#finally feeling brave enough to post this after it being in my drafts for over a week

[lailoken]

Over the past few weeks, some extremely difficult and triggering stuff has been coming up in my life relating to acute trauma I experienced as a minor. I have done a lot of major healing from this trauma, and I know that recovering from traumatic events is an ongoing process, but even still, I have been truly shaken to realize just how much hurt and confusion there still is to untangle inside of me. This has also been a lot to contend with during what has already been an unusually hard and painful year.

While seeking solace from my Spirit Kith, I have been told rather directly that what I'm dealing with is the spiritual equivalent of a broken bone that healed improperly in some places, and that I am finally capable of mending that "structural damage." However, I was told firmly, but kindly, that the only way to fully remediate this wound is to re-break and re-set the proverbial bone, which is an inherently excruciating process.

I feel extremely self-conscious sharing anything about this, but I do so with the hopes of not living with shame, as well as helping others to understand another aspect of my continued struggle to keep up with social media as I seek the help I need. So, thank you for being patient with me and remembering that I am human this past year. It has been a rough one for me, but I am determined to make the best of it.

[corky-the-gluttony-demon]

DMC: An Absurd Comedy – “The King’s Game” - Round 1/10

AN: So, I know it’s been a while since I updated (still in the final drafts of the Wrath Followers arc, but as I said in a previous post this is very self-indulgent, and I don’t intend for people to read it but if I feel brave and satisfied enough, I’ll post. This is one of those.)

It takes place about 4-6 arcs down (it’s been a year since the team first started working together) and I just got this idea after watching my friend replay Persona. (I forget which one it is but it’s the one with “The King’s Game”.)

Some forewarning, a couple of my OCs Felix and Abigail (which you meet in Wrath Followers) are toxic and are intended to be for the sake of conflict.

This is also written in my OC Corky’s pov. I didn’t initially start off the series like that (which is why it takes me longer because I might rewrite Arc 2 or maybe actually post Arc 1 which I feel is just a retelling of DMC reboot with the characters switched out) because I realize I am having more fun writing from her POV. It just feels more immersive and easier.

Does contain some NSFW though I think it is relatively tame and harmless.

October 25th, 2015 - 7:21 PM

Devil May Cry shop – Red Grave City

Alright, it’s Closing Time—time to wind down, relax, enjoy that thick, quiet space in the air that hums like a contented cat.

I see Nico reach behind the broken-up couch at the shop, snatching up some bottle from Dante’s hidden trove. “Well, well, look what we have here,” she says, all sly, waving the thing around. “Bet Dante thought he’d keep this for himself. Guess what, suckers? We’re drinkin’ tonight.”

Nero groans softly, “Shouldn’t you save that for a special occasion?” Nico rolls her eyes and slams the bottle down on the table with all the care of a jackhammer. “Oh, come on, Sparda. Wouldn’t kill ya to loosen up a little. Or are ya scared to see how you handle your liquor?”

“You know I don’t drink, Nico.”

Marcus, Morrison’s kid (I say that as if he’s not the same age as me, Nero, and Abbs) practically bouncing in his seat. “But I do! I’m in!”

“C’mon, Nero. You don’t wanna be the only one not joining the party, right?” Abigail’s voice is a sickly kind of sweet, like a rotten peach covered in sugar.

Felix slaps a hand on Nero’s shoulder, “Guess your Sparda blood’s not all it’s cracked up to be, huh?”

Oh boy. Here comes that look—Nero’s “I am ten seconds away from strangling you” glare.

And then, as if Felix’s smug face wasn’t grating enough, Abigail leans in, dangling the glass in front of him like it’s a ticket to some exclusive club. “Don’t be such a bore, Nero. It’s just a drink.”

I don’t know when I became so protective of Nero suddenly. Not that he needs it. Maybe it was what happened last week in the jungle. Out of everyone he was the only one who really stood by me against my old man. And even when he found out about Beelzebub being my grandfather, he didn’t judge or push me.

“Hey, Nero,” I say, trying to break through the tension before he snaps. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. I mean, it’s not like they’re going to keel over if you say no.”

“Corky!” Felix suddenly snaps at me. “What are you doing?”

“What? Felix, you know I don’t like to drink either,” I say, throwing my hands up defensively.

Abigail scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like we’re asking him to sell his soul. Just to loosen up for once. It wouldn’t kill you either, Corky. A little… lubrication.”

V, quietly observing everything, has somehow drifted closer to the group, and suddenly, all eyes land on him.

“Hey, now there’s a guy who likes to party,” Felix says, nodding at V with a smirk. “Mr. Edgar Allen Poe over here, I didn’t know you drank!”

Nico pauses in her glass hunt behind the bar, grinning as she pops up, her head cocked with surprise.

Griffon fluffs his feathers, smirking down at her. “Please, V here drinks like a classy bird. Ain’t that right, buddy? None of this cheap bar crap; he’s strictly a cabernet guy.”

V gives a polite little nod, as if Griffon’s somehow dead-on. “Even in the roughest spirits, there’s a taste of the earth, a touch of eternity…if one cares to find it.”

Everyone goes silent for a beat. Are we ever going to get used to V’s random musings?

Abigail lets out a pointed laugh, “Come on, Boy Scout,” she goads Nero, “Even V seems to have more balls than you.”

Ouch. That was so uncalled for. Usually, Nero would ignore Abigail or shut her down, but this time it seems to get to him. His jaw tightens as he stares at the bottle that Nico finally opens after some time struggling quietly with it. “Fine. Give me a glass.”

Nico’s face lights up with a grin like she’s just won the lottery. “There we go! The hero steps up! Marcus fetch me a couple more glasses. Corky?” She glances up at me.

I’m not letting that one go unchecked, though. “Hey, Nero,” I say, low enough that only he can hear. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, would you just shut up, Corky?” Abigail’s tone is dripping with that practiced irritation, like she’s dealing with a particularly annoying bug. She seems to reserve that especially for me. Don’t know what I ever did to piss her off.

For the first time I stay silent. Nero’s a grown man, Corky. Why are you all of a sudden so concerned about this?

Nico lines up the shots, counting each one as she fills them. “Seven glasses, one for each of our poor, unfortunate souls,” she says with a smirk, doling them out. V’s shot, though, is… Well, calling it “baby-sized” would be generous. It’s maybe half a sip at most.

Griffon leans over, craning his neck at V’s glass. “Oh, come on, Nico! You trying to insult my guy? He needs a real drink, not this toddler stuff!”

Nico snorts and fills his glass to match the rest. “Alright, alright, don’t get your feathers in a tizzy, I didn’t realize.

She lifts her own glass, glancing at each of us, her smirk broadening. “Alright, how’s Rogerio say it? Salud!”

And there’s a chorus of glasses clinking, like we’re all on the same boat for one ridiculous, fleeting moment. Everyone downs their shots in one swift motion, no hesitation. Well, mostly.

The whiskey’s got that gasoline burn, a throat-searing, gut-punching heat that hits hard and fast. I swallow mine and feel like my insides just did a somersault, all heat and haze rolling around in my stomach. I’ve eaten worse.

Marcus chokes on his, coughing so hard he goes red, wide-eyed, clutching his chest like it’s gonna explode. A bit dramatic.

Abigail just laughs, fixing her fringe. “Oh, rookie move, Morrison. Gotta learn to savor it.”

Nero looks stunned, blinking as if he’s just had a vision of his impending death. He lets out a wheeze, face twisted in mild horror.

“How do people actually… enjoy this?”

Felix claps him on the back, grin wide and wicked. “That’s the spirit, Nero. See, wasn’t so bad, right?”

Meanwhile, V’s reaction is… subdued, but I can tell he’s feeling it by the faint twitch in his brow and the way he almost—almost—winces. Abigail’s eyes gleam, that dangerous little smirk curling up like she’s just gotten an idea too good to ignore. “You know what we need?”

She leans in, eyes narrowed, voice low and dripping with amusement.

“A drinking game.”

“I thought we were gonna play cards?” Nero says with that grumpy deadpan.

“Strip poker?” Abigail asks, innocently, batting her lashes at him.

“No!”

Abigail shrugs, swirling her glass, mischief glinting in her eyes. “You are so boring. You guys always play cards.”

Marcus pipes up, “…Have any of you heard of ‘The King’s Game’?” Now that gets my attention.

“Oh, I know that one,” I say, grinning as the memories creep up. “I haven’t played that since I was… well, a dumbass teenager with questionable friends and too much spare time."

Felix, leaning forward now, has the same mischievous glint. “Me too,” he says, smirk creeping up his face like he’s suddenly a teenager again. “Things got… interesting.”

Nico, ever the chaos-seeker, perks up, leaning closer. “Wait, wait, what’s that?” She looks at Marcus like he’s just revealed the secret to life itself.

Marcus, now relishing his role as the night’s game-master, clears his throat, “Alright, here’s how it works. We get a bunch of sticks or scraps of paper, whatever works. One person’s the ‘King,’ and everyone has to follow their orders for the round, no matter what.”

Nero’s already squinting suspiciously. “And what exactly does the ‘King’ make people do?”

“Anything. Could be simple, could be… risky.”

“Anything?” Abigail asks, clearly already coming up with ideas.

Nico cackles, already on board, waving her drink. “Well, hell! Why didn’t we think of this sooner? Let’s do it! We’ll find out who can actually handle the heat around here.”

Nero groans, shaking his head but looking reluctantly intrigued. “I don’t know… I feel like this is going to end badly.”

“We can go around, see how it goes. If nobody wants to keep playing, they can duck out,” I say speaking to everyone generally.

“Thank you, Mama. Do you want us to come up with a safe word, too?” Abigail scoffs.

Marcus rubs his hands together. “Alright, first thing we need are sticks or slips or something.”

Felix scoffs, pulling a deck of cards from a drawer with a flick of his wrist. “Sticks? We’ve got cards. Here.” He fans them out, selecting a king and grabbing numbers two through seven, tossing them in a small pile on the table. “We shuffle ‘em, splay ‘em, and everyone picks one. Done and done.”

“But wait,” I say, crossing my arms, “aren’t we supposed to pull them one at a time? You know, to make it suspenseful?”

“Oh, please, Corky. We don’t need suspense; we need results.” Abigail says, throwing the cards down in a messy spread on the table, face down.

Marcus looks over the group with a patient, if slightly exasperated, smile. “Actually, quick rule check: you can’t see each other’s cards. When the King gives an order, they don’t do it by name, they do it by number. Makes it more interesting ‘cause you don’t know who you’re daring.”

“Even better,” Nico says, grabbing her drink, “Another round?”

There’s a ripple of mixed reactions—a groan from Nero, an eager “hell yes” from Felix, and a sort of dignified nod from V, who looks ready to endure whatever chaos comes his way with minimal protest.

Nero raises his glass in reluctant solidarity. “Cheers, I guess.”

“Attaboy!” Nico crows, nudging him with her elbow before downing her drink in one go, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Felix grabs the cards, shuffling them with an expert flick of his wrist, that smirk widening. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets. Who’s about to embarrass themselves first?”

Griffon cackles from his perch on V’s shoulder. “My money’s on Sparda boy over there. Look at him—guy’s already sweating bullets, and we haven’t even started!”

Nero shoots Griffon a glare that could cut glass. “Fuck off, birdbrain,” Nero mutters, setting his glass down with a decisive thud. “Let’s get this over with.”

We all reach forward, picking a card from the splayed mess on the table, and I hold mine close. I flip it over in my hand: "I'm the King!" I declare, holding up the card for all to see.

Nico lets out a low whistle, grinning at me with that look of “don’t go easy on us now.” Felix raises a brow, smirking. “Alright, King Corky of Beelze, what’s your first royal decree?”

Hm… Something fun to ease everyone in, sure—but we’re here to make people sweat a little, right? And just then, the idea hits me. “I, King Corky of Beelze, command… Number six to eat five spoonfuls of hot sauce.”

Everyone glances around, waiting to see who’s been hit with the fiery gauntlet. Then, slowly, with a look that could kill, Abigail lifts her card, revealing the dreaded number six.

“Hot sauce? Really?”

I shrug, trying to keep a straight face but utterly failing. “You know the rules, Abigail. King’s orders.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse. “I was expecting something embarrassing, not something that’s gonna burn a hole through my insides,” she gripes, but the challenge flickers in her eyes. She’s too proud to back down, that’s for sure.

Nico’s already up, rummaging around for a bottle, and when she finds it, she lets out a little cheer. “Found it! Dante’s Secret Stash.” She places the bottle in front of Abigail with a grin. “Shoulda known he’d have something lethal lying around.”

Abigail grabs the bottle with a resigned sigh, examining the label like she’s sizing up an opponent in the ring. “Oh there is a cute little picture of a skull and flames on the label,” she mutters, unscrewing the cap. “How lovely.”

“Pretty on brand for you, babe!” Felix says with a wicked grin. She shoots him a look of pure disdain before carefully pouring a spoonful, the dark red liquid shimmering ominously. Without another word, she raises the spoon and downs it. For a second, there’s nothing—just her chewing in exaggerated calm.

Then her eyes widen, and I swear she goes three shades paler before turning a furious red. She chokes slightly, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit,” she croaks, eyes watering as she looks at the bottle like it’s personally offended her ancestors.

Felix howls with laughter, practically banging his fist on the table. “Thought you could handle a little heat, Abby?”

Abigail doesn’t answer, just slams down another spoonful, probably out of pure spite. Her hand shakes a little as she brings it to her mouth, her jaw clenched like she’s about to battle her way through Hell and back.

“Oh, Abby,” I say, my voice all mock sympathy. “Three more to go. I’m surprised you can’t handle the heat, since pyro magic is your specialty and all.”

She glares at me, eyes narrowed, face shiny with sweat. “Fuck you, you fat-ha! Ha!” But she reaches for the spoon again despite the weird breathing noise she is making. Spoon three goes down with a wince, her lips trembling as she tries to maintain even a scrap of dignity.

Nero is biting back a smile. “You’re a trooper, Abigail.”

She swallows hard, barely managing to rasp out, “Glad you are enjoying this, fucker.”

By the fourth spoonful, her face has gone from red to purple, and I’m pretty sure I see actual steam rising off her head. Nico hands her a napkin, looking a mix of impressed and horrified. “Blink twice if you need us to call you an ambulance, sugar.”

Abigail just grabs the napkin and dabs her face, glaring at all of us with watery eyes as she forces down the last spoonful. “There,” she croaks, setting the spoon down with an audible clink. “Satisfied?”

“Immensely,” I say with a grin.

She flips me off, her hands shaking slightly as she reaches for her glass, knocking it back in one go. “Ah! Alcohol was a bad idea!”

“I could have told you that, genius. Let me get you some water,” Nero says, already headed for the kitchen.

"Whose ready for round 2?" Nico asks.

The game continues.

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

[otp-holic]

What a year

This is one of those post I write for my future self, so feel free to skip it if you want.

But it's been a year since I started writing what would become I was alone, I took a ride (I didn't know what I would find there)

A year ago, I was embarked on my unofficial Nano Goal of writing 1ks a day trying to recover the love of writing after a pretty lousy experience while writing my 6ks of Fic Exchange fic.

I had three different projects going on, and for the first few days of November I was more focused on one shots and another idea for a long one.

And, I don't exactly know why, on November 5th my head took a turn, and decided to start putting words on an idea I had thought about for ages but that had always looked too big and too difficult to attempts.

I love reading movie AUs but when trying to write them, I always struggle with the "ingredients" (too close to the source material, does the character make sense in this universe, how many call backs are too many...), so I had never dared. It looked like an impossible task.

But I did started, shyly at first, and combining it with the other projects... until a couple weeks later this was all I could think about.

I had all the fun in the world with those first drafts where I mixed English and Spanish, jumped from one scene to another... a month that turned into three months, that left me with around 60ks worth of words that I thought made up the whole story. Very roughly written, and in need of SO MUCH work, but a story.

I wasn't gonna publish it, ever. Just left it as it was for me to enjoy, but thanks to some people, but especially @thewinterwelded I decided to take the leap. I would have never ever keep on writing if I hadn't.

A year later, I'm here (not using Writing Analytics anymore, so i just went back to my excel), and those 60ks have taken a life of its own:

It's quite a lot, if you think about it, not only in wordcount (i write mostly in dialogued scenes, so it's always long), but in achievements.

I've been brave enough to take the leap and publish it with it many mistakes, I've kept on with it even when I was down, I've learned how to manage expectations, to write for my shake.

I'm almost done writing (this time for real), editing the final act to publish, and even though it's far from perfect, that impossible task is close to being possible.

I will probably reflect much more about it when I finish publishing (hopefully before the year is over), but I wanted to have this post because I love anniversaries, and I really want to have the reminder for those rainy days.

Thank you so much to everyone who is being a part of this ride (pun intended), because you definitely make me feel less alone and not giving up despite its many imperfections.

[kimnjss]

capital h | pjm + jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader x jimin ⇢ genre: smut. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationship | threesome.  ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, slight nipple play, oral (f/m receiving), threesome, semi-public fingering, humiliation kink(?), slight dom!jimin, slight switch!jungkook, slight sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, unsafe sex (wrap it up, loves!). a hint of jikook at the end. ⇢ summary: after learning of the activities your boyfriend and his best friend use to partake in, you can’t help but what to be apart of them. everyone always says, two is better than one, right? ⇢ A/N: this has been in my drafts for about three months, lmao. finally, i finished it and posted it! im lowkey excited because this was a lot of fun to write, and i’ve never written anything like it so! alright, yeah... let me know what you think x.

Your damp locks laid sprawled against your boyfriend's muscular thigh. Warm fingers twisting the wet curls between his fingers. Movements slowed due to the toe-curling, orgasm-inducing, mind-blowing tub sex you just shared. The last thing you had wanted was to get out and brave the cold air, but laying here, wrapped in his sheet with nothing underneath, you didn't want to be anywhere else.

 Being in Jimin's arms was a rare occurrence these days, moments like this becoming cherished treasures that you looked forward to. Excitement was the easy way to describe how you felt when he and his six best friends were pulling up in front of your house, inviting you to spend their day off with them.

 Of course, it was all Jimin's doing, you wouldn't have met any of those guys if it wasn't for your chance meeting with the handsome dancer. They liked you enough, though. Each showed you that they accept your relationship in their own way.

 Seokjin, the oldest, had become something of a big brother to you; oftentimes taking your side on the rare occasion that you and Jimin argued. Never failed to give you insightful advice after the fact. Yoongi didn't really pay you any mind, but he thought you were cute and often times found himself cooing at you. You were closest to Hobi and Joon, becoming fast friends due to your like personalities and sense of humor. They thought you were hilarious, Jimin didn't see it.

 As for the two youngest... despite you dating his best friend, Taehyung didn't really show much interest in you, neither did Jungkook. Yet, Taehyung did put in the effort to make conversation and make you feel included, unlike the youngest male. You had been convinced that he didn't like you, until a few weeks ago when his blatant staring began.

 He'd be quick to look away whenever he knew he was caught, but he wasn't that sneaky. You never missed the cocky grin he'd try to hide or the knowing look he'd shoot in Taehyung's direction. There was definitely something up and it definitely involved you.

 “What do you think of Jungkook?” The question was falling from your lips and you had your never-ending thoughts and overthinking to blame. 

 Jimin let out a snort of a laugh. “Jungkook? My best friend, and teammate? The guy that's been like a brother to me for the past 7 years? I guess he's alright,” Sarcasm dripped from his words and you rolled your eyes, lifting your head from his lap.

 Your hand met his shoulder, gently pushing him back against the headboard. “I'm being serious. What do you think?”

 “So am I. He's like a brother to me, why?” He found this sudden interest in the maknae odd...? Especially for you. It was obvious that the two of you didn't really socialize, so why were you asking about him all of a sudden? “What do you think of him?” Jimin prompted when your answer didn't come fast enough.

 Taking a moment, you debated whether or not you should even bring this up. As he said, Jungkook was like a brother to him... what if calling out his weird behavior ended up rubbing Jimin in the wrong way and now you were without a boyfriend.

 Jimin wasn't the type for dramatics, though. Everything was comfortable with him, not many things reaching his 'serious business' radar, so this should be fine, right? Right. “He's fine...” You buffered, teeth chewing at your lower lip.

 Jimin pinned you with an expectant look, hated whenever you, or anyone, beat around the bush when there was obviously something on their mind. Taking this, you urged yourself to go on. “...I've just noticed like lately he's been... checking me out?” Mentally, you flinched, hoping the news wouldn't upset your boyfriend.

 His chest rumbled as he barked out a laugh, head cocked back as the sweet sounds left his plump lips. Pillow soft punches met his stomach as you tried to get him to focus. “I'm being serious, Jimin! He's always staring at me with that stupid face,”

 You imitated Jungkook's seemingly signature facial expression, eyebrows raised and tongue pushed into the inside of your cheek, eyes tracing over your boyfriend's body hungrily like Jungkook had done to you many times before. Another laugh left his lips at the sight of your face and you were scoffing, pushing him back again.

 “I don't know why this is funny to you. I just told you one of your friends has been mentally undressing me, you should be livid!” You were quick to silence the insecure thoughts that his lack of reaction had floating around your mind.

 It was no secret that Jimin was a jealous guy. What's his, is his... you were his! He should be enraged that some guy was looking at you like a piece of meat, he was the only one that was supposed to look at you like that. So why was he laughing?

 Seeing that you were obviously upset, Jimin was reaching for your arms, uncrossing them from your bare chest. His hands held loosely on your wrist as he pulled you toward him, landing a soft kiss to your lips. “I think it's funny because it's not a big deal. Me and Jungkook are boys, he's not gonna try anything with you.” He assured you, another kiss landing on your lips.

 “Okay, but, I heard him and Taehyung talking and-” You weren't even able to finish your sentence because he was sitting up, squinted eyes finding yours. “Taehyung was talking about you?”

 Oh, now he wanted to be jealous? Scoffing, you pushed him back against the headboard. “Yes.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes. “I was trying to tell you. Not only is Jungkook always checking me out, but I heard them talking about you and us... and something about an H?”

 Jimin's expression softened, eyebrows relaxing as his cheeks tinted a few shades light of red. “Oh.” Crooked teeth worried his lower lip as he reached a hand up to push his hair back on his forehead.

 “Oh? What does H stand for, Jimin?” Obviously, he knew exactly what they were talking about and it was making him... blush? “It's nothing.” He answered a bit too quickly. “It's something.” Your words chased his, a slight bite in your tone.

 His eyes widened. “What are you gonna get mad if I don't tell you?” Laughter laced his words, but it wasn't the 'Ha-ha so funny' type of laugh, it was a type of nervous laugh he let out when he felt like he dug himself in a hole.

 You were nodding your head simply, shoving the blanket from your waist. “Yup!” Hopping from the bed, you began searching the room for the jeans you had ditched the second you were entering his bedroom. Jimin was sitting up quickly, voice stopping your movements just as you got your jeans over your thighs. “Alright, alright! I'll tell you. Come sit back down,”

 A triumphant smirk spread across your lips, as you crossed the room back to his bed. You sunk back down onto the comfortable mattress, crossing your legs underneath your bum as you awaited his explanation.

 “First of all, this was before I met you so you can't hold this against me,” He prepped and you nodded your head, gesturing with your hand for him to go on. “A while ago... with my exes, or just like girls that hung around us... Jungkook and I would, you know...”

 You had pretty a good idea what he was alluding to, but you weren't the type to graciously take a hint. “No, I don't know... you would, what?” He was rolling his eyes at the smirk on your lips, hands pushing his hair back out of habit.

 “Share them, our girlfriends, the groupies... It was fun, you know? Capitol H doesn't stand for anything, it's literally what our bodies do,” He let out a short laugh and you picture the way an H looked. “...So I'd be the middle part?” You clarified, your words making Jimin's eyes snap up to you.

 “Who said...” His words trailed off, brows furrowing as he visibly went through the thoughts bubbling in his mind. You didn't blame him. Despite the occasional interesting position or location, you liked to keep it pretty vanilla.

 Well aware that Jimin was more experienced than you, you didn't want to disappoint. You always thought vanilla didn't technically mean boring... at least it didn't to you. But after hearing that he use to partake in regular threesomes you couldn't help but wonder what else the other girls he's been with let him do.

 Just the pure fact that you were considering this, putting yourself in the situation was enough to baffle your boyfriend, confuse him enough to convince him that you were just fucking with him. A laugh slipped past his lips as he shook his head. “Come on, Yn. You wouldn't be into that.”

 “How do you even know?”

 “Well, because I know you. It was a long time ago, Yn. They were just talking shit, you don't have to-” Annoyed, you were cutting him off.

 “I might want to. I could be into it, you don't know. Jungkook is cute and...”

 His face was twisting, and you were afraid you had said the wrong thing. Sure of it when the words left his lips. “Are you saying you want to fuck, Jungkook?” Thankfully, he didn't exactly look angry... just a little bit put off?

 A hand reached out for his, easily lacing your fingers together. “Listen, I know I'm not that... adventurous, when it comes to sex... but if it's something that you enjoyed doing or if you just want to, I'm just saying... I wouldn't be against it.” Your thumb soothes over the back of his hand and enjoys the smile that pushes onto his lips.

 His eyes soften again, staring up at you lovingly. The confusion of whether or not you had just admitted you were into his bandmate gone and forgotten. “I promise, I like the sex we have just fine, don't worry.” He was leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull your body into his.

 Four days passed since your conversation with Jimin. More and more time was spent around their dorm, soaking up as much time with him as you could before he was jetting off to his next schedule. Being around him all day, though, meant that you were around his friends all day too.

 It wasn't a big deal, these guys were cool. At least, most of them were. In the past days, Jungkook had become bold, to say the least. Not looking away when he's caught staring, instead of waiting for you to be the one to break. On top of that, it was like the kid never knew when to shut up, always coming up with a snarky comment or undermining you but at the same time calling you 'Noona' with that boyish grin of his.

 Jimin no doubt told him all about the talk that you two had if those boys were sharing girls... there was no way they weren't sharing secrets. You don't know what you knowing about their sexcapades did for him, but it clearly had gone to his head. It'd be best to just ignore him, you decided. No matter how undeniably attractive he was, there was nothing there for you. You didn't want him. Didn't need him, no matter the dampness that ensued whenever he smirked. And of course, you didn't ever notice the size of the bulge that constantly pushed against his pants. Was that boy always hard, or something!?

 Like right now, just walking across the lawn in search of the ball he had been playing with, but right there fighting against his swim trunks... a huge boner! You cursed the moment Jin suggested a pool party would be a fun way to spend the afternoon.

 It had sounded fun at the moment. Yoongi said he was going to barbecue and you were even more convinced when your boyfriend was making his way down the stairs shirtless in his swim shorts. The sexy one-word tattoo on full display, ripples of his abs seemed to glisten, the single trail of hair below his belly button disappearing underneath his waistband.

 Yeah, you'd definitely enjoy this afternoon. So sure of it, until you were catching sight of the man that followed him down the stairs. Jungkook, of course, who else could irk you just with their presence?

 A lot taller and more muscular than your lean boyfriend, black shorts hanging loosely on his hips, giving you a perfect view of the well-worked on V-line that acted a huge fucking arrow to his dick. Gentle lips found the top of your head, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. “You look pretty,” Jimin mumbled into your ear, and you grinned, leaning into his chest.

 Jimin was always very vocal when it came to the things that he liked to see. You showing some skin? Definitely at the top of his list. Took that into account when you picked out your swimsuit for this gathering; a red triangle string bikini, lacy black flowers decorating your breasts, and hips.

 It was obvious that Jimin thought you looked good, could tell with the lingering glances in your direction as you laid on your back trying to soak up some sun. What you didn't account for was the slight chance that his friends might think the same. And by friends, you meant Jungkook, of course.

 Poor kid couldn't take his eyes off of you, not even for a second. Which explains his constant need to get out of the pool and retrieve the ball that he kept failing to catch. The situation almost funny, if the sexy flex in his arms as he pulled his body out of the water didn't always catch your attention. If your eyes weren't automatically trailing over every ridge and bump of his muscles.

 He'd smirk when catching you, toss his long wet hair before slipping back into the water. Wouldn't even wait to see the annoyed roll of your eyes, not as it mattered – he had already caught you staring, more than once. Acting as if he didn't affect you was a waste. And to make matters worse, Jimin was always right there observing each and every one of your interactions with the kid, face giving nothing away.

 Not angry, or annoyed. Just watching, as if he was curious to see what you'd do. How you'd react. As if he had put this whole entire thing in motion earlier and was observing the aftermath. 

 By the time Yoongi was announcing dinner, your body was buzzing with annoyance. Or was it desire? Either way, you were about two seconds from ripping your hair at the roots. Jimin sat beside you, the first time he was within arms reach the entire evening. He grinned, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you close engulfing you with his sweet scent. 

 Stupidly, you found yourself relaxing in his arms. Head falling on his shoulder while a hand lifted to press against his stomach. He was warm but still a little wet from the pool. You felt the movement of his head but didn't bother with lifting your head to see who he was speaking too. Stupid, because seconds later the spot next to you was being taken up.

 Guess who.

 Of course, Jeon Jungkook was slipping into the space beside you, a cocky grin playing on his most likely soft lips. His eyes flickered over to Jimin's before he was dropping his focus back onto you.

 “We've got burgers and hot dogs, and Jin is coming out with the chicken,” Yoongi called out, stepping toward the table with a tray of meat in hand. The second the food was in reach, the boys were hurrying to load their plates.

 Like the ever so dotting boyfriend, Jimin loaded up your plate as he did his. Comfortable conversation surrounded the table, voices overlapping and thick strings of laughter falling from their lips. You weighed in where you could, beaming when you were able to make a few of them laugh along with you.

 It was fun. Talking to them, getting along. Despite the fact you had been dating Jimin for a while, conversations with most of his friends were surface level at most. It didn't really bother you, but it was a good feeling knowing that if needed, you could get along with these guys.

 “No, yeah... if you're into old-time movies, you should definitely check out...” Taehyung's words were fading into the background, your attention slipping from what he was saying and to the warm hand on your thigh. Jimin's. An unsuspecting smile on his lips when you looked up to catch his gaze. 

 Just barely catching the title of the movie Taehyung was referring to, you turned your attention back to him. “It's good? I should check it out.” He nodded, all at once losing interest in the conversation, Jin's story catching his ear.

 There was a mischievous glint in Jimin's eye as he spread your legs apart, tips of his fingers trailing up your bare thigh. His head tilting until his lips were able to reach the skin of your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses down the length.

 You felt your body melting into him. Ready to succumb to whatever he had in store for you, the tingle of anticipation rushing through your veins. A familiar heat spreading throughout your body, lips curling into your mouth as you waited. The press against your left side had your eyes snapping open, darting to the cool tattooed hand making it's way up to your thigh. Jungkook.

 His fingers inching up your thigh, closer and closer to your core while Jimin held your legs apart, fingers tight against your flesh. “If you don't like it, tell him to stop.” His words are hushed against your ear, and you're nodding quickly, hearing the sincerity in his voice. 

 Jungkook wastes no time, callused fingers finding your clit through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. He presses down, fingers moving in circles as your body jolts at the sudden friction. “She's sensitive,” He speaks as if he's taking notes rather than trying to hold a conversation. You hold your breath, legs spreading slightly. Jimin's lips fall from your skin, cheek resting against your shoulder so he can see.

 Never did you think you'd be the one to have such a penchant for something as risky as public foreplay, but here you were growing wetter by the second, the thought that either one of his friends could catch you with a simple turn of their heads. It had you unbelievably turned on, mixed with the fact that your boyfriend was watching you rather than doing it definitely added to it.

 Jungkook laughs beside you, but not at you. Delved in a conversation with Namjoon across the table as if his fingers weren't pushing your bottoms out of the way underneath the table. A long finger lazily traces over your wet folds. Jimin's chuckle covers the gasp that leaves your lips when Jungkook's fingers graze over your bare clit.

 Jin is smiling appreciatively in his direction at the support of his joke. You were going to get caught. The thought and the consequences weighing heavily on your mind, causing you to shift attempting to close your legs. “It's fine,” Jimin assures you with a whisper, strong hand holding your leg in place.

 The moment you're relaxing, Jungkook's hand is reaching down to grasp your other thigh. Easily lifting it to hook over his own, giving him total access to your throbbing pussy. It's not lost on you how hot it feels to be exposed like this, but you're not given any time to analyze what it means as soon as Jungkook traces his fingers over your entrance.

 The tips of his fingers take their time with gathering the wet arousal that had accumulated between your legs before they're moving back up to tease your tight hole. Teeth digging into your plump lip as the tips of his fingers slowly begin slipping into your core.

 Trying your damnedest to keep your face from giving away what was going on underneath the table. You force yourself to concentrate on the words coming from Namjoon's mind, although they're just words... not coherent enough to follow the actual story.

 Slowly, Jimin is reaching his thick fingers down between your legs, using his middle and index fingers to spread your lips further apart, giving him a better view. You gasp, Jungkook's fingers pumping shallowly in and out of you. 

 For a moment, your body stills, afraid you had been too loud just then. Calming when you realize none of them were looking in your direction, not even Jungkook who was the cause of all of this. No, he was seemingly wrapped in conversation with Taehyung, a teasing smirk on his lips that you guessed was meant for you.

 Jimin was the only one look at you, watching Jungkook's long fingers bury themselves deep inside of you. He's flexing them, curling and uncurling as the pad of his thumb fingers your needy clit. He's basically drooling at the sight, wet lazy kisses landing on your shoulder. His hand resting over his covered crotch, palming himself through the fabric. 

 A louder, desperate whimper is falling from your lips. This time catching the attention of Taehyung. Words coming to a halt as his eyes dart between the three of you, a wide smirk slipping onto his features. “Are you alright, Yn?” There's a teasing glint in his eye, letting you know he's not at all asking if you're alright. No, he knew exactly what was happening underneath the table and he was making it all of his business to tease you about it.

 Plastering a tight-lipped smile onto your lips, you muster all the strength you can to nod your head. “I'm fine,” There's a strain in your voice, giving him enough reason to pull a look of concern, his head tilting to the side.

 “Are you sure? You look a little flushed,” His brows furrow, topping off his fake worry and you're suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. The encounter is catching Namjoon's attention beside him, his gaze lifting to study your face. “Oh, yeah. You don't look so good.” He weighs in, actually looking worried about you.

 Jungkook takes this growing attention as an invitation to speed up the movement of his fingers. Hand tightening on your thigh, keeping you from snapping your legs shut. Two fingers plunging deep inside of you, tips brushing against the spongy spot inside of you. Jimin's domineering gaze watches your face, waiting for your response.

 However, it doesn't come. The thrusts of Jungkook's fingers, mixed with the relentless strokes of his thumb on your clit has a moan falling from your lips. It's loud and breathy, and definitely recognizable even if all attention wasn't on you. You see Jungkook's eyes widen from the corner of your eye, but he's being really careful about not looking directly at you.

 You do, actually, see him steal a glance in Jimin's direction... almost as if he's asking for guidance, but he's being ignored, Jimin's lust-filled eyes never leaving your face. “Take that kinky shit upstairs,” Yoongi speaks flatly, bored expression on his face as he stares at you.

 Jimin's hand is quick to reach between your legs, adjusting your bottoms as Jungkook withdraws his fingers from inside of you, pushing your thigh from his. You ignore the way your walls flutter at the sudden emptiness, snapping your legs shut as embarrassment reddens your cheeks and dampens your pussy.

 “Let's go.” There's no room for protest with the way he speaks, excusing himself from the table as he looks expectantly between you and Jungkook. The younger male is quick to stand, watching you as he pushes his glistening fingers into his mouth. Your heart pounds as he slowly sucks your juices from the digits.

 The other boys have turned their attention from you three, still, your body felt hot. Cheeks flushed and pussy pulsing with want. Need. You needed them, both of them. Need to have both of them on you, around you, inside you. With a breath, you're standing, following them into the house and up into Jimin's room.

 Jungkook shuts the bedroom door, flicking the lock as Jimin turns to look down at you. “You still not against this?” Eyes much softer now, gentle hands finding your hips in order to pull your body toward his. You're nodding without a second thought, want buzzing in your veins. No way were you backing out now.

 Despite the grin rapidly growing on his plush lips, Jimin was still asking: “Are you sure?” Your words chased his, hands reaching up to land on his jawline. “I'm sure,” Your lips found him, instantly being parted by their thickness. His tongue twists and tangles with yours, a single hand reaching to grasp your jaw, holding your head in place as he licks into your mouth.

 Suddenly, he's pulling back, soft eyes tinted with a dark desire. He's turning your head with the grip of his strong hand, your eyes finding Jungkook who had moved to stand directly behind you.

 Jungkook is quick to capture your lips with his. Soft lips tasting heavily of cherry, you kiss him back, body turning, melting into his as the erection between his legs brushes against your lower belly. He bites into your lower lip, tugging it slightly and pulling a whimper from his lips.

 You feel his smirk as his tongue slips past your parted lips, mapping out every inch of your mouth while his hands drop to your scarcely covered ass. Hips pushing back, involuntarily surrendering more of your ass to his. Jungkook's lips are falling from yours, hands sliding underneath the fabric of your bottoms to cup your bare ass.

 “Jungkook,” You gasp out when his hands squeeze down hard on your ass, grip pulling your body tight against his. With little to no effort, Jungkook is lifting your body off of the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He walks the two of you to the bed, laying your body onto the soft mattress.

 When he had moved was lost on you, Jimin now sitting comfortably on the chair adjacent to the bed. Hard cock straining against the fabric of his swim trunks, his hand resting over it as he watched you with his best friend.

 With your legs hanging loosely from his hips, Jungkook leans down to bury his head in the crook of your neck. Sucking wet hickeys into the skin while his large hands trail down the gentle curves of your body, fingers finding the tight bows on either side of your hips. Your breaths come out labored, rapidly losing yourself in the way he's tonguing at your skin, teeth grazing its sensitivity.

 “Fuck,” He groans, hips pushing into yours. The sound of his voice nearly startling you, with how quiet he has been since the start of all this. “I never thought I'd have a chance to have you like this,” He sighs softly against your skin. Only a second was spared for you to wonder just how often he thought about having you like this. If Jimin knew.

 Jungkook's hands were quickly traveling up your back, a single tug on the string of your bikini had it loosening around your chest. He wastes no time with discarding it, tossing it somewhere behind him before leaning down. Hot tongue connecting with your hardened bud, rolling it around in his mouth. A soft moan slips past your lips, head falling back just enough to catch sight of Jimin.

 Teeth worrying his plush lips, a hand-dipped into the front of his shorts as he watches you. Hooded eyes find yours and you swear you see his cock twitch in his hand. Your fingers tangled in Jungkook's hair, holding his head against your chest as he grinds his covered cock against the flimsy material of your bathing suit.

 Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his closer as you lift your hips. Jimin's groan mixes with the sound of yours, Jungkook's head lifting only for a moment to catch sight of his older friend, only to drop back down mouth latching onto your neglected nipple.

 “Make her cum, Kook,” Jimin speaks hastily growing impatient with how slow Jungkook was being. How he seemed to be taking his time, reveling in each moment he had with you. Allowing himself to memorize every inch of your body while he had the chance.

 The sight demand has Jungkook's body jumping to action, teeth grazing over your nipple as his hand travels down the front of your body dipping into your bottoms and covering your pussy without pause.

 Your legs squirm while his fingers toy with your bundle of nerves a wet trail of kisses, creating a line from your breasts down the middle of your body. You're sprawled out beneath him, legs wide as you wait for what you know is coming. It's not long before his head is between your legs, looking up at you with the sexiest pout and you feel as though you could cum at the sight.

 “You're soaked,” His head is tilting slightly, licking along your slit in one click motion and you're moaning out. “I've always wondered the sounds you'd make having your cute little pussy eaten.” His thumb is covering your clit, stroking it gently as your core flutters, from the growing smirk on his face, it's safe to say he noticed.

 Strong hands holding your legs apart, Jungkook lunges forward to press his soft lips against your folds. He sucks kisses against your damp lips, tongue stroking against them slowly. You're whimpering, can feel your pussy dripping as you reach down to tangle your fingers in his soft locks.

 He's quick with the up-down movement of his tongue against your slick pussy lips, tracing over each ridge and cure but avoiding that one spot he's sue would have you falling apart instantly. Instead, kept his thumb pressed against it still, motionless.

 Your hips lift, rocking into his face while his tongue lowers to tease your wanting entrance. Large hands curling around your hips to grasp the cure of your ass, pulling your body tighter against his mouth. “Fuck, Jungkook!” The shout falling from your lips as he ups his speed, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit.

 Jimin's breathy groan sounds from behind you, the familiar fap of his hand working against his hardened cock filling your ears and egging you on. His thumb slowly plays with the head, spreading the precum leaking from it. Having him watch you, turned on by the sight of you moaning his friend's name, turned on enough that he was jerking himself off at the sight. It made you feel hot, an unexplainable rush of desire coursing through your veins.

 Jungkook is pulling his tongue from inside of you it quickly being replaced with two long fingers. He pushes all the way to the knuckle, curling them to press deep inside of you. You feel the coil in your stomach slowly tighten as he continues his movements, your orgasm approaching.

 A silent scream leaves your lips the moment his lips are wrapping around your neglected clit, sucking softly as his tongue teases it. Hips lifting and rolling, body convulsing as your orgasm begins to wash over you. Jungkook's grip tightens around your shaking thighs, holding your legs in place as he pushes another finger inside of you.

 His lips suck down harder, head tilting to the side to twist your clit along with it. That paired with the new stretch of his added finger have you cumming hard all at once. His name leaves your lips in a desperate mewl, grip tightening in his hair as your back arches off the bed.

 Jungkook's pulling his fingers from your body, letting up on the suction around your clit relaxing into gentle licks of his tongue. His strong hands cover your ass, holding your body against his mouth as you ride out your orgasm. He laps up every bit of your wet cum, ignoring the sensitive twitch of your legs until he's finished. Until he's satisfied and sitting upon his knees, licking your arousal from his lips.

 He's staring at you with so much want, lust, lips slightly swollen and very red. His hair sticks up messily around his head from the grip of your fingers, chest heaving with heavy breath as he watches you.

 Jimin stands from his position behind you, hands tugging his shorts the rest of the way down his legs before he's taking slow strides in your direction. With much effort, you're lifting your body until you're seated. He grins down at you, a hand wrapped around his length while the other reaches for the nape of your neck.

 “I want you to suck me off while Jungkookie fucks you open, how's that sound?” He's wearing such a sweet smile on his face, a direct contradiction to the words that fall from his lips and the vulgar things they convey. You're nodding your head quickly, either way, leaning into his touch as his hand travels to rest against your jaw.

 Jungkook has stood from the bed, discarding his shorts in the process. He's rummaging on the other side of the room, but your focus is not on him. No, your attention is stuck on the man in front of you. His soft thumb brushing against your lower lip, your mouth falling open. He grins.

 “You made me so hard baby. Loved seeing you cum on Kookie's tongue, did it feel good?” You're nodding your head, eyes snapping up to find his. He chews on his lower lip, tracing the curves of your lips with the tip of his cock. You try to move your head to coax his cock into your mouth, but he's having too much fun teasing you to let that happen.

 Pushing your tongue out, you manage to slide it over the underside of his cock. He groans, head lolling to the side as he gives in, slowly guiding his cock past your lips and into your mouth. Your lips latch onto his dick and quickly begin licking and suckling at his length. His teeth dig into his lip as he watches you, hand reaching to grasp your hair.

 “Your mouth feels so good, baby.” He pants, rocking his hips forward slightly. Your body warms at the praise, sucking harder and speeding the bob of your head. His lower belly tightens, both hands tangled in your hair and tightening to hold your head still. Mouth widening, you allow him to push his hips forward, taking more of his cock down your throat. 

 You let him gag you, spit gathering around your lips as tears brim in your eyes. Hands braced on his hips as if that'd be enough to slow his movements. With the fucked out look on his face, the grip in your hair; it was obvious he didn't plan on letting up any time soon. Not like you even wanted him too, anyway.

 Jungkook was coming to crouch behind you, large hands finding your hips. The palm of his hand is slapping against one of your cheeks, forcing your body to jolt forward a muffled moan leaving your lips. The movement pushing you down further onto Jimin's cock, the head hitting against the back of your throat causing a cough to fall from your lips.

 Reluctantly, you pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his length as heavy coughs shook your body. Jungkook let out a loud laugh, hands on your hips positioning your body onto your knees. Jimin's unmistakably gentle hand rubbed at your back, attempting to soothe your coughs as he lined his cock with your lips once more.

 You were taking him into your mouth once more, sucking with much more fervor this time. He chuckles above you, eyes flickering up to Jungkook who's fingers caressing your wet pussy lips. “She's so wet, Hyung. Think she liked choking on your cock.” He comments, fingers lazily stroking your pussy.

 Warmth spreads through your body at his words. Jungkook was much different from Jimin, sexually as well as everything else. Where Jimin never mentioned how much he knew you liked to suck him off, Jungkook was more than willing to voice his revelation that you were particularly dripping. As if he got off on the thought of embarrassing you, and it should annoy you, but it only made you want him more.

 Wanted to prove to him that you didn't so easily wither, that it would take a lot more to make you shy away. No matter the blush the took over his cheeks every time he was crude.

 His hand reached for your hair, tangling in the soft strands and slowly pulling you off of his friend's cock. Your back was soon pressed flush against his chest, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. You can see Jimin clearly now, muscles glistening with a thin layer of sweat as his palm stroked his wet cock.

 Jungkook's dick is pressed firmly against your ass cheek and your hips slowly rock back, rubbing against it. He bites back a groan, hand dropping to hold your hips in place. “You want me to fuck you, Yn?” His mouth is right by your ear, but he's speaking loud enough for both you and Jimin to hear. “Want me to make you cum, again? But this time on my cock... make you fall apart while your boyfriend watches, you'd like that, huh?” Rough fingers find your clit, flicking and tugging at it. And you nod frantically, spreading your legs wide from him and avoiding the lust-filled gaze of your boyfriend.

 He reaches for your chin, lifting your head so you're looking directly at Jimin. Jungkook moved behind you, shifting his hips until the tip of his cock nudges your awaiting entrance. “Say it,” He hisses into your ear. “Tell him,” His lower lip drags over the shell of your ear, fingers dipping lower to spread your lips for him.

 “I want-,” You feel heat growing in your chest, Jimin's expectant gaze making you feel small. He's stroking his cock much slower now, waiting on labored breaths. Jungkook's fingers pinch your clit and pleasure shoots through your veins, body twitching. “Don't be shy, princess. He can take it...” His fingers rub figure eights into the bundle of nerves.

 There was no telling how you looked right now, fucked out and panting. Desperately trying to wiggle your hips in hope to steal away more than he was letting you have. Lips are swollen and cheeks tear-stained from having Jimin's cock down your throat moments before. Your back arches against his chest as he drags the length of his cock over your slit, teasing you.

 “I want!” You shout, an electric shock of pleasure fueling you, “Jimin, fuck... watch me. I want you to watch me when Jungkook fucks me,” You plead, crazed eyes staying trained on your boyfriend. “Want you to see him make me cum.”

 “Fuck,” Jimin groans, at the same time Jungkook is pushing inside of you. His thick cock spreading your folds and breaking through your walls. You let out a loud whine, pushing back against him welcoming each inch of his length. He's groaning only when he's bottoming out, hands falling to your hips, body dropping onto your knees again.

 “She's so tight,” Jungkook sighs, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock is catching on your pursed entrance. He pushes forward quickly, pulling a wail from your lips. Repeating the action until he feels your walls loosening around him.

 He's soon falling into a steady pace, hips snapping against yours as his fingers bruise your hips. Your legs spread wide as you fist at the bedsheets below you, whiny moans leaving your lips as you move back against him. Jimin steps back, no doubt taking in the sight in before him. The way your eyes continue to roll, flushed cheeks and mouth open wide. How your back curves into the globes of your ass the ripple with each strong thrust of Jungkook's hips. “Fuck, baby. You're taking his cock so well,” Jimin praises with a proud look on his face. 

 His soft hand brushes your hair out of your face, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail. “How does it feel, baby?” Weakly, you lift your gaze to look up at him. “S-so good,” Voice hoarse and breathy. Jungkook grins behind you, angling his hips to slide deeper inside of you.

 “Such a good girl,” Jimin's free hand wraps around his cock. And your mouth is opening before your mind can register what he wants, warm cock filling your mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the base.

 He's sliding down your throat easily, your head bobbing in time with the slow thrusts of his hips. You reach your hands forward to grasp his balls, hands massaging against the velvety skin and his pants. Incoherent mumbles of praise fall from Jimin's lips as his head falls back.

 He looks so hot, even from this angle. The veins of his neck prominent with the clench of his teeth. Collarbones thick and on full display, housing his well worked on pecks and the tight ripples of his abs. His hand lifts to grasp your hair, holding your head in place to thrust shallowly down your throat.

 “S-shit, I'm cumming.” Jungkook whines from behind you, hips pressed flush against your ass while his legs tighten. You feel the familiar expansion of the condom around his cock as the sounds of his whiny moans fill the room. Jimin lifts his head, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes find the pink-cheeked man in front of him.

 “That was quick,” Jimin teases, pulling his hips back until his cock is falling from your lips. Jungkook does the same. Your body shocked instantly with emptiness, you whine in protest, hips wiggling in search of your release.

 “It's been a while,” Jungkook defends, slumping against the mattress, arms lifting to cover his eyes. Desperately trying to slow his breathing, not paying any mind to the cum that leaks the condom in thick globs painting the sheets underneath him. “Did Kookie even make you cum?” Jimin's words are directed to you and you're quick to shake your head.

 He tsks, hand reaching for your thigh and flipping your body onto its back. Your legs spread as he lowers himself between them, cock easily pushing its way deep into your pussy. A moan falls from your lips, hips lifting to meet his thrust. “Let me show you how to do it.”

 Jungkook is removing his arm from his eyes, turning his attention to yours and Jimin's bodies. He watches as Jimin's firm ass lifts and drops into you, each powerful thrust pushing your body up. Watches as your nails mark up his smooth back. Listens to the way his groans mix with your whimpers.

 Your eyes catch his for a moment, and you're soon realizing that he's not watching you. Mouth parted and eyes dazed as he stares. But not at you. Jimin's reaching his hand down, fingers finding your clit as he pushes you toward your nearing orgasm. Eyes screwing shut, you let yourself feel it.

 Toes curling and back arching as your release washes over you. Jimin hisses from the way your walls clench around his cock, his thrusts becoming sloppy, untimed. Jungkook watches as he cums, filling you up. Your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan. Your legs tighten around his waist, holding his body tight against yours.

 Minutes pass before Jimin is pulling out, rolling onto his back with a huff. He grins wide down at you, lips catching yours in a loving kiss as his hand moves between your legs, pushing his escaped cum back into your pussy. You can't help the giggle that leaves your lips from the feeling.

 “You did so well, baby.” He's complimenting you after his lips are releasing yours. You smile wide, eyes shifting between him and Jungkook. “It was amazing, thank you.” Jungkook nods his acknowledgment while Jimin presses another kiss to your lips, before standing from the bed.

 “I'm gonna go run you a bath,” Jimin grins, kissing the top of your head gently before disappearing into the bathroom. The second he's gone, Jungkook is standing from the bed. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy, and he looks out of breath; but nevertheless he's moving as if he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

 You let him. Don't bother to ask him why. You know why. And now that you knew, all the little things surrounding were starting to make sense. As if a neon sign had been flashing the warning from the beginning, but you had chosen to ignore it. Explained it away as Jungkook being a protective best friend, but you were wrong. You were so wrong. Realization was hitting you all at once and you wondering how many of their conquests found out the exact same thing.

 Jungkook was in love with Jimin.

requests are open

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Femdom Universe - Part 1

Hello loves! 

This series will be ??? parts long but all fics should be able to be read as standalone. This universe will mostly follow around Yennefer though it will focus on other characters in the universe at times! I have a few more parts drafted out and idk how long they will take me to post but they’re coming.

This is Geralt/Yennefer in a modern AU, Yen in a Pro-Domme, Geralt is one of her established clients.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, cock cage, discussions of orgasm denial, mentions of spanking, praise kink, subspace, no actual sex, soft domme Yen, just generally all around very soft

-

Yennefer opened the door and smiled at the man before her, Geralt had been a client of hers for well over a year at this point and in that time had also become a good friend. Her first client after moving to the city and her first real friend in much longer.

She turned on her heel, her dressing gown flowing out behind her, and stalked over to the seating area, making herself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs.

Geralt followed behind her at a sedated pace.

"You're late." She said simply once he had settled on the couch across from her.

"There was an emergency at work. Got held up."

Yennefer blinked slowly, unimpressed.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll call if it happens again."

Yennefer raised a well-manicured eyebrow.

Geralt sighed, "When it happens again."

Yennefer nodded, satisfied with his response. She knew his job was a priority, and very demanding. It was why he had first began experimenting with submission, needing to let go, not be forced to be responsible and in control all the time. But just because she understood didn't mean that he had an excuse to not communicate when he would be late.

"Now," she began, taking a sip of water, "you mentioned last night that you thought of some last-minute changes to the scene? Something new you wanted to try?"

Geralt blushed and nodded.

Yennefer wouldn't normally allow last minute changes that added new elements, much preferring the chance to talk with her clients about it and making sure they were making a fully informed choice, but she had worked with Geralt long enough to trust he had done his research.

And most likely had sat on this idea for weeks, probably months, before feeling brave enough to suggest it.

She was confident that he would ask questions if he had them and be honest with her if things weren't going well.

"Alright so what are you thinking?"

Geralt's blush deepened.

Even despite the year they had spent together having regular sessions, the man was still one of the most bashful people Yennefer had ever met.

"You mentioned once… putting me in a… cage. And I said I would think about it. And I have. And I want to… try it."

Yennefer smirked, "You think you're ready to try a cock cage?"

Geralt nodded.

"Use your words, love."

"Yes, Yen. I'm ready to try the cock cage."

"Perfect. I already have a couple purchased I thought you might like. Now, will you want it left on through the whole scene, or will you want me to release you and give you relief?"

Geralt grunted, his face a lovely pink color.

"Geralt, do you want to cum or do you want me to deny you."

"Deny me."

"If you end up getting aroused and you cum, do you want a punishment?"

Geralt shook his head and cleared his throat, "No… just… maybe some disappointment?"

Yennefer smiled, "Alright then. We can keep the rest of the scene as planned but add a cage and deny your orgasm, correct?"

"Yes. That's what I want."

"Perfect. Go on back and get comfortable. Kneel by the bed when you're ready. I'll have to go get the cages for you to choose from, but I'll be back shortly."

Cages weren't something she was sure Geralt would ever be interested in and she couldn't deny feeling thrilled he was willing to try her with this, to trust her.

-

Yennefer watched happily as Geralt's eyes beamed with interest as they looked over the cages. His eyes kept travelling back to the silver one. The other one, a black plastic one with a more detailed shaping, just didn't seem to be catching his eye. He traced the rings on the silver one with his gaze and Yennefer smiled.

"This one?" Yennefer asked, holding up the silver one in her hand.

"Yes." His voice already sounded wrecked and they hadn't even done anything yet.

"Yes what, darling?"

Geralt glanced up to meet Yennefer's gaze before quickly affixing his eyes to his lap, "Yes, Mistress."

Yennefer hummed happily, "Well done, darling. Now get on the bed and lie back, let's get this on you."

Geralt scrambled on the bed, his muscles shifting attractively.

Geralt was certainly the most attractive man Yennefer had ever worked with, possibly the most attractive person she had ever worked with, even.

And one of the best at following orders.

He laid back quickly, shifting into the position she always had him take with ease. His arms were relaxed and by his sides, his hands resting next to his thighs which were parted just enough Yennefer could slide between them easily.

He made a pretty picture.

Yen crawled onto the bed demurely, dressed in an elegant silken robe, and settled between his thighs, rubbing his right thigh comfortingly.

His cock began to stir.

"No, no, none of that. Let's get this cage on before we can't, shall we?"

Geralt nodded at Yennefer's question.

"Alright, love, your word and the rules and we'll get started."

"My safe word is unicorn and if I say it, everything stops, and we immediately move to after care. If I can't say my word, I squeeze your upper arm."

"Excellent work, darling. Now let's get started." She held a key out for Geralt to take with a tentative hand, "There is a key in the packaging, there by your head, and this is the other. Once I lock you up, you can keep the key if you prefer, or you can entrust it to me. It's your choice and I don't mind either way."

Geralt nodded, holding the key tightly.

Yennefer quickly slipped the base of the toy down, the ring fitting snuggly against the base of his cock and wrapping behind his balls.

She gave Geralt's cock a teasing stroke, making him suck in a sharp breath, before slipping on the cage, applying a gentle pressure until the base met the cage and she could lock the two together. She snapped the lock closed and looked up at Geralt with a smile, "All done."

Wordlessly, Geralt held the key out for her to take which she did with a gentle smile gracing her features. His trust was a heady thing to have and she was thrilled to have it.

She placed the key in a small pouch in the pocket of her robe for safe keeping and looked back up at Geralt.

Yennefer traced her hands up and down Geralt's thighs, admiring the way the muscles jumped under her touch.

"Hmm… you look excellent splayed out for me like this, love. Now, I'm going to play with you to my heart's content, and you aren't allowed to cum."

When Geralt had first come to her, he hadn't been particularly comfortable with giving up control and he had hated being doted on like this, her hands and eyes on him, appreciative.

Now, he shivered in delight with every pass of her hands.

She straddled his thigh and ran her hands up his hips, skirting just around where his cock lay, growing hard within its cage, tracing her hands up his abdomen, focusing on the hard lines and ridges.

Businessmen didn't normally look like Geralt, muscles built upon muscles, a beautifully trim waist that led up to deliciously thick shoulders.

Geralt's breathing was growing more and more shallow as she continued touching him, going slightly higher on his abdomen before trailing her fingertips back down to his hips and working her way back up. His cock twitched as best it could in the weight of the cage and Geralt rolled his hips.

Yennefer quickly pressed her hands flat against his hips, leaning her weight against them, "I didn't tell you, you could move, did I?"

Geralt whimpered and shook his head.

Yennefer pinched him on the hip, "What was that?"

"No, Mistress."

"You want to be good for me, don't you, Geralt?"

A whine, "Yes, Mistress."

"Then stay still, darling. Bad boys don't get what they want."

Geralt had shown early on he didn't particularly enjoy pain or punishments, not that he would have needed them often, he was eager to please, eager to receive praise. Although, he had always been rather fond of a good spanking.

But not this session, he simply wanted to lose himself and enjoy Yennefer's power over him, caring for him.

Geralt's hands clinched by his sides and he nodded, "Yes, Mistress. I'll be good."

"Good boy," Yennefer purred, moving her hands up his body to tweak his nipples in reward, making him moan loudly.

"That's right darling, let me hear you. You make the prettiest noises."

And so her hands continued tracing delicate patterns on his body, holding tightly around his throat for only a moment, just long enough to make his eyes go glassy with need, before focusing once again on his chest.

Yennefer wasn't sure how long she spent worshiping him with her fingers before finally, "Turn over, darling."

Geralt didn't hesitate to follow orders though his movements were slow and languid, the way he always got when he slipped into a submissive space. He settled on his stomach and Yennefer moved to straddle his waist, rubbing at his neck and shoulders. Despite how relaxed he was, the tension he carried was deep and no matter her efforts, Yennefer had never truly been able to get all the knots out.

"Would you like a massage, darling?" She asked softly, not wanting to jar him with any pain it might cause.

"No, Mistress."

Yennefer hummed, happy he was willing to communicate his wants when at one time she thought she would have to stop working with him because of how hard communication was for him.

She continued tracing his back until his breathing had evened out. She knew he wasn't asleep but he was certainly out of it. It had been at least an hour since they had begun so she decided that it was time to start bringing Geralt back.

With some soft words and touches, she got him situated on his side so she could slide in behind him, spooning him delicately.

"Geralt," she whispered, "are you hear with me, love?"

He nodded softly.

"Would you like to nap?"

Another nod.

“Do you want to take the cage off now? Or wait?”

“Wait,” Geralt whispered.

"Is this position alright?"

Geralt didn't respond for a moment before finally rolling over slowly in her arms until he could cuddle up to her side, pillowing his head softly on her breast, "Did I do well, Mistress?"

"Excellent darling. You were such a good boy for me."

Geralt smiled sleepily, his eyes already closed, and Yennefer held him gently while he drifted off to sleep.

-

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[kurodachimagic]

Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

--

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

[singtotheskiies]

a single word // bruce banner x reader

request: Nothing would make me happier than a Bruce Banner X reader. He doesn't get nearly as much love as he deserves and he is adorable and smart and one of the many loves of my life. If you can make it a soulmate AU it would be even better and you would be my very bestest friend. But you don't have to write this if you don't want to.

summary: your soulmate’s emotions are written on your forearm. sometimes it’s only a single word—anger—and a news feed of New York being destroyed starts you on a mission to find him.

words: 2301

warnings: slight angst, but otherwise lotsa fluff:)))

a/n: i’m so sorry for the delay in writing! i was sick for a few days and found it really difficult to write. for that reason, this imagine may not flow as well or have as detailed writing as others, but i still hope it’s enjoyable!!

✖️✖️✖️

Your soulmate’s emotions were—complicated, to say the least.

Most people had multiple words on their arm based on what their soulmate was feeling at the moment—it wasn’t uncommon to see entire forearm-lengths of words like curious and fearful and hopeful. Sometimes your arm had a normal, long list like that, but over the past few years, things had begun to change.

Sometimes, the writing on your arm would fade away to one word—ANGER.

It was menacing—red and in all caps. Sometimes it would only last a few seconds, your arm flickering from ANGER to fear or attempted calm. Sometimes it stayed for hours before fading to confusion and regret and self-hatred. Your heart went out to your soulmate, mourning their seeming lack of stability. Sure, it was more interesting than a typical soulmate bond, but it seemed as if they had a hard time dealing with life and controlling their emotions. You hoped that if you ever met them, you’d be able to provide a much-needed constant of calm.

For your whole life, though, you were left clueless as to who it could possibly be. Someone who had such blindingly intense emotions was surely one of a kind—but no hints presented themselves until the attack on New York.

You were working like any other day when your coworker suddenly barged in, babbling about something horrific and otherworldly that was happening on the East Coast. Standing up in alarm (and, quite frankly, slight disbelief), you grabbed your phone and quickly opened your news app only to have your friend’s story confirmed. You clicked on a news feed, watching in utter shock as entire city blocks were torn down by what looked like otherworldly spaceships. They twisted through the air grotesquely, resembling some sort of worm or insect. Clearly, they were not from Earth.

A reporter was attempting to interview a shaken citizen—a young woman who seemed to be on the point of crying. The reporter wasn’t having much success, as the young lady’s voice was too choked with tears to get much out. However, after several painful moments, the woman’s face changed as she looked up. The camera pivoted wildly to show a small group of individuals making their way purposefully down the street. As it zoomed in, you got a closer look—the people looked intimidating and like they had a purpose.

All except one. The camera was slightly fuzzy and the chaos going on around it didn’t help, but you could tell a few details about this odd one out. He looked to be shorter than many of the others, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and a look of terrified confusion. He was unarmed with any weapon or armor, dressed only in work clothes. Your arm itched and burned as you looked at him, and you looked down at it in surprise.

Unsure, afraid, determined, disbelieving.

“No way,” you breathed, and your friend looked at you sideways.

“I know! Who are these people? I have no clue what’s going on anymore.” You didn’t have the energy to tell her that you were most stunned by the fact that the seemingly unarmed man may very well be the soulmate you had waited your whole life to meet. Although you did agree with her that you wanted to know who he was.

Before you could get a better look at the group of people, your maybe-soulmate spoke to one of the others and turned around to fight. However, as he did, he grew several feet taller, huge new muscles bunching together as his shirt ripped away to reveal—green skin? You couldn’t believe your eyes, staring at the screen in almost catatonic shock. Your arm started stinging again, and as you looked down at it, it shifted into that all-too-familiar word: ANGER.

“I have to go home,” you told your friend, packing up your things in a rush.

“Are you okay?” she asked you.

“Don’t feel well,” you said. Several other people were heading for the doors. You figured a disaster of this scale would cause more than a few changes in schedule.

Getting home in record time, you turned on your television and sat, not even bothering to toe off your shoes. You watched in utter astonishment as New York continued to be trashed by an otherworldly army. The news feeds gave as many updates on the team attempting to fight the aliens off as they could. Your eyes were peeled for any flashes of green, and you were occasionally rewarded with a few seconds of whoever-he-was fighting off creatures singlehandedly. Was this beast of a man the same timid person who had walked with the other fighters at the beginning? Maybe he was possessed or something. Hopefully he wouldn’t die fending off the alien attackers—possibly finding your soulmate and then having them ripped away from you on the same day was something you’d prefer not to happen.

After hours of battle, all the attackers had been taken out and the cube of energy—the Tesseract, it was called—had been taken to a government facility. You hadn’t seen any more of your potential soulmate, but the words on your arm had gone back to small black words: exhausted, relieved, frightened. He was still alive, thank goodness, but your only hope of finding out who he was was through news of some sort, so you kept your television on and scrolled through news websites as you ate dinner. After an hour or two, you began to feel a little hopeless—you couldn’t find anywhere that was listing the names of the group who had fought back—the Avengers, as they were being called. Eventually, you gave up and decided to call it a night. Maybe you’d find out more in the morning.

To your surprise (and relief) there was an article titled “Just Who Are the Avengers?” that seemed to list a few names. It was scant information (unsurprising, since they seemed to be spies or government workers of some sort), but it was something. The name that you were looking for seemed to be Bruce Banner—the Incredible Hulk. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you typed his name into your phone, pulling up multiple sources about your potential soulmate.

You discovered that he was a top scientist, a man who had underwent a freak gamma radiation accident that caused him to turn into the Hulk when he didn’t have control over his emotions. He now worked to understand radiation as well as countless other fields of study—the man had seven PhDs! He seemed to be quite the extraordinary person, and the pictures available of him painted him out to be quite the handsome man as well.

You looked down at your arm and sighed. Terror and hopelessness. Judging by the blue ink, he must be having a nightmare. You set your jaw and resolutely looked for some way to contact him. Yes, he had just saved America, but you had a feeling he needed some actual good things in his life. You wanted to help if it were at all possible.

The best you could do was find an email address, so you started a draft and stared at your screen wondering out loud what to say.

“Hi, I’m your soulmate—probably. Saw you turn into a big green guy on TV—that’s something else! No, that’s stupid. Uh—you seem to have a lot of trauma going on, maybe I could hel—no, I’m not his therapist. C’mon, think!”

You eventually settled on a message that stated your awareness of who he was, an admiration for how bravely he had fought, and the possibility that you may be each other’s soulmates. Breathing deeply, you sent the message and left your laptop open for easy refreshing.

It took him almost 36 anxiety-ridden hours to respond back, but his response made you smile.

Dear (Y/N),

I was so surprised to hear from you that I nearly dropped my phone—in a good way, of course. I appreciate your compliments, and your description of what happens on your arm would certainly be a good match for me. You seem to be a wonderful person, and while I would love to meet you right away, the rest of the team and I have a few post-battle things we need to take care of. Does coffee about a week from now sound good? Let me know, and we can work out the details.

Sincerely, Bruce

You emailed him back saying that coffee sounded wonderful, including your phone number because texting would be a little easier, you thought. He texted you about a half hour later, giving you details to a coffee place that was far enough away from downtown to be safe. Can’t wait to see you there, he said, and you grinned as you sent back a similar message.

Putting your phone down on your kitchen table, you hummed in satisfaction—finally, after waiting for years and years, you were meeting your soulmate.

✖️✖️✖️

You were a little nervous, to say the least, but it was tempered with a great deal of excitement. As you neared the coffee shop, you touched your hair almost self-consciously, but then took your hand away quickly. All you could do was hope for the best—if the two of you were really meant to be, things would go well. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and went inside.

You found him almost immediately, and he stood up as if by instinct when you entered. He was at a small corner table, and his eyes met yours with a look of astonishment and admiration.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with near disbelief.

“Bruce,” you beamed, and without thinking, you threw your arms around him in a hug. He returned the gesture, arms wrapping tightly around you.

“I—I can’t believe you’re here,” he spoke into your hair. “I mean, really here. I always thought—“ he trailed off and you pulled back, looking in his deep brown eyes again.

“Of course I’m here, Bruce. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling softly, and said “Shall we?” as he pulled out your seat for you. Thanking him, you took a seat and began studying his face as casually as you could. He had a strong jaw, full lips, lovely brown eyes, and the same curly brown-and-grey hair you had seen on the news. You had a very strong urge to reach out and slip your fingers through it, but resisted somehow. He noticed your eyes on him and cocked his head at you, a slight, sweet smile on his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice grinning along with him.

“Nothing, you’re just—really handsome,” you said, blushing. “I think you’re wonderful.” He blushed with you, and you smiled at each other for a long moment before discussing what you would order. After settling on a few things, you placed your orders and began chatting right away. He told you about his work in the science field (he shocked you with his intellect), while you told him about your job. You shared little facts about each other, and as you talked about your interests, he watched you intently with awestruck, loving eyes. It gave you more than a few butterflies, and you could still hardly believe that you were there with your soulmate.

After you finished your drinks, Bruce offered taking a walk outside. You nodded enthusiastically, wanting to spend as much time with him as you could. There’s a park nearby, fairly large for a city, with lots of pretty flowers and trees to enjoy. As you walked, you continued talking about all sorts of things.

Eventually the topic of his alien-fighting experience came up, and something in his eyes shifted. Looking down at your arm, you saw the words nervous and hopeful and worried etch themselves into your skin. You furrowed your brows in concern, and without thinking, took his hand. His fingers moved nervously under yours, but latched on with clear relief.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered. “I just feel like—well, I can’t offer you normalcy, dependency, consistency. Sometimes he just takes over. I try, I really do, but I’ve still got a long way to go before I learn to control or even coexist with him. I could hurt you, I could break things, and it scares me, (Y/N). You’re very likely the best thing to ever come into my life, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Bruce,” you answered, tears welling up in the bottom of your eyes. “I don’t need consistency or perfection or anything close to it. All I need is you. We’ve been put together for a reason, and I’m going to fight for you, no matter what tries to stop us. I’m here for you now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He really did whisper now, your name softly under his breath. As his eyes met yours, you began to move a little closer, head tilting towards his as if magnetized. He raised his other hand to brush across your face gently, a question, and you smiled in response. With a soft tip of his head, your mouths fell together, eagerly gentle. Your hand came up to ruffle through his curls, and they felt just as lovely as you had imagined. The two of you stayed that way, together, touching, for several moments. As he came up for air, he rested his forehead against yours, kissing you again until your smiles outgrew the spaces between you.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, and as you looked into his blissful eyes, you noticed your arm—only a single word was on it, different from the one you typically saw by itself.

Smitten.

[sif-the-tsunami]

Hello friends,

This is a small sample of the fantasy series I’ve been working on for a few years. I would love to get some kind of feedback. Positive, negative. Lay it on me. I want to know what you think.

This is a rough draft, barely edited. 

Summary: A young warrior starts the path to her destiny. 

Rated: PG-13, this will probably read like YA but there wont be any sexy times. Just talks about violence and death (this doesn’t mean that people under 18 can start interacting with my blog. I mostly post smut.)

The attack on Dawnforge came without warning. Raiders, dozens of them, descended upon the small community surrounding a rural temple. The invaders poured violently out of the woods. In the cool shade of the temple’s grove, Ellisif Thrace’s mossy green eyes shot open from her late afternoon nap when she heard the Keepers sound the alarm. The war horns had only been blown ceremonially for as long as she could remember. The second blast echoed off the stone walls and summoned her to action. The young woman sat strait up, and listened for another moment to see if she could find out what direction the alarm was coming from.  She thought she could hear the Keepers shouting towards the east although she couldn’t make out what they were saying just yet. Always eager to be of assistance, Ellisif picked up her belongings and started running towards the commotion. Ellie, as she preferred to be addressed, had been learning defense and fighting techniques since she was strong enough to pick up a sword. Her father had been a knight errant and thought it was important that his children should know how to keep themselves safe.

Another blast of the horn let her know she was running in the right direction. Soon she heard the sound of weapons being thrown and bashed into the thick wooden gate. The Keepers were directing the villagers to leave the area, a man that Ellisif thought was named Erik told her to go home. He couldn’t have been much older than she was, his skin was sun kissed, with a little pink on his temples and cheekbones. Erik looked scared, brushing his reddish blond hair out of his face.

“I’m here to help, give me a sword!” She shouted.

“Little Sister, you need to go somewhere safe.” Erik ordered. As he was saying this, the Commander put his hand on her shoulder.

“Erik, Ellie is to join the Order at the Feast of Lyria. Let her pick up a shield, if they make it through our defenses, she knows how to handle herself.” The older man told Erik. He handed their recruit a wooden shield with metal studs, “Ellisif, make your father proud.”

Erik rolled his eyes as the Commander went to go hand out more tools. “They are going to break through in a matter of minutes. Take an ax. If they make it past us, cut the fuckers down. And don’t you dare get killed.”

Ellie pulled the cord she had on her wrist to tie her hair back. Her thick dark chocolate brown curls were pulled back out of her face and she said a small prayer to her favorite Goddess. I don’t want to have to kill anyone, but if I do, please let me do it quickly. Her heart pounded in her throat, her trepidation rose with every new crack emerging from the gate. The wood finally gave way, and she watched the horde of mismatched heathens break into her town. The Keepers had set up as much of a barricade as they could. Carts where pushed on their sides trying to create a funnel and direct the invaders to the villages best fighters and war priests. The Archers were doing what they could to thin out the herd. Ellisif inched closer to the battle, she tightened her grip on the handle of her ax just in time for a raider to jump over the stack of crates that had been near where she was standing. She raised her shield to the long sword he was swinging at her and it became stuck in the hard wood. Then it was as if her brain shut off and her body took over.

The warrior would never truly be able to recall everything that happened that afternoon. The surviving Keepers would tell her that she was brave, surgical with her actions and moved like she had been doing this all her life. In her state of shock, she would just say she had really good teachers. They would congratulate her for surviving her first battle. They thanked her for saving lives that day. Not a single invader made it past where she stood her ground.

Ellie looked up at the white stone buildings that were beginning to glow pink with the setting of the sun. What would they do with the bodies, she wondered vaguely. She leaned against the warm stone wall and slid down. What should I be doing? She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make the sickness in her stomach go away.

“Where is she? Where is my sister, where is my Ellie?” a familiar voice was shouting. A couple of the Keepers pointed towards where she sat with her knees tucked to against her chest, her head resting on the wall behind her. Sarah thought she look more pale than normal.

“I’m right here.” Ellie croaked. Her throat was so dry. The healers had looked at her briefly, said she would be fine but to be prepared that she would probably have some pretty bad bruising on her forearms.

“Oh my Gods, why are you covered in blood? We’ve been so worried! Mama is going to skin you alive. Are you hurt? What were you thinking?” The thin woman stammered together as she fretted over her younger sister.

“I’m fine, the blood’s not mine. At least I don’t think so.” Ellie said, “What was I thinking? I was thinking that this is what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to run toward the fight. Do you have your water on you? I need a drink...”

The Commander strutted over like the fine peacock he was and pressed a bottle of ale into Ellie’s open hand and said something about how proud he was. She didn’t care. Ellie just wanted to be able to swallow without her throat feeling like sandpaper. The strawberry ale was sweet and warm, it made swallowing a little easier but after the third mouthful it became clear that the ale was doing nothing for her nausea. There might have been something said to her about how he was looking forward to seeing her take her oath, he chuckled and walked off. Sarah started trying to clean the viscera from her sister’s face but before she got too much grime off of her face, Ellisif turned her head and wretched.  She groaned, “Let’s go home.”

They walked home, arms wrapped around each other. It wouldn’t be until they reached their little home that Ellisif would start talking. The words slipped out of the young woman, still dazed. She looked down at the ax she was still holding onto with white knuckles and whispered “The one who gave this to me, Erik… I don’t know. He was killed. I killed someone today, Sarah. I killed several someones…”

Sarah, as gently as she could, wiped the tears off of her sister’s face, “You did what Daddy taught us to do. You helped keep our family safe, you kept or town safe. Lyria would be proud. She would be thrilled to know you will be defending her temple. Daddy would be so proud too.”

The older sister took her partner in crime into their house, and tucked the battle wary woman into her bed. The ax fell to the ground with a sickening thunk, and Ellie rolled over and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sarah went to the kitchen and put a kettle on to brew some tea. Their mother, Kyra, had gone to the temple to help bandage up wounds of the Keepers and anyone else who took up arms. She eventually grabbing the heel of the loaf of bread from the pantry and slather it in homemade butter, pulling out her book of herbs. If Ellisif was more athletically inclined, her sister was definitely more well read. Sarah propped the book up and began plaiting her silky hair as she read the well loved tome. The front door opened quietly, the family’s matriarch came back after a long night of bandaging up injured young people and comforting the loved ones of those they lost.

“The Pale Mother now has a few more attendants now,” Kyra sighed, she and Sarah’s looks were similar, though she had more silver in her hair now. They both had dark brown eyes, almost black.  “Those poor souls. The Council and the High Priestess has asked that we all gather tomorrow at the Temple. They found their leader and they are interrogating him. He seemed to not understand that the forge our town was named after has been closed for generations, thought he could arm his merry band of miscreants. I heard Ellisif did her duty. How’s our girl doing?”

“She might have gone into emotional shock. I put her in bed, she’s going to need something strong in the morning. I was just reading up on something that will sooth her nerves, she was covered, and I mean covered, in blood. Evidently none of it was hers, which is good. Daddy taught her well. The Keepers were saying she showed a lot of potential.”

“Your father was the best knight I have ever seen wield a sword, I can only imagine what he taught her. The Temple will have never been safer if she is half as good as he was.” Kyra grabbed another hunk of bread and helped herself to some cheese. “I wish you could have seen him. I’ve never seen anyone burn with righteous fury like he could. When he would swing his sword in the tourneys he fought in, I swear that it looked like it was on fire. It was beautiful and absolutely terrifying. Ells has that same spark. When she was little, I saw it in her too.”

“I told her daddy would be proud.”

“He would be. He would also be profoundly sad for her. Sweetheart, you should go get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be very long.”

Ellisif slept until nightfall the next day. Siggy and Kyra left her to her mild unconsciousness to attend the meeting at noon. The temple slowly filled with the mourning villagers. More than a dozen Keepers had died that afternoon, it had been a decade since there had been any attacks on Dawnforge like this. It would be weeks before the damage the raiders did to the town could be repaired. The surviving raiders were told they could bury their dead on the other side of the ravine outside of the walls and then to assist the town in its repairs to try to make amends. The Thrace women where given the instruction on how they could help by the High Priestess. As soon as they where able to, Sarah and her sister would be going to the schoolhouse. They thought that having a couple extra adults around the kids would help make them feel safer.

Most of the school age kids knew Ellie. Two years ago she had won the combat tournament on the Feast of Seraphina, the Scarlet Mother. Usually the winners give the bouquet of fire Lilies to their significant other, she instead pulled out individual flowers and gave one to every little one who was around the ring that day. Her father had done the same thing the last time he had won the tournament. She enjoyed being their hero that afternoon, Sarah remembered as she and their mom walked home with their orders. The night of the feast, Ellie was asked attend the dance that was be held in the town square. Sarah had never seen her sister so happy as when she came home giggling, barefoot and a little in love.

When they made it to their home again, they saw evidence that Ellie had been up and moving but she was no where to be seen. Kyra suggested that they leave her be for the time being, they were kind in letting the young woman try to recover at her own pace. After a few days of her sleeping more heavily than she ever had, Ellisif needed to be in the forest behind the temple. She wanted to feel the presence of the Green Mother and ask her for guidance. There was a small clearing there, where a large stone acts as an alter for Lyria. It was a large piece of granite that always seemed to be covered with moss in all the directions, not just north. On the morning of Lyria’s feast day, the sun would align itself with this slab perfectly, and that is where she would be taking her vows to join the ranks of the Keepers. They were originally called the Temple Keepers, as the community grew, the area they kept safe grew with it. Once Ellie joined, she would be binding herself to the fate of the town. She could get married and have a family if she chose, but traveling would be almost impossible. If the Empire of Oril ever declared war on any of the other kingdoms, they were almost always the ones that were conscripted.  

While Ellie had wanted to become a Keeper for as long as she could remember, as of this morning, the idea of joining gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her mother had always talked about how even masters of their craft could have their confidence shaken if the seeds of doubt had taken root in their minds. Was this a seed a doubt she had been warned about?

“Lyria, divine mother, I come here to beg you for forgiveness. I never wanted take someone’s life. I thought they would yield if they got hurt. How could I have been so stupid...” and for the first time since the attack, Ellisif’s strength gave out. There she spent the rest of the day sobbing and trying to figure out what she needed to do. Her body shook violently as the waves of emotions crashed over her. In the back of her mind, a small notion crawled its way forward, seeping into her thoughts likes a strong tea in hot water. Devoting herself to the temple may not be the right choice. Ellie cleaned her face of the mess that the sobbing caused. The moon had risen, her family would be worried.

She made it into her home moments before they would begin searching for their missing member. There were hugs and more tears. They remained silent as Ellie made her way to her bed, she prepared herself for the night.

[blkmxrvel]

All Grown Up (PT. 1)

Pairing: Brie Larson x CollegeStudent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: -

Summary: You’re In college, You’re dating Brie. Yeah there are some people who are gonna talk shit, but everything’s going to be alright as long as you have her… right?

Warnings: Fans being assholes, Angst, break ups, Heart break. Not edited. 

A/N: So, I’ve had this in my drafts for almost a year. Haven’t even looked at my docs since the last fic I uploaded. I wanna get back into writing since my life has calmed down quite a bit since October, so I just decided to post the furthest along fic in my WIPs. I may write part two, and finish the concept but I’m not too sure. And I may finish the requests in my inbox, but I’m not too sure about that either. For now, I just hope you enjoy this :)

You were walking hand in hand with Brie, your head down as to avoid the blinding lights being flashed in your face. Your body was up against hers and you pushed through the crowd, the loud yells of the paparazzi flooding your ears.

Brie! Do you have any response to the people who have called you a pedophile?! Any comments? 

Do you think this relationship is going to work? 

Why are you dating a gold digger!? I mean she’s practically a prostitute!

Brie usually could keep her cool when it was her getting the heat, but that made her lose it. She drew the line at you.

 She snapped her head around towards the man, eyes wide and furious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You pressed your hand on to Brie’s chest pushing her to keep walking. 

“Let’s go, Brie. Don’t pay them any mind, they don’t know anything.” She listened, albeit reluctantly, and made her way into the building. 

From the moment you and Brie had started dating, people couldn’t stop having an opinion on it. You were in college, finishing up your degree when you had first met her. She was 13 years your senior but that didn’t really matter to either of you. There was something about one that pulled the other toward them, besides you were more attracted to older women anyway.

You had done your best to ignore all of the comments being said about you both. The only people who really knew what was going on between you and Brie were….you and Brie. And you figured that it should stay that way. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to people who were just onlookers. At the end of the day, you and Brie were the only two people that mattered. 

None of your close friends and family made any comments or passed judgement either, they were completely fine and loved the two of you together. The only ones who said anything were even impactful on your life, so it shouldn’t matter at all. 

You walked past the theater doors, smiling at all of the familiar faces. It was the Avenger: Endgame movie premiere, and of course you were Brie’s plus 1. 

Brie barely even had a chance to breathe before an interviewer was flagging her down. 

“Brie and Y/N! Hollywood’s best couple, beautiful as always! Are you excited for the movie?" 

Brie was the first one to speak up. ”Super excited! I’ve never seen anything pieced together, just the individual scenes, I can’t wait to see what the whole thing looks like.“ 

"You’re not the only one! What about you, Y/N?” The interviewer held the microphone to your face, smiling encouragingly at you. 

“No, yeah. I’m stoked too! I’ve always been a fan of Marvel, comic books and the films and it’s a bit overwhelming to be at an actual premiere.” Brie’s hand came to rub over your hip, smiling down at you. “I’m supposed to be at home studying for an exam, but this is easily more important in my book.”

Laughs rang out as the reporter agreed. “I second that. Well I hope you too have a great time watching it! Congratulations, Brie on all of your hard work! You were amazing in Captain Marvel and I’m sure you’ll be just as great in this, if not more." 

"Hey!” You squinted playfully at the reporter. “She’s taken!” You placed your body in front of Brie’s, failing to hold in the laugh that was expelled from your body. 

The interviewer had left eventually, and you and Brie continued your walk down the red carpet. Pictures were taken of Brie by herself, with you, and some with her castmates. 

As you walked towards the main auditorium with your girlfriend, you began to feel eyes on you and hear hushed whispers. Looking around, you saw fans more than likely whispering things about you and Brie. It was pretty obvious, they were giggling slightly and rolling their eyes when you looked that way.

Just because you were dating someone who was so used to the limelight, didn’t mean that you were automatically comfortable with it too. You were 21 for god sakes, there were so many things that you didn’t like about yourself. You hated how people could judge and make assumptions on someone they didn’t even know, you ignored the comments, yes. But that didn’t mean the pressure didn’t eat away at yourself esteem.

“Baby, you alright?” Brie had stopped while walking inside, popcorn in one hand your face in the other. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What thing?”

“The thing where you go silent and press your body into me when we’re walking. Plus your hands are clammy and your eyes keep darting everywhere.”

You secretly hated how Brie knew you so well, but after a year and a half of dating, what could you really expect?

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, her lips coming to kiss your forehead. 

“I can feel people staring, and then when I look up their whispering and giggling. They don’t do anything to cover it up!” You leaned into Brie more at the confession.

“Who was it?” Brie’s body pulled away from yours as she searched then hallway with squinted eyes. “I will fuck them up." 

You giggled, pulling Brie back toward you, resuming your walking until you got into the theater and sat down in your seat. 

"I just…I’m trying not to imagine what they’re saying. The things they say out loud are bad enough.” Brie frowned before pulling you from your seat into her lap. 

She kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your ear. “Don’t think about that, baby. Whatever they’re saying is incorrect. They don’t know you.” She wrapped her arms around your middle and pulled you down so that your head was on her shoulder. “They don’t know how hard you work, how smart you are, how brave and resilient you are. How much I love you. They don’t matter because they aren’t here. Just try your hardest to block it out okay?" 

You nodded, lifting your head up. Your eyes worked a little hard to find Brie’s eyes in the darkness. The movie hadn’t started yet, it was only the trailers. 

You found her eyes, holding contact as you smiling a toothless smiles. "I love you. So so so much, Brie.” You leaned in and sealed your words, your girlfriend kissing you back eagerly.

“I love you way more, baby.” She said when you pulled away. “Forever and Always.”

—-

Finals were a complete bitch, you’d decided. Whoever came up with the concept of a huge exam on everything you’ve learned and making it a big portion of your final grade could suck your ass. 

It wasn’t like you could slack on this one either, no. This was your first final of the first semester of your last year of college. You were graduating early and you couldn’t mess this up. You had no choice to but to do well. 

You sighed as a rattle of keys came from the outside of your apartment. Brie was home. You were excited, but so fucking stressed that you didn’t pay any mind to Brie. 

“Hey Y/N!” That was weird, she never called you by your name usually, oh well. You chalked it up to a one time thing and focused on your work. 

“Hey, how was your day?” You flipped the page, eyes glancing up to your girlfriend briefly.

“Pretty good actually, the scenes went really well.” Walked over to the couch, plopping down as she sipped her drink. She smiled down at you. You were still in your pajamas, a t-shirt two sizes too big and your hair unruly. 

“Well I’m glad at least one of us had a good day." 

"How long have you been studying?” You shrugged going over the flashcards in your head. “What time is it?”

Brie glanced at her watch, taking a minute to read the time. “Quarter till 10.”

“Then like 12 hours almost, I started a little bit after you left.” At that Brie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

“12 hours!? Y/F/N, that is way too much. And knowing you, you haven’t taken a break besides to pee, which means you haven’t eaten in 12 hours." 

"Hey, everything as a price- hey! Stop! What are you doing? Give it back!” You got up onto your knees and tried to snatch your book back from Brie, who held it way above your head.

“Brie, come on! I need to study!” You pouted as you stood in front of her. 

“You’ve studied enough, baby. You need to eat and rest. A rested brain is a passing brain.” You hugged again, reaching to grab your book again, failing when you fell right into Brie’s lap.

“I’m never gonna walk if I don’t pass this class. I need to graduate at the end of the year.” Brie pushed you back up and held your face. Her reys started right into yours and her furrowed her eyebrows. 

“I know, and you’re gonna pass. You’re going to ace all of your exams and finals and graduate with the Magna Cum Laude.” She kissed your cheeks, smiling brightly. “You’re going to walk across the stage, grab your diploma and your certificate, and you’re going to walk off a graduate, my little graduate.” She kissed your lips this time, allowing you to melt all of your worries away. 

“I know I’m too hard on myself,” you began when you pulled away. “But there’s just so much at stake. Graduating 2 years early is already a risk but doing so when you’re in the public eye and everybody hates you? It’s a different breed." 

Brie nodded in understanding. "I know, baby. But you gotta give yourself more credit. You’re going to graduate and you’re going to hear my loud ass cheering for you the whole time.”

Your eyes lit up at that. You hadn’t expected that. “You’re going? I thought you were going to be filming the day of the graduation?" 

Brie shook her head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I was, but I convinced them to give me a week off to see my girl graduate.” Brie smiled widely at you and you wiggled in your seat. You were giddy because Brie getting to be at your graduation, cheering you on and letting everyone know that she was proud of you, was worth all the stress you were putting yourself through. 

“You promise?” You held your pinky up, heart racing racing when Brie interlocked hers with yours and kissed the back of her hand. 

“I promise, princess." 

—-

"We need to break up.” You had almost dropped your glass. Your heart fell into your stomach and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. 

“What?” Your voice was shaky at your addressed your….girlfriend? 

“I’m sorry, I just. I can’t do this anymore.” Your heart began beating faster as tears sprung to your eyes. 

“Brie, you’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” You let the tears fall, your fingers in a vice grip against the counter. 

“I’m not, and I’m so sorry I led you on like this, Y/N. So sorry that I let it get this far. The age gap is just too much. You need someone your age. We both do. We’re just…. Two people with two different experiences.” 

You sink to the floor, no longer caring about what you looked like. Your worst nightmare was finally coming true. You tried your hardest to tell yourself that the age gap between you and Brie didn’t matter. She tried her hardest to help you rid yourself of that fear. And here she was, breaking up with you over that exact reason. Was it all a lie? 

There was no point in arguing, Y/N concluded. No point in trying to convince Brie to stay with her, maybe change her mind and snap her out of it. No matter how bad it hurt, how bad she wanted Brie to stay, it was never going to work out. They were never going to have a real love. 

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Her heart hardened immediately. She stood up on shaky legs and a broken heart. She couldn’t let Brie see her care too much.  

“I’ll leave. I’ll probably send Scarlett or Chris to come and get my things. If you could just put them all in a box for me that’d be great.” She grabbed her book bag and her books, making her way to the door. “Just things that I bought, nothing you bought me. Please.” 

Brie felt her heart shatter at her broken ex-girlfriend. This was hurting her too, but it had to be done. She was crazy to go after a girl so much younger than her and think that they would actually last. Y/N deserved better. 

“Okay,” Brie wiped a tear from her eye and clenched her hands when she saw Y/N reach for the knob. “We can still be friends, you know. This is the end of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. We were friends first.” 

A chill ran down Brie’s spine at the bitter chuckled that left Y/N’s lips. Her free hand came to run through her hair while the door squeezed the knob. “Well we ruined that friendship when we started dating. And besides, I can’t be just friends with someone I wanted to spend my life with.”

Brie pouted, and Y/N almost smiled, almost. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me, that’s all in your head. You’ll find someone else. I’m sure.” 

Y/N nodded her head once, a nod of hurt, acceptance and realization. “Yeah, whatever you say, Brie. Have a nice life.” Y/N opened the door as just like that she was gone. 

Brie felt the wind being knocked out of her. She immediately fell to the ground, sobs and desperate breaths wracking through her body. She had done it, she let Y/N go. And it hurt, it hurt so bad. 

 What had she just done? 

–

Neither Y/N nor Brie had gotten much time to grieve and heal, because once word got out about the break-up. Everyone was asking about it. Y/N would get stopped by everyone on campus asking why they broke up; if it was because Brie realized what a gold digger you were, or if she was only in it for the Sex and companionship. None of the questions were positive, or in the slightest bit respectful. Y/N didn’t know what she expected, everyone hated her and Brie together. If they didn’t like and respect her then, why would they do it now? Y/N just stuck herself. School, work and home was all she focused on. Without Brie, it was all she had. 

Most of her nights were filled with what went wrong, and what the absolute hell was wrong with her. Y/N blamed herself. If was maybe a little bit older, or maybe not in school or carried herself better. Maybe then Brie would’ve liked her enough to stay. If she acted older maybe then age wouldn’t matter. She didn’t really know, and it was killing her. But she had to live with it, live with the self-sabotaging demons in her head. 

Brie wasn’t doing much better either. She was in the public eye constantly. Everyone was asking her about the break-up: in interviews or at parties, award shows and meet and greets. It was exhausting, heartbreaking. Brie doesn’t even know why she broke up with Y/N. She thought it was for the best, that it would be better than way. But all it did was cause her more pain. 

She regrets it, regrets it all. She just feels so stupid that she let the thoughts and opinions of other get into her head. She hates how she allowed their words to fuel her insecurities and sent her down the wrong path. She could only blame herself though. She had the choice to tell everyone to shut up, to make the announcement that her and Y/N’s was just that: her and Y/N. And that everyone else should just shut the fuck up and go somewhere. But no. She allowed herself to be consumed in all of that and it led to her losing the love of her life. She had to do something.  

[babyybitchhh]

Announcement

Alrighty, then. This post has been a long time coming so lets get right into it.

After much deliberation, I've decided not to push the self destruct button. I thought about it. Oh, when I say I was SO damn close to deleting this entire blog and all my fics right along with it. I'm frustrated and angry with myself, and I can't exactly say I'm doing well atm, but I know when things start to get better I'll want to write again, in earnest, and then I'd have to start over from scratch. Egg all over my face. Clown shit. We don't know her.

BUT. I think its clear to any and all that this is not working. It's just not. I expect too much of myself, for starters. And when it feels like others expect a certain level of performance from me that I just can't nail consistently due to my own ineptitude, my brain powers off. Is it some kind of executive dysfunction? Is it a fear of failing? A fear of success? Plain old anxiety? Who knows! I certainly don't. Whatever it is, it's hanging over my head like a guillotine. I'm beyond stressed and barely staying afloat irl, but then when I turn towards what should be a fun and therapeutic outlet all I see are expectations.

"When will you post the next chapter" on works that I WANT to finish but yet fear putting out a subpar product for and disappointing people.

"Will you write a follow up piece" for works that I WANT to expand on but don't know how to in a way that will make everyone else happy, let alone myself.

"Are you working on my request" for WIPs I have partially drafted and yet no way of knowing if that person - or anyone! - will even enjoy it.

I honestly feel guilty working on my own ideas instead of the multiple prompts in my inbox. I'm pretty sure that's part of my malfunction with my Ogun fic and others like it that are close to being done but remain unfinished simply because I'm thinking about what everyone else wants. It'd be one thing if I could just churn out content without a second thought but I can't. Like, it genuinely upsets me thinking that people are stuck in limbo waiting because I'm too chicken shit to just go with the flow instead of obsessing over every single line of text to the point of nausea, all for the sake of putting out "quality" content. I feel bad. I want to enjoy the writing process again, just like I did when I first got back into it with OsoSan. I shouldn't have started taking requests if I wasn't going to deliver, I know, and I sincerely apologize for my lack of foresight but it is what it is. I can't change the past. But what I CAN do is start fresh. So, long story short, there are going to be some changes coming to this blog.

A total revamp. I'm going to do an overhaul on the whole thing so don't be surprised when it starts to look different. I'm going to work primarily on navigation and organization, and try to tidy up a bit.

I'm turning off anon. Both because people looking to have a go with writers aren't so brave when that's no longer an option and also because I want to get as far away from those expectations as possible. I wont be reading or responding to comments on AO3 anymore for that same reason. I love you guys, and you're more than welcome to talk to me in DM's if you're more comfortable that way, but the long list of asks wanting to know wtf I'm doing in my spare time if not writing this or that is doing more harm than good.

I'm getting rid of the requests page and also purging any that I haven't already started working on - hopefully once I get into a better groove I'll actually be able to finish them, because I genuinely would like to. I really am sorry to everyone who's been waiting for their request to be fulfilled but I'm clearly not talented or confident enough to juggle my own ideas with someone else's. Maybe at some point in the future, when I'm a better writer, I'll start taking them again and we can all be happy.

And finally, I'm going to start experimenting with my writing method. As in, you're probably going to see shorter, less obsessively curated pieces popping up on my page that may not always be sexual in nature. I just really need to buckle down and work on this - all of it - and I'm determined to improve my skills even if it kills me. I have the urge to write every single day but it's hard when I'm the way I am and I've backed myself into a corner like this. I need to learn how to stop overthinking everything and just DO it. I know my productivity would increase and, with it, so would the overall quality of my work so I'm going to be focusing on different areas that need improvement. Not everything I put out will be good but that's part of the process, right? Right.

I totally understand if I lose followers for any of the above reasons, or even just personal ones, so don't hesitate to do so if you feel like you can't jive with this blog anymore. I appreciate you taking the time to read all this and I hope you understand my reasons for needing to do a reset on this page. This is exactly why I didn't want to start taking commissions and I would once again like to apologize to anyone I've let down.

P.S. I've had this distinct feeling that certain people in the writing community are not happy with me for a while now and although I'm not entirely sure what I've done wrong, I would still like to issue a formal apology for any toes I might have stepped on. That was never my intention. I can't claim to be a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but I have no ill will towards anyone. If its about the patreon I subscribed to and then left a month later, it had nothing to do with the author in question. I just belatedly realized I had more money coming out of my account than I could handle at the time and yes that weighs heavy on my shoulders. If its about the way I suddenly disappear in private chats, that's also something that shouldn't be taken personally. I genuinely have a hard time keeping up conversations with people, and I feel like a bother more often than not. If it's about the discords I join and then never participate in, see the above. If its about the way I fangirl or enthusiastically support some writers but not others, I never meant any harm by it. I just can't conceivably read everything that comes across my dash and, yes, my favorites are prioritized. Either way, whatever the grievances may be, anon will remain on until I start the revamp process some time tomorrow night so if whoever wants to air out their problems go for it. I probably wont post them but I will read them and try to learn from them, so have at it.

[itscinnafox]

STORY NOTES [akafuri] : By The Next Sunrise

Because I had sooooo much fun doing this with a friend (@miss-cactus) :] (also being the first collab' work that's posted) and had a lot of messy notes and drafts, it's just so precious to me not to ramble about it >w< also plenty of fun times in just 2 and half months despite life biting my ass at the same time, totally my stress relief lol. Also, this story really isn't just some cheesy stuff for the sake of romance. It's genuine love (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ω˂̣̣̥)੭ु⁾⁾

Read the story here in AO3 Summary: On the way to his brother’s house, the spring showers had begun again. With an open palm, he let it collect the cold showers and let it flow out from the cups of his palm. They were chilly despite the warming sun, he looked up at the sky, and wondered what the rain would be like in other parts of the world. Furihata smiled. He would find out. Perhaps by one of the next sunrises.

.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ. Rambles undercut ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧ .☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.☆ﾟ.

FIRSTLY, @miss-cactus has all my gratitude ♡(ŐωŐ人) without her; AkaFuri will be stranded in France LOL! Seriously, I'll just dump them in some random village in France and just maybe not even finish this story at all even. The time she took to find me a place, translate, edits and also judging me for my description of the place LOL yep... total life saver. With her help it really motivated and inspired me a lot! She's the oil to my car............. you get the idea :] .

BONUS, she's also a translator and translated many amazing works, basically a deity, breathing life back into them. Also, she has original works too :D check 'em out, it's cute! It's in French, but they're easily translated, she's that good! (๑>◡<๑) her AO3

WEIRD FACT, I also had a short break up with my boyfriend of 7 years while writing this. LOL. I was so upset but I got motivated by the similarities, that when he asked for us back I was like 'But-but the similarities though!' but I love him....bleeegh. So I said yes, and we're better than before. YAY!

๑ Story Base ๑ The idea popped when I was listening to 'The sun after washed by spring rain' by Wang Lee Hom on a rainy day on my day off, and florist Akashi just looks so beautiful lol and the rest just came up.... and I really wanted this vibe for AkaFuri something incredibly soft and warm~ just cozy >w< huehue~

This story sets in Spring, spring here, spring there~ Spring is the breath of new life, basically Furi's story lol.

I was also aiming for this story to be short and a bit poetic...... LOL then 11k words later I just gave up and was like: well, if AkaFuri wanna romance then who are we to say no? (Akashi will shave my hair in my sleep lol)

๑ Playlist ๑ Play on Youtube The playlist is by order according to each part within the story. I really love to ramble about this since music is my inspiration for a lot of things and the vibe of the whole premise, section of their development and perspectives.

☆ 11 : 11 by Taeyeon Introducing Furihata's little sob lol and Furi's perspective. After Furihata breaks up with his girlfriend (who again, have no significant in his life what so ever), he goes through the phase on moving forward. It really isn't him moving forward with his feelings for her though, it's just him moving forward from the familiarity of being with her in his life. With her gone, he finally reconnects with who he is, like in this passage : "However, somehow with just a fling of his bag onto the island top threw him years back. He has not always been this tidy and clean." Furihata had basically lived his life to accommodate to those around him. (I wanna stress that Furi wasn't forced into a relationship or was it abusive. It was just a relationship with someone whom Furi had no infatuation for. It just so happens she wanted to date him after the wintercup, and Furi is just like 'yea ok?' but really he didn't exactly thought it through.)

So this is where Furihata moves on from the familiarity. He cries because they dated lol, but really he's just confuse.

☆ The Sun After Washed By Spring Rain by Wang Lee Hom Exactly one year after Furi's break-up. The source of this story idea lol. Also, Furi's perspective. The title and the song is literally what it meant; the sun after the spring rain which brings in new beginnings. I present you, this passage of the story: "Instead, with an open palm, he let it collect the cold showers and let it flow out from the cups of his palm. They were chilly despite the warming sun, he looked up at the sky, and wondered what the rain would be like in other parts of the world."

☆ Reunite by Jordie Power I present you, when Akashi appeared and Furihata's crush on Akashi just awakened and go haywire LOL! In this AU, Furihata has genuine feelings for Akashi. They were long time friends, and there were even a few emphasis of their friendship through high school but because Furihata has a girlfriend and Akashi respected that (although most times, in my brain, is just Akashi crying to Kuroko LOL!)

☆ Passage by Miyano Mamoru Furihata and Akashi's similarities. The song is basically about finding yourself as you age, the experiences you go through as you age (i'm 27 and i'm still confuse lol) Even though this story focuses on Furihata a lot and little less on Akashi except for little hints here and there, Akashi was just as lost as Furihata.

Random thought (as I type this), my boyfriend had told me this before "Even though we don't need each other, and do well on our own. We have friends but it's so different. Is just something different to have someone you love around, so to an extend, I really do need you and to share everything with you, it really makes me happy." it really is something different to have someone by your side especially when you found someone. (p/s: you definitely don't need to be in a relationship to feel complete. you complete yourself okay? :3) Furi and Akashi have been in-love since high-school, they have accomplished a lot on their own but in a passage, they both felt lost and felt like something was 'empty' that was because they were still in-love, and they met each other and truly want to spend their life together and share everything.

☆ Moonlight by Miyano Mamoru Mmmmmm~ the juice. This is Akashi's perspective when he wants to romance Furihata (∗ᵕ̴᷄◡ᵕ̴᷅∗)՞ and of course, sneakily confesses to him. OH MY GOODNESS! THIS IS LITERALLY THE PART THAT I'VE BEEN DYING FOR! and wrote it sooooo many times. I wanted it steamy and a little desperate after their long pent-up-frustration unprofessed love, without making it 'explicit' kind of way. So I hope I captured it right lolol.

☆ Make Me Love You by Taeyeon Furihata's feelings towards Akashi. I was pondering on a song that would fit Furihata's pull towards Akashi and how Akashi makes him feel every time. No other songs seems to feel like then I was randomly humming to this song while I was working and this is perfect! Also, a wonderful vibe.

I think it has been emphasised a lot on how Furihata reacts to Akashi, how he blushes like crazy, how he also subconsciously wants Akashi to make him fall in love with him. Because deep down, as again, Furihata genuinely loves Akashi but he was never daring enough to do it and since Akashi had never showed any indication, so Akashi had to confess in order for Furihata to be brave enough to smack their lips together to confess too.

☆ Je Fais De Toi Mon Essentiel by Emmanuel Moire Infinitely bless @miss-cactus (and her naughty brother lol) for this! This is song is seriously sooooo beautiful ;w; I don't care if reader's don't listen to the playlist, but OH MY GOD! If nobody had listened to this, is seriously missing out. (just as a song in general is beautiful) and the lyrics are just akjsfhakjsfhaf AKASHI'S WORDS! In Akashi's perspective and the song that Akashi sang to when they were in the car, and Cactus chose the perfect line for it ;w;

This song basically concludes everything!!! From their feelings for each other since high-school and all the way until the day they die! It's basically everything I wanted this story to be about, just their pure love for one another and to share their happiness together ;w;

Also, I want to point out in regards of Furihata's decision on staying in France. It's really not just a spontaneous and reckless decision lol. As stated and shown in the story, Furihata is somewhat a successful person with a career, but Furihata has other passion and interest which he seemed to enjoy doing which is photography and Akashi notices this. Even though with a career, at a time some will have a change of heart. So if Furi wants to stay in France with Akashi, he has thought it through enough, and can afford to even live by even without Akashi's money lolol. ๑ Premises ๑ Cactus, without her, AkaFuri will be hobos. I . AM . NOT . KIDDING ! She just whip out the map of France and pin point me to everything! I didn't ask for that but her soul is made from angel clay and she showed me this beautiful town, and I am floored! I didn't feel that much motivation and inspiration before o(≧∇≦o)

So why not Paris? XD 1, I didn't want Paris, I wanted a natural, country/cottage vibe and not the city. 2, proven by Cactus, "actual paris : if you want a cup of coffee you have to give up your wife and your 2 children bc it's way too expensive" (XD actually there's more but those parts are only between us lol) 3, I want to pull Akashi from his usual portrayal of rich and luxurious life style. I mean.... he's still rich, just not lavish in that lifestyle. In here, Akashi's basically bare as a canvas, and painting it on his own. 4, I google mapped Paris.... and if anything, Akashi and Furihata will probably get run over by traffic LOLOL! 5, we hate the crowds lolol and we'd do anything to drown the citizens for AkaFuri to be alone. I'm not even gonna be discreet about this xD.

☆ Mornac-Sur-Seudre This main village, is the most beautiful town picked by Cactus. It's not so 'in the face' although not so splashed in a lot of colours (except for the oyster huts), it is a very vibrant village. We totally fell in love with it. It's quiet, and not a lot of villagers, so it's perfect for AkaFuri to have their stroll hand in hand (人 •͈ᴗ•͈) They're also very famous for their oysters LOL! So yeah..... Akashi fed Furi oysters.... because....it's yummy.... LOL! Video reference here. There's another beautiful video but I can't find it no more. ;; Other references; here, here and here.

☆ Seagull Train Furihata loves train (and so do I) and since the train exists here! WHY THE HELL NOT?! I really love writing this part! I fell in love with the department Cactus picked and everything was so perfect and beautiful. Pictures and videos of it was just so breath taking ;w; and it's a steam train! I've never ride one before, but I have been into exhibits in the train museum. The smell is amazing lol. It's like sniffing my humidifier......but bigger.

This is the train I had saw mostly from it. the 030 T 3 from 1891. It's still operational so choo-choo!!! they go!

Video reference ; here Train reference; here, here Other references; here, here, here and here.

☆ Saintes & Royan These two towns are what's closest to Mornac. I didn't have much on Royan because Saintes had a beautiful charm, so this is where they would have their wonderful date <3 and talk a little bit about their feelings.

Cactus correcting me on the description on the city as I just woke up from my sleep, is seriously a way to wake up in the morning at 5am XD LOLOL!!

There's a few churches too, and has an interesting history from the Roman empire :D really intriguing.

The bridge where they have their little confession in high-school (◡‿◡✿)

This video here, absolutely pretty!

☆ Akashi's Floristry; Fleurs d’acacia Cactus picked out the most beautiful name! "So either L’acacia (just the tree) or Fleurs d’acacia (acacia flowers)" The Acacia because it rhymes with Akashi's name : Aca - as in 'Aka' in Akashi. Ci - as in sea...because they're near the ocean. A - as in....... h(a)m because Cactus said so... and I can't even disagree because it's where Furi getting some of those..... meat....because Akashi's ham.....like his meat.......y'know..... We're very dignified ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎)

The design of Akashi's 3 story shop/studio/apartment..... I really don't have any reference, it's all in the head LOLOL! Akashi basically lives in simplicity, his shop all on the ground floor, and the second floor is his art studio where paints and do whatever he wants. Finally the third floor is where he stays, it was wasn't very detailed but it's very spacious and cozy >w<!

☆ The Drive-in theatre Bruuuuuh......the confession is the thing! Akashi sneaking in his opportunity to confess. What more is there need to be said? AkaFuri : mlemlemlemlemlemlemlemlem~

Ohh~ Akashi's pretty Bentley of course.

☆ The Landes The finale of their romance ❀.(*´◡`*)❀. I think we all know what a Volkswagen van looks like LOL! And they had the funky in the van and Akashi took Jean's advice with the bamboo charcoal.

Cactus showed this pretty place and I'm just ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Of course I'd really like to say it again. Furihata's decision to stay with Akashi was really not for the sake of a 'happy ending' or so. They've had deep feelings for each other since high-school and bonded closely, but Akashi didn't show any indication of romantic interest out of respect for Furihata's relationship, and Furihata knowing nothing about Akashi's mutual feelings just kept his feelings to himself. As told by the story, Furihata has a career and stable income. But even though his life is dandy in Tokyo with his job, that doesn't mean it's something he wants to keep pursuing or maintain, as we age, we search for something else to add into our experience. Not to say that we're forever unsatisfied, it's just how life is. We accomplish something, and we move on to another thing, and then another and another. It's really something beautiful about it, and life's just us exploring :] In Akashi and Furihata's case, is that they've already have what they wanted, a life of their own, choosing their own path and what they don't have was each other and now that they've bonded and opened up themselves, they can finally pursue another beautiful life together (>*^▽^*<)

๑ Book, Night on the Galactic Railway by Kenji Miyaza ๑ This is a real book. Also, my favourite! There is an anime as well, but if anyone wants the PDF feel free to drop me a DM and I'll give it to ya'.

In here, the story of the galactic railway impacted their lives a little bit differently. With Akashi the loss of his mother and Furihata to live the last adventure before death.

It is shown they have extreme love for this book, and it really is a beautiful book and there's just endless things to talk about, as it is place in an infinite travel of the train through the galaxy, meeting new people, seeing new things, the mysteries of stories and making meaningful relationship despite never being able to see them again.

The sentiment of Giovanni and Campanella is also similar to Akashi and Furihata. Before anything else, they want to have their adventure together before eventually parting their ways (and i really mean, until death do them apart.)

๑ Other Juices ๑ There some nitty stuff that aren't just there for show xD Well, kind of but there's some sentiments and stuff so...

☆ The Sunflower Maybe because I'm bias to sunflowers LOL! But Furihata is pretty with yellow! Sunflowers with darker brown florets are absolutely beautiful. The pendent I had in mind was literally the one I had when I was a kid (but I donno it's gone now lol). I googled other sunflower pendent but it's ugleh...

It associates with the theme of this story which is 'Sunrise' as in new beginnings, Furihata's fresh start to pursuing the person he actually loves.

Sunflowers also grow towards the sun. They radiate pure joy and positivity. They also symbolise unwavering faith and unconditional love; which is AkaFuri's undying love here despite the years.

Sunflowers are also given to show their deepest to the person, so Akashi gift him a sunflower :3 also because Furi looks pretty in yellow, fight me.

In chinese myth, sunflower are best for business... So with Furi around, Akashi's business will bloom LOLOL!

Funfact: In greek myth, a nymph named Clytie fell deeply in love Apollo, god of the sun. Although Clytie was beautiful by nymph standards, Apollo did not reciprocate her feelings, or acknowledge it. (except Akashi appreciates Furi's love okay?) After days of hopeless devotion, the nymph then transformed herself into a sunflower and constantly turned towards the sun so she could always be with the one she loved (Furihata's chasing sunrises because Akashi is there ok?).

☆ The Happy Street Cats :D This is actually a real book I have, a gift by my teacher before I leave S.Korea. The passage idiom is extracted by this page as well.

The front cover of the book is also yellow.

Yellow : Sunrise + Sunflower.

There's so much yellow in this story LOL!

☆ The Movie Cactus : Idol movie Me : *internal screaming* I swear we are always soooooooo close to making this whole thing crack XD

This scene is a real brain wreck lololol. (Still contemplating if it was romantic enough)

☆ Akashi's Florist number I extracted that number from an oyster restaurant LOLOL! Thankfully Cactus changed it.... we were planning on a crack bonus in which, Furihata orders oysters before calling Akashi.

It didn't happen. But if it did.

Furihata will order some oysters. And not regret it.

*Akashi judging*

☆ French Dialogues + Akashi teaching Furihata French Bless Cactus, she's my happiness now. I have no idea how many weird noises were coming out from our mouths just to understand how the French consonant 'R' sounds like to put it into words LOL! XD Without her, it'd be a disaster.

We were looking at other romantic phrases and found the perfect one ;w;

“Je suis ton bonheur.” means "I am your happiness" (oh god, google translate voice just keeps playing in my head LOLOL! help) Which, what else can be said? LOL Akashi's happy ok? Since this story is from Furihata's perspective, I really wanted to put him into the spot of being a foreigner (he speaks english and mandarin lolol just clueless in French, because Akashi is supposed to guide him). So while Cactus work her magic, being the Akashi to my Furihata. I tried to emphasis a lot on the characters expression etc, at least to indicate of what was going on....tbh even I forgot what they were saying. *just as clueless as Furi and Cactus cackling somewhere.

Everything in here is just Cactus being amazing ;w; and pure patience LOLOL!

๑ Side Characters ๑

☆Shérine ............ We butchered the original female side. Her name was Camille.... but I was sooo tempted to name it after *coouugh* :] because it's pretty. Also her hair was blond with hazel-green eyes.... yea we buried her.

Shérine wins now... Shérine is life.

Shérine will be in their wedding.

☆Jean Kirstein (of AOT) It's JEAN! ...........someone gotta tease Akashi with no filter.

(ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ FINAL NOTES

The last section when Furihata wakes up and makes his decision, believe it or not, I was in the bus. While typing to Cactus, I was literally shaking in the bus and my eyes stung because of dust and I was in tears. I was between crying and laughing. Finished it at home ;w; Cactus was such a darling through it all.

I really had fun writing this with Cactus ;w; she's the best!!!!!!! And hopefully we'll make some crack stuff because we're hooligans like that XD.

:D BYE!

[tartrazeen]

Starlight

Hank wants to see the stars. Connor tries his best. Some post-revolution, Rated-PG-13, pre-HankCon fluff as they figure this out. (Rough draft, reader beware.)

This is an idea I had, but since I don’t have time to write as its own fic, I thought I’d share it by describing what would happen: Picture Hank, some time before he and Connor get together. Imagine the two of them in the same house after Connor’s deviancy. Everything’s following the canon. The revolution came, the fear is there, and silence always feels like the calm before another storm. It’s tense for everyone, and Hank and Connor have quietly agreed to make their home some sort of escape: they don’t talk about it. It works about as well as any of Hank’s ways to cope. Not talking means it isn’t getting worse, even if those thoughts are looming in his mind. He’s curious – he wouldn’t mind knowing what Connor’s take is on the situation, if Connor sees light at the end of a long tunnel, or if Connor’s only going through the motions – but he isn’t going to ask. That might break something. He’s perfectly aware he can’t lose Connor over this, even if the ‘why’ hiding underneath is part of the tension he can’t touch. There’s nothing special about the night that it happens. Maybe it was on Hank’s mind those last few nights they were walking Sumo – Connor wants to be outside as often as he can, as if he’s overcompensating. Hank doesn’t mind the air and Sumo could sure as hell use the exercise. It’s a different escape. It takes a minute, but once they’re outside, the silence just becomes… … peaceful. He can see the stars. Hank notices Connor looking around at the other houses and streets. Never up. Just around. He didn’t realize he’d been paying attention to where Connor wasn’t looking before then. They’d made it to the park and the sky was clear, but Connor seemed calmly focused on the trees. So he asks. Well. Almost. He asked about as well as he ever asks anything.  “Nice sky,” he says. Then he waits for Connor to give his take. Connor agrees. That’s all Hank needed to hear.

He brought it up again the next time. It wasn’t a lie; it was another nice night. Connor picked up on that enough to offer to stay. And they do for a little while. It’s Connor who brings it up the third time. It’s Connor who takes it further. They’re almost home again – after they’d again agreed it was a nice night – when Connor asks him if he’d like to go another walk once Sumo’s inside. They can look at the sky. That seemed harmless. It wasn’t as peaceful as before, but it was close enough. The tension wasn’t the same as the kind he’d been shrugging off from the weight of the revolution. They looked at the sky. Hank saw the stars. That was it. He doesn’t mean to shuffle back inside the house as quickly as he does, but he wants that escape from talking again. He gets braver for the time after that. Hank outright asks if Connor wants to look at the stars that night. No Sumo this time either. Connor gives his almost-smile and assumes the sky must be nice. And it is. Sorta. Some clouds, but they aren’t too in the way. He strikes up a conversation. “Very nice.” He forgot that he’s an idiot. Luckily Connor was more of an idiot, because he asked, “The clouds?” The stars. An almost-smile. The tension turned awkward. Then uncomfortable. Hank asks if Connor wants to go in and Connor agrees to whatever Hank wants to do, and they’re outside. Their agreement was for inside. “I thought the point of being deviant was doing what you wanted,” he says. Too much bite. Less of a smile than almost one. They could go back in and leave it there. “I’m out here because I want to be,” Connor replies, not leaving it. “The rest was for your benefit.” Tension turned awkward turned uncomfortable turned bitter. But Hank knows how to cope with that. They escape inside the house and Connor agrees to leave him to it. That should be a bad sign. Instead, Hank appreciates the time it gives him to think. He’s not far into his second drink before he feels brave. “Think the clouds are done. Or – gone or… whatever.” Fourth drink, then. That was usually Hank got bad at math. And apparently bad at the weather, because when they’re outside, there aren’t any stars to be seen. He’s pissed and ready to turn around. Connor’s looking at the sky. “What are you doing?” It’s a gray mass up there. Hank checks again in case he’s a bigger idiot than he thought. No stars. “I’m watching the satellites,” Connor reports. Less bite. More awkward. “I’m sorry. We can go if you want.” Hank’s not angry – despite what’s probably still on his face – and he says as much, then asking, “You can see those?” Yes. “How many?” A lot. “Is that interesting?” Connor gives an almost-smile – more awkward, no bite – and says, “I like to track their patterns.” The patterns tell each satellite’s age and purpose, even its origin. When they stutter, it can mean they’ve hit trash. The newest ones make corrections around that. They’re ‘elegant’, apparently, and Connor likes to analyze whether each correction had to do with the amount of debris floating up there or the equipment’s sophistication. He’s named what he thinks are the trash piles – based on how many satellites have stuttered or curved around – after the problems they are. Three got named after Gavin. Connor’s been doing this for more than a night. “I meant to just keep busy while you were looking,” Connor admits. Embarrassed. “It got fun.” Relaxed. “I think I can understand why humans do it.” Hank points out that he’s been looking at stars. Humans can’t see satellites. Embarrassed. Connor offers to go. He must’ve really been on his fifth drink, because he stays. It’s not cold out, and maybe it’s a crappy night for him, but if Connor’s enjoying it, who’s Hank to take that away? “Would you like to see?” Connor takes Hank’s phone. The screen changes to black, with a series of lines streaking across in a dozen directions. Connor explains that’s from tonight. The screen changes, and Connor talks about the time they ran out of creamer in the breakroom and Gavin threw a fuckin’ fit for twenty minutes. Eight lines veer deliberately around some sight unseen – except for one, which plows through. Connor’s named the satellites too, of course, and that one’s Ben. When the screen changes for a fourth time, that’s Hank finally looks up from his phone to see Connor still staring up. Hank’s curious. He reaches out. He grabs Connor by the jaw and points his head a different way. The screen changes. A live-stream. Then Hank sees himself. “Sorry you didn’t get to see anything,” Connor says, watching him. The stream ends. His phone goes back to its default wallpaper. Hank deliberately waits for another crappy night. “Figured… th’screen – y’know…” Five drinks out of the gate. “S’bigger.” Connor streams the satellites on Hank’s TV, since Hank took the effort to haul it outside. They name a few other trash piles, since Hank’s also a fountain of knowledge on Gavin’s fuckin’ tantrums. He’s so involved that he almost forgets to check the sky himself. Stars. Patches of them. It’s clearing up again. “Guess we’re not gonna see as much now.” Not that he doesn’t like stars. They were why he’d stayed out with Connor in the first place. He’d just been enjoying their time as it was. “You can look at them,” Connor offers. “I’ll let you know if Jeff and Tina survive.” Someone took Gavin’s ‘best’ mug from the kitchen. Good luck to Jeff and Tina – Jeff was apparently set to plow through. “When it’s a nicer night, we’ll rename some normal constellations,” Hank says. Connor almost-smiles. Hank notices Connor had been smiling. “I can load a reference,” Connor reports. “If we put it on the TV, I can map the satellites against a star chart.” “Or we can point at ‘em.” More awkward. Tense. Hank’s uncomfortable. “Just figured I’d save you some work.” “We can try that,” Connor says. “You’d be doing the pointing.” Hank’s an idiot. “All that CyberLife tech and you can’t point?” Uncomfortable. Bitter. “I’m not exactly designed for stargazing.” And they were outside. “I can work with a chart.” The stream had ended, but the sky had been clearing up before that. There weren’t any stars while Hank had been watching. “Oh.” Connor helps him inside. It’s a different kind of embarrassed. “Why not?” He’d been feeling particularly brave the next morning. “It takes a certain sensitivity and steadiness to capture objects that faint. Some androids might be designed for it. Most can’t since it’s not necessary. I was built with other targets in mind.” Oh. “Pretty sure my phone can –” Connor wasn’t a phone. He reminded Hank of this as frankly as he could, considering their no-talking rule. There weren’t many other nights he could wait for. Finding a ‘good’ one seemed… bad. They just took Sumo for his walk and occasionally lingered outside of the house until it got too tense. He thought he could pick a day and surprise Connor – surprising Connor seemed to be a thing for Hank lately – but it went about as well as any other surprise. In that it didn’t. Connor, for his part, kept to their unspoken agreement. Hank didn’t pry even if he’d wanted to. It seemed uncomfortable. Things didn’t change until a sunny afternoon, when Connor announced that Ben had died. That stupid almost-smile was practically a grin as Hank twisted to find the context. “When’d that happen?” Today. “You get a newsletter or something?” Connor saw it at lunch. That’s what he looks at lately. It’s not as if he can eat, and Hank – oddly enough – doesn’t appreciate the cholesterol updates. He doesn’t mean to drive home as quickly as he does. He just reminds himself that he’s an idiot. Sumo gets all of two minutes of their time before Hank throws Connor back in the car. They don’t talk about it, even as the tension gets awkward. Even as it gets uncomfortable. Even as it gets bitter. By then, any questions that Connor could’ve asked were answered by the planetarium itself. So Hank asks his own. “You wanna… see?” They go back to awkward. Connor agrees. That’s all Hank needed to hear. The tour was kinda hokey. It was informative in that pity-for-the-parents way. But the star projections were why they were here. Everything should’ve bright enough for an android to see, including one that was built with other targets in mind. Sure, it wasn’t the same but… Close enough. “We should get a dome,” Connor says. Relaxed. “Sumo might like it.” ‘We’. “Where exactly do you think we’d get a dome?” “We could take their dome,” Connor suggests. They’re outside. They could talk about it. “Pretty sure that’s illegal,” Hank says in the meantime. “What are you, a cop?” “Sometimes.” He’s on the edge of breaking something. It feels tense, suddenly. Awkwardly. “I could quit, you know. I’ve got that option. If I wanted it.” Uncomfortable. “Just because I’ve been one way, it doesn’t mean I can’t be something else. That’s… free will for you.” He’s an idiot. Hank’s trying, but he’s an idiot. “You’re sweet.” Oh. More of a smile than not this time. “We’re still taking their dome.” “… Now?” No. It could wait, according to Connor. The forecast said it’d be clear tonight and that had usually set their plans. They could relax together. In their own way.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

20 for Lorenz? I'm one of the seven people in the world who genuinely likes Lorenz. He's underrated.

Pairing: Lorenx x reader

Prompt: I love you “as we huddle together, the storm raging outside”

Description: Late in the afternoon, the weather had still been nice so you invited Lorenz over for tea in your dorm, as you often did. However good company always had a way of distracting someone and by the time the evening came, so did a nasty storm. Unwilling to send him out in such weather, you’re left with no choice but to admit your fear to him...

Rating: sfw

Word Count: 1523

Notes: Shout out to me, who nearly forgot I had a wip for this and was ready to just start a whole new piece for it. Also, anon, I make up at least 5 of the people who adore him so like, you came to the right place. He’s my favorite 3 houses character! Another note, tumblr (or xkit) has this fun new feature that lets me see how long I’ve had a post in my drafts… I’ve had this as since February 11th? Anon I’m so sorry its been a hell of a year.

~*~

The trouble with having an outside dorm room meant that when the weather got especially rough (such as today) you really had no choice but to stay in your room. That was fine, however the weather came out of nowhere and you happened to have a guest over for tea; none other than Lorenz. Through your small window, the two of you could see the evening sun had been swallowed whole by the rough storm. Lorenz would be drenched if he went out in that but… your tea had all but cooled and it was well past time for him to be returning to his own chambers.

“I don’t even know where the time went…” You sighed, shaking your head softly. “I’m sorry Lorenz, had I noticed the storm earlier, I would have sent you on your way before it got so bad…” You frowned, listening to the gentle sound of pouring rain as you thought of what to do in this situation… It wouldn’t be long under it got worse, after all.

“It’s quite alright _____, in fact I should be the one apologizing for overstaying my welcome at this point.” He laughed and you quickly shook your head.

“N-no it’s alright! I was enjoying myself so much I hardly noticed the time passing, let alone the weather changing to something so unpleasant.” It was your turn to laugh now, the two of you giggling as you gathered yourselves. “I suppose you’re welcome to stay here with me until the storm passes or at least gets to a point where its not raining sideways.” You shook your head, plopping right down on your bed. While the tea and conversation had been wonderful, now that Lorenz was effectively trapped in your dorm with you, you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward with his presence. At least it was only raining bad for now but you couldn’t help but bite your lip; thunder was soon to follow and well… you weren’t the best with loud noises. They scared you to death! So while the sound of the rain pounding was comforting, and the flashes of lightening outside were amusing… the boom of thunder was most unwelcome.

“Thank you…” Lorenz was quick to frown, watching your body language shift as you looked out your small window to the storm only just beginning to rage outside. “Are you… alright though, _____? I can help but notice your mood seems to have dimmed…” He kept watch of you. For a moment, you didn’t respond, too focused on the weather outside. You twirled your hair worriedly before Lorenz repeated your name. “_____?”

“Hmm?” You jumped from your thoughts, looking to Lorenz’s concerned face. “I’m sorry… did you say something Lorenz?” You fiddled with your fingers now. It was obvious something had you worried, with the way you fidgeted under his worried gaze.

“I did. What has you so worried all the sudden?” You hated to make Lorenz frown but even more so you hated to admit to your fear. You knew him well enough by now that he wouldn’t tease you for it, of course but that didn’t stop the blooming feeling of embarrassment welling throughout your body.

“Ah… well…” You shivered hearing the thunder boom in the distance. Soon the brunt of the storm would be upon you and you would likely be a mess… “It’s a little silly… so I’m hesitant to say…” You looked up to Lorenz’s eyes once again, seeing they were nothing but soft and worried for you. You heaved a big sigh, looking down once again. “Well I just… I’m just afraid of loud noises, is all. With the storm in the distance like this, I’ll be okay but when the storm gets here, I’m afraid I’ll be little more than a shivering mess.” Having admitted this you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Lorenz anymore, choosing instead to watch your restless fingers as they curled the comforter under you.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” To your surprise, Lorenz took a seat by you on your bed, his hand easily resting over yours. You know the action was to comfort you but you couldn’t help the heat that reached your cheeks. “Thank you for sharing with me, though, I’m sure it must have been hard to get that off your chest.”

“I-I mean… just a little…” You could feel your cheeks darken further with color. If Lorenz noticed, he paid it no mind.

“Well, I am here with you now, _____. If you would like, I wouldn’t mind comforting you when the time comes.” You finally willed yourself to meet his lavender gaze, feeling an odd mixture of relief and fluster upon seeing the genuine look on his face.

“I-I mean…” You squeaked, the flash of lighting quickly followed by crashing thunder. Lorenz pulled you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest. Already you were shaking, clinging to him to like he was your lifeline.

“Shh… It’s alright. I’m here with you.” His words were soft, whispered gently into your hair as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through it. The comforting gesture was appreciated as you rocked yourself (and Lorenz, too, as you were now in his arms).

“T-thank you… I, I just…” You sniffled, trying your best not to cry in front of him. “This must seem awfully silly, h-huh?” You cleared your throat, looking up into his gaze. “I’ve seen and experienced far worse things than this in battle… but I… I just can’t help it.” You laughed bitterly, cuddling closer to him in anticipation of the next boom of thunder. Sure enough, the sound crashed, likely somewhere on the monastery grounds just from the sheer volume it had. You jumped from your place, pulling Lorenz closer to you that you may have thought possible, all but curling into his lap. By now, you really were crying, hiccups bubbling in your throat.

“You know that’s nonsense _____…” Lorenz laid the both of you down on your bed, sure to cover you as protectively as he could. “You and I both know just how strong and brave you are… being scared of thunder doesn’t change that…” You sniffled loudly, looking to his face.

“You really think so? I’m, I’m not weak for being scared?” You couldn’t help but think how sweet Lorenz looked, holding you like this, like a lover would in one of your lower moments…

“Of course not. Everyone is scared of something.”

“Well… would you mind telling me what you’re afraid of, Lorenz?” Your voice was mumbled, as you had once again cuddled into his chest in an effort to muffle the sound of the world outside your room.

“Me? Well…” Lorenz paused for a moment, considering if he should say the truth. Of course, there were a great many things he feared-- but mainly, they revolved around you. He feared your rejection of him, of losing you, of you getting hurt… He feared he would be too cowardly to confess to you, even now, as he held you close and whispered only the sweetest of words into your ear… “I suppose… I’m scared of losing those I care about; scared that, for all I am… I may not be strong enough to protect them.” He watched as you glanced up at him, face stained with tears and eyes puffy and red.

“Well… I’ll help you with your fears too, then. You’re helping me get over mine… so, together, we can protect everyone. All of our friends, all of our allies… Surely together, we’ll be strong enough, right?” Lorenz noticed another boom of thunder in the distance-- you hadn’t even flinched, perhaps too caught up in this moment with him. He would be sure to remember it.

“...I would like that a great deal.” Lorenz closed his eyes, pulling you closer and laying his head next to yours. He spoke again, with his eyes still closed. “Allow me one selfish request then, ______?” You had closed your eyes too, the late hour, the good company, and the crying all coming together to tire you out.

“Of course Lorenz.” You yawned, snuggling closer to him.”

“Allow me to be the one to protect you-- from raging storms and powerful enemies. I love you too much to see you so scared.” He was surprised the words came out so clearly, the emotion building up in his chest nearly too much to bear. He couldn’t help but open his eyes to drink in your reaction, watching as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“You… love me?” You repeated softly, unsure if you heard the words right. The rain was still pounding harshly outside, after all…

“More than I know how to express.” He nodded earnestly.

“I… I love you too, Lorenz.” You smiled shyly. “I just… thank you. For everything. For staying with me, for helping me… All of it.”

“You need not worry about it. For you, I would do all this and more.” Boldly, he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Now… get some rest. I’ll be here all night to protect you.”

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It means the world! Quick shout out to @rheabalaur! She is incredibly knowledgeable about the history of Dracula and Vlad Tepes and though I ended up not exploring human!Drac in this chapter, I wanted to thank her! She’s got some neat posts on the history and I learned a lot! Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Here is the next chapter! 

                                    Chapter Ten (Part Two)

Psychosomatic heart palpitations. The only diagnoses one can give to someone whose heart has stopped so long ago. Settled deep behind his rib cage, Count Dracula could almost swear he felt the dead organ pound against his ancient bones. Its rapid beating battering against his ear drums. Agatha Van Helsing was gone. Vanished without a trace except for a final message scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper. And it was all his fault.

"Fuck, Agatha!" He cursed, feeling the draft from the air outside. She'd neglected to close the doors properly, though that was beside the point. The cold temperature didn't bother him. No, he was immune. But she wasn't. "Dammit!"

Transformation. On foot. But there was the issue of his missing boots. The vampire's mind reeled a million miles a second. Usually he was so good thinking on his feet. Decisions coming easily to his mind. Yet there he was, standing hopelessly like a fool, trying to devise a plan. A way to find her. Agatha. His Agatha. In all of his centuries of life, never had he made such a fatal mistake.

He stared down at the corpse of the young man whose lifeless brown eyes gazed back at him. His skin was so pale, almost lily white after being completely drained of blood. Dracula let out a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sloppy. Careless. His new existence as a vampire had yet to come easy to him. Despite being a learned man, he was well on his way of opening Pandora's box if he wasn't careful.

"Oh don't look so stoic." The vampire exhaled, glancing up to the dark sky. "You were far from valuable to begin with. Now what to do with you…"

Thunder rumbled overhead and small raindrops began to fall from above. Dracula frowned and glanced towards the direction of his castle. Experimentation. Understanding what he was didn't just fall on his shoulders. No. There was something interesting he witnessed with each new kill. From cradle to grave and from grave to coffin. Dying from one life into the next. A small smirk crossed his features as lightning crackled from above.

"Perhaps you will prove more use to me after all." He stated, lifting the body with ease. "So we shall see…"

By some stroke of sheer luck, Dracula managed to come across a pair of old boots tucked away in an old closet. Dusty, they gave off an unpleasant smell that even he found rather foul. But his own comfort was far from his concern. Slipping them forcefully on, he hurried out through the front doors and into the winter elements. Going bravely forth into the bitter snowstorm that had begun to stir from its sleep again.

His pace was brisk, each long stride with purpose as he walked away from the castle. Much to his misfortune, the fresh snow had completely covered the ground, burying with it any sign of Agatha's tracks. Not even transforming into a wolf would help at this stage. No. He couldn't sense her and that alone terrified him. If she was...no, no he couldn't think like that. So he pressed on, faster now.

Lovech Province, Bulgaria. At least, that's what he had learned from her blood. A pretty little thing, traveling alone to meet relatives in a nearby village. She'd been an easy target and quite an interesting one at that. Someone he had deemed worthy enough to keep.

"Please!" Dracula heard her wail from her box. "Please let me go! I'm so thirsty!"

"No." The vampire replied simply, so casually as if he was merely telling her the time of day. "No, I think it's best you stay put for now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I always do with my brides."

Brides. He scoffed at his own term. It had been something he had come up with after holding captive several of his victims. Dracula needed to, after all, have some sort of name for them. In a sense, it seemed fitting. They were his after all. Property. Like cattle. Valuable, unusual stock that any bidder would desire and yet not know the horrors they were getting into.

"Let me go!" The woman pleaded. "Please, I promise I won't tell anyone! Just free me!"

"I shall return later." Dracula sighed as he ignored her screams of protest. "Perhaps with something to eat if I feel willing." He paused before looking over his shoulder. "And do try to keep the wailing to a minimum. I hate how it echoes throughout the halls."

Brides. Cattle. He grinned to himself as he exited the cellar. Disposable indeed.

"Agatha!"

He mentally cursed the howling wind that drowned out his voice each time he called out for her. Of all the times for her to disappear, of course it had to be in the middle of a blizzard. On many occasions she had threatened to leave, but the vampire had never thought she'd go through with it. If he had, if he had half the mind to, maybe he could've prevented this. All of this. If he had just been honest. Maybe she'd still be safe. Warm. Tucked away with him in the castle. But she wasn't and he was to blame.

"AGATHA!"

He hadn't quite expected his time with Jonathan Harker to turn the way that it had. It wasn't often that Dracula was left to deal with a slip up-if one would even call it that-but he found himself in a quite peculiar situation. An instance that led him to the steps of St. Mary's Convent in Budapest, Hungary. To her.

Agatha Van Helsing was a creature he'd never seen before. Such wit. Such spirit. She did not fear him like the others. She tested him like a fishman precariously dangling bait off the side of a boat where a shark was spotted. And that very moment when those few drops of her blood met his tongue it was a euphoria he couldn't explain. Seeing glimpses of her past. Of her history. Of who she was and of him. Of the infamous Abraham Van Helsing who had proven for a while to be a thorn in his side. Her grandfather. The product of a vampire slayer. And Dracula wanted...no, needed more.

The next course of action ended grizzly, not that he was quite surprised. But it wasn't until he came upon Agatha and that innocent, weakling Mina that his desire for the nun became curious. In any given dangerous situation, one must choose fight or flight. To defend yourself against your enemy and possibly die, or to out run them in the hopes of living. Agatha did neither. Instead, she offered herself in place of Mina. Seemingly cared nothing for her own life but only that of the woman's.

And so against what he thought at the time was his better judgement, he freed them both. Unknowing that soon enough fate would have them meet again under even stranger circumstances. How delectable and useful just a small amount of blood could be.

He couldn't smell her. No matter how far he walked, he still had yet to pick up any of her scent. That gave him some hope that maybe she hadn't injured herself. That perhaps she had found someone by some chance who had given her a ride somewhere. Unlikely as it was, it gave him a false sense of peace.

But due to the hindrance of his tracking abilities, a part of the Count began to wonder if Agatha's former Convent's beloved God was punishing him. That perhaps his version of Hell was not having her. Losing her. And who was he to deny that truth? Hell had frozen over and with it the former nun's mysterious disappearance. Dammit, Agatha, where could she have gone?

Dracula found himself staring at her for hours when he had first brought her to his castle. Watched as her chest rose and fell with each unstable breath. How her creamy skin was blotched by the red of the fever. At any point he could've killed her. Any second. With how ill she was, she wouldn't even see it coming. But she didn't. Instead, he observed. Quiet as his unaware guest rested.

When she did wake, truly became aware of her surroundings, it was a fond memory. How furious she was. How spiteful. After everything he'd done, Agatha showed no sign of gratitude and quite frankly, the vampire took no offense to that. She was merely an experiment after all. Someone he desired to learn more about. Except, he never expected it to go as far as it did.

"Fuck!"

Dracula's arms shielded him out of pure reflex as a tree fell just a yard away, spraying him with the wet snow that had clung to its branches. He wiped the substance away, his skin cool enough that it didn't immediately melt on impact. The way it clung to his clothes like some form of unwanted camouflage. For the first time in a long, long while, he was starting to despise the stuff.

"Agatha!" He tried again, this time louder. "Agatha, answer me! Where are you?!"

But only the storm returned his calling.

Emotions. Perhaps that's why he found it confusing at first. These feelings that no cold blooded person should experience. But the first real flicker struck him the moment he saw her wearing the dress he'd gotten her to replace that dreadful habit of hers.

Dracula thought of them. The hundreds-thousands of women he'd seen throughout his lifetime. Many whose beauty was beyond compare. But Agatha was different. Something about her, the way she stood there before him. There was so much he wanted to say. And at the same time, he wasn't sure what.

"Well," she said testily. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"

"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."

Lovely. Out of everything he could've said, those were the words to spill past his lips. She blushed, but it wasn't the same color as her fever. No, this was different. So it truly began. The start of something he had very much yet to comprehend.

It was growing darker outside and Dracula knew it wasn't just because of the storm. He began to pick up his pace, fear beginning to rise even further than before. How long had he been asleep? A few hours at most? Could she really have gotten this far?

That's when he smelled it. The very faint, but familiar scent of blood. An aroma he was so familiar with that his stomach dropped at the realization. Agatha. It was Agatha. And the sweetness he associated with it only made him want to gag. His worries had been confirmed. Something had happened to his nun.

Maybe it was when they lost control over dinner and ended up having sex so rough, the aftermath of their heated lovemaking shouted to the heavens the next day. Or when she got so furious with him once, she broke her hand against his face. But perhaps the moment it really dawned on him that his feelings for Agatha Van Helsing were far from just a whim of passion was that night he truly tasted her.

The way she trembled against his touch. How he had to hold her as he ran his tongue across the inner thigh and to her very center. Sweet, like her blood, and he savored her like a fine wine. It hadn't been rough. Fueled by aggression. No, the way she melted into him was something far different. And when he was finally inside of her, that same sense of euphoria that he'd experienced those several, several months ago struck him. And he lost it. Completely gave way and pierced his teeth into Agatha's sensitive flesh. Blessed with her indulgence once more. That was his first mistake.

The smell of fresh blood was stronger now and Dracula followed it like a bloodhound. Though he knew he had to be drawing closer, how potent it was becoming only left his stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a mere scratch. Not with how intense the smell was. There was a significant amount and the vampire dreaded what that could mean. What the outcome he was about to face was. How he wished Agatha had just gone ahead and staked him.

Cruel. That was the proper description for his next actions. Never mind triggering Agatha with old memories of Abraham-a man he knew well enough while, not evil, lacked any sort of endearment towards his granddaughter. He only furthered his stupidity when he abandoned her afterwards, leaving what should've been a good moment with a negative, abrupt ending.

In an almost sadistic, poetic way, the stake to his heart had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. The moment where Agatha's walls completely crumbled to the ground. Where she had, in her actions, admitted her true feelings when he had not. Metaphorically piercing her own heart when she should've done his. And he smiled. Grinned and waved away her affections. If only he realized the cost. The consequences. Those few words scrawled upon a strip of parchment.

Something caused him to stop in his tracks. Not the giant branch that blocked his path, but the feeling that there was something else. And so he hesitantly gazed over the edge, over a set of ragged rocks that dropped down several yards to the bottom. That's when he saw her. A figure lying motionless below wet by something other than snow. Dark. Even from where he stood, his excellent vision could make it out. Blood. Agatha.

"Agatha!"

Dracula leaped with such grace it made the long drop seem like a mere step. He hurried over to her side. Blood. There was so much blood. It stained the rock around her, caked locks of her hair together. And for a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, the vampire thought he was too late. It was only when he heard her pulse, the weak thrumming of her heart, that he knew she was alive. Barely. But still with him. As he exhaled in relief, her eyes opened.

Quickly he knelt beside her, the smell of her blood burning his nostrils. Thirst. Hunger. But he fought it. Battle the feral urge to feast within him. Dracula's hands were warm, sticky and red as he cradled her head ever so gently. She stared back at him unfocused.

The Count wanted to berate her. Scream at her for being so boneheaded. But not because he was furious with her. No, she had terrified him. So many questions. So much to say. Yet he couldn't. There wasn't any time to do so. He was losing her. Right there in his arms, the only person he'd truly ever cared about was withering away. He couldn't let that happen.

"You're dying." And the words held far more emotion than he'd ever had anticipated. "Agatha..."

"I know," she croaked.

The way she said it. Her tone. She wasn't afraid. Far worse. It was as if she was more than willing to accept this horrid fate. This end where one no longer exists. And he had planted the seed that made her okay with that.

"I can save you." There was a tremor in his voice. "This doesn't have to be the end. Let me..." He swallowed, damn how he hated to sound vulnerable. "Let me..."

There was a moment of pause as Agatha struggled to catch a breath. It ached deep within him to hear the pain as she did so. She was so strong. Even in death, she fought with bravery. What a soldier she would've made. What a companion in his human lifetime she would've been.

"Tell me..." Blood bubbled up in the corner of her mouth as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell me..."

"Agatha!" He spoke to her loudly, trying desperately to keep her awake. "Tell you what?" But the Count already knew what she meant. "Tell you what?!"

"Just..." She was fading now. Fading so fast. "Tell me..."

Tell her. He looked deep within her blue eyes as the light began to fade in them. Tried to hold her stare so she knew he really meant it. Weeks. Months. It was so long overdue and this was far from how he wanted to ever admit it. Open up to her like she had him. But now he needed to. So he swallowed, swallowed so thick as if his very life was caught in his throat.

"I love you." A statement so foreign, and yet, felt so right. Something wet brushed against his cheek. A tear. Was he crying? "I love you, Agatha Van Helsing."

A weight lifted off his shoulders. The entire universe relieving him of the pressure he'd felt for so long. He gazed down at her so longingly it was as if everything had stopped around them. Waited for her final words. Praying she'd give into his demands.

Agatha smiled weakly and closed her eyes at his confession. "Okay," his lover murmured. "Okay…"

And Dracula's fangs plunged into her throat.

[gryffindorcls]

More Than Just a Friend:  Chapter 1

——————————————————————————————

Hello, lovely readers!  Thank you for taking the time to read!

This fic was inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads ‘s chat post.  You can find it here.

——————————————————————————————

After patrol, Adrien face planted onto his bed and groaned.  Plagg watched as his holder mumbled incoherent ramblings into his comforter.  There was only so much a Kwami could take, and he was really close to reaching his limit.  This kid needed help.

“Adrien,” Plagg called out in a sing-song voice.

“Hrrrrmmm,” his chosen responded without removing his face from the bedspread.

“You okay there, kid?”

“HRRRRRrrrruuuuGH!”

“So...is that a no?”

Adrien breathed deeply and pushed himself up into a sitting position.  “I’m frustrated, Plagg.”

“Yes,” Plagg responded, nodding his head, “That much I can tell.”

“I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

“Are you going to make me listen to you talk about it all night?”

The visibly distressed teen ignored the Kwami’s question.  “It’s just...why couldn’t Ladybug be someone I know?  It would make all of this so much easier!”

Plagg shook his head and sighed.  “I will take that as a yes.  I guess I should get comfortable.”

“You don’t understand.”

“To be perfectly fair, I rarely understand you.”

“She feels so unreachable and yet strangely...close?  I don’t know anymore.  If only she was someone like...Marinette...you know?  That would be great!”

Plagg choked on air.  “Woah...wait?  Why bakery girl?  What’s so special about her?”

Adrien scrunched his face in thought.  “Well, I guess it’s because she’s already an everyday hero.  She’s always standing up for others and making sure that everyone feels included.  Marinette may get nervous sometimes, but she’s also brave, smart, kind, and helpful.  She’s pretty and super talented.  It would be great if Ladybug was someone like her...or even if it was her.”

“Are you sure it would be great if it was her?  Didn’t you tell me that she liked Luka?”

“Plagg, I’m not saying that Marinette is Ladybug.  I’m saying it would be nice if Ladybug was someone close to me like Marinette.”

“Kid…”

Adrien walked over to his window and gazed off into the distance.  He rested his head against the glass and released a shaky breath.

“Regardless of Luka, it would never work if she was Ladybug.  I can’t date Marinette...she’s just a friend,” he said softly, keeping his eyes glued on the Parisian cityscape.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Plagg began, “You sounded pretty sad when you said that just now.”

His chosen turned around and looked at his Kwami with a befuddled expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Adrien,” Plagg cleared his throat, “hear me out.  What if...and stay with me on this...what if she wasn’t just a friend?”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Okay...let me try to explain this differently.  You are miserable all the time because you can’t capture Ladybug’s heart.  How am I doing so far?”

Adrien rolled his eyes.  “You’re not completely wrong, but I would like to point out that I’m not miserable all of the time.”

“Kid, that was a yes or no question.”

“Just continue explaining.”

“Fine.  You wish that Ladybug was someone you knew in real life, and you just gave Marinette as an example, and not someone like...angry sword girl.”

“Kagami?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Adrien huffed.  “You and I both know that Kagami definitely isn’t Ladybug.  She was Akumatized and we fought her...twice!”

Plagg threw his paws into the air.  “Still, you said you wished that Ladybug was someone like Marinette.  You never said you wanted her to be someone like Kagami.”

“I’m still not getting your point.”

“What if you tried going out on a date with bakery girl?”

Adrien’s eyes grew wide.  “No!  I can’t date Marinette!”

Plagg crossed his arms.  “And why not?”

“Because she’s just a friend!”

“You obviously have a crush on her.”

The black Kwami carefully observed his holder’s reaction to his last statement.

Adrien’s cheeks were bright red.  “No, I don’t.”

“The fact that you’re blushing tells me otherwise,” Plagg pointed out.

The teen buried his face in his hands.  “I can’t have a crush on Marinette!  I like Ladybug.”

“Did you not just say to me that it would be great if Marinette is Ladybug?  Why not give it a shot and see if you’re right.  Even if she’s not your partner and you wind up falling for her, would it be the worst thing in the world?  You might even be happy for a change.”

“But Marinette is just a…”

Plagg cut him off.  “I swear, kid, if you say ‘just a friend’ one more time, I’m going to lose it...and the last time that happened Krakatoa erupted.”

Adrien fell silent and sat down on his bed.  He hung his head low and folded his hands in his lap. 

The Kwami decided to try a gentler approach.  “Look, for just a moment...I want you to pretend that there’s no Ladybug and you’re not Chat Noir.  Just imagine that you’re a normal boy with a normal life.  Now, think about what it would be like to date Marinette.  She’s nice, and she smells like bread.  I know she enjoys making things, and her parents seem to like you.  You’ve told her that she’s amazing on multiple occasions, and you just told me that you think she’s pretty.”

Adrien looked up and stared off into the distance.  Plagg could see the wheels turning in his chosen’s brain, and he really hoped that something would click this time.  Suddenly, the teen groaned loudly and doubled over onto the couch.

“Adrien?” Plagg asked after watching his holder moan in anguish for a solid minute.

“No!,” he exclaimed, “I can’t have a crush on Marinette.  I CAN’T, BUT I DO!  Why did you have to point out all that stuff to me!  She’ll never agree to go out with me.  She hasn’t started a relationship with a single person who’s shown interest in her all year, and I’m pretty sure half the class has a crush on her.  AND NOW I DO, TOO!”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think you’ve liked her all along.”

“Oh my God, Plagg!  I can’t like Ladybug and Marinette.”

“Sure you can.  You were still in love with Ladybug when you took sword girl out on a date...right?”

“I HAVE A CRUSH ON THREE GIRLS?  What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Plagg shrugged, “You just have a type.”

Adrien sat down in a huff.  “I can’t ask Marinette out on a date.  She doesn’t think of me that way.  She likes Luka.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then you are more than welcome to ask her out.”

“I will be humiliated.  I don’t think I can handle rejection from Ladybug and Marinette.”

“Isn’t it worth exploring though?”

Adrien shook his head and started walking towards the bathroom.  “I can’t do this right now.  I’m going to get ready for bed.”

The tiny, black being chased after him.  “Can I at least have some cheese before you go to sleep?”

“PLAGG!”

“What?  Giving life advice makes me hungry!”

***

Two hours after Adrien fell asleep, Plagg phased through the window and flew into the night.  He zipped down the quiet roads and around the corner towards his holder’s school.  If memory served him correctly, bakery girl was right across the street.

Once he found the bakery, he flew to the top window and phased into the attic room where Marinette lay sleeping in her bed.  Plagg scanned the room until his eyes fell on a small red mass curled up in a heap of fabric on a desk.

“Tikki!” he whispered loudly from the other side of the room.

Plagg zoomed over to his counterpart and tapped her with his paw.  

“Tikki!” he said with more force while still maintaining an appropriate volume.

The red Kwami began to stir in her sleep.  Plagg poked her again, and she finally opened her eyes.

She gave him a confused look.  “Plagg?  What are you doing here?  Are you okay?  Is your holder okay?”

“I did something,” he said plainly.

Tikki glared at him.  “What did you do, Plagg?  Don’t tell me another species went extinct.  First, it was the dinosaurs.  Then, it was the dodo birds, and you completely crossed the line when it came to the unicorns.”

“You and I both know that those unicorns were a bunch of lying thieves.  They had to go.”

“They were cute.”

“They were monsters.”

Tikki took a deep breath and massaged her temples.  “We’re getting off topic.  Please just tell me that the squirrels are still okay.”

Plagg rolled his eyes.  “Yes, the squirrels are fine...for now.”

“Just explain to  me what you did.”

“I may have convinced my boy that he has a crush on your girl.”

“Chat Noir has never been quiet about liking Ladybug.”

“No,” Plagg said, making eye contact, “I made him realize that Adrien likes Marinette.”

“Oh,” Tikki responded.

“That’s it?”

“Does this mean that he figured out Ladybug’s identity?”

“No.  He came home from patrol and started going on about how he wished that Ladybug was someone he knew ‘like Marinette’.  I then questioned him on why he chose her out of all his friends, and then I told him to try asking her out.”

“How did he take that?”

“He had a full-blown existential crisis.  Adrien thinks that Marinette doesn’t like him romantically and that she’ll turn him down if he asks her on a date.”

“Are you kidding?  The girl is obviously in love with him.”

Plagg shook his head.  “He’s going to need proof.  He’s that kind of guy.”

Tikki paused before answering.  “The Valentine.”

“What about it?”

“Marinette wrote it.”

He curled his lips into a smile.  “I knew it!  But we don’t have any concrete evidence that it’s from her.  I’m telling you, he’s not going to believe me unless I have something irrefutable to show him.  Not even a sample of her handwriting will be enough.”

Tikki formed her own mischievous grin.  “Do you really think that the Valentine he got was the only draft?”

The red Kwami zoomed over to the trunk on the opposite side of the room.  She phased through the top, cracked open the lid, and slid a slightly crumpled paper onto the floor.  Plagg flew over to the chest and began examining the paper.  He saw that it had three different drafts of the Valentine poem, “Marinette Agreste” scribbled in the margins, and a drawing of a smiling hamster.

Plagg looked up at his counterpart.  “This is perfect.”

Tikki gave him a serious look.  “Now, I have nothing against them finding happiness and starting to date each other, but we will need to make sure that they are careful when it comes to their identities.  They can’t know.”

“What if...just try to follow me here,” Plagg began, “what if they did?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if they knew each other’s identities?  Would it be that bad?  Fox Girl and Turtle Boy learned each other’s identities, and they’re doing great.”

“But Master Fu…”

He cut her off.  “Doesn’t have to live with them.  He doesn’t see what I see.  You asked me if my holder was okay when I came here tonight.  You want to know the truth?  No, he’s not.  His dad sucks and he’s always alone.  Here we have two kids who love each other and they don’t even realize it!  Do you know how much better their relationship will be?  They’ll become better partners and heroes.”

Tikki softened her expression.  “You really care about him.”

“I always care about my cats, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t have fun with them along the way.”

“Maybe...maybe you’re right.”

Plagg grinned.  “What was that, Sugarcube?  I didn’t quite catch that.”

Tikki rolled her eyes and sighed.  “I said that maybe you’re right.”

“Finally!  You admit it.”

“I’m not saying that you’re always right.  You just so happen to be right this one time.”

“Come on!  There were plenty of other times that I was correct!  I was right about Archduke Franz Ferdinand.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Oh, yes I was.”

“You started World War I.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Fine,” Tikki said, making a dismissive gesture, “So, what are we supposed to do now?  Are we just going to let them figure it out on their own?”

“No, we nudge them.  They need help,” Plagg explained, “I will give this paper to Adrien tomorrow morning, and I will try to convince him to ask out Marinette.”

“How is that going to help them figure out each other’s identities?”

“We’re just going to have to improvise when opportunities arise.  It’s not like we haven’t done that before.”

“Okay.  I’ll do my best with Marinette.  I’ll try to figure something out.”

“Just think, once they’re a couple, we’ll get to spend more time together.”  Plagg nuzzled Tikki as he spoke.

“I’ve missed you, too, Stinky Sock.”

With the paper in hand, Plagg flew over to the window that led to the balcony.  Tikki followed behind closely.

Before phasing through the glass, he turned to the red Kwami.  “Just one more thing.  Adrien feels like he can be himself when he’s Chat Noir.  There are very few people in his civilian life who see that side of him.  Ladybug has turned him down more than once.  I have to ask...how does she really feel about her partner?”

Tikki smiled as she responded.  “She values his friendship and cares for him deeply.  While she gets frustrated by his recklessness and when he jokes around during a fight, she has a soft spot for the cat.  She won’t admit it, but I think she’s starting to fall for him.”

Plagg beamed.  “Good.  We might just be able to make this work.”

Next ----->

AO3

Fanfiction

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Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following my other stories.  Now that “Chat for a Day” and “Please Tell Me I’m Awake Right Now” are both on their last chapters, I have started to write new fics!  Let the fluff-train continue!

Any feedback is greatly appreciated.  Seeing all your responses fills my heart with joy!  You are all wonderful!

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