#had to stop myself from adding more detail

[misettemisette]

Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clásico

Starting over In Madrid

Summary: After moving to Madrid as Real Madrid's new photographer, Nicky can’t seem to take her eyes off the pretty face Misa Rodríguez. But how will she handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her contract strictly forbids dating players? WC: 4K words TW: suggestive PS: French writer Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking 

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"You don’t come after training because we’re still grounded ?" 

Misa’s text lifted my heart. With the Clásico and games abroad coming, I had a huge amount of work keeping me out of the stadium. I had shut myself in my office for three days now, importing, retouching photos, and thinking about the next games’s visuals… Since resisting the goalkeeper was becoming more and more difficult, I had to admit I was relieved to be able to avoid her.

I thought for a moment about what to answer. As soon as she had stood up from that bench on the evening at the park, Misa had been her funny self again. She had joked happily. We had said goodbye at the entrance of the parking lot. Like friends do. If she had been disappointed, she had hidden it well. 

And now she was texting me about not coming to our photo meeting in a casual yet flirty way again…

"Feels like I’m the grounded one… work is keeping me trapped in my office!" I texted back.

"👉🤓" 

"🫠👋"

She started typing and stopped. Her text bubble didn’t reappear. I sighed. I hated having to be distant with her. I sighed again and buried myself back into work. 

Fifteen minutes later, loud, erratic knocks boomed against the door of my office. 

"What…?" 

Without waiting, Misa, Hayley, and Sofie burst into the room. "Here she is ! You believed to could get rid of us that easy Nicky?" Hayley asked as the three girls came around my desk. Misa had brought a ball and severals biscuits with her. 

"What are you doing here?!" I said, already annoyed. I had a feeling they weren’t here to help me… 

"We’re checking if you’re still Nicky and not a robot." Misa dropped the biscuits on my desk and started to play with her ball, bouncing it between her foot and thigh. Sofie was leaning toward my computer screen. "Do you have new photos of me?". Hayley was examining my cameras from every angle. "I’ve never seen this one, would you recommend it Nicky?" The dull sound of the ball bouncing rhythmically constantly filled the room. I couldn’t believe how quickly they had created such a mess.   

"Guys, a girl needs to focus right now!" I said, eyes closed, with a hand on my forehead. 

"Oh, you can keep working, don’t mind us." Hayley had taken a camera and was back to taking pictures. Sofie joined Misa and they went passing each other the ball. There was no way I was going to be able to concentrate in this chaos. 

Just edit ten more photos tonight, I told myself. I grabbed back my pencil and graphic tablet, opened a photo of Olga striking, and started erasing an unwanted grass twigs on one of her socks. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Misa’s face approaching the screen while chewing a mouthful of biscuits. "What’s this? Are you drawing?" She asked, pointing at my tablet. The sound of the ball still echoed as Sofie had taken over. A few crumbs fell from the goalkeeper’s mouth.

"Misa! The keyboard !" I blew hard on it to make them go away. 

"Perdòn!" She stepped back and tried to swallow her snack. She gestured for me to explain again. That girl can be such a pain! 

"No, I can’t draw, I’m just correcting details. A pen is more precise than a mouse", I said to her.

"Oh, vale! Can I try it?" I glared at her. "I mean not now! When you have the time. And… I can teach you football in exchange". She added with an innocent smile. 

That girl will drive me mad! 

"Misa! Leave Nicky alone and come to my IG Live, the fans wants to see you!" Sofie called from the farthest corner. 

"Coming! Nicky, take a biscuit, son muy buenos!"

They kept going like this until they were forced to leave with me. I had painfully managed to do half the work I wanted to finish. Tomorrow is another day…

***

Alas, the next day was just the same. They came after their practice, making even more noise than before, until my boss finally showed up to send them away. Despite the chaos, it was a miracle I managed to finish everything at a relatively early hour on the eve of the Clásico. That meant I could be on time to catch Misa and Hayley after the motivational speech following that day’s training session.

The speech wasn’t over when I arrived near the meeting room and peered discreetly inside. The players didn’t seem very captivated. Olga’s legs fidgeted with impatience, and Linda appeared to be slowly zoning out. Fortunately, it ended shortly, and I exited the building to wait for my friends.

They arrived among the first. I could sense their nervousness behind the frank smiles they both gave me as a greeting.

"Hey Nicky, great speech, eh..?" Hayley hugged me. She was so tense. "Thanks for waiting, but I need to go home. I’m off, girls, see you tomorrow!" Misa patted her shoulder as she left, and Hayley roughly brushed her hair in return.

I turned to face the goalkeeper. "How are you coping?" I asked gently. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"Estoy bien…," she answered, peering down, her foot kicking at the floor aimlessly. She clearly wasn’t.

"Do you want to walk?" I asked without any ulterior motives. I just wanted to help my friend feel a bit better. She nodded.

We wandered around the sports campus and tried to talk about anything but the Clásico. At first, Misa kept jumping in place every now and then to shake off her stress. She relaxed once we started teasing each other.

"Misa, you can’t be near a ball without showing off! That’s insane!"

She smirked. "I’m an athlete, Nicky! Football is my life—of course I play with my ball all the time." She side-glanced at me, her mischievous tone and satisfied smile returning. "I did 65 rebounds yesterday."

I giggled. "Is that a lot?"

Misa’s disappointed and irritated expression had me laughing out loud.

She slapped me on the arm. "Jajaja, muy divertido! I don’t care what a girl who works at Real Madrid but knows nothing about football thinks!"

It was my turn to feign annoyance. "I see Trainer Misa is long gone before she even started…"

She opened her mouth but had no response. I’d made her sulk again. Grumpy Misa was one of my favorites, but her well-being mattered more than my amusement tonight. I gave her an exaggerated, admiring look, stopping in front of her like a crazed fan.

"Oh my God, are you Misa Rodríguez? The best goalkeeper in the world?"

"Stop it, Nicky. It’s not even convincing!" she complained, though a small smile stretched across her lips.

I continued my bad acting, bowing to her, taking her hand, and speaking in a distinguished tone. "Lady Misa, would you do me the honor of teaching me football?"

I hoped the idea of training would lift her spirits.

She laughed frankly and bit her lip, still looking a bit vexed. "Have you even ever played football?"

We resumed our walk as I pretended to search my memory. "It happened... twice, maybe. The first was at school, and the second was in the alley in front of my parents’ house."

She snorted. "No puede ser…" She shook her head, but then her voice turned curious. "For real, why did you want to work for a football club?" This time, her mocking tone was gone, making me really wonder how much I wanted to share.

"Oh… well, it wasn’t really intentional." I paused, searching for words. "I needed a change in my life. Nothing was… going well. I had a rough breakup and was really unhappy in my previous job…"

"I’m sorry to hear that," she said with a concerned look.

I half-laughed, half-sighed. "It’s okay now. I’m glad to be here. I really like Madrid."

"Bueno… and do you like your new job too?"

"Yes, I’m quite fond of it… and of my new exasperating friends," I teased her as we headed to the parking lot.

"I’m happy you’re good with us," she said, ignoring the teasing once again.

We arrived in the middle of the parking lot, and I wasn’t sure we were going in the same direction, so I gestured to the right. "I’m parked this way."

"I’m parked over here, but I’ll go with you to your car. I could use a bit more walking," she replied, sounding far less stressed now.

We reached my car and faced each other to say goodbye.

"Thanks, Nicky," Misa said softly. Her features were more relaxed. The walk had soothed her a little.

"You’re looking better. Are you sure you’re ready to go home?" I asked one last time.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she simply smiled and looked away.

"Misa?" I frowned, unsure of how to help her anymore.

Her head turned back to me. She bit her lip, her eyes locking onto mine. Then she slowly stepped forward.

My brows lifted, and I froze in surprise as she took my hands in hers. I knew this was it—there was no escaping this time, and I didn’t give a damn.

I half-closed my eyes, my head slightly bowed as she leaned closer. My gaze stayed on her quivering lips as she neared mine. At last, she pressed her mouth to mine. I let out a short breath, surprised by the tenderness of her kiss. Her lips were soft, her movements slow.

I kissed her back, letting relief wash over me, completely surrendering myself as her taste and scent filled my senses. Our noses brushed against each other, and the grip of our hands tightened as we continued kissing softly, slowly.

Finally, she withdrew her lips from mine, a soft smile lingering on them, leaving me missing their touch instantly. My eyes couldn’t leave hers.

"I’m ready now," she whispered.

I exhaled and gave her a shy smile as she released my hands.

"Good night, Nicky."

She stepped back and turned away. I stayed frozen on the spot, my heart drumming in my chest, my gaze following her until she disappeared behind the birch trees growing between the parking spaces.

***

Aitana Bonmatí ran swiftly, skillfully dribbling past everyone who approached her. She prepared her strike and shot between Ivana and Olga toward the penalty area. The ball landed perfectly at Salma's feet, and she immediately sent a powerful kick toward the upper left corner of the goal. Misa leaped with all her strength, and the tips of her gloves deflected the ball, denying Barcelona another chance to score.

The match had been grueling and demanding from the very beginning. Barça had been pressing Real Madrid relentlessly, constantly cornering them near their penalty area. Misa had already made five incredible saves, but when Mariona Caldentey outpaced all the defenders for the third time and delivered a well-aimed pass to Caroline Graham Hansen, Misa had gone the wrong direction. The ball rolled effortlessly into the net. Misa swore, got up quickly, and sent a long clearance that Hayley skillfully recovered.

Hayley, a fast runner, sprinted forward and passed the ball to Athenea, who dribbled past Irene Paredes. Using a split second of disorganization, she found Linda. Linda’s header miraculously flew past the expert gloves of Cata Coll and crashed into the net, filling the stadium with an explosion of joy.

Returning from halftime, Barça pressed harder and harder but couldn’t score another goal. Thanks to a clever discussion in the locker room during the break, Real Madrid was holding their ground better than ever, with Misa’s numerous saves halting Barça’s brilliant sequences of passes.

Then the unbelievable happened in the 78th minute. Naomie managed to escape Alexia Putellas’ marker and intercepted a ball from Oihane’s throw-in. Her quick, arched pass found Olga on the left side. From a rather distant position, Olga unleashed a shot worthy of the World Cup. The ball soared straight into the upper-right corner, leaving Cata Coll helpless. The stadium erupted, Madrid players hugging in celebration of their first-ever lead over Barcelona.

In extra time, Misa’s body crashed onto the grass again after saving another strike from Salma. The Madrid players were visibly exhausted, their movements slowing, their feet barely making contact with the ball anymore.

As they all took their positions for the corner kick, Misa gave directions to her teammates, preparing herself for the next action. Salma struck, crossing the ball from the goal line. It descended perfectly onto Alexia’s feet, who sent it crashing into the net. Barcelona had equalized in the 95th minute, victory slipping away from the Madrid girls’ grasp. The match was headed into extra time, and I could see Misa’s frustration as she pounded the grass with her fists before rising to her feet. As well-trained as they were, the team looked drained, and with Barça clearly dominating, extra time was going to be a living nightmare.

Misa passed by me as she exited the tunnel, heading toward her goal after the short break. I snapped a photo of her face—a mix of deep concentration and extreme fatigue. My heart sank. I had been covering the match with other photographers from the start, struggling to focus on my job instead of the intense pressure mounting on Misa.

The game resumed. The Madrid team formed two compact lines in front of the goal. They had clear instructions: defend at all costs and allow no goals. This strategy, along with Ivana’s quick footwork, prevented another Barça attempt from finding the net. The only two shots Madrid managed were met by Cata’s gloves, her clearances swiftly returning the ball to Madrid’s half. But they held their ground, over and over, through the first half of extra time.

In the second half, fouls and cramps multiplied on both sides, disrupting the game and giving players unnecessary minor injuries. Misa’s attempt to grab a shot by Mariona sent her rolling to the ground, her knee colliding painfully with the goalpost. The ball luckily hit the crossbar and was cleared by Kathellen, but Misa stayed down, clutching her knee through the thick padding of her gloves.

I shuddered. No, please! Let it not be a serious injury! I silently prayed as the medical staff rushed to her. A cluster of teammates surrounded her, blocking my view of what was happening.

I waited, barely breathing, unable to look at the last picture I had taken of her curled up on the grass, her features distorted in pain. What felt like an eternity passed before the medics left, the small crowd dispersing to reveal Misa standing again. Though she was breathing heavily and limping slightly, she was back on her feet.

Relief washed over me.

Misa returned to her position in front of the goal but handed the ball to Ivana for a long clearance. It was clear she didn’t have the strength to keep up with the pace. The ball was back in her penalty area within moments, but Madrid had finally cracked the code to establish a solid defense.

When the final whistle blew, it was to end the match at last.

The penalty shootout would decide the winner of the Copa de la Reina. More than ever, the outcome rested squarely on Misa’s shoulders.

The goalkeeper huddled with her teammates and coach near the bench, their expressions a mix of determination and exhaustion. From where I stood, I caught Misa’s eye—or thought I did—and gave her a supportive smile, raising my fist in encouragement. But her focus was unshakable, her world narrowed entirely to the game.

Madrid opened the shootout with Olga. She stepped up confidently, struck the ball cleanly, and scored. Cheers erupted from the stands, Madrid fans roaring their approval.

Misa took her place on the line for her first challenge. Caroline Graham Hansen approached, poised and calm. She struck, and the ball soared past Misa into the net.

Next, Claudia fired a hard shot aimed at the right corner, but Cata had read her intentions perfectly. With a swift dive, she blocked it with precision. Barça's fans erupted in triumph, their cheers drowning out the groans from Madrid’s side.

Aitana scored. Athenea scored. Mariona scored. Hayley scored.

Now it came down to the final shot. Everything rested on Misa. If she couldn’t stop the next kick, it would all be over.

Alexia stepped up to the penalty spot, her face composed, her body radiating quiet confidence. She armed her leg, struck the ball, and sent it soaring into the top corner of the net.

That was it. Madrid had lost.

The Barcelona players exploded in celebration, rushing onto the pitch as Madrid’s players stood frozen in shock and heartbreak. My camera hung limply in my hands. I had forgotten to take pictures, unable to focus on anything but the figure of Misa lying on her back in front of the goal, her gloves covering her face.

As Barça celebrated, Alexia broke away from her teammates. She crouched at Misa’s side, murmuring words I couldn’t hear. Slowly, she helped Misa to her feet, removing her gloves with gentle hands. Misa’s face was streaked with tears, her swollen eyes shut as she sobbed quietly.

The two walked toward the tunnel together, Alexia’s arm draped protectively around Misa’s shoulders. One of the other photographers was snapping pictures relentlessly, the sound of his shutter cutting through the air.

A wave of anger surged through me.

I got up and closed the distance between myself and the man. "Give her a rest, okay?!" I snapped, my voice sharp and loud.

The man looked at me in astonishment, his blank expression suggesting he didn’t understand English.

Noticing the commotion, Misa and Alexia stopped a few steps away. Misa lowered her head, unable to meet my gaze. Alexia, on the other hand, looked at me kindly. Her guilt was evident, a silent acknowledgment that she had played a part in her friend’s pain.

"I can take her to the locker room if you want," I offered, surprising even myself with the words. My job had been the last thing on my mind.

Alexia turned to Misa, waiting for her approval. Misa hesitated for a moment before nodding.

I stepped forward, gently taking over from Alexia. Without a word, I guided Misa into the tunnel, her quiet sobs echoing faintly in the stillness of the corridor.

I made Misa sit on the farthest bench of the locker room. Everything was quiet here, the screeches of the celebration reduced to a distant echo. The goalkeeper had stopped crying. Her board shoulders and muscular body seemed fragile somehow. I took a seat beside her, unsure of what to do now it was up to me to comfort her. 

"I’m sorry," I said softly.

"We were so close!" she cried. "Let’s just go! I don’t want to be there, I don’t want the puta silver medal again!" She blew her nose hard and rubbed her red eyes with a towel lying nearby. Exhaustion oozed from her at every level. 

"No, Misa, you can’t go" I responded, catching a surprised side-eye, as surprise as she could be in her current state. "You can’t go because everything’s not about wining or being the best! Football doesn’t have to be about that. It’s not about the score, the cup or whatever. Football is an emotion, a battle, a shared experience. And first and foremost, it’s a spectacle, and you put on one hell of a show as a team and as a player tonight! If you leave, it would mean nothing remains. You have to go back, Misa." 

Silence settled between us. I felt exposed and embarrassed by the words I had just spoken. It was ridiculous to be saying something so obvious to a seasoned footballer when I was barely discovering the sport myself.

The goalkeeper exhaled deeply. "You lied to me," she said, confusing me. She chuckled softly. "You acted like you didn’t know a thing about football." She painfully stood up and gestured for me to do the same. "But you do," she added, smiling as we faced each other.

The tall woman pulled me into a hug, her head resting on my shoulder, and I held her tightly. I gently stroked her back. Her jersey was wet, and she clearly reeked of sweat, but I didn’t care. I just wanted us to stay like this, clinging to each other.

After a minute or so, we parted and smiled softly at each other. Despite her weariness, Misa seemed less drained. She was waiting for... something, her expectant gaze fixed on me. Her dimples returned with her grin, lighting up her tired face. I kept smiling, my mind racing to figure out what I should do, what I could do… what I wanted to do. When she thought I wouldn’t do anything, Misa’s smile faltered a little, and she began to turn away. 

"Misa, wait..." I grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward me. I caught a glimpse of her surprised yet eager expression before I kissed her.

I cupped her face, pressing my lips harder against hers. Misa let out a soft whimper, the sound setting my body ablaze. I slowly guided her backward until her back hit the locker room door. She gasped at the contact, one hand tangling in my hair while the other gripped the hem of my shirt. She parted her lips, and her taste filled me completely, drawing a moan from deep inside me.

Our heated kiss sharpened all my senses and turned my body into white-hot iron. My hand acted on its own, slipping under Misa’s jersey and gliding up her toned abs. She whimpered again, her fingers mirroring mine to touch the bare skin of my waist. Her soft, full lips moved over mine as our breathing turned erratic.

Fevered with desire, I let my hand drift down her stomach toward the waistband of her shorts. She groaned and suddenly froze.

"Wow! Nicky, wait..." she said, her voice gentle yet firm. I stopped abruptly as she took my face in her hands. "I need to go back," she said, her burning gaze locking onto mine.

 I exhaled, trying to tame the flames devouring my insides. 

"You have to go back," I repeated with a small smile. 

She placed a last kiss on my lips before leaving the room.

At that moment, Hell Clásico ended on a heavenly note.

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[hmhas-00]

Ch. 13

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hiii! Remember I will be posting a new chapter every Thursday. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know! Don’t forget to like and repost! <3

Remy’s POV

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, trying on the costume that I ordered. I was going to be sexy Scream. Billie was going to her party dressed as Todd from Bojack Horseman and insisted that I dress up as Princess Carolyn, but honestly I just wanted to go for something more… I don’t know, sexy?

I take a picture and send it to her, hoping for approval.

Immediately I get heart eye and fire emojis, followed by a FaceTime call.

I answered, pointing the camera at the mirror and posing in different ways. “What do we think?”

“Hot. But you’d look hotter as Princess Carolyn.” Billie teased.

I rolled my eyes, reverting to front camera again. “Too bad, Todd.” I stuck my middle finger up at her, then set my phone up on my dresser pointing at me from the waist up. “What time are you getting here tonight?” I asked, unzipping my costume.

“Around 10, probably.”

Turning around to face the other wall, I dropped my bodysuit around my ankles. “You still coming over?” I had to repeat myself, figuring she didn’t hear me. “Billie. You still wanna come over later?” I turned around, clipping my bra back on.

“Sorry, yeah. Duh.” She finally answered. “And those cinnamon rolls better be ready when I get there.” She emphasized.

“They will be. I just have to make the icing.” I pulled on some sweats and grabbed the phone, walking over to my kitchen.

“You mind if I bring someone to your party?” I asked, setting the phone down on the counter as I reached for a bowl and ingredients.

“Not at all. Do I know them?” She asked.

Suddenly my phone started buzzing. “Hold up, I gotta get this call. It’s work.”

“Call me back!” Billie said, before I hung up and answered the next call.

“Hey, Rachel, what’s up?” I held the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I mixed the ingredients together.

“Hey, Remy, is this a good time?” She sounded a bit sporadic.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s going on?” I hesitated.

“Sooo… Remember that interview we did for the digital article we were brainstorming for? The one for the app?”

“The one we did with RAYE?” I put the whisk down and adjusted my phone.

“Yes! That one!”

“What about it?”

“So, Joe wants it up by tomorrow. Something about needing to beat People magazine? An insider told him they’re publishing a similar piece with her.”

“Well, yeah, she’s definitely getting more traction.” I said, already knowing what comes next.

“I know you’re gonna hate me, but I really need you to go to the office, get on my computer, and finish the article out. Oh- And set it to be published by tomorrow in the morning!” Her high pitched voice was fast and panicked.

“Rachel, I had plans tonight and-“

“I’d do it myself but I’m all the way in San Diego at this conference thing. Its mostly done, and saved to my drafts. It’s really urgent.” She pleaded, knowing Joe would be extremely pissed if she didn’t follow through.

“Sure, I’ll be on my way in a little bit.”

“Ugh! You’re the best! I owe you one! Don’t forget to credit yourself on the article too!” She squealed.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you later, don’t worry.”

“Love ya, girly! Thanks again!” She hung up.

I groaned, finishing up the icing and shoving the bowl in the fridge. In my room, I threw on a yellow baby tee, some wide legged jeans, and put my hair in a red claw clip. I stopped by the round mirror next to my apartment door to check on my face, fixing the minor details, and walked out with my beige crossbody bag.

At the office when I accessed Rachel’s computer, I quickly realized I had a lot of work to do. I sat for hours editing, deleting, then retyping her work. My eyes were shutting on me as I concluded the article, exhausting my brain to come up with anything impressive.

My phone began to ring, making me jump. I answered the call, my heart racing from the sudden scare.

“Hey, I just landed!” Billie sang.

“Fuck. Hey, I’m sorry, I got so busy and I’m stuck at the office right now-“

“Remy!” She moaned. I could hear her disappointment through the phone.

“No, don’t worry, I’m wrapping it up! Just head over to my place and wait for me in there. You still have my spare key, right?”

“Yeah.” She said, monotoned.

“I’ll be there so soon, just put those cinnamon rolls in the oven and by the time they’re ready, I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay, Rem.” She said goodbye.

I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders back, sitting up straight. I used every single one of my last brain cells to come up with a brilliant conclusion to the article. I let the interview speak for itself and included some quotes from the amazing Raye, but I found myself in the biggest case of writers block I’ve ever had. All I could think about was how much I hated Rachel in this moment for making me do this myself, knowing Joe would give her all the credit.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, I finished what could possibly be the worst article I’ve ever written. It wasn’t bad, just rushed, and I usually don’t work well under pressure. Before posting the article, I stared at the space underneath, where credit is usually given to the writer and editor. I hesitated to delete Rachel’s name, and typed in my own. I stared at it some more, deleting my name and retyping Rachel’s full name, then my name under editor. I sighed, setting the article to be posted tomorrow morning at 8am.

I shut the laptop and grabbed all my things, rushing out the door.

When I arrived at my apartment building, I pressed the elevator button a million times, ending up at my door and unlocking it as fast as I could.

I opened my door, psyched to see my best friend, only to see her passed out on my couch in her comfy clothes. I quietly closed the door, hanging my things on the tiny rack. In the kitchen, was a half empty baking tray with cinnamon rolls. The icing was poured over, and the rolls were starting to get cold. I put them away, covering the top with foil, and cleaned up a little.

I tip toed over to my couch, wondering how she was able to fall asleep on a two seater comfortably. She was curled up in a little ball, with my pastel crocheted blanket covering half of her face. I smiled down at her, feeling awful I made her wait so long alone. I wanted to welcome her home with open arms, and fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.

I turned off the tv, and turned down the lights, leaving only my soft, warm, reading lamp on. I patted her lightly. “Billie… I’m home.” I brushed the hair that fell over her eyes behind her ear, and leaned down to hug her tired body. I buried my face in her neck and took that sweet, familiar scent in, bringing a smile to my face. I wish I could carry her to my bed, but let’s be honest, I don’t have any upper body strength. “You’re so warm, and you smell like cinnamon rolls.” I whispered.

She let out a slight moan and stretched out her curled up feet. Her lashes fluttered open, turning her neck a little as I sat up. “Hi!” I smiled ear to ear.

“Remyyyyy!” She stretched her arms out, wrapping them around my neck.

“Hiii! It’s me!”

“I missed you.” she pulled me into her chest. I crawled on top of her and laid there, propping my head up to see her.

“I know, I’m sorry I made you wait. It was an emergency.”

“You know what else is an emergency?” she said, lifting a brow, jokingly. “Me kicking your ass for not spending any time with me while I’m here.”

“Stop!” I laughed, deep down feeling awful. “No more. I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

She placed both her hands on my face, looking at me for a moment, before squishing my cheeks together. “You better be.”

I placed my hands on top of hers, taking in the moment. I had missed her so much. Nothing was going to keep me from spending time with her. She deserved my undivided attention for making the time to see me. I believe she felt the same, her eyes scanning me as I smiled up at her.

“Okay. I need to see this costume in person.” She broke the silence.

I laughed, “Okay, let’s go.” I stood up, pulling her into my room.

I pulled out the costume and began to undress. Billie sat on my bed, her legs criss crossed. “So, who are you bringing tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m probably not gonna bring anyone anymore.”

“Aw, why? They cancelled?” She leaned back on her hands.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanna hang out with you there.” I pulled up my nylon tights.

“Nah, bring your friend, Rem. We can all hang out!” She shrugged.

“Really?” I smiled, squeezing into the tight bodysuit.

“Is it Rachel?” She asked, signaling me over to her so she could zip me up.

“No. It’s this girl.”

“At least it’s not some guy.” She laughed, sliding the zipper up, adjusting my straps.

“Well, no it’s not a guy, but it’s this girl I’ve sorta been talking to.” I admitted, nervously.

I’d never really been in a serious relationship with a woman, at least not in the way I had with a man. I don’t think I’d ever told Billie I tried with girls, despite them being some of my favorite interactions. They were too short lived to bring up. I knew how hesitant she was about my relationships, and didn’t usually bring them around her until it was serious. Especially because I had been used to get near Billie before. Especially by girls.

“Like, as friends?” She turned me around, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

“No…” I pursed my lips.

“Wow! I didn’t know you-“ She blinked rapidly, looking shocked. “That’s awesome, Rem.” She let go, realizing she was still holding onto my shoulder straps.

“Yeah, it’s kinda a new thing, I guess…”

“No, I’m just… Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean you know I’m-“ She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off the side. “I’m sorry, this is just the first I’m hearing of this Remy.” She giggled, her eyes wide.

“Jeez, is it that surprising?” I smacked her tummy.

“Yes!” She laughed. “What’s her name? Who is she?” She pulled me on the bed, desperately trying to gather as much information as she could. “Show me her instagram!”

“Her name’s Stevie. She works at Variety with me. She’s an intern.” I pulled up her instagram showing her my favorite pictures.

“Ouu, cute.” She took the phone from my handed scrolling through her whole profile. “How long has this been a thing? Is it like a serious thing?”

“No, no. We’re just talking. She… I don’t even think she knows I like her like that.” I shrugged, laughing a bit.

“Oh, well she definitely likes you. You look her type.” She handed me back my phone.

“Her type?” I looked at her.

“Yeah, pretty girls with pretty eyes, long hair, and tattoos.” She looked me up and down, pointing at my arm tattoos.

I laughed, getting up and walking over to my body mirror. “I hope so.”

She stayed quiet, watching me look in the mirror.

“So? What do you think?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“You look stunning. Insane.” Billie smiled at me. I could see her through the mirror, her expression turning blank once I turned.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna be Princess Carolyn with me?”

“Kinda?” I turned to her, shrugging.

“You’re such a loserrr!”

“But I’m a sexy loser.” I held my finger up in the air, making her laugh. I took a couple pictures of myself in the mirror.

“Here.” She offered to take them for me, pulling out her phone. I posed, the flash reflecting off the mirror behind me. She leaned back, getting my best angles, as always.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked girls?” She asked, her voice soft and quiet.

She sounded a bit hurt, like I hid something from her. I couldn’t help but feel like I kept a part of myself from her.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I walked over to her, turning around so she could unzip me.

“How long?”

“Mmm… a while. You remember Cassie?”

She nodded.

“We did some things… I think that’s when I realized.”

“You never told me about that!” She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” I shrugged, stepping out of my costume, pulling off my tights. “It’s not like I had anything serious with any of them. I’ve only ever told you about my serious relationships.”

“Well yeah, but-“ She stopped herself, looking disappointed. I put a giant t-shirt on over my bra and underwear, and hung up my costume for tomorrow. “You tell me everything. I told you…”

“I know.” I climbed on my bed, getting under the sheets. “I thought you kinda knew, I guess.”

“Well…” She crawled over and made herself comfortable next to me. “Now that I know… You better not hit on me.” She joked.

I laughed, grabbing my pillow and hitting her in the face with it. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ow! My eye!” She held her face, wincing her eyes.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” I grabbed her face, moving her hand so I could see. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Gotcha bitch!” She licked the side of my face and rolled away, almost falling off the bed. She laughed that crazy, loud laugh I loved so much.

“Oh- Fuck you dude come here!” I kicked my feet into her back, pushing her off the edge as she died of laughter.

I got back in my spot, fluffing my pillow and getting comfortable again. She stood up, pushing her hair out of her face and plopping back on the bed with me. “My stomach hurts from laughing so much.” She put a hand on her tummy, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

My full-size bed was just big enough for the both of us, as long as I kicked off a few of my many pillows. I turned on our show, letting it run in the background as we talked a bit more before falling asleep.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” I smile, still paying attention to the tv.

“Me too.” She said, pausing to laugh at something one of the characters on tv said. “So are you bringing Stevie?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Do you think she’ll like my costume?”

“She’s going to die when she sees you.” Her voice sounded genuine.

“Do you think I should ask her out tomorrow?” I looked over at her, putting a hand on my mouth.

She looked at me, not knowing what to say. She bit her bottom lip, shrugging with her eyebrows instead of her arms, since they were warmly tucked under my blankets. “I mean, maybe just wait and see what she says. You don’t wanna push things, you know?” She advised me.

I nodded, looking back at the tv.

“That’s just what I’d do, you know?” Her eyes stayed on me. “But, do whatever feels right.” She added.

“Right.” Nod, snuggling closer to her, laying my head on her shoulder. She yawned, letting me know it was getting late.

A silent while later, I lift my head to see a passed out Billie. After turning my tv and lamp off, I lay my head on my pillow, facing her. She peacefully slept with her mouth slightly open and a furrow on her brows so soft, you could only tell if you looked close enough. I smooth it out with my thumb gently, watching her lick her lips and grunt. Her body turned towards me, our chests parallel to each other. She sloppily threw her arm over me, her fingertips resting on my lower back, which my oversized t-shirt had left exposed. I pulled the bottom hem, attempting to cover up, even though it didn’t matter anyway.

The last thing I saw before shutting my eyes and drifting off, was Billie’s face. She always made soft angry or worried faces in her sleep. I had so many pictures on my camera roll of her funny faces during naps. I smiled thinking about the party tomorrow, and how I get Billie for the rest of the weekend.

I took a mental screenshot of my view and dozed off.

[looceyloo]

REVOLUTIONARY GIRL UTENA

Of COURSE I had to do an armour set for Utena! Tried to go for something with heroic princely vibes! I ended up referencing Charles V's gold & black armour a lot more than expected, ha.

[mayhemspreadingguy]

aaaaand it's finally done :D. Coffee shop date.

Why use a chair when there's the better option?

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

or

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

or

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

R.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

[miumura]

ᯓ VILLAIN NEVER DIES — HEESEUNG FIC ๋࣭

SYNOPSIS Heeseung was great at his job—you knew that as one of the biggest villains. So, without a doubt, he was going to have you cornered. At a weakened state, Heeseung tried to save you, rather than killing you. Why? Because he loves you.

PAIRING hero!heeseung x villain-gn!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS profanity, violence, quite graphic? ( blood /cuts / blade ; just more detailed ), both are in visible pain

GENRE a little enemies to lovers action, forbidden love, betrayal, angst, comfort (?) — WORD COUNT 1.8K+ ( 1855 )

NOTE no joke i woke up from a nap and started writing away 😅 BUT WOOOO FIRST HERO X VILLAIN FIC 🗣️ i actually had fun writing this one 🫡 !! maybe i should write more stuff like this … thinking about it !

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, taking a look at your surroundings once again. You took the wrong exit out of the building, feeling yourself panic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Placing your hand over the fresh wound on your arm, you winced, uttering a series of curses under your breath. The footsteps drew nearer, and you found yourself trapped. "Oh, is our most dangerous and scary villain stuck?" You turned to see the city's proclaimed "best" hero, Lee Heeseung.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, but it was loud enough for Heeseung to hear, making him break into a smirk. You backed away—only to fall onto the boxes behind you, making you close your eyes due to the stinging pain.

“You’re weaker than I thought,” You hear Heeseung’s footsteps approaching you, and you flutter your eyes open, only to see him with a huge smirk while holding a blade to your throat. “This is the villain everyone in the city fears about?”

"You're quite the cocky hero, huh?" You retort, maintaining unwavering eye contact. In response, he just offers a serene smile, seemingly unruffled by the exchange.

“Not cocky, just simply telling the truth. You’re less stronger than the other villains I’ve been able to take out myself.”

Now that pissed you off. Just as you were about to grab his arm, he pushed you down again, making you wince one more time. The pain from you colliding with the wall during the chase was coming back to you again.

You glanced at him, breathing heavily after your rough collision with the boxes behind you. The unmistakable sting of glass shards embedded in your skin added to your discomfort, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through your body. “What makes me so different from the other villains?” you demanded, locking eyes with Heeseung as he stood over you.

Seizing the moment, you grabbed onto his arm with all the strength you could muster, pulling the blade he wielded closer to your shoulder. The sharp point of the weapon had already pierced your skin, drawing a thin line of blood. You pressed his hand down harder, feeling the cold steel bite deeper. Despite your effort to provoke him, Heeseung resisted, his grip tightening as he fought to stop you.

"Stop this," Heeseung said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His eyes searched yours, looking for something beyond the rage and defiance.

“I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we?” you said, pushing the blade even deeper into your shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but you refused to drop this act. “You love me.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung snapped, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation.

But you could see the truth in his eyes. Despite the pain and the blood, you pressed on, your voice trembling. “Admit it, Heeseung. You can’t stand the thought of losing me.”

“Stop it,” he snarled, trying to pull the blade away, but you held firm, forcing him to face the reality he was denying. “I can easily take you out now.”

His voice was filled with frustration, but also filled with conflict. You clearly knew he was faltering, he just didn’t want to admit it as the supposed hero he was.

"Then why don't you?" you shot back, your voice steady despite the searing pain. "You already have me here, clearly at a weak point."

Heeseung's grip on the blade tightened momentarily, his knuckles white. But instead of pressing forward, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours.

"Because," he finally said, his voice low and filled with emotion, "I can't bring myself to do it. No matter how much I try, I can't see you as just a villain. You're more than that to me."

"You're weak," you taunted, though your words lacked the usual venom. You needed to understand his hesitance, to push him to reveal the truth.

"The most wanted villain is in your hands, and yet you can’t take them out because of your feelings?" You scoffed, incredulous at how he continued to play the hero. "I didn’t know you were such a softie."

"Call me a softie then," Heeseung replied, his voice steady but filled with earnestness. "Throw all the insults you want at me—just remove the blade, please. I beg of you."

You hesitated, your grip on the blade faltering. His plea caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his eyes breaking through your defenses. For a moment, the lines between hero and villain blurred, leaving just two people caught in a complex web of emotions.

"Why should I?" you challenged, trying to regain control of the situation. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because this isn't who you are," Heeseung said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "You’re not just a villain. I see the conflict in you, the struggle. You don’t want to hurt people. And deep down, I think you don’t want to hurt me."

“Yeah right,” you said with a shaky breath, you slowly released the blade, the weight of it falling from your hand. The pain in your shoulder was still there, but the intensity of the moment overshadowed it. “As if you can change me.”

Heeseung immediately tended to your wound, tearing another strip from his clothing to staunch the bleeding. His touch was tender, careful not to cause you more pain. "Thank you," he murmured, relief evident in his voice.

"You keep letting me off easy. I know you’re a better hero than this," you said, your voice edged with frustration and disbelief.

Heeseung sighed, his expression conflicted. "Maybe I’m not the hero you think I am," he admitted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "Maybe it’s my tendency of wanting to save all kinds of people. Good or not."

You stared at him, caught off guard by his words. "What are you saying, Heeseung? That you think I can be saved?"

"I know you can be," he replied, his voice firm with conviction. "I've seen the good in you, and we both know that. You can keep lying to yourself, but we both feel something for each other.”

“Shut up,” you managed to wince as he wrapped your arm, the pain from your injury mingling with the turmoil of your emotions.

Heeseung paused for a moment, his fingers gentle but steady as he continued to bandage your wound. "Deny it all you want," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But it’s the truth. And deep down, you know it too."

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice strained. "Why not just kill me, end this once and for all?"

"Because I can’t," Heeseung said, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

"Then you’ll fail your mission. Your main goal," you coughed out, the effort sending a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Getting rid of me."

Heeseung’s grip tightened slightly on the bandage, his eyes hardening with resolve. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "My mission is to protect this city, to save lives. And that includes you."

You scoffed, "You can’t save everyone, Heeseung. Sometimes, you have to let go."

"I’m not letting go of you," he replied, his voice fierce. "Not now, not ever."

"Why?" you demanded, frustration and confusion mingling with the pain. "Why can’t you just do your job and get rid of me?"

"Because," Heeseung said, his voice softening, "you’re not just a mission to me. You’re someone I care about. And I refuse to believe that you’re beyond saving."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes almost too much to bear. "You’re risking everything for me," you whispered. "For what? A chance that I might change?"

"Yes," Heeseung said without hesitation. "I believe in that chance. I believe in you."

You shut your eyes, refusing to speak anymore. You knew if you continued, your facade would crumble, and you wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of a hero who claimed to have so much faith in you.

"You sure have some nerve to have faith in someone like me," you muttered bitterly, keeping your eyes closed.

"So what?" Heeseung replied, his voice unwavering. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of their past."

"A villain never dies," you retorted, your tone laced with defiance.

"What—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off before he could finish his thought. Without hesitation, you seized the blade he had discarded on the side and lunged at him, stabbing him in the side. He gasped in shock and pain, his eyes widening with betrayal as he stumbled back, clutching his wound.

For a moment, you stood frozen, watching as the reality of what you had done sank in. Heeseung’s expression was a mixture of shock, hurt, and disbelief, and each emotion felt like a dagger to your own heart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. But your apology fell on deaf ears as Heeseung staggered backwards, his eyes never leaving yours.

You knew you felt terrible, and you usually don’t.

You can’t.

Emotions were supposed to be reserved for the weak, for those who had the luxury of feeling. All you had left in you was hatred. And you knew Heeseung didn’t believe that though. He just had seen you like everyone else, a person with emotions and feelings.

But you can’t listen to him. You’ve already fallen so deep in your ways. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe in that possibility. You had fallen too deep into your ways, too far gone to be saved, even if he claimed otherwise.

"YN, why?" Heeseung's voice rang out behind you, filled with hurt and confusion.

"A villain never dies, Heeseung," you replied coldly, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to surface. You reverted to the persona you had carefully crafted. “Did I just not tell you that?”

"Next time, get me with no intentions to keep me alive," you added, your voice devoid of any warmth or remorse.

"But—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Heeseung, you’re smarter than this," you said sharply, your tone cutting through the night air like a knife. Before you could lose your resolve, you turned away, the pain of your actions heavy in your heart.

But before you could disappear into the darkness, you paused, turning back to face him one last time. "You’ve built up this fantasy, thinking we could make things work just because I’ve opened up to you a couple of times," you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. "And even if you want to change things, no one can approve of us. I’ve done too much harm, and you have to stop me from hurting your people."

You looked at him, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "Villains and heroes are never meant to be together," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know that very well.”

💬 : too much angst lately sorry guys ive been going thru it 😣 fluff soon !!!! (maybe)

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[goldsbitch]

Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!

So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?

Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:

omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.

I'll drive

"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.

Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.

Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.

"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.

"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.

"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.

"No, I do not know how to drive-"

"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.

The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.

She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."

Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.

"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.

"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.

"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.

"So what kind of a car it?"

The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.

//

Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.

She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.

Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.

//

"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.

"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.

Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.

Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.

"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.

"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.

"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.

Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.

Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.

"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.

To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.

"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."

"Feisty..."

And that was when the line got crossed.

"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.

Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.

She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.

"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.

"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.

Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.

After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.

"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.

"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.

"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.

"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."

His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."

She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."

She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"

"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.

This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.

Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.

A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.

"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.

"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.

//

"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.

"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."

"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"

"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.

And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"

"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.

"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."

"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.

The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.

She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.

Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.

"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"

"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."

"You and Lando?"

Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."

She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"

"He let you drive?"

"Forced-"

"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.

Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."

There was only laughter on the other end of the call.

"Y/N, who are you calling?"

Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."

Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.

"Oscar says hi!"

Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.

"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.

"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.

Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"

"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.

"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.

"I hate you," he said with a smile.

"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.

//

After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.

"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.

"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."

The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.

"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."

Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."

He saw right through her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."

She bit her tongue. "Yup."

It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.

[dollgxtz]

My first and only statement on all the accusations

Hello, I’m sure most of you are aware of the accusations about me and some of the stories I posted on my account. This post is not only an apology post, but an accountability post that details everything that happened from beginning to end. Everything will be here, so I will not be making more posts about this unless it’s to direct to this one.

Adding a tw now for suicide baiting, death threats and mentions of razors. So sorry but it must be included.

First I just wanted to say, no I wasn’t avoiding any of this. When this all started I was still in the middle of finals week, and I don’t live on tumblr 24/7. I had to focus on my finals to ensure I can get my degree and graduate. That was my number one priority. If anyone was blocked or comments were restricted during that time, it was my mostly my irl friend ensuring I wasn’t consumed by tumblr and could focus on my finals. I was already under a lot of stress and she offered to take over until I was finished with finals.

I was also getting death threats (people telling me to skin myself I alive and to jump). So she was ensuring that when I returned to my own blog, I would not see such triggering content. I have a history with suicide attempts and this was necessary for my mental health. The appropriate people were unblocked and remain unblocked to this day.

I always intended to make a statement, I just prioritized my real life first. It also took time to craft the post you are seeing now. I wanted it to be authentic, no misinformation, and well written.

So, as far as plagiarism goes, yes I did plagiarize specifically 3 of zombiekillerbiceps stories. I can’t actually remember the names of them and the author has removed their account from the site. But on my end specifically “Getting Closer”, “Edge of Control” and “Thrills” were not my own writing. Before they deleted their account I had already reached out via dm and apologized. We came to an understanding. I do not know why they deleted their account but they essentially said in DMs they accepted my apology and wanted to put this behind us but they were very hurt that I had copied them.

Edit: I found the post she made calling me out and will attach it.

As far as His Watchful Eye goes, the only plagiarism that took place was specifically the first chapter of it and only the first chapter. The first chapter of Something Permanent and His Watchful Eye are very similar. The remaining 13 chapters are my own writing and ideas. I have already reached out to @explorevenus and apologized. She has responded and made her own statement regarding it if you want to go and read it.

The only reason it was in anon is because this account (dollgxtz) is my side blog. I couldn’t figure out how to send a non anonymous message without exposing my main blog, so anon was the best thing. I didn’t want people sending death threats too that one too. I should’ve put my username in the anon, but it was already very late for me and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. I just wasn’t thinking very clearly and for that Venus I am also very sorry.

@manika-whims (the person that first wrote about all this) will remain blocked and some of her followers because I do suspect it was that group of people telling me to die. Manika wrote a very long post as she was upset that I “mischaracterized” Xavier in His Watchful Eye, called me a bitch and a loser because of a fictional man in a fictional story, and I will not entertain such immaturity. Full stop.

One of the anons that sent the suicide bait also called me a bitch and a waste of space. It was just too similar.

I also got this one. It’s too graphic to show the entirety of it.

I apologize for the plagiarism. But I will never apologize for writing characters the way I do or for writing dark content. It’s just not that serious. After she posted that I started getting these death threats and more.

You had every right to call me out for plagiarism Manika, but I stand my decision to keep you blocked. It had nothing to do with plagiarism accusations or me hiding from them, but I do believe you egged on your audience to come attack me over a fictional story and for that reason you will never be unblocked. I’ve attached screenshots below of the entire exchange. This is not to deflect from my own actions. This is simply to explain why she is blocked. She will say it’s because I was trying to hide from this but that is not true. I am just very sure the death threats came from her or her audience. This isn’t to say that she absolutely did but just in case, for my own mental health and safety I had to have them blocked.

Now that that’s discussed, I would like to address my readers and any future readers of mine. The plagiarized stories “Getting Closer” “Thrills” and “Edge of Control”. have been deleted and will remain deleted. Those of you asking for copies, please do not. They are not my writing nor my own works. Any remaining single work story on my blog is my own work and 100 percent my own ideas. My masterlist has been updated to reflect this as well.

When I first made my blog and posted those stories, I was a very insecure writer. I did not think I was truly capable of writing or making a good story. I did those things out of insecurity and not feeling good enough. But as time went on, I began to create my own stories and realize that I can write if I put my mind to it. These are not excuses, only explanations. Nothing excuses my behavior.

If you want to defend me, that is your own choice. I ask that you do not though in terms of plagiarism because I ultimately did plagiarize and that is 100 percent wrong of me to do. But in terms of AI usage accusations, these are not true. I have never and never will use AI to write.

I have spent countless hours writing chapters for His Watchful Eye, pulled all nighters, and even lost sleep making this story. I have timestamps in google docs that show me editing and writing my own story. I didn’t even know AI had advanced to the point that you can write fully blown novels. But make no mistake, Ai checkers are not reliable. I had an incident in my first year of college where a paper I wrote got flagged for 77 percent ai generated content. That paper was written 100 percent by me over countless hours and still got flagged. It was a very scary time in my life and for that reason alone I will never use AI.

If you want to unfollow me, please do so. If you want to block me, please do so. I would never hold that against anyone and am not mad at anyone for doing so. Just don’t come in my anon box telling me to jump, don’t message me rude or disgusting messages telling me to die. I am a human, I am a real person behind the screen. What I did was wrong but you are no better telling someone to kill themselves. Please just block me.

All in all thanks for reading. If you unfollow, thanks for being here. If you don’t, thanks for being here. If you want to be removed from any taglists, please just message me. You will not be blocked. Just removed from any future taglists! I have vowed to only post 100 percent of my own content from here on out, so if you stay I can promise you will only be reading my own work.

I am no longer the insecure writer that I once was, I now know my abilities and am confident enough to make my own stories. I have a 240,000 word fic out right now, I genuinely am still shocked I have done that. Writing has become a joy for me and I will not stop now. I should’ve never been afraid to make mistakes or be bad at it. I’m sorry to the people I hurt, my readers, and anyone reading this in the future. I am still growing and learning from my mistakes, and this has been the biggest lesson I will never forget.

Plagiarism is wrong and hurts authors. If you are reading this and have done so as well, please rethink your decisions and take them down, just as I have done.

I love interacting with you all, when you send me asks and messages about HWE or any of my original single fics. It is amazing getting to explain stuff or gush with you guys over the things that I have truly written. I truly love being an author and want my future as one to be honest and communicative.

The comments on this will be monitored, but not restricted. Voicing your thoughts is okay as long as they are respectful and not a direct threat to me or anyone’s life. Questions are okay as well and I will answer to the best of my ability. Please no:

insulting me or any of the people mentioned in this post (manika, venus, zombie, etc)

death threats or suicide baiting anyone

I want this to be a mature and honest discussion, and that can’t happen if I allow such comments. Despite what has been said about or to me, I do not want to replicate any insults/drama on my own blog. You can voice your displeasure or opinions without name calling.

Same goes for any messages or anon box messages you all may send to anyone involved here. We are all real people with feelings. Keep that in mind please before you message anyone.

We all make mistakes. Without mistakes, we cannot grow as people. It’s what we do after we make those mistakes that truly attest to our character. And this is what I’ve chosen to do. Lay it all out for my readers and the rest of the LADS fandom to see, apologize to the people I hurt and only write my own stories from here on out. Thank you to the readers and friends who approached me with kindness and encouraged me to keep writing authentically. And thank you all for reading, I wish all of you the best in life 🤍

-Umi ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[arahdow]

WHO?! pt. 1

Pairing. Sonic x reader. Shadow x reader.

Content. fem reader. they mention another girls name as a prank. insecurities, angst but most of all hurt to comfort bcs in this house we appreciate aftercare after a sad moment. mhm humor.

Word count. 1.7 k

A/N. this is a two part post!! the reason i divided it was bcs i’m having a lot of trouble writing for silver and knuckles (i’m thinking on adding scourge too) 😫 so i’m trying to give myself some more time BUT in the meantime please have this and forgive me for not posting something of mine in a while 🤧 i assure you i’m working on different requests and ideas, so pls be patient and wait for the best!!

+ no beta read anddd a lil too ooc maybe

Sonic was always a prankster, but his prank backfired? That’s new…

Another tiring day at work, helping her coworkers get their job done even when she had her own work, doing extra hours, even walking home felt like a burden. She only wanted to lie down for at least the whole weekend. 

Sighing, she opened the door of her shared home with the blue hero, Sonic the hedgehog. He called himself a hero, something along the lines of ‘blue justice’ and she always laughed at his antics. She wanted nothing more than to hug him and sleep in his embrace.

As she walked to the kitchen, she heard Sonic humming and washing the pots he used to make dinner. He wasn’t used to cooking, but he liked to treat his girlfriend, especially when she went overtime.

“Hello.” She greeted, her voice weak as she noticed the delicious smell of the food he made.

Wiping his hands, he turned to his girlfriend, kissing her on the forehead. “Go and change, I'll be waiting darling.” 

The girl nodded with a sleepy smile and went to their room, before she could enter, Sonic yelled: “Be sure not to get asleep, Amy!” 

And it’s like her whole world crashed. Feeling like a cold splash of water running down her body, she soon felt her stomach drop. Amy? Why Amy? Was Amy there before? Why was he mentioning her? What?

A whole world of ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s’ ran through her head. Still, it wasn’t enough for her to stop feeling hungry, so, even if she wanted to stay by herself now, she knew if she didn’t eat she'd probably pass out in their shared room. 

Feeling a sting on her chest and throat, the girl changed herself and walked to the kitchen again. Her appetite forced her to meet her lover, but was he really tough? Was he still… Hers?

In silence, she sat beside Sonic starting to eat. The man looked at her confused but followed her movements without a word. She always thanked him for the food and let him have the first bite. It was a cute tradition between them and now she just went straight to eat. He couldn’t blame her, so he accepted it and kept on eating.

Sonic almost forgot the prank. Honestly, he was expecting some kind of teasing back, as his lover always had a callback, but now? She seemed too tired to add something of her own so he left it at that. 

He was ready to talk about something else when he noticed tears staining her face. “Dear? Wha-” He hurriedly went for a napkin and gave it to her. “What is it?”

The girl refused the napkin and turned away from him, her tears running free. Then he stared at her barely touched food. “Lov-”

“Why Amy?”

Sonic bit his tongue, looking at her. Amy?

“What’s with-”

“Do you love her? Again?!”

The man flinched a bit at her broken voice. His chest constricted with pain. 

“Listen, I-”

“I don’t…” The girl scoffed and braced herself. “I don’t want to know the details, just, have you fallen in love with Amy again?”

He reeled back, inhaling with insight. Oh. He. Fucked. Up.

“No, love-”

“Then why mention her? Why is her name in your lips when I’m the one you swore to spend your life with?” Sonic was already panicking inside watching the meltdown his girl was having. 

“It’s not like that!” He managed to say, stumbling on his words to prevent her from cutting him off again. “Love, it was a prank.”

The girl looked at him, her tears suddenly stopping, it almost looked humoristic if it wasn’t for the whole reason she was crying.

“I’m sorry you’d thought I could do that to you,” he explained, standing up and wiping her tears by himself with the napkin she refused to grab. “I was trying to be funny like we always are but… I guess it wasn’t the right timing.”

“No shit.” She replied, a sarcastic tone in her voice as she sighed, the weight on her shoulders disappearing. “Ah, thank chaos.”

“I mean, how could I do that to you when I already have an engagement ring somewhere in my room?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. Wait. “Wait what?”

“What?” He echoed, the atmosphere in the room changing completely as he winked at her. They were in for a long night, but first, he had to make it up to her, and he knew exactly how.

Sonic told him about it and said it was funny, so Shadow mentioned it while his partner was venting because he thought it was good timing. spoilers: it wasn’t.

“Can you fucking believe it, Shadow? My sister wants me to attend this stupid gathering, I told her it was fucking useless, I don’t give two shits about them because of what they did in the past, they never… They’ve never even fucking apologized! I’m just so mad right now, how can they be so stupid? Idiots! But you know what’s worse? The fact that…”

Shadow looked at his partner, listening intently at her venting. His gaze went in between her and her hands folding the laundry. His mind somewhere else as he recalled a conversation he had in the morning with his blue copy.

“This is a good way to cheer your girl up! Believe me! I’ve tried it before and it totally works.” Shadow looked at him, a skeptic look in his eyes. 

“Are you sure pranking her is the best way to cheer her up? But why if it’s something vulnera-”

“Naaah, I don’t think anything is that bad that you have to care too much about it.” Sonic explained while munching on his fifth chili dog of the day. “And besides, it’s just a simple harmless prank, she’ll laugh and it’d be alright.”

“...And I was like, ‘You remember what auntie said the last time I was there, why do you want me to go so fucking bad?’ ugh, it’s like a nightmare, I can’t wrap my head around it, really!”

He knew it was something serious because she was cursing a lot, or maybe she felt kind of free now that she was letting it all out? Was it a great time to do that prank? Maybe she’ll stop running in circles and just give herself some time…

“That sounds hard, Sora.”

Silence.

His face was stern, his position sitting on the bed seemed relaxed, but on the inside he was gauging her next words or actions in response to his words. Pressing his lips, he waited for her reaction, but it seemed like the world just stopped, did he stop time unconsciously? No, because the ceiling fan was still moving over their heads. 

“What did you just say?”

But he didn’t reply. More like he couldn’t. He already wanted to say it was a prank, but he stopped himself. Maybe if he waited a bit more… He could hear the sound of her cries.

Her cries?

His mind shifted violently, attentive to the sound of distress coming from the girl. Shadow took a step, horrified at the scene. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees as she kept on crying.

That was his sign. Kneeling in front of her, Shadow took her by the wrist, relieved that she didn’t push him away instantly. 

“Shh sh, it was a prank, I'm sorry, I wasn’t being serious.” He said, trying to reason with her. That seemed to make the trick as she stopped for a bit, head still on her hands as she seemed to take a deep breath. The calmness didn’t last long as the girl shook her head and kept on crying, her face still fully covered.

He tried getting her hands away from her face, trying to get a glimpse of her eyes, wanting his point to come across, but she wasn’t budging.

Shadow just stared at her, his capacity of dealing with emotions almost close to none as he tried to find a way to solve this situation he himself caused. Lucky for him, her cries started to die down, not because she was less sad, but because she was tired from crying.

Being able to see her eyes eased him for a bit, but something still pulled at the strings of his heart: what would she say now?

The girl got up from the floor, walking out from her room straight to the kitchen. Shadow followed silently, afraid of her next move or word. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank. Two, three gulps and then she stopped, closing the bottle again. Shadow felt his heart beating hard against his chest with suspense, when she turned at him, her red eyes from crying staring deeply into his. 

And then she smiled.

“Damn,” she said, sighing. “I needed that.”

Shadow blinked a few times trying to register her words. “What?”

The girl chuckled and wiped the tears off from her face, staring at him. “Yeah, you think I believed you?” a sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Chaos, you seemed so nonchalant trying to convince me you really had another girl, that was so funny!” 

“Wait, you… You faked it?” He asked, still not being able to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation.

“Yeah! Woah, I really needed to cry, I feel lighter now, thanks for the push, Shadz.” She said, winking at the black hedgehog, walking past him to their room again. “And, I recommend you practice your facial expressions, you seemed scared even before I started crying, if you plan on pranking Sonic, you’ll need to try harder.”

The man stood there, shocked as he then turned and questioned. “What the- Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” She asked, stopping before entering the room, turning her head at him.

“That! I-“ He suddenly felt the weight of everything on his chest, making him almost suffocate from the whiplash of emotions he just experienced. “I almost had a heart attack.”

With a playful glint on her eye, she nodded before turning around and keeping on walking. “Suits you right.”

[st7rnioioss]

ੈ‧₊˚ waterlilies

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: FLUFFF and a lot of it, kissing

word count: 648 i think (I CANNOT WRITE LONG FLUFF)

i HAD to link an arctic monkeys song. listen to it while reading if you bother lol.

working on some requests!! i love y’all’s ideas🤍

anyways, i love painting myself so this was fun to write. felt in the mood soooooo HERES A GOOD OLD FLUFF😇

───────── 🐇

“So, what do you think? Is it good?” you smiled, holding up the paper in front of you.

Your whole life you had been fascinated with painting, specifically water colouring. The way the thin paint blended in with the other colours, layering it to give it depth, the tiny details you could add, and overall just the mood of it.

This past month you had been really into it. Painting a pond with water lilies, a green forest turning orange as the seasons changes from summer to fall, and a lot more. You usually kept all your small paintings in a notebook (with water lilies on) the same size as the paper.

Matt was your biggest supporter. He loved your paintings, but not as much as he loved watching you paint. Your concentration face, tongue slightly poking out through your lips, eyebrows frowned, the sun hitting your facial features just right.

He could just gaze at you for hours, here and there telling you how good the painting looked or how good you looked. This would often result in you smiling, blushing and looking away. He just joined in, laughing as he threw his arms around you, plastering your face and head with kisses. He loved your laugh so much. Well, to be honest, it usually ended up in the bedroom. But that’s not the point.

“I love it. I swear, you get better every time,” Matt said, his hand holding his head up, the other one holding your hand across the table, studying the painting.

“Can I have it? I want to frame it.” Matt smiled, taking the painting from your hand, his eyes scanning it.

A turquoise blue pond, water lilies floating on top of it, surrounded by tall dark green trees. You knew Matt liked forests, so while painting the pond you added the trees and the rest of the forest, of course, adding your signature water lilies on top.

You loved water lilies, and Matt seemed to love them too. He had gotten a small one tattooed on his inner wrist, and when you asked him the day he got it, why he got it, he just told you that ‘Water lilies remind me of you’

“Of course you can. I’ll find a frame, we can do it right now,” you said as you stood up from your chair, on your way to the basement.

That was until Matt caught you, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, tickling you.

“Got you!” he chuckled.

“Hey! Matt!” you laughed uncontrollably, your hands gripping his strong arms. He started laughing as well, kissing your neck, cheek, forehead, and now turning you around to kiss your lips. He cupped your face with his hands gently, your own hands ruffling through his hair.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away from this kiss, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too,” you smiled liked a little kid, holding his hands. Matt then decided to totally betray you and tickle you again.

“Matt, stop!” you screamed, both of you laughing so hard you fell to the floor.

He stopped tickling you, both of you panting, but still giggling. You rested your head on his chest, intertwining your fingers slowly.

“You know I love your laugh,” he smiled at you. You looked up at him, his eyes already locked on yours as you chuckled a bit. His words always managed to make you blush like crazy.

“Look who’s blushing, huh?” Matt teased, pinching your cheek as he started laughing again.

“I am not!” you giggled, covering your face with your hands, covering in dried up paint.

“You so are!” he kept teasing, leaning over your body to kiss your face again, one hand beside your head, the other gripping your hip. You just lied there for a bit, kissing each other, blushing, smiling, kissing again, leaving hickeys here and there.

“Ouch, we should get up. This floor isn’t so comfortable after all,” you chuckled, pulling away from his, now swollen, red lips. He got up from the top of you, picking you up by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your legs.

“Matt!” you giggled. “Put me down right now!”

“Nope, not happening. I’m taking you to the bedroom.” he chuckled, a smirk growing on his lips.

a/n: hope u like it!! lots of love💕

[nanamincreampie]

Accidental Cuddles

Ryomen Sukuna x Black plus size reader

It had been a long day full of errands, cooking, cleaning, and your usual flair for making even the most mundane tasks a little more fun. But now, as the chill of the evening set in, you found yourself naturally drawn to Sukuna, who was already slouched on the couch with a book in his hands.

The warm firelight illuminated his sharp, brooding features, casting shadows across his crimson eyes and the black markings etched into his skin. He looked as intimidating as ever, but that had never stopped you from invading his space.

“Hey, grouch,” you greeted with a bright smile, dropping onto the couch beside him with zero hesitation.

Sukuna didn’t even glance up. “What do you want now?”

“To annoy you, obviously,” you teased, kicking off your slippers and tucking your legs beneath you. “And maybe tell you about my day.”

“Great,” he deadpanned, still not looking at you.

But you didn’t need his permission. You launched right into it, recounting every little detail with your signature energy. “So, while I was out, this lady stopped me to compliment my hair, she said she loved my boho braids!” You ran your fingers through the mix of neatly braided strands and loose, soft curls that cascaded down your back. The tiny, colorful beads you’d woven into some of the braids clicked softly with your movements. “She couldn’t believe I did them myself!”

Sukuna flicked his eyes toward you for a moment, taking in the intricate style. The firelight caught on the beads, creating a subtle shimmer. But he quickly returned his gaze to his book, muttering, “She’s not wrong. They’re decent.”

“Decent?” you repeated, feigning offense. “These are gorgeous, thank you very much.”

“Sure,” he replied dryly.

You leaned closer, letting your curves press against his side. “You’re just mad you can’t braid.”

He grunted, flipping a page. “As if I’d want to.”

You laughed, the sound bright and melodic, filling the otherwise quiet room. For all his grumpiness, you knew Sukuna didn’t actually mind your chatter. You could tell by the way he hadn’t told you to leave not yet, anyway.

As the minutes passed, the warmth of the fire and the soothing rhythm of your own voice began to lull you into a state of drowsiness. Sukuna didn’t seem to notice when you leaned against him fully, your soft, plush body resting against his firm side.

“It’s so cold,” you murmured, pulling your oversized lavender sweater tighter around yourself. The soft fabric clung gently to your curves, but it wasn’t enough to fight the chill in the air.

Sukuna stiffened slightly, his crimson eyes flicking down to you. “I’m not your heater, you know.”

“Mm, but you’re warm,” you mumbled sleepily, resting your head against his shoulder.

He sighed, but didn’t shove you off. Instead, he continued to read, his free hand resting on the arm of the couch as if to keep up the pretense that he wasn’t affected by your closeness.

Soon enough, your rambling stopped, replaced by the soft, even rhythm of your breathing. Sukuna glanced down, his book forgotten as he took in the sight of you.

Your features were relaxed, the light from the fire highlighting the rich, warm undertones of your brown skin. Your braids framed your face, a few loose curls spilling forward onto your cheek. The beads in your hair glimmered faintly, adding a whimsical touch to your already striking beauty.

“Tch,” he muttered, setting his book aside. “Ridiculous woman.”

Careful not to disturb you, Sukuna reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. With surprising gentleness, he shook it out and draped it over your shoulders, tucking the edges around you. His large hand lingered for a moment, hovering over your face. One of your braids had slipped across your lips, and he brushed it aside, his fingers grazing your soft skin.

“Don’t get used to this,” he grumbled, though there was no one around to hear him.

You sighed in your sleep, leaning even closer to him, and for a moment, Sukuna allowed himself to relax. His arm settled around you, his hand resting lightly on your hip.

As much as he pretended to be annoyed by your boundless energy and constant affection, there was something comforting about the way you fit against him. Your warmth, your softness, it melted the icy edges of his demeanor, leaving him with a quiet contentment he would never admit out loud.

“Stupid woman,” he muttered again, though his tone lacked any real bite.

The fire crackled softly in the background as Sukuna closed his eyes, his gruff expression softening as he held you closer.

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact —

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After spending a night together, Axel made a mistake, regretting his actions soon after. His friend Zara, seeing the tension between them, steps in to help by offering advice and encouragement. She urges Y/n to reconsider the situation, emphasizing that Axel’s feelings are genuine despite his hesitation, and suggests that Y/n give him another chance to explain himself.

Warnings ; none (I think)

Mentions ; @oscarisdaddy69 @babylambdietcoke @karmaswitch

Pt. 2

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

I woke up feeling completely drained, as though I had been transformed into a zombie overnight. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was already 8 a.m., and the harsh reality hit me- I had only managed to get one hour of sleep. My mind, still foggy with exhaustion, was suddenly flooded with memories of the night before, replaying every detail vividly.

Turning to the side of the bed, I noticed Axel was nowhere to be seen. However, the sound of running water from the bathroom confirmed he was in the shower. Deciding not to waste time, I slipped back into the clothes I had worn the previous night. Once Axel emerged, I planned to let him know that I would head back to my own room to get ready.

'Hi.' I turned around to see Axel standing there in simple, casual clothes. I offered him a small smile and a quick wave, keeping it light. He didn't say much as he walked closer to me, his presence commanding yet calm. Instead of a kiss, he pulled me into a hug.

The embrace was warm and steady, and I couldn't help but notice the distinct, luxurious scent of his cologne—it was rich and captivating, lingering in the air between us. His warmth was comforting, a stark contrast to the exhaustion I was still feeling.

'I should get going. The next event is in four hours,' I said, my eyes drifting toward the bed where, just an hour ago, we had been sleeping together. On the chair nearby were the folded clothes he had lent me to sleep in. They were neatly arranged, a small but thoughtful gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

When I looked back at Axel, I noticed a soft pink hue coloring his cheeks, a hint of shyness that made the moment feel unexpectedly tender.

'Thank you for everything,' I added, my voice gentle as I tried to ease the subtle awkwardness lingering between us. I wanted to make the atmosphere feel more comfortable, even as I prepared to leave.

He gave a small nod, his demeanor calm and composed. 'No problem at all. I enjoyed your company,' he replied, his voice relaxed and warm. He seemed far more at ease than he had been the day before, when tension had defined his every movement. This softer side of him made me smile, even if just inwardly.

—

'Oh my god, no way!' Sam exclaimed, pacing back and forth across the room while I sat silently on the edge of my bed, unsure of how to respond.

'So, are you two like... a thing now?' she asked, stopping abruptly to look at me, her hands firmly planted on her hips and one eyebrow arched high.

I bit the inside of my cheek, the question hanging heavily in the air. I didn't have an answer—not for her, not even for myself. Instead, I shrugged, a silent gesture that conveyed my uncertainty. My lips pressed into a straight line as my thoughts drifted to the tournament happening in just a few hours, offering a convenient distraction from her probing stare.

'Let's just get ready,' I said, standing up and reaching for my karate uniform, eager to shift the conversation away from Sam's relentless curiosity.

'We'll have this talk later, young lady!' she yelled after me, her voice full of mock authority. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pointing at me, as if to emphasize her determination.

I couldn't help but laugh at her over-the-top seriousness as I walked to the bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash over me, clearing my head before the day ahead.

—

As Robby and I walked into the building where the Sekai Taikai event was taking place, my eyes immediately landed on Tory standing in the lobby. She looked composed but intense, her focus evident. Robby sighed beside me, already taking a step in her direction, but I gently stopped him, deciding to approach her myself.

'Y/n,' she greeted, her tone serious, her expression unreadable. The captain's headband was already tied firmly around her head, a symbol of her leadership and resolve.

'Tory... how are you feeling?' I asked, letting out a small sigh, my voice softer than usual. She didn't respond right away, standing in silence as if weighing her words. The tension in the air was palpable, and I found myself stepping forward without hesitation, wrapping her in a hug.

At first, she didn't move, her arms stiff at her sides, clearly hesitant. But after a few seconds, I felt her hands rest on my back. She sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that seemed to carry everything she couldn't say. Her grip tightened, and for a brief moment, she hugged me back fiercely before pulling away.

'Everyone on your team is mad at me,' Tory said, her voice quiet as she shifted her gaze from the ground back to me. There was a flicker of guilt in her eyes, a vulnerability she rarely let show.

'They're not,' I replied, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. 'They understand how you feel and why you left.' My words came out gently, hoping to ease her mind. I was about to say more when a group of Tory's teammates, including Kwon, walked up to her. Their eyes darted toward me, filled with disdain and unspoken accusations.

Sensing the rising tension, I offered Tory a quick goodbye and stepped away, heading toward the locker rooms where I assumed my team would be waiting. On the way, I nearly bumped into Zara. Seeing her brought back the memory of yesterday, when she'd helped me with the water. Her kindness lingered in my mind, making the chance encounter feel a little less coincidental.

'Hi Zara, I wanted to thank you so much for the water and—' I started, but she cut me off before I could finish.

'It was Axel's idea,' she said matter-of-factly. 'But he was too shy to bring it to you himself, so he asked me to do it for him. Which I did.' Her tone was short, almost dismissive, leaving me momentarily speechless.

'Still, thank you,' I managed, offering a small smile while my thoughts drifted elsewhere. I couldn't help but wonder where Axel was now and why he hadn't just come to me himself.

'Do you know where he might be?' I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Zara turned slightly and gestured toward the direction of her team's locker room. 'He's in our locker room,' she said with a small, knowing smile before walking off without another word.

I stood there for a moment, processing her answer, before deciding what to do next. Her casual demeanor left me feeling more curious than ever about Axel and why he seemed so hesitant to approach me directly.

I sighed as I made my way to their locker room, hesitating briefly before giving the door a soft knock. It opened to reveal their sensei, who looked at me with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

'May I help you?' he asked, his tone formal as he opened the door wider. Over his shoulder, I saw Axel deep in conversation with one of his teammates. The moment they noticed me, their chatter stopped, and all eyes turned in my direction.

'May I speak with Axel?' I asked, my voice tinged with stress. Memories of what had happened to him resurfaced, and a wave of discomfort washed over me.

Axel stood up almost immediately, but before he could step out, the sensei placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

'One minute,' the sensei instructed, his tone firm. Axel nodded and quickly walked toward me once he was released. His gaze met mine briefly before darting around, scanning the area as if checking for prying eyes. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist gently but firmly and led me down the hall, pulling me into an empty locker room.

'Axel, I—' I began, but he interrupted me, his tone sharp and distant.

'Yesterday was a mistake. We shouldn't be hanging around with each other. You're my opponent, and there's nothing going on between us,' he said coldly, his posture stiff, the same tense demeanor he had shown the day before.

For a moment, I stood there, speechless. I didn't know what to feel—whether I should be hurt, relieved, or indifferent. Deep down, I had seen it coming. Kissing someone you barely know, someone you'd only met yesterday, was bound to lead to complications. It was a reality I couldn't ignore.

A soft sigh escaped me as I nodded, silently acknowledging his words. I kept my gaze fixed on the walls of the empty locker room, avoiding his piercing eyes. 'I understand,' I said quietly, my voice steady, though my thoughts felt scattered.

I opened my mouth to say something, to call him back, but no words came out. Axel had already turned around and walked away, his steps deliberate and unyielding. I stood there, frozen in place, unable to move or stop him.

A heavy sigh escaped me as I sank onto a nearby bench, my thoughts swirling. The weight of his words lingered, leaving an uncomfortable ache in their wake. I stared at the floor, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar feeling that had settled in my chest.

Had I attached too quickly? Maybe he had, too—at least for a moment. It all felt like a whirlwind, a connection that had sparked so suddenly and burned out just as fast. I pressed my palms together, trying to steady myself and figure out how to let go of something that hadn't even begun.

I sat still for a moment, trying to collect myself. I reminded myself that crying or stressing over a boy who thought it was okay to toy with someone's feelings wasn't worth it. Just as I started to steel my resolve, a chuckle broke the silence.

Looking up, I saw Kwon leaning against the doorway, watching me with an amused expression. I rolled my eyes and stood, ready to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

'Heartbroken?' he asked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. His attempt at puppy dog eyes made my annoyance spike even higher.

I pushed against him, but he didn't even flinch, instead bursting into laughter.

'That's cute,' he said, finally calming down and giving my shoulder a playful pat. I stood silently, my irritation already at its peak.

'I heard everything that guy said,' he added casually, his tone shifting slightly. His words made me bite the inside of my cheek, discomfort creeping in. I didn't like the idea of anyone eavesdropping on such a moment, especially not someone like Kwon.

I took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm myself.

'Move, Kwon,' I said firmly, brushing past him and walking out of the locker room. I could still feel his eyes fixed on my back, but I ignored the weight of his stare and continued toward our team's locker room.

Inside, I found Sam, Devon, Hawk, and Robby sitting together. They were deep in conversation, their energy noticeably lighter than mine.

'Did you hear the news?' Devon asked excitedly, his eyes practically lighting up.

I tilted my head to the side, confused, as I walked to the nearest locker and began putting my things away.

'No?' I replied, my curiosity piqued.

Devon's enthusiasm was clear, and Sam and Robby seemed just as thrilled. Hawk, on the other hand, looked far less amused, sitting silently with a faint scowl. His expression was enough to make me wonder what exactly this "news" could be.

'So, Miguel is back in Los Angeles, right? Kenny is taking his place,' Devon said cheerfully, practically bouncing in her seat.

'Oh, that's awesome news!' I replied, matching her excitement. Despite my happiness for Miguel, a flicker of worry for his mother crossed my mind. 'When will he arrive?' I added, glancing at Sam, who seemed just as eager to hear more.

As Devon started talking again, I reached for my phone, pulling it out to quickly text Miguel. Hey, is everything alright with your mom? I stared at the screen for a second before pressing send, hoping to hear good news soon.

Almost immediately after sending the message, my phone buzzed with a response. Everything is alright, thanks for asking, and good luck, Miguel's reply read. I let out a sigh of relief, the tension in my chest easing slightly. At least one worry had been lifted, and I was glad to know he and his family were doing okay.

I sat down and leaned back, letting my eyes drift shut for a moment, hoping to clear my mind or maybe even steal a few minutes of rest. But the weight of what had happened with Axel lingered, refusing to let me relax. The memory of his cold words and the way he walked away without looking back gnawed at me, twisting into an uneasy knot inside me.

'I'm going to the training room,' I murmured quietly, standing up and grabbing my water bottle. My teammates were still deep in conversation, so I slipped out unnoticed, grateful for a moment alone.

The training room was empty when I arrived, and the sight of the silent, open space was a relief. The quietness felt like a balm to my frayed nerves, and I welcomed the solitude. Setting my water bottle down in the corner, I began moving through a series of taka drills. Each strike and kick became a release, a way to channel the emotions swirling inside me.

The repetition of the movements steadied me, grounding me in their familiar rhythm. For the first time since the conversation with Axel, I felt some of the weight begin to lift. The stress and confusion didn't completely disappear, but with every precise move, I could feel my mind slowly clearing, piece by piece.

—

After the event, our team ended up ranking second. The Iron Dragons claimed first place, while Tiger Strike secured third. This outcome meant that Cobra Kai, unfortunately, had to leave Barcelona. The news shocked me, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Tory. She had worked so hard to get her team to this level, and it felt unfair for it to end this way.

Later, as I walked into the hotel lobby, I saw Tory sitting with her luggage, waiting with an air of quiet resignation. It was clear she was preparing to leave. Just then, an announcement came over the hotel's intercom, instructing all participants to gather in the lobby for an important update.

Curiosity buzzed through the crowd as everyone assembled. The room quieted as Gunther Braun, the head of the tournament, stepped forward to deliver the news. His expression was serious, commanding everyone's full attention.

'We have received credible information that members of the Tiger Strike team used performance-enhancing drugs during the tournament,' he announced, his voice grave. A collective gasp spread through the room, followed by murmurs of shock and disbelief.

Gunther continued, 'As a result, Tiger Strike has been disqualified, and their rankings nullified. This adjustment means Cobra Kai will retain their place in the tournament.'

The announcement hit like a bolt of lightning. Cobra Kai, instead of being eliminated, could now remain in the competition.

On the surface, I felt genuine happiness for Tory. She had given her all to this competition, and she deserved to see it through. But deep down, I couldn't ignore the anxiety creeping in. Cobra Kai was back in the running, and I knew all too well how formidable they could be as opponents. Their return wasn't just a stroke of luck for them—it was a reminder that the path ahead was about to get even more challenging.

I glanced over at Tory, and to my surprise, she smiled at me. Her teammates were cheering loudly, celebrating their unexpected chance to stay in the competition. Despite the chaos around her, Tory seemed calm, her expression soft with relief.

Turning my head, I caught Demetri rolling his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the situation. Hawk, on the other hand, looked furious, his jaw clenched tightly and his arms crossed as he glared toward the Cobra Kai group. Our senseis stood nearby, their expressions a mix of stress and unease. It was clear they weren't thrilled with the announcement either; this development added more pressure to an already intense situation.

The atmosphere felt stifling, the noise and tension overwhelming. Needing a break, I decided to step outside for some fresh air. Without saying a word, I slipped out of the building and started walking.

The cool air was a welcome relief as I wandered toward a nearby grocery store. The quiet of the streets contrasted sharply with the buzzing energy I had just left behind. Once inside the store, I browsed the aisles absentmindedly, grabbing something small to eat. It wasn't much, but the act of doing something mundane helped calm my mind, even if only for a moment.

—

Sitting on a random bench in the park, I tore off a piece of my croissant, savoring the flaky pastry as I let the quiet surroundings ease some of my stress. The fresh air and serene atmosphere helped clear my mind, if only a little. Tomorrow was the semi-finals, and I knew I needed to be completely focused and calm to give my best performance.

As I took another bite, my phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw a notification—Kwon from Cobra Kai has followed you. I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. Of course, he'd find a way to insert himself into my day.

Before I could put my phone away, another notification caught my attention: a message request. It was from Zara.

Curious, I hesitated for a moment before accepting the request. Almost immediately, her message popped up. We need to meet up as soon as possible.

Her words were short and cryptic, making me frown. What could she possibly want to discuss, and why the urgency? Whatever it was, I had a feeling it wasn't something I could ignore.

Sure, when do you have time? I quickly typed and hit send. Not even a moment later, Zara replied: I have time now or later at the club.

I frowned. The thought of going to a loud, crowded club didn't appeal to me—I needed rest, especially with the semi-finals tomorrow. Instead, I texted back, suggesting we meet at Parc de la Ciutadella. The response came almost immediately: she liked my message, confirming she'd meet me there.

I leaned back on the bench, finishing off the rest of my croissant. The peace didn't last long, though, as I suddenly felt a pat on my shoulder. Startled, I turned around only to see Kwon standing there, a smug grin plastered across his face.

I let out a deep sigh, rolling my eyes at his intrusion, hoping he'd take the hint that I wasn't in the mood for his antics. Instead, he just laughed and casually plopped down next to me.

'Aw, did Axel leave my poor Y/n all alone?' he teased, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.

I shot him a cold, unimpressed glare. 'Just leave,' I said, my voice sharp.

Kwon held his hands up in mock defense, clearly enjoying my irritation. To my annoyance, he stayed planted in place, looking far too amused.

As I reached for the last piece of my croissant, he snatched it out of my hand with a mischievous grin and stood up.

'Thanks for the snack,' he said, walking off without a care in the world.

I clenched my fists, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from yelling something back at him. The only consolation was that he was finally gone.

'I see you're juggling two boys at once.'

Startled, I looked up from my phone to see Zara standing there, her expression a mix of teasing and seriousness.

'What do you mean by two boys at once?' I asked, genuinely confused.

She sighed, crossing her arms. 'It's obvious, even from a mile away, that boy from Cobra Kai likes you.' She gestured vaguely, then pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the fountain in front of us as if this were just a casual chat.

I furrowed my brows, unsure where she was going with this.

'You know... Axel told me about you,' she began. 'That first day we got here, when you bumped into him, he mentioned you. He said you caught his eye.' She glanced at me to gauge my reaction but didn't pause long enough for me to respond.

'I didn't believe him at first,' she continued. 'I didn't really want him to fall for someone, especially not an opponent. I've known him since high school, and I can tell you—he didn't exactly have a social life back then. He never really experienced liking someone, let alone pursuing them.'

She paused, looking more thoughtful now. 'But then today, he told me about what happened yesterday. And... well, I saw his lock screen. It's a picture of you.'

I blinked in surprise, not sure what to say.

'That's when I thought, okay, maybe he really does like you,' Zara admitted. 'But just after the announcement earlier, he told me he said something harsh to you—about not wanting to know you. He regrets it, by the way. And now he's asked me to talk to you about it.'

I listened carefully, trying to process everything. Zara's voice softened. 'Look, I know this is probably a lot, but Axel isn't a bad guy. He's just... inexperienced. And a little scared, I think.'

For a moment, we sat in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly easy, either. I could feel her waiting for me to say something, but I didn't know where to start.

Finally, Zara broke the silence. 'You have three choices here. I know two of them,' she said, leaning back slightly.

'The first,' she continued, counting on her fingers, 'is that you talk to him, work things out, and become this epic, soulmate, love-of-your-life couple with a fairytale future and all that.' She waved her hand dramatically, clearly poking fun but also being sincere.

'The second option is that you just decide you don't want anything to do with him. You let it go, cut the cord, and move on.'

I tilted my head slightly, processing her words. 'What about the third option?' I asked.

She sighed, shrugging as if it were obvious. 'That's the one you have to figure out for yourself,' she said simply.

I looked down at the ground, the weight of her words settling over me. I didn't have an answer yet, but I knew I had to decide soon.

'And don't get Axel wrong, Y/n,' Zara said, her tone soft but firm. 'He just... doesn't really know how everything works. He's figuring it out. And honestly, I didn't expect you two to work out when he first mentioned you. You're such different people.'

She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. 'When he told me you caught his eye, I decided to pay more attention to how you act. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some creepy stalker or anything,' she said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

'But you remind me of a golden retriever,' she said with a teasing grin. 'And while Axel's not quite a black cat, he's more like a doberman.' Her laughter was awkward but genuine, as if she was trying to make sense of her own analogy.

I raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a small smile. 'So you're comparing us to dogs now?' I asked, mildly amused by her unexpected metaphor.

'Basically, yeah,' she said with a sheepish shrug. 'But what I mean is, you two are so different. We've always known Axel to keep to himself—he's never been the kind of person to share his feelings. At least, not until the past few days when he started asking me for advice. You should've seen him when he asked me to bring you those water bottles—he was blushing so hard it was like he turned into a different person.'

Zara smiled warmly. 'I just want you to know that I'm genuinely happy for you both. I really hope you rethink everything I've said because I think there's something special here.'

She stood up, brushing her hands off and glancing at the fountain. I looked up at her, surprised when she leaned down and hugged me gently.

'It's going to be okay, Y/n,' she said softly. 'Don't stress too much about it.'

Before walking off, she turned and blew a quick kiss in my direction, her usual playful attitude peeking through. I waved at her, unable to find the right words to respond.

Once she was gone, I sighed and sank back onto the bench behind me. My mind was swirling with everything she'd said. I sat there for a while, staring at the fountain, trying to figure out what I should do next. The decision wasn't going to be easy.

[boxbug]

A Canary’s Final Flight

My piece for @trafficzine 4th edition! Get it for free here! 200 pages of excellent art and fics, incredible work from all participants and from the mods especially!! huge shoutout to the mods for real

Process notes under the cut! (I struggled a lot so it's a bit of a novel)

So the entire process was a Ride. I knew when I picked this prompt that I was going to have a hard time, because Jimmy’s final death had been illustrated a billion times over by extremely talented artists. But I had a Vision of the snapshot of the second before the impact, when everything is still but you know what’s about happen. It was very much inspired by the clip of Fog by Jabberwocky, bu the thing is, they have the advantage of all the build up of the fall, and that’s when the trouble started.

This was my first version, and obviously it wasn't working. And I was trying so hard, with so many iterations! Small wings, big wings, no wings, different poses, less backgrounds elements. I'd done compositions were everything seemed peaceful but something is Wrong, but it wasn't working this time.

So instead I focused on what rendering I'd like to do - I tried a painterly approach, for that visceral feeling, but it wasn't working either (but hey, I did keep the red sky, so, progress)

At this point I'd been doing back and forths for weeks and I was just as lost as at the start. Now that's my tip for people who make art of any kind, in situations like that, stop thinking about how you can make the best piece possible, and think about you can have fun with it (because when you aren't it's visible). And for that was, 1 - going back to using ink and pen nibs and doing way too detailed inking, and 2- looking at Dave McKean's covers for Sandman (which, funnily enough, was also a reference for my previous trafficzine piece)

And from there I was actually going somewhere! Between the jagged rocks, the red sky, and the increased verticality with the borders, I had hit the vibes I wanted.

I did some experimentation with the border, and even though I really liked the bad boys I drew they were taking too much away from the lonely desolation, so I actually used Red (Unecessary Redstone)'s idea of all of Jimmy's worldy's possessions scattered on the ground post impact, with the idea to make it looks like the central image is his grave being dug.

(and yes for a short amount of time the were supposed to be clock markings on the sun, but there was already enough going with the wings so I scrapped that) (also fun fact the reason why the wings aren't fully material but more ghostly is because my toddler cousin was watching me draw the very first draft and asked why he didn't just use his wings and i went :( so the wings are a metaphor now)

So from there I found a bunch of picture and took some myself, cut and assembled everything together, added shadows in all the appropriate places, and repainted some elements so that everything would look better intergrated (some of the wheats are basically 100% handpainted, the cardboard as well). This took a suprisingly long amount of time, but I was done!

Well I wasn't expecting to have that much to say, but I hope if you're still reading, it was at least interesting!

[nonchalantlucy]

Introducing....

LOSER-SUB!CHRIS STURNIOLO X DOM!READER

warnings: smut, edging kink, masturbation, sub male, slight degradition kink, losing NNN, overstimulation, oral sex (male recieving), use of y/n, little to no plot, pet names, NOT PROOF READ

details: DOM!READER will be using SHE/HER pronouns. chris lives with his girlfriend, y/n, who works at the local pet store. one day, she comes home early to find chris in a very compromising situation.

a/n: hi lovelies!! thank you for voting on my poll. as you can see, this story won! if you would still like to see the matt story, let me know!! this is my first time writing in MONTHS, so excuse me if it's bad... ENJOY!!

You walked into your apartment, noticing all the lights out. You know Chris is home, You saw his car outside, and it's only 6:00.

You slide your shoes off and walk deeper into the familiar darkness, placing your purse and jacket on the couch.

You stumble towards the hallway, tripping slightly on a cord. You come to a halt outside of yours and Chris's shared room.

You reach for the handle, turning it to open the door slightly. You stop in your tracks, the door not even halfway open when you hear a quiet whimper.

You peek your head around the door and into the room, seeing Chris lying on the bed. One arm is draped over his face, his head thrown back into the pillows. The other hand is rather low, stroking a quite intimate area very rapidly.

You step into the room fully, slightly mesmerized at the sight. You couldn't help but giggle quietly, which Chris hears.

His arm shoots off his head, grabbing the blanket and throwing it over himself as he sits up. His eyes glued to you.

"Babe, your home early..."

He speaks awkwardly, shying away under the blanket.

"That I am. What were you doing?"

You speak teasingly, walking towards the bed slowly. You know what he was doing, and he knows you know

"Nothing babe."

"Oh, so jerking yourself is nothing?"

"Shut up.."

"Weren't you bragging to Nate about how your gonna win NNN?"

"And I will. Its No NUT November, doesnt mean I can't touch myself."

"Hmm, I think I could make you lose."

You say, sitting down next to him, your hand snaking under the blanket and resting on his thigh.

"As if. I have more self control then that."

Chris speaks in a tone of courage, but the shudder his body gives and the quiet gasp he lets out says otherwise.

"Is that...a challenge?"

You speak, gently lifting the blanket off of him and crawling over him, hovering.

"Maybe."

As soon as the word left his mouth, you wasted no time. Your lips fly down, attacking his, as your hand snakes down his body to his most intimate member.

You wrap your finger around his cock, gently, causing him to gasp into the kiss. When his lips part, your tounge subconsciously shoots into his mouth, exploring it.

You begin to move your hand up and down, slowly. Your long nails, which he had paid for, adding extra sensation.

You slowly pull your lips off his, before moving them down to his neck. Leaving little bruises all over it, being sure to bite his most sensitive spot.

"Y/n.."

He gasps out your name, his hips bucking involuntarily up into your hand.

"Shh, be quiet for me.."

You mumble against his neck.

Your stroking gets faster, and his whimpers get louder.

"Y/n, Im gonna cum!"

Chris cries out, and you immediately stop the movement.

He lets out a whine and looks down at you, giving a questioning look.

You pull away from his neck, looking up at him.

"Wouldnt wanna lose, now would you?"

You smirk, crawling back up and kissing him.

This kiss is long and passionate, as he cups your cheek. Your tounges danced together in a loving fight. The heat between your bodies matching the flame of the sun.

Your hand moves back down, starting the stroking slowly. Teasing the tip of his cock, before speeding up slightly.

You pull away from the kiss, staring down at him. Watching as his eyebrows furrow, and his head tilts back slightly.

His lips pressed into a thin line, a slight sweat on the edges of his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut.

You begin moving your hand faster.

His mouth falls open, groans falling out one after another, and his head jerks back further.

You can tell hes close. So,

You stop your hand movmemt, earning a whine from him. You give him a sharp look, shutting him up before he has a chance to protest.

You climb off the bed, getting on your knees at the edge. You open your mouth to give commands, but before you can Chris is already positioned infront of you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Little slut."

You mumble, before kissing the tip of his length. He lets out a quiet whimper, before responding. Or atleast, attempting to respond.

"Im not a slu- ahh!"

His words cut off, and blend into a moan as your wrap your lips around his tip. Your tounge flicks the very top as you move your mouth lower.

He throws his head back, a stream of curses, moans, and grunts leave his mouth as your work your magic.

You push your mouth as far down and deep you can go. Taking almost all his length in your mouth. What you cant take, your hand is tightly wrapped around it and twisting.

This throws him over the edge, his head falls back as he attempts to pull away from you.

"Please, im gonna.."

Before he can finish his sentence, you feel a string of warmth fly into your mouth and down your throat. It was a salty taste, but you swallowed it all nonetheless.

You dont pull your mouth way however. You keep going.

Sucking, and bobbing your head up and down.

"To much, to much"

Chris cries out, but his hand that has found its way to your hair eggs you on, pushing your face towards him as his hips buck up into your mouth.

Whimpers upon whimpers leave his mouth, and even faster then the first time he releases in your mouth once again.

You pull away, after swallowing it of course, and look up at him.

"Loser."

"Shut the fuck up."

hope you enjoyed it ! its not the best and kinda short, but its what i got ! let me know if you have any requests !!!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

Azriel x Third-oldest-archeron-sibling!reader

a/n: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…

warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)

word count: 3,888

-Part 2[*]-

“How was she today?”

You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.

“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.

Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.

Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.

“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.

“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.

It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.

You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.

Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.

What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?

“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.

A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.

But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.

So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”

“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.

“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?

“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.

“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.

“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.

“What else?”

You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.

“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.

My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.

“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”

“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.

His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.

“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”

“What did you think?”

You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”

“She doesn’t love him.”

“I know she says that, but—”

“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”

“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”

Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”

“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”

“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”

“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”

“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.

“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”

“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”

His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”

“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?

Anti-climactic.

Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.

“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.

His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.

He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.

“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”

You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”

There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.

“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.

“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.

It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.

But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”

“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.

He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.

“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”

Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”

Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.

But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.

“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”

“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”

And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?

For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.

“Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”

You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.

In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.

But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.

How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.

He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.

But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?

Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.

He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 13- Ik the law baby ☕️

(Warning: This chapter includes details of bullying. No violence but mentions of harassment)

Dread.

Dread was all you could feel at this very moment. You have met up with Yanfei and Heizou to film the video explaining your side. It was your story to be told so why were you so nervous?

You felt a warm hand touch your shoulder.

It was Yanfei.

“Don’t be so nervous Y/n. We’ll be here throughout everything.” She reassured you.

The three of you sat down at a table. You in the middle, Yanfei to your right, and Heizou to your left. All three of you discussed what to say and when. As you go on with your story, they will present the printed evidence to the camera.

The cameraman begins rolling.

You clear your throat and begin to talk, “Hello everyone. I’m Y/n L/n and I’ve been recently tangled up in some controversy regarding my days in school. I would like to make this video addressing all the allegations and clearing my name. I hope this video also sheds light on bullying in schools and helps someone know they’re not alone.”

Yanfei and Heizou flip through their papers for the first topic.

You talk again, “During my junior year I rejected someone named Dottore. I simply didn’t have time to date and because of it, he got upset. I have screenshots of when it first happened and how his friendgroup would begin to attack me online. This is all the evidence I have compiled throughout.”

Heizou held up DM’s from various people calling you fake and a liar.

“I was so confused on why his group would attack me like this as I never had an encounter with them in the first place. I only talked to Dottore on a few occasions. His friend group liked to call themselves The Fatui and the grade would eventually call them that too. I have no idea where the name originated from but they were extremely popular and basically were friends with everyone.” You add.

You pause for a moment as the memories of the torment they caused you start pouring in.

This didn’t stop you and you speak once again, “The harassment didn’t stop online. It continued during school. I have videos and audio recordings of them making gestures to me and yelling out profanities. They said they were trolling me, but is it really trolling if it goes on till we graduated?”

Yanfei begins to play an audio recording of voices from various people. Both the men and the women of the group making noises at you and yelling threats at you.

The audio recording stops.

“Anyways, that’s what I had to deal with my entire junior year. Now you may be asking, why didn’t nobody stop them? That’s the same question I asked myself the entire time. The group spread false rumors against me saying I slept with many people and how easy I am. I never had a boyfriend nor engaged in any sexual activity with anyone. However, everyone believed them and half the grade was against me. I had my friend’s support but everyone clowned anyone who was associated with me. It really felt like I had nobody.”

Heizou then holds up a series screenshots of a group chat that you were added to.

“Let’s move onto this group chat that I was added to by them. They used this group chat to tease and curse at me. If I were to leave or ignore them, they would add me back and harass me even more. One of the girls in the group, Columbina, would be the one to harass me in the group chat the most. Probably wanted to look good in front of the guys I don’t know.”

Yanfei then holds up papers of [redacted] individuals pleading with you to go tell the school.

“These are my friends who wanted to report the group to the school. Their names are redacted since I don’t want their information getting leaked. The reason why I didn’t report the group is because it would get much worse. Think about it, they would get suspended sure but what happens when they get out of suspension? They’re going to continue and possibly do worse things. If some of you are wondering if I ever stood up for myself. I did. I’m not going to let people walk all over me. However, just because I stand up for myself, doesn’t mean they’re going to stop. They would still continue.”

You take a sip of water before carrying on. You’ve been talking for so long you didn’t realize how dry your throat had became.

“The summer came around and I didn’t have to see them nor hear from them. However, they made sure that I knew they weren’t done with me. If I were to get invited to a party, they would make the host uninvite me or just tell people not to invite me at all. This affected me the most when they prevented me from going to my friend’s birthday party. I’m still upset about it to this day.”

Heizou holds up another series of screenshots of The Fatui threatening people to not invite you.

“Senior year came and the harassment died down a tiny bit. They would still tease me but I think they got tired of it by senior year as they had officially drained any spark I had left. They got what they wanted, the grade didn’t like me and I had a few friends left. I was so thankful to finally be able to graduate but it was short lived as they have now tried to ruin my career.”

You felt your throat close up again and you drink more water. It was never easy talking about your experiences, especially in front of a camera.

You continue again, “I have found out that the account was created by that group through investigations.”

Yanfei holds up the last document of Pantalone and Scaramouche’s conversation. The conversation where Pantalone admitted everything.

Scaramouche’s name is redacted for obvious reasons.

“The person who talked to Pantalone and the person who sent me these screenshots would like to remain anonymous. If you are both seeing this, I would like to give my upmost gratitude. You know who you are and I seriously can’t thank you enough.”

You then look straight into the camera, almost as if you were talking to The Fatui directly.

“To the group who made my high school experience a living hell, I hope you like the lawsuit coming to you in the mail. Have fun explaining to your parents why you’re getting charged with defamation and harassment.”

The video wraps up and it feels like you can finally breathe again.

A weight is lifted from your shoulders and you feel the best you have felt in a while.

The video gets posted shortly.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Written chapter!! I wasn’t planning on making this written but I also wanted to make it detailed. The bully arc is finally done so now I can move onto the other things I planned 🥰

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56