just didn't fit the sort of aesthetic I had in mind for him. Then I remember what his home region is supposed to look like, if it's similar to Epel's, it's snowy, right? So cryo was the next best option. I think it actually fits him well, if I do say so myself.

Idia was the last character to give me trouble. For a while I really was not sure about giving him the anemo element, as he just seemed like the complete opposite of Venti and his ideals. However, the longer I thought about, the more I came to terms with it. Wind doesn't have to mean just freedom. Wind can be very terrifying too, like what we see in Stormterror's Lair which is the sort of aesthetic I imagined when I finally assigned him anemo.

I mean, duh, of course Malleus was getting electro. What else did you expect? I mean, there was a second where I considered giving electro to Idia, but then giving anemo to Malleus didn't sit right with me. Electro was ultimately the best choice for this archon. It's constantly used in the games around him, he has control over it, it just made sense to give him this element.

Any other characters that are not archons will have their elemental type be based off the region they're from. HINT HINT. For example, Riddle may be pyro as he is the archon, but at least one person in Heartslabyul will not have the pyro element.

[slxtarchive]

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 … jake finds himself a little insecure about him and his importance in your life to which you find a way to reassure him he’s the only one you want

⍟ … you and jake sat in the car as the moonlight of the night sky poured through the windows. the soft glow making each other faces barely visible.

the car was parked on a peaceful overlook of the city of LA, the city lights twinkling in the distance. the radio was lightly playing filling the car with various melodies.

for the most part is was quiet and peaceful, not like any other time. you spoke up feeling curious. “you’re very quiet tonight.” you stated the obvious. you turned to look at him noticing how he seemed miles away, lost in his thoughts. “hey, what are you thinking about?”

jake spoke up hesitantly. “i don’t know… i just, sometimes i feel like i don’t know what im doing, when it comes to you know — us.” he was fiddling with the string of his hoodie looking down not willing to make eye contact with you. “like… like i wont be good enough for you… like im not good enough for you.”

you tilted your head at his words wondering how long he’s felt like this. “hey look at me.” your eyebrows were furrowed reaching out and taking his hand in yours.

jake lifted his gaze, his cheeks flushed nervously wondering what you were going to say.

“we don’t have to have everything figured out jake.” you caressed his cheek. “and i like you just how you are. every day i find myself so grateful that the universe decided to bring us together.”

his eyes looked down feeling his heart thump against his chest. “you mean that?”

you laugh lightly, “of course i do.” you moved his chin up to look at you. “i don’t know what im doing either but all i know is i want to make you always feel you’re enough for me. to show you how much you mean to me.” your voice got quieter the more you thought about how to show jake how much he truly means to you.

a shy smile made its way onto his lips as the weight of your words lifting his spirit.

the way he got all shy around you had you all giddy inside. “you know i’d do anything for you jake, right?” you leaned closer toward him fixing your position.

jake gulped noticing that gleam in your eyes he’d admit he loved to see. “yeah.” he whispered suddenly feeling overly aware of how warm the car has become.

“good.” you stated shortly looking down at his lips, noticing how he nervously and slightly bit his cheek. “i like taking care of you… showing you how much you mean to me… and i like when you let me.”

you were practically purring in his ear as you got closer to him over the center console. his breathing hitched as you got closer, having a feeling he knows what your next move was — and he wasn’t complaining.

your hand made his way to your face tilting his head so you were looking at each other. you placed one single kiss on his lips earning a tiny whimper from him. you grinned lightly, “gonna let me show you how much you mean to me?”

hesitantly he nodded, wanting nothing more than your skin on his. you licked your top lip slightly before blinking slowly at him. you raised a brow, wanting words from him. he understood and spoke up. “yes… yeah. i trust you.” he was breathless already, which gave you more confidence.

you trailed your hand down his chest to his waist then on his belt, clinking it apart, and loosening it. the metal clashing together the only noise in the car besides jake’s heavy breathing. “let me take care of you.” you spoke softly, in a tone to help him relax.

he nodded, whimpering lightly as your head reached in his pants and landed on his painfully hard cock. you tapped his thigh, “up.” you said lightly. he obliged lifting his hips so that you could tug down his jeans and boxers.

once you did that, you were able to free his dick seeing how red and leaky his tip was. you wasted no time, wanting to pleasure him as soon as you could. you leaned down licking the pre cum off his tip causing his head to tilt back. you noticed how inconvenient his position was so you took matters into your own hands and reached to the left of his seat. you clutched one of the mechanics to move his chair back, then the back of his seat down so he was facing more up.

this way, he was able to lie a bit back while you pleasured him. he enjoyed it and so did you, watching how he struggled to look at you as you showed him how much you cared for him.

first, you wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock squeezing before moving up with the same grip. you did that a few times wanting to coax him to relax. low groans fell from his lips because of your actions.

after that, you moved your hand to the base again before leaning your head down and taking his tip in your mouth. you made sure to make your mouth into an ‘o’ to prevent your teeth from making contact with him.

then, you continued your actions. bobbing your head up and down, repeating this action until he couldn’t control when his pretty noises would fall from his mouth.

his hand instinctively made its way to your hair tugging on it slightly. you pulled your mouth off him. “ah ah, no touching or ill stop, okay?” you licked your lips. he let out a strangled sigh. he moved his hands to the side balling them up in fists. you grinned lightly, “good boy.” you praised.

his eyes clenched shut as your mouth wrapped around him once again. “fuck… please. mhm — so close.” you wanted him to beg more so you slowed down your actions, knowing if you kept the same pace he’d be finished in seconds. “n-no… please don’t slow down. i… i’m so close. please… please let me cum.” he begged you, his eyes opening frantically as he looked down toward you with pleading eyes.

you playfully frowned. “but i don’t want this to end so soon.” your hand made its way to his cock stroking him painfully slow. his eyes fluttered shut and mouth fell open. “look at me.” you demanded but got nothing in return.

you stopped your hand, letting it sit wrapped around his cock. his breathing stopped before he opened his eyes. “no… i’m sorry please. please…” he gulped harshly, starting to sweat.

you tutted, “gotta listen to me if you wanna cum, yeah?” you slightly bit your lip — not overly exaggerated. “look at me, the whole time. wanna see how you fall apart under my touch. can you do that for me, baby?” your left hand went to his chin.

he gasped and nodded. “fuck… m’yes mommy. i understand, just please… im so so close. i’ll listen… i’ll do what you said.”

oh, he was such a pretty mess. you thought to yourself.

you nodded, “okay..” you sang out before you started moving your hands again.

the eye contact you were making was intense. his eyes blinked slowly as the pleasure he was feeling before returned. you picked up the pace of your hand getting impatient, you just wanted to see him fall apart under your eyes.

you twisted your hand then moved up and down before using your left hand as well. then you decided to use your mouth for a few seconds wanting to get him there closer. after using your hand you went back to staring at him only to see him staring back at you with an open mouth.

you kept eye contact with him as you brought your hand up and spat on it before wrapping around him once again. he groaned at the action, sending him over the edge.

as you picked up the pace, his thighs shook and he let out one final moan. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he was getting hit by that wave of pleasure. you leaned your head down wrapping your mouth around his tip letting him coat your throat.

beads of sweat made their way down his forehead as his chest slowed down, recovering from his orgasm. you swallowed his come before pulling your lips off of his tip with a ‘pop’.

he opened his eyes to see your face with a satisfied smile. you got on your knees and leaned forward toward his face capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. your hands grabbing both of his cheeks.

when the kiss ended you moved back a centimeter to look into his eyes.

his eyes moved between yours before whispering lightly. “you mean as much to me as i mean to you. please… let me show you.”

your heart raced at his words knowing jake has never really been this confident enough to initiate something between you and him.

you pressed your lips together before nodding. “let’s go home first.” you whispered.

© slxtarchive

[inkieflame]

The Crows in the Garden (Are Laughing at My Expense)

A Scarian/Grumbo oneshot

A Hermitcraft AU

Content warnings: grief or something

1100 words

Aka, Grian has been stealing flowers out of Scar's garden to take to Mumbo. Scar tries to put a stop to the flower thievery.

Author's note: this is an old fic that I wrote a while ago so... Uh. Not my best work. Enjoy anyway <3

The flowers are beautiful, but they do not grow in the abundance they once knew so well.

They have slowly thinned out, now only specks of color among the late summer greens. Part of the reason behind their new sparsity is the turning of the season. Poppies and Lilacs will not grow in the cold.

But the biggest reason is Grian.

He finds himself walking past this garden yet again, just like he always does every month on this day.

“He would like these ones again.” Grain sighs, reaching out to cup one of the flowers in his palm. “It’s sad they won’t be growing for much longer.”

He wraps his grip around a few of them, and pulls them free. They are tucked into a small bouquet. Grian looks down at them, red and purple.

He bends his head until the scent of them fills him, and murmurs, “I’m sorry you won’t get to see these again until next spring.”

“HEY” someone shouts from the other side of the garden.

Grian’s head snaps up to scan for the voice. An angry man comes crashing through the shrubbery with near-disregard for the plants. He’s wearing khakis that are uncomfortably short and a shirt unbuttoned to his stomach. The excess of skin that Grian can see is covered in a scattering of scars.

“Excuse you!” the man stops in front of Grian, “you’re the one who keeps stealing my flowers, thief! They’re very hard to grow and you are not helping with all your thievery!”

Grian doesn’t know what to say to this. The man looks him up and down, eyeing the nice outfit Grian is wearing. He always dressed up on this day.

“Where are you going?” the man says, as though he were suspicious of Grian. “are these flowers for a date!?”

The uncomfortable smile that slips through doesn’t go unnoticed. Grian can’t help the feeling in his chest when he thinks about the recipient of these flowers.

The man smirks, “They are!” He says. “You think I’m just going to let you snatch those flowers because you’re a little lovesick? Well I’m not!” he paused, “What’s your name?”

Grian swallows, “Grian.”

“well, G,” he says, “Scar Goodtimes, pleasure to make your acquaintance. You seem like a fine guy! Very- very fine indeed. And I’m sure you have a very important date to be getting too.-“

“I’m actually-“ Grian starts, but Scar keeps taking.

“A man like yourself, surely you have high standards!” Scar was saying, “is this a first date? You must go on a lot of first dates to keep taking my flowers! Maybe you need someone to help with quality control. I happen to consider myself a bit of a matchmaker, I could-“

Grian sighs and tunes out of the obvious rambling that this man is about to delve into.

“And off we go!” Scar declares, and began to march down the road.

Grian hesitates, “Excuse me?”

“We’re going to meet your date!” Scar says, “Well, you’re going on you’re date and I’M here to see weather or not this date is good enough for flower thievery!”

Grian’s stomach twists, but his feet start dragging down the path again. He hangs his head, trying to look as uninterested in conversation as possible. It obviously isn’t working, but the lilacs smell nice.

“So who is the lucky girl? Or guy, I’m not- I don’t- the flowers would be loved by either, I’m sure, I didn’t mean-” Scar is saying.

Grian can’t drag his eyes away from the red of the poppies. He remembers the first time he took flowers to his favorite person. The poppies are the same shade of red that his eyes had been.

“Grian?” Scar waves in his face. His eyes are green, nothing like poppies. “Does the special someone have a name?”

Grian takes in a deep breath, “Mumbo.” He says at last.

It is hard to say the name so casually after it was replaced by pet names. After it was whispered to it’s owner. After it was yelled, crying and begging. That name carried so much weight with it now.

Scar is nodding, “Sounds like a man who would like flowers. He better be worth the thievery.” He laughs. Grian hasn’t heard such carefree laughter in so long.

“But he can’t be the first one? I assume you’ve been a flower thief since the beginning, because they never would grow like they were meant to! I thought I was a bad bot-an-ologist! Botany-gist! Uh, Biologist!”

“Botanist.” Grian supplies.

“Exactly! You made me think I was doing it wrong!” Scar whines.

Grian swallows, hoping to shut down the conversation, “You did fine.” He takes a left turn down the street and Scar follows him without a second thought.

“I mean, have you ever tried to grow something?! You’d be frustrated too!”

Grian huffs. His grip around the flowers tightens. He wants to be left alone, even if this man was charming and lively. He needs this time for himself. He needs it.

“Where are we going by the way?” Scar asks, “All the coffee shops I know of are on the other side of town. Are you not a coffee fan?”

Grian does not answer this question. He doesn’t know how to explain this to Scar at this point. It’s too hard for Grian to say, because then he has to acknowledge that Mumbo really is gone. He abandoned Grian to this aching, lonely existence.

Scar finally stops talking when Grian steps into the yard. The realization has hit, but Grian doesn’t wait for it to sink in. He has a destination.

He approaches Mumbo, who waits for him in a far corner of the walled area. The are still flowers left here from last month, but they don’t carry any vibrancy with them anymore. Grian gently kneels to take back the old flowers and replace them with new ones.

“Oh.” Scar says, hovering behind Grian like a shadow, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Grian doesn’t look up from where he is knelt at the gravestone. He keeps tracing the carved words with his gaze, convincing himself they’re not real. Like he hasn’t been here on this day every month for over a year.

“It’s alright.” Grian whispers, “You didn’t know.”

Scar shifts awkwardly, “I’m sorry.” He says again.

Grian pulls himself to his feet. He struggles to move away from the grave. His eyes slip down to where the new flowers lay.

The flowers are beautiful.

[jjunbug]

────𝓙𝓙UNIE𝓦ORLD / 𝓙𝓙UN𝓑UG 2024 WRAP UP! ᪥

it’s the start of the new year and i just wanted to take a look at everything that i did on here in 2024 before fully kickstarting 2025! i also wanted to do this to give one last final goodbye to my old blog and look at it one last time in a positive light!! ♡ thank you to everyone who followed me and enjoyed my works on there and i hope you’re as excited as i am for the new year on this account! ^^

before we begin, i just want to give a quick thank you to all of those who were with me this year. i truly couldn’t do this all without you!! ~~ ♡♡

──to my mutuals ⦂

i love and appreciate each and everyone of you so so much you guys actually have no idea. truly, i would’ve quite writing on here a long time ago if it weren’t for the friends that i made on here and all the people i’ve gotten close to this year. here’s to another year together!!~~ ♡ i want to especially thank my very lovely friends @jjunberry @ghstzzn @hyukascampfire @biteyoubiteme @beomiracles @beombunni @yeoningz @prince-jjae @hyukalyptus @izzyy-stuff @thetxtdevil and everyone else who i may have missed (i’m so sorry if i did!! there’s literally so many of us in that server it’s hard to keep track lmao..) i really hope that i can get closer to more of my mutuals this year and make ever more friends with you guys hehe ♡♡♡

──to my readers ⦂

thank you all so so so so much for supporting me and my works—especially those of you who followed me over to this new account!! i also really really appreciate all the sweet messages about me and my works that you guys have left me and i just want you all to know that i truly do cherish all of them and think of them often! i’m so excited to share with you guys all that i have in store!! ♡

──how much i write in 2024? ⦂

for the year of 2024 i wrote a total of 191k words!! that is literally insane to think about… that’s like a whole 600-800 page novel… and that’s not even including headcannons, thoughts, or smaus either!! i’m curious to see how much i write this year hehe~~ maybe i’ll even bet 2024’s brand new record!!

──my fic with the largest word/note count ⦂

this comes as no surprise, but the longest fic that i wrote this year was the salt under the sea at 27.5k words!! (∩╹□╹∩) honestly, in general, the player’s game series has the largest word counts that i’ve written so far… it’s crazy to think about how at only two parts it was almost a total of 50k…!

for the most notes i’ve gotten… that goes to so soaked and sex for dummies! with, as of right now i believe, 5,762 and 5,107 notes respectively!! hehe my first mean dom fic… sfd you’ll always be famous to me and i can’t wait to rework you to be so so much better :))

──what is my favorite fic that i have written? ⦂

HANDS DOWN, it has to be both the lighthouse and don’t delete the kisses!! i quite literally put my whole heart and soul into those two works and i’m so so so so excited to rework them and expand them even further. when i think about where i want my writings to be at in 2025, THAT is the standard!! also a special little honorable mention to ceilings and especially its part two i wanna be yours!!

──what to expect in 2025 on this new account ⦂

this year, i want you all to expect works at the same quality and as my favorite fics listed above—at least to the very best of my ability. as also stated above, that’s the standard i’ll be holding myself to this year. also, i won’t be uploading new fics every two or so weeks like i did on my old blog. instead, i really want to take time to write works that i’m very happy with and that i’m excited to share with you all! on this new blog, i will also be dipping my toes into some darker content—nothing too crazy to start with, but it really just fascinates me the different levels of storytelling that comes with writing a story more darker and less fluffy. so expect a lot of angst and mature themes!! (you guys know how much i love my angst!!)

──what are my new year goals? ⦂

along with exploring different types of storytelling, i also want to write longer stories in general! i started this a bit at the end of 2024 with the players game, but i really wanna write something crazy long—like maybe 30-50k?? maybe even longer if i have the plot for it!! also expect more fantasy!! hehe it’s literally my favorite genre ever and it’s absolutely criminal how little of it i wrote on my other blog in 2024… (i may or may not have a little fantasy something something coming for you guys soon hehe!! so keep a look out for it~~) i also want to interact with you all much more this year, so don’t be scared to come into my inbox to chat about literally anything under the sun!! i welcome it hehe~~

as for my goals outside of this blog, i will be furthering my education!! i’m planning on going to college to study writing as an english major in the hopes of publishing all the stories in my head one day!! i’m so excited for this new beginning in my life and i just know that 2025 is gonna be such a good year for me! ♡♡ i’m focused on bettering myself this year and really stepping into who i am as a person and losing the fear of expressing myself. 2025 for me is all about being true to who i am, and i’m so so excited for it!!

[ kipo’s note . . . ] i hope you guys all have the most amazing 2025 and that you get everything you deserve in life!! ♡♡ i can just feel how good this year is gonna be, for me at the very least, and how happy i’ll be so i’m extending all the energy that i feel to you as well!! hehe i love you all!!~~~ (づ ￣ ³￣)づ♡♡♡

[cinnamontails-ff]

New Year Writing Tag

Happy New Year everyone!

I love this time of year for how it invites reflection and a general (re)assessment of where I am as a writer. I've seen a few "new year writing" tags floating around, but didn't love their focus on numbers, so I decided to make my own. Feel free to use the template if you're interested, leave stuff out, etc!

What's been your biggest learning point this past year?

Readers are fickle, and winning yourself an audience is not the same as maintaining it. Still, there will always be people who love your work, exactly the way it is.

How has your writing developed this past year?

I think my grasp on the English language has definitely improved! I find I'm more comfortable with varying my sentence structure, and the fact that I'm finally getting the hang of punctuation also definitely helps haha That said, I've been leaning into my overwriting tendencies. MA was supposed to be 150k words and now it's gonna clock in at nearly 200k. And that's ok because it was a difficult project and I'm proud of myself for pulling through, but I definitely need to rein myself in, moving forward.

Good writing habits?

Finally installing automatic backups through my writing software! Also, investing in a nice keyboard for the first time in my life. Life-changing.

Bad writing habits?

Pushing too hard rather than taking a break because my general modus operandi in life is "Work hard now, so you can relax later" - except, I never let myself get to the "later" part.

Favorite thing you wrote?

Chapter 20 of "Magistrate's Advocate". If you know, you know, but it was a very unusual, very challenging chapter for me, and I love how it came out.

Favorite reads?

"A Sorceress Comes to Call" by T. Kingfisher

"Yellowface" by R.F. Kuang

And my re-reads of "Guards, Guards" and "Small Gods" by Terry Pratchett, but what else is new :D

Biggest win?

Making friends through writing. Connecting with people in a way that goes so much further than storytelling. Getting to go to the wedding of someone I met through fandom (and then try to explain to the other guests how you met :D). Sitting on a riverbank in a European city with a lovely reader for 4h straight, receiving the most beautiful fountain pen as a gift. Really, everyone who's made me feel like they care about me just as much as they care my stories ❤

Goals for the new year?

Finish the translation of my original novel.

Stop beating myself up over the things I have not achieved.

Forget AO3 statistics exist.

Shamelessly re-read my own fics over and over again.

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times?

"little", "gaze", "look", "smile", "quite", "absolutely", anything to do with "shoulders", "hands" and "eyes".

Seriously, what is it with me and shoulders?

What are you excited for in the new year?

I've just recently started a writing group with a handful of lovely people I met through fandom, and I am extremely excited for it! It's hard to find a group of like-minded people, and while I love the focus on positivity in fandom, I really miss being told where my writing still needs work :D

No-pressure tags (and feel free to pick and choose your favorite questions!): @davenswitcher @obsessedwhyyes @larvasmoon @wobblyweasels @roguishcat @amoremagnificentbastard @lady-vincent @ladyduellist @canon-in-too-deep @khywren @karinamay @bananaiguana and everyone else who loves their new year's reflections!

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side