#hello i was taking a drawing break for a bit. i am still on break bc my arm hurts but i got really emo again bc of a single line foolish

[ama-a93]

"leo has a great knack for finding me"

searching for her dad after she escapes :)

[moodymisty]

Please please please PLEASE produce some nsfw with female reader Alexis Polux Propaganda. I need some Imperial Fist content.

Author's note: HMNGNGNGGGGG POLUX TIME

Relationships: Alexis Polux/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Size difference, Praise kink, Polux is a good boy™, Rough-ish sex

"I'm surprised to see someone so young here,"

A voice speaks, and you don't entirely realize they're talking to you until they come up on your left side with an expectant look on their face.

"You look a bit too well dressed to be someones servant," You aren't quite a fan of the way he seems to examine you like a painting, but you assume he just isn't familiar with social gatherings. Many of the people in these circles are always examining for weaknesses, valuable information, so the feeling isn't entirely new. You just aren't used to it.

With a soft smile you nod to say hello despite him not giving you the same courtesy, holding your parchment close to your chest.

Your drawings had been going well, documenting the progress of the Palace has been no small feat, and the few picts you've taken will go along will with the various sketches you've been working on.

"Well, I'm usually not on Terra, But right now I'm here on business. Imp-"

The man cuts you off, letting out a noise. You're not sure if he's a commissar out of his regalia or a lord, not that it matters in the end.

"Ohhh! That's surprising."

You wonder why he thinks that.

"You don't seem like a young lady who would be part of the fortifications of the Sol system," It takes a lot in you to keep your place- to not roll your eyes - and just smile and nod.

"Well, looks are deceiving sometimes."

The man smiles and nods, seemingly amused your answer.

"Indeed they are."

You look away from him and over the massive and ornate railing at the view below you, spires and twisting paths of gold weaved between endless construction. Your primarch has been hard at work, and the pict you decide to take will serve as a useful thing to add to your ever growing documentation.

The man looks at you amusingly as you do it, but oddly enough doesn't ask why.

"How long have you been out here all alone?" He looks at you curiously, his chin tilted upward just slightly as he casually crosses his arms.

You think on it for a moment. You aren't meant to be here for the current meeting, it just happens to be going on in tandem to your arrival. You also haven't been alone for most of it, though your guardian- you can't think of any other word to call him, even if guardian doesn't quite fit - has been absent as he left to give orders briefly.

"No more than an hour, I think." The man throws out a hand, gesturing it vaguely in your direction.

"An hour out here? how about you come and get a drink with me? At least take a break and warm up before you come back out here." You politely shake your head and take a step back, still holding your parchments close to your chest.

"Oh, no thank you, I don't have the time to take a break, I'm quite busy."

He waves off your refusal. "Nonsense, have you even been to a Terran gathering? There's plenty of things I'm sure you've never seen before. Have you tried wine?"

You haven't, but your interest to do so is nonexistent under this context. Desires aside, you have work to do; Dorn and his men hold your work to a high bar and won't be fond to see you slacking off.

"I haven't but I really need to get back to my work, or my Pri-"

The man reaches for you hand and while he grasps it gently, the gesture is unwelcome.

You notice two Imperial Fists passing by as you tug your hand out of his own and back away, scowling at him. The closer Fist that passes you by looks at you, and moments later you hear the distinctive crackle of the vox device in his helmet turning on as he continues by. It's a soft sound you've gotten used to, in your time close to astartes.

"Surely your work isn't important enough to not enjoy some company. I am far too bored of the people who only seem to chat because they want something."

Despite his lament seemingly authentic he seems to want something from you, hence his forcefulness. he reaches forward once again to put a hand on your arm and you back away, but you accidentally back yourself between him and the railing- cornering yourself.

"I told you, I am here on business and I am really not interested in-"

You hear something to your left, the thundering of heavy footsteps - and the both of you turn to see the source.

A wide surface of bright yellow armor is what you see, spanning far wider than you and far taller, as well. It makes you overjoyed, you know who he is- while the man looses all the blood in his face at once.

“Let go of her.”

Polux doesn’t need to do much more than speak and the man removes his hand, as now it's suddenly as if you're on fire.

Polux stands in the same realm as the primarchs in height in his armor, and even someone used to being around space marines would find themself more than a bit intimidated by him by just his presence, let alone being the object of his displeasure.

You know he's far kinder than his off-putting visage implies, but both you and Polux are fine with not letting anyone know about it.

"Thank you, Polux."

The man seems surprised by you saying the marine's name so casually, and the way he looks down at you. He looks at you as if he knows you, which given how rare it is for astartes to interact with baseline humans, is more than a bit unusual. His short, cropped blonde hair is stuck to his head in weird ways, after so long underneath his helmet.

You turn to him, fingers flexing around your notebook as you take one side step in Polux's direction.

"I was trying to say I am here on Imperial Fist business. I am one of the remembrancers for The Fists documenting their fortification of Terra." Polux stares at the man, and his neutral face accidentally serves to frighten him more. Despite you knowing the astartes is almost what you would dare consider shy, his stalwart, wrinkled face does not imply that in the slightest.

"And I am quite busy doing so."

The man swallows, playing with his teeth while shifting his jaw nervously.

"Oh I am, so so sorry. I never meant to intrude on Fists business, I was only trying to offer a nice lady a d-" Polux ignores the man; Looking down at you.

"Are you alright?"

You know if you say you aren't Polux will more than likely drag the man somewhere to be punished for his misdeeds. But you're fine, and find the whole idea a bit too time consuming to deal with. It's not as if he did anything horrific, besides being far too pushy and irritating. Given your status as remembrancer mouthing off to someone who might possibly be a high lord wasn't something you can do either, less you risk getting your head rent from your shoulders.

"Yes, I'm ok. Just a little handsy."

Polux only needs to take one look in his direction and gesture, almost as if the man is a wild animal, to dismiss him, and he walks off with a briskness in his step.

Now alone with Polux you soften significantly; While he doesn't do the same visibly, you can tell in his tone of voice and eyes that he is somewhat less aggravated.

You give him a sweet smile, ignoring the chilly breeze penetrating your clothes. He must've gotten the vox that the Fist sent when he walked by, probably knowing a fight was brewing. He looks down at you with that stoic but soft expression.

Even as battle hardened and massive as he is, something about Polux is almost, gentle.

"Thank you so much for saving me, Polux. I needed that."

His face changes just the slightest bit. You don't know why, and you can only assume he finds your thank you thoughtful. You don't imagine he hears the words that often.

Reaching forward he grasps your shoulder with his wide gauntlet, and starts to push you along. You nearly stumble over with how much ground he expects you to cover in one step, almost loosing hold of your parchments.

"We should return to the Eternal Crusader."

When you returned to the ship, it had taken Polux 45 minutes to remove himself from his armor.

Record time; Given his size he wears custom armor that takes more effort- and thus time - to remove.

It had taken only fifteen more to return to his quarters, dragging you along. Once you got there, there was only roughly 40 seconds before the sound of the door locking, and Polux picking you up, and throwing you onto his cot.

Your clothes didn’t survive the minutes after- they became tattered ribbons on the floor as Polux made a strategic path to his target.

He had such a logistical way about it; his bred traits cause him to treat every scenario with stoic and almost taciturn attitude.

He thrusts into you, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with an embarrassing loudness.

“Thank you for saving me, Alexis,”

The sentence goads him on hitting a deep part of him, and you feel the way he drives his cock even deeper into you. He’s pressing you into the cot, laying on your stomach back arched to present yourself to him. Polux is almost uncomfortably wide at his hips and torso, you can barely spread your thighs enough to allow him close enough, unless he puts your knees by your ears.

“Why must you find yourself in trouble every time I turn away from you,”

You let out a sharp moan as he drives himself into your particularly deep, and the thick base of his cock stretches you even wider.

“It just finds me, I don’t know what I’d do without you,”

He lets out a soft groan and you swear your feel his cock throb inside of you at the praise.

Polux has always had trouble recognizing his own skill among the other Imperial Fists. His skill is never enough, and he always doubts his place as belonging to his late brother. Your words fan a fire inside of him that only fuels with the acknowledgement that he has done his duty to the utmost of perfectionism, and never once faltered.

“More, please more,”

He grunts with effort as his massive forearms cage your body, his hips slapping against your ass. You know you're going to be covered in bruises that you'll have to cover, find excuses for, but you couldn't care less. You nearly squeal as the head of his cock bullies his way deeper inside of you, feeling like it’s at your belly button. His cot isn’t meant for this kind of abuse and creaks unhappily, threatening to crumble under the weight and strength of nearly 400 kilos of muscle and fat.

Why did you have to pick the biggest Imperial Fist that’s ever lived? Polux swallows your entire body in his shadow, and the overwhelming heat he exudes stifles the air with the hot smell of sweat and sex, combined with the odd chemical smell of an Astartes.

In an odd way it’s begun to stir something in you, and at times you at the way your body betrays you and begins to get hot at the worst of times.

Your hands desperately attempt to reach for anything to hold on to, one gripping his forearm and feeling his hair on your palm. You can feel the almost painful tightness in your lower stomach as you get closer and closer, gritting your teeth.

You have to be loud enough that it can be heard in the halls. You dread the idea of the serfs hearing their newest, brightest and shiniest remembrancer getting getting absolutely fucked out of her mind by one of the Imperial Fist's most stalwart and immovable men. But you can’t find the ability to be quiet- not when the Astartes is trying to force his cock impossibly deeper with each thrust as his balls slap against your cunt.

His brow furrows tight as he fucks you like it’s a singular goal, giving no mercy or gentleness.

The painful twisting vice in your stomach finally snaps when you cum, what little strength you had to keep your hips tilted upwards fails. You go nearly limp, and Polux is forced to move a hand to grab your hip and hold you up to continue trying to drive himself closer and closer to your cervix.

The way your soft walls clench around him almost stops the marine dead, and you can hear the hiss he lets out through his teeth.

This is only the third time he’s fucked you, and the first time he’s initiated it. The feeling of nerves and neurons unused being stimulated in such a way is almost overwhelming to him, and he isn’t sure if he enjoys the way his body almost takes control from him in that desperate, primal effort to finish.

He grips your hip tighter and fucks you harder with little regard to your limp and well fucked body, cumming inside of you not a few moments later. Buried to the hilt you feel the hot pooling of cum inside of you, and the way his cock twitches with each spurt.

When he pulls out, you whimper at the feeling of your abused cunt fluttering around nothing, and beads of his cum leaking from you.

You feel the back of your thighs ache in pain, and you’re sure they’ll be bruised wonderfully in a few hours.

“…Are you well?”

Polux says with an almost out of place concern as you lay limp on his cot. You nod and try to turn on your side beneath him.

“I’ll, I’ll be ok.” You don’t know if you will be right away; Your lower stomach aches as your cunt tries to recover from his abuse, and you’re sure sitting down or doing anything strenuous is going to be painful the next few days.

Polux furrows his brow, shifting his thin lips.

“I, do not like how unclear my mind gets during my… time, with you.”

You wish you could explain to him that’s normal, but to a man who’s known nothing but the machinations of a crusade, of standing stalwart and logical in the face of unknowns- desireless - you don’t know if you ever could.

“Do you want me to leave?” You look up at him, and he shakes his head.

“No.”

You attempt to adjust, but the motion puts tension on your aching muscles and causes you to grimace.

“You’re hurt? You lied?” Polux looks at you sternly, and you shake your head.

“I’m just really, sore. And bruised.” Polux shifts and moves to stand, further motivated when you hiss in pain again.

“You need the Medicae.” You quickly speak up. “Would you like to explain to them how you, an Astartes, fucked me so hard I can’t walk, or should I?”

Polux stares at you stone faced, a thinking expression that would be funny, if not for the embarrassment you implied.

“I… I will go to the apothecary and say you injured yourself and need salve.” Polux shifts his jaw, and you can see some of his more shy personality come through. “I will, forgo the details.”

You can’t help but smile a bit before he leaves, watching as the man storms off task at hand, and leaves you to wait.

[myokk]

Hi! I'm still feral for these two, would you mind giving us some art of them in their later years together!?

Hello angel!!!!

Sorry it’s taken so long to respond🫶🫶 but I wanted to draw some new art for this ask💓

We have: Sebastian and Eloise trying out their new fancy camera with a selfie, pictures of them with their daughter, and finally…idk I just always felt like this drawing is when they’re a bit older💓

I want to take this ask as an opportunity as well to talk a little about how I imagine their future (I have no chill & you can ignore this and just enjoy the art if you want😇).

I am a COMPLETE pantser - I never know how a chapter’s going to end when I start writing it (I always just have a few scenes I know I need to include to keep the plot moving forward). Although I have different *big* scenes I’m always writing towards, and themes/plot elements I’m always foreshadowing (shout out to @elliecutte for catching *almost* all of my hints and appreciating my general no chill😆), IM STILL NOT 100% SURE HOW I WILL END THINGS !!! 😳 I have a lot of endings I see as possible, and I think soon it will become more clear to me what will work the best💓

HAPPY ENDING:

Eloise and Sebastian become Unspeakables. I have a LOT of thoughts on this profession that could be its OWN post, and I feel like Unspeakables are generally specialized in one or two departments, but as their interests/research change they also change.

Eloise becomes an Unspeakable in the Mind and Death departments, with the occasional foray into Time. Her ancient magic is connected with all of these things (my version of AM is NOT like the game) & the Department of Mysteries is one of the only places that gives her any useful information about these things. Plus she thinks too much (it IS her hobby after all😆💓) and is very introverted so a hermit job like this is a perfect fit.

Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable as well, but I feel like it takes him a long time to specialize in anything, if he ever does. I just feel like becoming an Unspeakable is the adult equivalent of sneaking into the Restricted Section🥹🫶

They grow old together (I won’t explain TOO much) & have a lovely little family🥹 at least one daughter that they both dote on. Sebastian had an amazing childhood (idyllic until it wasn’t), and wants to give his daughter the same, and Eloise works hard to make sure their daughter feels the love that she never had growing up🥺

When Sirius is burned off the family tree, Eloise and Sebastian take him in🥹🫶 (they’re like 100 years old but WIZARDS LIVE LONGER…) The same happened to her all those years ago, and she wants him to know that his whole family hasn’t abandoned him.

Eloise LOVED her nieces - Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa - when they were younger, but as Voldemort becomes more powerful & people realize WHAT he’s doing, she has to separate herself from them. Her heart breaks seeing Bellatrix go mad, and seeing Narcissa engaged to a Malfoy out of obligation😔 (iykyk)

I haven’t thought any more about happy ending but I think it’s fun to think about how their future story might weave in with the actual canon events, ESPECIALLY since Eloise is a Black🥹💓

SAD ENDING:

After Sebastian gets his hands on Slytherin’s relic, it really starts to consume him and makes him even MORE obsessive than his natural tendencies - I imagine it similarly “talking��� to him like Slytherin’s locket/horcrux did in Deathly Hallows (😳)

Eloise is deathly afraid of the changes she’s seeing in Sebastian and steals it from him (he would never willingly give it to her ESPECIALLY if it starts to feel like a precious item to him)

BUT the relic triggers the latent Black Family Madness in her - the madness that afflicts almost every woman in her family since…🤭 - and she herself starts to lose touch with reality. Her body and soul are already destroying themselves between the curse and the ancient magic inside of her, and the relic is what triggers it in her.

Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable, focusing on the Mind, in a desperate attempt to find a cure for his Eloise🥺

He never gives up his research, and sometimes when he comes home she is lucid and they talk about his research - otherwise, he just loves and takes care of her.

(He’s never successful in finding a way to reverse what he feels he caused in the first place - his ambition and single-mindedness is, to him, the reason why all of this happened)

Honestly who knows if I end their story either of these ways😌 I just love thinking of AUs and different endings and I have a few others I’ve considered as well!!! And whatever endings I don’t write will be immortalized on this blog and in my art as well🙏

[pupi-pop]

I feel like when MK was still with Mac and Wukong as their actual son- He'd get nightmares of future events (I'd like to think he doesn't hear it like Mac, but gets dreams of it) and would wake in the middle of the night and go outside to find comfort in the stars. They'd sit there and be silent support unless MK sparked up a conversation. Often times not bringing up the nightmares themselves, but rather he'd ask Wukong or Mac to tell him stories. I imagine he still goes to them after nightmares even as an adult. -- Wowie, hello hi, I've been gone a bit. Welp, not only did I take an intentional hiatus- but it was kinda an influenced one. Basically my drawing tablet broke early on into last month and I had to be without for over a week and it kinda sparked an art block for lmk art for a bit. So I decided to go on a bit of a break until I could get into again Aaaaand here I am now c: I've got a couple more doodle ideas, so let's hope I can get those out in a reasonable time.

[adams-angels]

Talk to me

Adam X f!reader

🎸I hope I do you all justice. Don't be mad if this isn't very good. I generally am not very good!🎶

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Smut below. Minors dni thx

This isn't the first time you and Adam argued. It sure as hell won't be the last but today was a little different.

It's started off fine. You were at Adams apartment for the weekend. You made him breakfast, he showered you in kissed, shared a bit of banter... And that's where it went wrong. You said something which made Adam say something unexpected and worse. So an argument ensured. It ended when Adam had been called into work.

The last thing you said was "fine, I won't say anything ever again." It was petty! You were being petty. It's not like you hadn't said it before but you always did speak again, of course you did! But no. Today was different. You were keeping to your word.

Adam got ready to leave. "Okay. I'm going now." You looked up and nodded. Not even a kiss goodbye was had. He left the apartment scowling while you stayed up and sulked.

As the day went on her texted you. "Ugh, work is so dumb. Idk y they even wanted me in 🙄" you picked up your phone and read it. You made sure to read it. So he would see that you saw it. Petty.

Now you know Adam. You know Adam needs attention 24/7. Even if you're not together you need to text him back. You need to make sure he knows you're still there. You're still his.

So of course he saw the read receipt. He knows you have your phone in your hand. "What are you ignoring me?" Read. "Don't be so pathetic." Read. "Why are you doing this?" Read. "whatever! You think I care?! I'm FUCKING ADAM! I'M THE FUCKING DICK MASTER! I DON'T NEED YOU!" Read. "ANSWER ME?!" Read. "Haha, check out this meme." Read. "Please say something." Read.

You had him reeling. His trust issues taking over his mind. What if you've left him? What if fucking Lucifer's got his tiny ass claws into you?! "NO!" His wings flare, he charges towards the nearest window and takes flight. He can't stand you ignoring him. He can't stand the thought of you leaving him.

He lands on his apartments balcony, you're not in the livingroom. His heart pounds in his chest. Opening the sliding door he enters his apartment. A very broken "hello?" Escapes his lips. No response. The silence is too much.

He explores his apartment, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. "Y/N?" He heads towards his bedroom and there you are. Lying in bed. You're not asleep, you're on your phone, still ignoring him. You could of swore you heard a sigh of relief. It doesn't take long before he's back to his arrogant self. "What up sugartits? Still not talking?" That cocky smirk fills his mask.

He hops into bed next to you. You glance up at him, that stupid smile. "What? I didn't do anything, babe. C'mon, why don't you just say something?" You respond with a glare. He sits up, his smile waivered slightly at your resistance. He brings himself close to your ear, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I know how to get you to talk."

His hand slides down your arm, to your waist then your thighs. You know where this is going. With no resistance from you he moves one of your legs, spreading them. His fingers trace along your pantie line, just to tease you. You can feel your face flushing. "You're too cute, babes." He muttered, causing you to look up at him. As soon as your eyes locked with his, he moved your underwear to the side. Sliding a finger between your folds. He can see you holding back a whimper. "Wow, you're already soaked? Thinking about my cock all day, huh? Of course you were."

He continued sliding a finger between you, gently hitting your clit cause you to twitch. But still no sounds from you. He frowns slightly. "Why don't you tell me how much you want it, Gorgeous." It was so hard not to break. How much your wanted to tell him you wanted him. But no. Then he would of won. He always wins! You hold strong. "Fine." He grunts as he gets up. He crawls between your legs whipping off her robe revealing his, always surprising, massive cock. Throbbing with anticipation.

"I'm gonna make you beg." He grumbled. He wasn't happy you were still not saying anything. At this point he missed your voice. He missed your laugh. Your tuts. Your groans. Anything. Any noise! He wanted you do make a single sound. You watched as he positioned himself and got ready for him to thrust into you. He grabbed his member and lined up with your entrance and stopped. You looked up at him confused. That smirk was back.

He began jerking him against your aching cunt. His tip brushing against your clit you can't help but whimper. You quickly cover your mouth. "What was that babe? You want me to fuck you?" He asked with that shit eating grin. You nod, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Use your words, baby." You furrowed your brow, positioning your feet you buck your hips to try and get him inside of you but he's too smart for that, pulling himself away. "Nuh-uh. Words, y/n. Use them." He purred, teasing you. He moved back, continuing rubbing himself off on you.

You whined in frustration and desperation. "Fuck 'm getting close, babe." Your eyes widen. No way was he close, but his brow twitched which told you he wasn't lying. He was going to cum soon. "Fuck me Adam! Please fuck me! I need you!" You begged. "ah, you want me now?" "Yes, please. Please Adam?" It didn't take him long before he was inside you. Feeling your walls clenched around his thick member. You moan in ecstasy. Adam, gripping your waist, pulling you as close as he can so he can get deep inside you. "Fuckin' feel so good~ such a good girl." He grunted, pounding into you.

It's hard to read his true expression with that damn mask on, uou managed to get your fingers under the chin of his mask and pull it off. You can see his flustered face, how desperate and needy his eyes are. "Sso p-pretty anh~!" "Shut up.." he burrows his head in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, small whimpers escape his lips as moans roar out from yourself.

"Fuck, y/n-!" His arms wrap themselves around your waist as he holds you down and close. Filling you with his seed. His head still pressed against the nook of your neck. "'m sorry..." He whispered into your skin. Your arms slid round to his back, gently running your fingers up and down his back. "Please don't ignore me again." He mumbled. "I won't. I'm sorry." You reply, holding each other close.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed this one shot. It was fun to write! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[dragon-ascent]

Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?

Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.

Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3

-----

The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.

"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."

Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"

Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."

Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"

The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"

"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."

Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"

"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"

Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."

Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."

His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.

Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.

Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."

With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.

[specialagentlokitty]

Spike x reader - before I laid eyes on you

Sitting under the street lamp, you smiled to yourself as you pulled the pen away from the notebook you were drawing in.

You had been at it for a couple of hours, your wrist hurt a little bit, but since you hadn’t had a break that was to be expected.

What wasn’t to be expected was the sense you had from behind you that there was somebody creeping up on you.

“Hello.”

You heard whoever it was stop.

“How did you know I was there?”

“I know many things, just like I know who you are Spike, I know you’re here to kill me.”

Spike walked around the bench, and he sat down in next to you, leaning back as he lit a cigarette, resting an arm on the back of the bench.

You didn’t look at him, you simply just went back drawing in your notebook.

“You’re not even going to run away? You know that does take all the fun out of killing you pet.”

“I know I would never stand a chance trying to run from you.”

He hummed, nodding his head as he smirked a little bit.

“Is that so?”

He glanced down at the notebook, leaning over to look at what you were doing and you covered it.

Reaching up you placed a finger on his forehead and pushed him back.

“Oi, don’t touch the merchandise.”

“It’s not ready yet, if you want to look you have to wait.”

He huffed a little, and you smiled, going back to your drawing.

“Is this a trap? Am I being set up?”

You shook your head.

“No, they don’t even know I’m out. It’s the only time I can find time. Plus, if it were a trap I’d be an easy hostage so I don’t see any situation in how you can’t win.”

He smirked a little again, nodding his head in agreement.

You glanced up at the building in front of you, studying the design, the structure, the colours.

Looking back at your notebook you carried on, hands moving on their own, as if you had drawn this exact building a million times, burned in your brain.

Spike watched you intrigued.

You made no effort to run away from him, no effort to scream or fight or try save your life in any kind of way.

It made him curious, and it took all the fun out of him wanting to kill you because for him it was all a game, the thrill of the chase, an instinct all hunters had, but you didn’t seem to have the instinct to flee.

You put your put your pen into your bag, and you slowly tore the page from book, and you set it on the bench.

“So, you made me pause my killing so you were able to finish a drawing?” He scoffed.

He picked it up, and he studied it.

It looked so real, as if you had picked up the building from the street and crammed it into the tiny page of a book.

“Intriguing, I wonder if you’ll want to draw what it will look like when I snap your neck.”

He looked up and you were gone.

“What the hell?”

Spike stood up, trying to find any sign that you were somewhere still around, or that you had even been there but there was none aside from the paper in his hands.

Spike flicked his cigarette across the e street and he began to walk up to the building.

You really hadn’t missed a spot of detail when you were drawing it, everything was there, from small cracks in some of the windows to the emblem at the front of the building.

That wasn’t the first time Spike met you, but it was the first time he was intrigued by you, and not in a way that made him want to kill you.

He noticed that when the he was fighting with Buffy or the others you weren’t there.

They made sure to keep you as far away as possible, but then as the nights came he would find you accidentally around the town.

He would just be on the hunt and he would stumble across you just sitting there, in your own little world as you drew something new and his attention would be focused on you.

And tonight was no different, he found you sitting at a table outside some late open cafe, a cup of coffee in front of you, your notebook on the table as you looked around.

Spike slipped into the seat in front of you.

“Hello love.”

“Should I be concerned for the amount of times you come to visit me?” You asked.

“Well, you should know better than wonder alone at night, especially in a town like this. Never know when a big bad will jump at you.”

You gave a small shrug, pulling your scarf a little tighter around you.

Spike watched intensely, and he leant back in his chair.

“Well, you seem to appear most nights, yet you still haven’t killed me.”

“I will one day, after all, it’s no fun if I kill you right away.”

You let out a soft laugh, picking up your cup so you could take a drink, then your turned your attention back to your drawing so you could finish it.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

“Depends on the question.”

Spike took your cup so he could drink some coffee and he set it back down, picking up the menu to browse the boring food.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

Spike looked up at you, slowly setting the menu back down.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

He didn’t say it with excitement, you could hear the curiosity in his tone, along with confusion.

“If I ask you to would you?”

“Maybe, might sire you, that could be fun.”

You shook your head at him.

“No sire, just pure death. As in nothing after, I won’t wake up again.”

“Now talk like this concerns a bloke love.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

Ripping the page from the book you handed it over to him and stood up, finishing your coffee before you began to make your leave.

Spike quickly got up, catching up to you in a few long strides and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Ah, ah, you’re not running off that easily. You can’t just say something like that and not expect follow up questions.”

“Please Spike, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.”

You carried on walking and Spike followed you, not saying a single word he simply just looked at you every so often.

Truth be told he would have killed you the first chance he got, now he didn’t want to, even if he could that thought never crossed his mind, but you didn’t need to know that, or about the chip.

You just had to think he was the same big bad.

“I’m not quite sure that was an invitation for you to follow me.” You said.

“I don’t need an invitation.”

You hummed a little bit, clasping your hands behind you as you turned around to look at him.

You smiled softly, walking backwards and he rose a brow at you.

“You can only go so far.”

“I can be rather convincing if I do say so myself, I’m sure I can convince your parents to invite me in.”

“You could try, that might be a bit hard if you live alone.”

Walking up to your house, you opened the door and stepped inside, grinning at Spike as he stood outside.

He wore an unamused look on his face, watching as you sat down on the stairs.

“Now that just isn’t fair love, don’t I get an invite?”

“Hm, I don’t think so. You’re nice company outside but at least u know I can just leave you at the door.”

He placed a hand on his chest, leaning on the doorframe.

“Ouch, now that hurts love.”

You smiled softly, and Spike looked around the hallway, all framed paintings and pictures that looked exactly like the ones you did.

You got up, turning the light on so he could see better, and it worked.

He could see better, a lot better

Now you were out of the dim streetlights, into some bright light that actually illuminated things Spike could see you better.

He could see you clearly.

“You’re blind..” he said quietly.

You smiled weakly, nodding your head as you walked back over to the steps to sit down.

“Not fully, mostly. I can still see a bit, my eyes are sensitive to the light, but I found a few spells that can help me navigate around.”

“A witch?”

“Yeah.”

Spike looked at you, it wasn’t obvious to anybody that you were blind, but he could see the blank look in your eyes, you looked at him but you didn’t.

He would’ve thought maybe you were just awkward at eye contact, but he could see it, the faint gloss that covered the outside of your iris, slowly creeping.

There was something else.

A sickly paleness to your skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

You sighed, resting your head on the wall behind you, and you looked over at the open door.

Spike was sat in your doorway, in his hands the new picture you had made of a deer, and it was so lifelike just like all the others.

“Cancer, in the brain, the uh.. the blindness might be a side effect of the tumour but they can’t be sure.”

“What do you think?”

“Maybe it’s making it worse yes, but I’ve always had problems with my eyes, ever since I was a child. Either way I’ll go blind.”

Spike nodded his head, looking up from the drawing.

You still held a small smile on your face.

“Do they know?” He asked.

Your smile a little.

“No. Spike you can’t tell them, they don’t need to know. Not with everything going on with you know.. well.. you… demons..”

“Right, right. It would put a damper on everything considering they think I’m just missing.”

You nodded.

A small silence fell over the pair of you.

“How long?”

You said nothing.

“How long do you have?”

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know, I’ve been offered surgery to try remove the tumours.”

“Have you accepted?”

“No.”

Spike stood up, slamming his hand on the doorway.

“Well why the bloody hell not?!”

“Either it works, and I still go blind, I die on that operating table, or I die of cancer. All three sound like rather poor choices.”

“But there’s a chance you could survive, you said it yourself you found a way to make it more bearable with the blindness.”

You walked over, sitting against the door and he sat back against the frame on the otherside looking at you.

“It will most likely come back.”

“Then.. then they cut it out again, they keep doing that.”

“Spike, they can only do it so many times before they stop.”

He furrowed his brows, eyes staring into yours.

“You’ll still die…”

“Yeah.”

He put the drawing in to his pocket, and he rested his head against the wood.

“That’s why you asked if I would kill you. Because you don’t want to die to the tumour, at least if I did it you would have control in your death.”

You nodded your head, and a soft smile gracing your face once more.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze coming through the door.

“Very well.”

You opened your eyes.

“I will do it under one condition.”

You titled your head a little.

“What’s that?”

“You agree to the procedure, if it fails then you hang on for as long as possible, then when the time is right you ask and I will give you a quick and painless death.”

“No resurrection?”

“None, just death.”

You agreed to his terms, and the following day you went back to the hospital to speak to your doctor about the procedure.

Spike was there, lurking in the hallways away from the sunlight, and when the door to your room was opened he stepped aside and waited.

You closed the blinds and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“Well?”

“They ran some tests, they need to take it out now, and I’ll be hospital bound for a while.”

“Right, you should call your friends. In the event that you die of course.”

You laughed weakly.

“The doctor is doing it, I guess that means I won’t be seeing you around huh?”

Spike sat on the edge of your bed.

“I’ll be around.”

You smiled, and reached up, gently touching the side of his face and he said nothing about it.

You could tell his was smiling though, from the little crinkles at the corner of his eye.

“Thank you.”

Spike got up, leaning forward he pressed his lips to your forehead and took a step back.

“Good luck love..”

With that he was gone.

He hasn’t told you about the chip in his head, that even if he wanted too he wasn’t able to hurt you, but he definitely didn’t want to hurt you.

He couldn’t hurt you, it would hurt him, but if it came down to it and it was what you wanted then no amount of pain in his skull would stop him from granting you that wish

[tommydarlings]

Pretty when you cry | c.l

pairing: mean!dom!charles x sub!gasly!reader

warnings: smut, taking virginity, cnc, gagging with fingers, gagging with a thong, chocking, dacryphilia, slapping, slight overstimulation, dumbification -> extended version!! (3.9k)

w/c: 2.5k

summary: After desperately trying to find your brother at a very noisy club, you surprisingly land in the arms of his best friend Charles, and you surprisingly land bend over his kitchen counter while he takes your virginity in a very mean and rough way.

song suggestion: Pretty when you cry by Lana del rey

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +25 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

The music was almost hurting your ears as you slowly tried to squeeze your way through the wild crowd, pulling your arms to your chest that was perfectly hugged by the thin, red dress that you’ve bought yourself not to long ago.

You sighed as you weren’t able to see your brother anywhere even though he told you that he’d stay by your side… most of the time.

Worked out great, didn’t it?

But who were you to blame — you should have known better than that. Obviously your brother, Pierre would be celebrating with his friends and drink until dawn breaks out instead of watching if his little sister and making sure that she’s having fun.

Oh, you were having sooooo much fun trying to find your older brother and telling him that you’ll go home now since you're… tired.

But after multiple hopeless minutes of trying to find Pierre, you gave up and just decided to take seat at the bar, ordering a harmless glass of water.

Suddenly a young but rather crusty and drunk man sat himself down, right next to you even though every other seat was still available. Could this night get any better?

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he slurred his words, obviously being under the influence of too much alcohol as he came a bit closer to you, making you sliding your body a few centimetres away from him,

“I am not-”

“Shut the fuck up and let the man speak, are we clear?” He interrupted you as his palm touched your bare skin on your back, fingers gliding along your shivering figure. You never felt that kind of fear before.

“Don’t be scared-”

“I am not int-”

“Shut the hell up bitch! God! You are really something else, aren’t you little one?” The stranger yelled at you in a loud tone before his fingers went further down, making tears fill up your eyes.

After swallowing at least a tiny part of your fear down, you swiftly stood up, “I said that I am not interested.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “And I said that you should shut the fuck up and let the man talk, you-”

“Excuse me?” Someone interrupted the stranger who was still touching your back. As soon as you turned around, you were quite suprised to see your brother's best friend, Charles, standing with a dark and almost possessive gaze right behind you.

You gulped as you looked up at Charles, “C-Charles, I-”

But before you could say anything, Charles grabbed the stranger by his wrist and removed his palm from your body, harshly throwing it away before he got a hold of his collar and slammed his against his seat.

“Touch her again, and I’ll make sure that you ain’t got no hands to touch her with anymore, am I clear?” Charles spoke up with pure rage in his voice, quickly letting go of the young, disgusting man before he looked down at your slightly paralysed figure.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked you as soon as the young man left, hand now gently touching your arm, thumb drawing circles onto your skin.

You slowly nodded, “I-I am-” but you couldn’t get the words out, you just started crying and before you knew it, you stood up and fell into your brother's best friend's arms, tightly hugging him as he put his chin on top of your head and shushed you.

“Shh,” he whispered as his palms caressed your back, “It’s okay now, I am here, alright?” Charles asked you as he looked down at you, wiping your tears away before he gave you a quick and short peck onto the top of your head.

You briefly wiped one last tear away before you lifted your head and looked up at Charles, “I w-want to go home b-but I can’t find my b-brother.” Quickly looking around the big, noisy room again to see if you maybe see him now but no chance, Pierre was nowhere in sight.

Charles briefly scanned the room as well before he brushed a strand of hair out of your face and answered,

“I can take you home if you want to, sweetheart,” Charles whispered in your ear while his hands didn’t leave your still shaking body, you nodded before your eyes widened.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Pierre has my keys! I can’t go home without him!” You nervously told your brother's best friend.

Maybe you’ve imagined it, but you could swear on your older brother that Charles’s eyes briefly darkened as he looked down at you, hands leaving your body as he got his car keys with one hand, and his phone with the other.

You gulped and shook those thoughts away before you leaned forward and glanced at his phone where he’s typing something, other hand playing with his Ferrari car key.

“What are you doing, Charles?” You mumbled. He briefly looked at you, eyes still kind of darker than before,

“I’m texting your brother that I’ve found you and that I’ll take you home with me, okay?” Quickly putting his finger through the big chain that’s attached to his car key before he swiftly took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

You were just able nod as the monaguesque leaded the two of your out of the loud club, hand tightly grabbing yours since he really didn’t wanna lose you in that big crowd.

Even through the two of you are not dating, Charles always had a special place in your heart that the other friends of your brother didn’t had. Since today you’re not sure which kind of place that is but you always just brushed the feeling away that you’ve got as soon as Charles looked into your eyes or touched you since you were the little sister of his best friend.

And something like that could never end well, right?

“Thank you,” you quietly thanked him in a hush tone as he opened the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before he went over to the drivers seat, immediately starting the engine, making it roar so loud that most of the people that stood outside turned their heads and looked in your direction.

You just gave the a small, polite smile before Charles already took off and drove you to his home.

- - -

“I’ve actually never seen your house before,” you said as you entered Charles's million dollar mansion in Monaco, feeling his big palm on your back as he leaded you the way towards his living room.

Charles hand left you right before he sat himself down onto one of the big sofas in the modern room, you took a seat at the other one right at the opposite of him.

After taking a deep breath, you leaned down and desperately tried to removed your black high heels, but you felt so exhausted that you just sighed and leaned back again, not even trying.

“Should I help you?” Charles asked you in a quiet but deep tone, already getting on his knee in front of you.

You just nodded, muttering a quiet 'thank you' before his fingertips touched your ankle, slowly gliding them down to the hard fabric before he gently opened your heel and removed it from your tired feet, putting it down right next to him.

Then his hands went to your other leg, fingertips touching your knee now, briefly looking up at you. With slightly widened eyes, you looked down at him, hands gripping onto the couch as his soft fingers glided down your leg until he reached the dark heel.

After a few seconds, he was also able to remove your other heel but this time he bend his body downwards and kissed the spot right above foot, just briefly pecking it but it made you blush like a little school girl that just received her very first kiss.

“Thank you Charles, for everything tonight,” you mumbled as he set the other heel next to the first one down, putting your foot down again, looking up at your sitting figure

“No need to thank me mon chéri,” he answered in a hush tone.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him after he stood up, your heels in his hands as he carries then to the front door, gently setting them down before he turned his body around and look at you.

“I am sorry that you guys have to go through stuff like that almost everyday,” Charles started talking about the man in the club, making your ears peek up, “Men are disgusting, no arguments there, that’s for sure.” The monaguesque told you while you nodded along,

“They r-really are, yeah,” you quietly answered as you crossed your legs and leaned your body backwards, eyes not leaving his slightly darker ones.

“I mean,” you started again, “I guess that I don’t know a lot about men or at least their… sexual behaviour since I’ve never been touched by one but they are definitely… disgusting, nasty, ugly, pricks.”

Suddenly, Charles stood a bit straighter, slowly taking baby steps towards your figure on the sofa.

“What do you mean that you’ve never been touched by a man before, sweetheart?” You briefly blushed at the infamous nickname before you spoke up,

“Well, I-I am a Virgin, so-”

And Charles quietly laughed. Only very, very quietly and softly but you were definitely able to hear it, no doubts.

“You-, You’re a virgin?” Charles asked as he stood almost right in front of you, forcing you to look up at your brother's best friend.

You nodded, “yeah, I j-just don’t want to waste it, you know?” You gulped as he stood right in front of you, hands in the pocket of his dark slacks as he looked down into your big eyes looking at him.

“Yeah, I understand,” he mumbled in a deep tone, eyes now visibly darker… for some reason that you couldn’t catch onto.

Then, after starring at each other eyes for a couple of seconds, Charles removed one of his hand from his pocket and put it on your check, thumb gliding along your bottom lip as his lips turned into a very tiny smirk.

You furrowed your brows as you looked up at the Ferrari driver, thumb now softly and slowly caressing your bottom lip. And then he tapped onto your lip, silently asking you to open your mouth and suck on his thumb.

And to your surprise, you did as you were told and opened your mouth and sucked on his thumb.

“I knew it,” Charles muttered as you furrowed your brows again, not knowing what he meant by that.

“I fuckin' knew that you were not the pretty little innocent girl that’s just Pierre’s little sister and nothing more,” he whispered in a deep tone, “Your doing so good for me, ma chérie.”

You took his thumb a bit deeper into your mouth while he opened his pants, removing his belt before he freed himself.

And oh my god, was that fucking big.

He chuckled in a deep tone as he saw how your eyes widened, thumb leaving your greedy mouth, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” slowly leaning forward so that his mouth was hovering above your ear, “I’ll make it fit in every single hole of yours,” he told you, making you gulp before he brushed some hair out of your face.

“Stick your tongue out, baby,” Charles demanded in a rather soft tone. He got a hold of his big cock and slapped the tip of it onto your wet tongue, repeatedly doing so while you kept your hat on his one.

“That’s my good girl,” he muttered deeply as he shoved his dick down your throat, at first very slowly but then going a bit faster as he noticed your want for it.

“Fucking shit,” he groaned loudly, “if your brother would only know what I am doing with you now and what I am gonna do with you after you’re down with sucking my cock, then I would be dead.” He stated as his breathing pattern got more uneven, feeling his orgasm approaching him while you gagged around his cock.

“O-Oh my god, just l-like that!” He groaned deeply as he got a hold of the back of your head, forcing your mouth even further down his cock while he looked down at you.

You continued gagging on his cock as he shoved him further down your throat, making tears shoot into your eyes, Charles was only able to growl as he noticed that.

He removed your head from his cock and slapped his leaking tip onto your sticked out tongue, smirking while doing so, “if your b-brother should ever p-provoke before, during or after a r-race, I am gonna record you in that e-exact state and send it t-to him, I swear I-I do that.”

You gasped and quickly closed your mouth, in the meanwhile — Charles took your hand and leaded it to his erection, forcing you to jerk him off, “Please d-don’t do that c-charles, Pierre would kill b-both of u-us.” You answered quietly.

He chuckled at your reaction, one hand on your wrist as he guided your hand that was currently jerking him off while the other hand held your chin, thumb playing with your now slightly cum covered lip.

“We'll see… it depends.” He mumbled.

You tilted your head to the side but charles didn’t liked that, immediately turning your head again and pushing your face slightly forward.

“Depends on what?” You asked him innocently, hand not stopping the movements on his cock.

“Depends on how good of a good girl you are for me tonight, you understand?”

You slowly nodded, gulping at his demanding tone. Charles smiled in a wicked way, “Good.”

Then, he gently took your hand and removed it from his cock, tightly gripping your upper arm and pulling your body up, leading you in a quick and careless way towards the kitchen counter, swiftly bending you over it.

“C-Charles, what are you d-”

But your sentence was cut off by his big palm slapping over your mouth, suddenly feeling his closer to your body.

He got a hold of your thong, dragging it down your legs.

You expected him to put it down onto the counter next to you, or maybe dropping it onto the floor but that wasn’t the case, no — he tied the thin, white material around your mouth, not making it unable for you to speak but also not making it able for you to speak properly.

You gulped, or at least desperately tried to do so, as Charles made sure that the white piece of clothing is tightly tied around your mouth, feeling how he exposed your ass, dick gliding along your wet entrance now.

And once again, you gasped at the feeling, especially since you were feeling it for the first time.

“Do you trust me, mon amour?” Charles whispered in your ear from behind while the tears didn’t stop.

You refused to answer for a few seconds but then you mumbled through your thong,

“Yes.”

He quietly sighed, “Bad idea.”

[katiefrog217]

...

Hello everyone! What's it been like, a week since I last properly posted something? That's my bad. I've really wanted to draw but if you can still believe it, my hand(s) are still recovering, and I was trying forced to take a break.

Am trying to get back into drawing bit by bit, and also trying to settle my style with the Ineffables.

As practice, I drew a more modern humanoid form for the both of them, as sort of a modern day take on their (rough) Eden Designs.

I don't want to info dump everything in this post, as I hope to one day make a Master Post for this AU, but here are some tidbits:

It's uncomfortable for a dragon to maintain a fully human looking form, though it's not impossible. Both Crowley and Azi compensate with accessories.

The longer a Celestial/Demonic Dragon spends on Earth, the more they have the urge to Hoard (usually something of their interest). Azi's is his books and bookshop, while Crowely's revolves around fashion and accessories (usually star related).

Crowley has a massive collection of pins and cufflinks revolving around constellations. The ones he's wearing here are Serpens and Leo - thought his other favorite combo is Corvus and Columba (honorable mentions go to Centaurus and Draco).

Azi's ear cuffs are Winged Serpents.

In Dragon AU, Crowley tends to wear more long styles than short.

Crowley wears his scales out for the aesthetic.

Alright, I think those are the main points for now, but if you are at all curious, feel free to Send Me An Ask! I'd love to answer questions on this au!

If you want to see their Dragon Forms, check HERE.

[phlurrii]

It’s finally time to introduce the secondary project I’ve been working on >;Dc

I’ve had this queued for sometime in June, did not check when, so hello on [random date in june] ;D

I’m also here to explain how I’ll be posting this stuff going forward! Everything will be posted here, on my main account before being reblogged over to Soul’s Anchor a side bog with the place holder title. Unless it deals with more adult/suggestive content or heavier topics, of which will be exclusively posted to Soul’s Anchor side blog. As I don’t want certain themes alongside AM! I’ll also be referring to this series as Anchor for short! I will encourage any and all Questions, Mentions, and Thoughts to be directed there for those interested and those who are not, dw! You’ll only see the initial posts here, no asks or follows up, but this is still my art account and I shall enjoy it as I please ;3

Brief Synopsis about the Story:

A queer love story following a cursed pirate and a cult refugee implanted with a god’s eye as they combat the reality of living in a world which was created solely to feed the gods that govern it. All whilst a sapphic couple attempt to help guide the pair along a path to to a better future, one that’s validity comes into question. A dark fantasy story that aims to represent the disabled community, the LGBTQIA+, and SA survivors written by fellow members of these communities.

Also brief disclaimer, I, Phlurrii, am simply an ally to the disabled community, my partner in crime writing alongside me, ArtJunco on Instagram, is our resident community member ;]

Anyways onto the meat of this!

Below is a collection of some, emphasis on some, of the concept art and processes I went through to develop and create one of the two main characters, Lumae.

Here are some of the earliest ideas, the basic thoughts I had in my brain when developing this goober after a 3 hours pacing in my kitchen at 1 am when that inspiration struck. His hair was the HARDEST bit for me to figure out. Which sucked as usually the hair is one of the first things I figure out because of how much I love it, so it was Agony while brainstorming that part.

I also briefly considered a goatee, however it was so cruelly shot down by my dear friend. So in stead we compromised that he may get one later down the line story wise… and see how we feel then. However, upon finally figuring out his hair I was bloody elated, still has some tweaks now and then, but the base is there.

As for this next concept, this was actually the FIRST thing created for Lumae and what started everything else about his character/design! His eyes! They are still my favourite but about him and something I adore whole heartedly! They are the core of his character ;3c

These next few are early refs and mock ups of his full design, testing our colours, experimenting with shading, getting used to drawing humans again, and general concepts I had for him as a character! Also a sneak peak at Ayric, our second main goober for this story! Who was lovingly designed and created by ArtJunco!

And finally his most recent WIP ref! The only thing currently bothering me about his design is the colour for his boot covers, I have no idea what to do with them so I’d you have suggestion or ideas, sincerely, feel free to shoot an ask to the Anchor blog! I’d genuinely love outside opinions!

As for the main curiosity of why I’m doing this, for those that missed the last post, I’ll give a brief explanation below ;3

To help with burnout so I can hop between fixations, help to avoid losing interest in AM in the future!

Keep up practicing humans and critters alike.

To take a break from story telling to do story building! Give the telling part of my brain a break, while still making cool stuff ;]

To have a more interactive blog with ya’ll! One where I’ll likely be asking advice and discussing a lot more hypotheticals, doodling asks, and general audience interaction given I am not bound by any updates! Purely just “ooo… shiny-“ and anyone is welcome to join me ;D

Last thing I request is to please read Anchor’s blog bio/description before you follow, as this story will deal with subjects not suited for all audiences posted/discussed exclusively on that blog.

Anywho, that’s all for now folks, hope you enjoyed this brief intermission to kickoff the second project being public!

[the-bitter-ocean]

mira and sif's friendship means so much to me so thinking about post-act 5 ICAS makes me want to explode (POSITIVE)

on that note i wonder how the conversation at the clocktower went? it's not like leaving mirabelle behind is an option so they probably don't bring that up but. y'know. how's everyone feeling?

( ACT 5 SPOILERS ) Hello anon I am glad that you are enjoying my au! To answer your question, as you brought up you’re correct that the group wouldn’t suggest leaving Mirabelle. They wouldn’t because 1) that’s their friend and 2) they quite literally cannot progress in any meaningful way in the king fight / through the house without her. They would most definitely not make it. That being said nobody is happy with how Mirabelle treated them. Concerned that Mirabelle won’t say what’s wrong to her friends and upset about all the mean things she said when lashing out etc. I have not fully posted the act 5 clock tower convo yet (still in the process of drawing the CGS for it) but I do have bits of dialogue if you’d like to see it! Writing excerpt is under the cut:

TLDR: The group does talk about how Mirabelle is acting really strange and how her actions have hurt everyone. They all wish to talk to her about how they feel and ask her to let someone else in the group do the leading instead, since they feel like Mirabelle in the state that she’s in right now isn’t exactly fit to lead the party like usual. The group planned on still taking her but opted to give her more of a break and let everyone else do more of the heavy lifting so to speak ( believing that the main source of her stress is from taking one too many responsibilities all on her own + the pressure of saving the country ).

Mirabelle unfortunately after overhearing the conversation came to the wrong conclusion altogether. Mirabelle (incorrectly) assumes that after all this time she clearly was being selfish- that she “forced” her companions to accompany her journey to defeat the king and that they don’t trust her anymore. Mirabelle thinks that it should have just been her to defeat him. In her mind it makes sense: she’s the one with the time freeze immunity given to her by Euphrasie and she’s the one looping in time. The act 5 clock tower conversation just unintentionally reaffirmed her fears that she dragged innocent people into danger and will only get them hurt or killed. So she decides the best course of action is to take the orbs and run off to fight the king alone.

I’m sure it went totally great.

[dancingdonatello]

hello !! I hope you’re having a good day ^^ can I request a platonic Mikey w/ an always tired/nonchalant reader? I really like opposite dynamics :3

rottmnt mikey x gn reader

Mikey has found the solution for you.

You’re usually too tired to hang out with the turtles at night when they’re up and active. You always fall asleep right before you’re meant to go down to the lair or when they’re about to show up at your house.

But now he leaves just a bit before when you fall asleep. It’s still dark out, but people are still as active as in the daytime, which makes Raph worry for him.

He just sneaks away when Leo distracts Raph for him.

He arrives at your window, knocking loudly to get your attention.

He has found out that if he takes your attention before you have time to even think about going to sleep, you will stay awake. A little tired. But not as exhausted as the time he woke you up at 12 AM.

He brings you down to the lair just before Raph notices he has left.

This solidifies your friendship. It also makes you and him way closer than you are to any of his other brothers, no matter how often Leo tries to throw pick up lines and puns at you.

You two get into trouble together. Lots. Mikey is a horrible liar when it comes to Raph so he always hides behind you when you give your alibis. You didn’t break the vase. Donnie did. Etc.

As much as Mikey goes out of his way to make things easier for you, you do the same. You heat up your home to temps that you dislike just so that he’s comfy during the winter.

You allow him to take blankets and draw on your walls and root around in your stuff just because it makes him happy.

He is very grateful to have a friend like you.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Hello my friends. I’ve been having the worst writer's block of my life and I am so so sorry that it’s been so long. This fic has been in my drafts for forever so I decided to finish it up since my brain is all out of new ideas. That being said, I’ve always planned on this being a two-part story so I thought I would leave you all with part 1 for now while I try to get my shit together lol. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you see any typos… no you didn’t. Also don’t worry I promise that part 2 will have hella smut ;)

Content Warnings: Angst / talk of sex (non graphic - happened in the past) / sadness / feelings of not being good enough / low self esteem / unrequited love (for now) / miscommunication

Word Count: 8k

My Taglist: Here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Maybe it's just the excitement of the last show. Maybe it’s nerves or just the tension and energy oozing from everyone as they all prepared for showtime. Maybe it's the fear. Maybe it's the joy of celebration, or maybe it’s the dread of things going wrong. And maybe, if you’re really honest with yourself, it’s the goodbye that stands menacingly on the horizon – like a sentry waiting to capture your heart in his iron first. Maybe it’s none of those things, or maybe it’s a combination of all of them. But it’s worse tonight – that need that you have for him. The one that seems like it’s become a constant storm cloud that hovers oppressively over your heart, no matter how hard you try to push it down. It’s still there – lingering and festering like a wound. You push the feeling away for what feels like the thousandth time. Tonight isn’t the night. 

Show nights are hectic, especially a night as important as this one; Dreams in Gold is drawing towards its inevitable ending, and everyone wants these last few shows to finish on a high note – preferably with as few hiccups as possible. There’s only a handful more after tonight – with just a small break for the boys in between, before the last leg kicks off. And your job is simple: make sure the boys look good while doing what they do best. 

Josh’s makeup is usually first, as he prefers to be ready to go a lot earlier than the rest of the band. A fact which, as he’s stated numerous times, is due in part to his nerves and anxiety before he takes the stage. His jumpsuits may be his armor, but his makeup is his war paint – equally as important (if not moreso) than his beautiful outfits. He’s jittery as he sits in his chair, leg bouncing and fingers drumming endlessly on his knee. 

“Josh,” you mutter as you swipe some gold glitter across his eyelids, “you’ve got to stop moving.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, voice soft as he tries to rest it for the night. “Just nervous.”

“I know.” You tell him, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. “But you all are going to do great. You always do.” You pull out a tube of mascara and delicately swipe it through his lashes to complete his look. “What is it you always say? ‘Fuck fear’?” 

Josh gives you an airy chuckle and a lopsided grin. 

“Something like that.” 

“Well, try and follow some of your own advice, Oh Wise One.” 

He just rolls his eyes playful at you, but the tension eases from his shoulders a tiny bit. Small victories. 

There’s comfortable silence for a while as you methodically glue a few rhinestones to his cheek bones. 

“And when are you going to follow my advice?”

You quirk your brow at him quizzically, eyes staying focused on his rhinestones as you attempt to make them as symmetrical as possible. 

“When are you going to say ‘fuck fear’?” He straightens his posture slightly as you pull away from him, brows pinching together. “The phrase seems…” he waves his hand vaguely towards you. “...particularly apt for your current situation.”

You turn your back to him to place the rhinestone case on the counter. You know exactly what he’s getting at but you’re in no mood to discuss such matters with him. He caught onto you a long time ago – his remarkable ability to pick up on subtle nuances and feelings from everyone around him becoming the bane of your existence for the past few months. 

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to admit the truth to him. Once you admit it to yourself, of course.” 

“I’m not admitting anything to anyone, Joshua.” You still haven’t turned back to look at him, instead busying yourself with pulling out the items you need for Sam next. “I wish you would just let this go. It’s just a stupid. It’ll go away.” 

You both know that you’re lying. 

“I highly doubt that, love.” Josh says sweetly, rising from his chair to come and stand next to you. He places his hand on your shoulder and the coldness of his fingers seeps into your skin at the contact – yet the warmth of the gesture isn’t lost on you. 

“I know you.” He pauses, grinning a bit. “And trust me when I say I know him… given the whole twin thing, and all that. This isn’t just a passing feeling.”

“Maybe for me it isn’t.” You say, a slight bit of resentment bleeding out in your tone as you pull open a makeup drawer with more force than necessary. “But he’s just so…” You trail off, looking for the right word. 

“Aloof?” Josh supplies knowingly, hand dropping from your shoulder to rest at his side. 

You nod once at him, eyes dropping to stare at the bottles of foundation that line the counter in front of you. 

“That’s his own fear getting in the way. You know how he is: him and emotions don’t get along too well. They haven’t since we were kids. He prefers to lock them all up and throw away the key instead of allowing himself to be vulnerable.” 

“He doesn’t owe me anything – especially not vulnerability. We got drunk and fucked each other in a bar bathroom… hardly romantic or vulnerable to begin with.” You bite your lip, the unwanted and all-encompassing hurt from that night rearing its ugly head yet again. “And we both agreed that it was a mistake, and then we moved on. There isn’t anything else to it.” 

“Sunflower,” Josh says, the nickname falling from his lips in almost a whisper, “you and I – and him for that matter, know that neither of you have moved on.”  

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what there is to say. You want to believe him, you really do. You want to allow that shriveled up little seedling of hope in your chest to bloom. But you know better. You learned better. 

“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question. He knows you don’t. 

“I wish I could. But he won’t give me anything to go on. One minute he’s there next to me and he’s flirting and being so sweet… and the next it’s like he’s a million miles away – barely even looking at me.” You sigh, and the weight of it all seems to press down on your shoulders as you slump forward, allowing yourself a moment of weakness with the kind man who stands in front of you. “I just wish he would talk to me. Why won’t he just talk to me?” 

You hate the tears that burn behind your eyes and you hate the ache that opens up like a chasm in your chest. You wish you could hate him, too. Lord knows you’ve tried. 

“Jake isn’t the best at words. But he’ll try. For you, I know he will.” He offers you a kind smile that soothes your aching heart a little bit. “Go to him. I promise he’ll talk if you’d just give him the opportunity to. He’s too afraid to approach you first.” 

You glance at your watch. 

“It’s getting close. I still need to do Sammy and Danny.”

Josh hears the unspoken dismissal and he inclines his head to you. 

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now. You know I’m only pestering you because I love you and want you to be happy.” 

“I love you too, Josh.” You giggle. “Why couldn’t I have just fallen for you instead of your brother? You’re so much easier to talk to.” You lament, giving him a self-deprecating smile. 

Josh’s eyes glitter with amusement and he grins at you, the apples of his cheeks growing pink with laughter. 

“Oh I wish, sweet Sunflower.” He bows his head, allowing the curls on his forehead to fall slightly. “But alas, my heart belongs to another, anyway. A losing battle it would have been.” He pitches his tone upwards, summoning his most theatrical voice. “My heart burns with undying love for someone else.” He says, raising his arms with an obnoxiously over-the-top flourish.“My soul has been intertwined with another. The call of the universe summoned us tog-”

“Okay, yeah I’m sure.” You interrupt him, shaking your head in laughter at his dramatics. “Give your undying love a kiss for me, would you? In case I leave before you all?” 

“Trying to steal him from me?” Josh asks, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes widening in mock surprise for a moment before smiling at you warmly.“Of course I will. But you better not leave before saying goodbye. And that’s an order.”

You give him a salute. 

“Yes sir, your majesty.” 

And with that, he’s gone – curly head disappearing out the corridor and leaving you with a head swimming with too many thoughts to process. 

Your relationship with Jake has been special from the start. From the first moment that you’d met him, you’d been drawn to him – like a moth to a flame. He made you feel alive and excited and terrified all at once. Trading flirtations with him became second nature – you poking fun at his pension for dressing in all black (pointedly referring to him as emo despite how much he denies it), and he always made sure to laugh whenever your naturally clumsy nature caused you to trip or drop something. But there’s never any malice in your little exchanges – your words instead dripping with thinly veiled joy (and perhaps a bit of nerves) as the two of you interact with each other.  

Even your nickname comes from Jake. That first day that you had met him, you’d been wearing a dress with sunflowers on it. He’d complemented it – telling you the flowers brought out the color of your eyes. And so maybe you’d worn a pair of sunflower earrings the next time you saw him (though you’d never admit to him that you did it on purpose), and Jake had been quick to point them out before jokingly referring to you as Sunflower. And the name had stuck – a fact which you were infinitely glad of. 

Your flirting with Jake continued to escalate as the two of you got to know each other better and it didn’t take long for your crush on him to develop into something more. Jake had carved a space for himself within your heart and no one else could fill it like he could. And before long, those flirty conversations between the two of you snowballed into a drunken, passionate-filled night in a bar bathroom – fueled on by lowered inhibitions and post-show adrenaline. It was fast and hard, but you’d enjoyed yourself thoroughly and hope had unfurled itself in your chest like a flower in the sun. Though it quickly withered and died once the afterglow had died off and Jake had told you plainly that it was an alcohol-fueled mistake. 

He’d said sorry, and he looked like he really was. And you’d assured him that there were no hard feelings and that yes, it had in fact been a mistake. Though it was a mistake for different reasons than what he had thought. For him – at least you assumed, the mistake lies in that he allowed himself to become carried away, drunk and tense from a show. For you, though, the mistake is that you fell for him… and in the fact that you now knew what it was like to have him – only for him to be promptly ripped away from you again. Which only made his absence all the worse. 

And although you’d both promised to act like it never happened, things changed. He grew distant. Never cold, but the familiarity and ease that had once existed between the two of you had been shattered beyond repair. No more flirty conversations or silly exchanges between the two of you. Instead, awkwardness has taken up residence. Every now and then, that old joviality would slip back into your interactions with him but he quickly catches himself and reels it back in. It’s confusing and hurtful, and you often lose sleep over his constant swinging back and forth. Regret lays heavy in your mind when you think back to that night at the bar, wishing that you’d put a stop to things before it got so far. 

You’re snapped from your melodramatic thoughts by Sam boisterously crashing into the room, a goofy smile plastered over his face. 

“I’m ready to be bedazzled!” He exclaimed, planting his lanky form into the chair and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you, and the sadness of the moment prior is shoved from your mind as you fall into easy conversation with him. 

Danny follows soon after Sam, and in the bustle of getting everything ready, you almost forget about everything. Though the thoughts still remain, brewing in the back of your mind like a thunderstorm just waiting to be unleashed.  

The show is spectacular, as is to be expected from your boys. As nervous as they might be beforehand, they never fail to deliver a jaw-dropping performance. You’d watched from the sides, soaking up the energy of the last show and doing your best to not think about the months that you were about to spend without getting to see them at all. Though you all live in Nashville, there’s no reason for you to see any of them outside of work. And even though they’re technically your bosses, they have all quickly wormed their way into your heart, earning themselves the title of ‘friend’ above all else. 

The night is turning out to be magical and you’re struck with a sudden surge of courage as you stand there watching them perform– or more specifically, watching him perform. 

He’s truly in his element up there on stage, shredding on his guitar like there’s no tomorrow. You always enjoy getting to see this side of Jake, given how reserved he tends to be in his normal day-to-day life. In the time that you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Jake is stoic and reserved around those he doesn’t know – content to sit in the corner and watch; but when he’s around people that he knows and trusts, his humor and kindness shine brighter than anyone else’s you’d ever met. You’d seen before how the fans often referred to Josh and Jake as the sun and moon, affectionately pointing out their subtle differences in personality despite being twins. But you had learned that Jake is by no means any less affectionate and joyful as Josh is, he’s just content to be a little quieter about it – making those times that he is loud all the more special. 

Once the show was over, the boys and some of the other crew were planning on going out to celebrate – apparently having booked a private room at a restaurant downtown in which everyone could make a little merry before officially saying goodbye. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Josh and Danny had given you their best puppy dog eyes, and you’d begrudgingly agreed to accompany them. 

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a table in the corner, brooding over your earlier conversation with Josh. With the tour being on break for now, you won’t be seeing any of them until it starts up again. And although you’re confident that Josh, Sam, and Danny will probably stay in contact with you here and there, (and maybe ask to get lunch every now and again) you know for a fact that the same can’t be said for Jake. If the past few months were anything to go by, you know that it’s going to be radio silence as soon as tonight is over. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he goes around the room, making conversation with seemingly everyone but you. It hurts, and maybe it’s the liquor that’s coursing through your veins or the months of hurt finally spilling over, but you decide that enough is enough. You’re tired of living on what ifs and maybes. You hear Josh’s voice in your head, clear as a bell: Fuck fear. 

With that thought in mind, you down the rest of your drink and stand up, determined to finally speak with Jake about what’s going on between the two of you. He’s across the room, talking with Danny’s drum kit tech. Jake looks effortlessly gorgeous, just as he always does.  

As you begin your trek across the room the nerves and adrenaline kick in. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and roll your shoulders back. 

He’s right there. All you have to do is ask him if you can speak with him for a moment. You know he’ll agree to – despite everything, Jake is still one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. He’d never intentionally upset you… or anyone for that matter. 

Josh had told you that Jake feels the same. Josh knows Jake better than anyone… and you trust Josh. And you trust Jake not to intentionally hurt you. He’s just afraid – just like you are. 

His back is to you. Easiest thing in the world to just… touch his arm to get his attention. 

Just as you reach your hand out to touch his shoulder, a girl who you’ve never seen before slides up next to him, comfortably easing her arm around his waist. Jake throws his arm over her shoulders and draws her in close and you watch in detached horror as he turns his head to face her and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

You draw back as if burned, spinning on your heel with the plan of getting the fuck out of here as fast as you can, hurt and embarrassment washing over you in waves – mingling with each other and making the perfect concoction for a panic attack. 

Frantically, your eyes scan the crowd in search of Josh: your one comfort throughout all of this, but you don’t see him. God, where the fuck is he? Of all the times-

“Sunflower?”

It’s Jake’s voice, and you turn to see him, Danny’s tech, and the girl looking at you in concern. 

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, dropping his arm from around the girl to turn around more fully. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Your voice comes out breathless and a little frantic, doing a poor job of hiding your impending meltdown. 

“Are you sure? You look a little-” Jake starts.

“I was actually just about to leave. Sorry.” You interrupt him, unwilling to spend a moment longer watching someone else have what you want so badly.  

“Already?” Danny’s tech asks, and if you were in a better state of mind you’d probably feel guilty for not being able to remember his name. Instead, your mind is focused on the mounting panic rising in your chest, threatening to overtake you as you desperately try to keep your cool. 

“I’m a little tired.” You supply vaguely, eyes scanning the crowd again in search of Josh. Still no sign of him. 

“Well, I was hoping to introduce you to Lindsey.” Jake says, causing your eyes to cut back to him. He’s smiling, but you can’t decipher the odd look in his eyes. 

“Hi.” She says, giving you a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.” 

She extends her hand for you to shake and your eyes briefly snap to Jake’s. He looks on edge, like he’s waiting for something. Your approval? You’re not sure. 

You shake the girl’s hand. 

“Hi. I’m Y/n.” 

Lindsey smiles. She’s pretty. Very pretty. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and some blush. Her clothes aren’t overly flashy and her eyes seem soft and kind. She’s exactly the type of girl you can imagine Jake going for and the thought makes you want to throw up. But instead, like the adult you are, you plaster a smile on your face to match hers. 

“Jake’s told me a little bit about you. He says you’re a great makeup artist.” You know she’s saying that to be nice and to find some ground where you’re comfortable – obviously sensing that you’re on edge and trying to help in any way she can. But you just can’t do this. Not tonight. Not now. 

“I’m alright, I guess.” You shrug, and you can feel how forced your smile is but you persist. “It’s really nice to meet you but I really need to get going. Jake?” You turn to him, doing your best to ignore the tears that are beginning to brim in your eyes. “Have you seen Josh? I told him I wouldn’t leave without telling him and his partner goodbye.” 

He shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that can only be described as defensive and uncomfortable. 

“Sorry, I haven’t. I’ll keep an eye out for him, though.” 

“That’s alright. I’ll just shoot him a text later. Congrats on a successful night,” you say, nodding to the tech, Danny, and then to Jake before turning to Lindsey, “and it was really nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run.”

“That’s okay. I hope you have a good night.” She offers, eyes still watching you in concern. Somehow, her kindness makes this whole thing worse. 

You turn away from the group and, as if in a dream, you make your way to the exit of the bar. 

With no Josh in sight, you pull your phone from your pocket and call an Uber to take you back to the hotel where you’ll pack up your bags for the last time. This time tomorrow, you’ll be in your own bed away from all the madness. You wish the thought gave you more comfort. 

//////

Three weeks pass agonizingly slowly. After being on tour for so long, the sudden change in tempo to your normally fast paced life leaves you floating through your days as if in a dream. Where once it seemed as though you barely had time to even sit down and think, now you have too much time to do exactly that. There’s only so many good shows that you missed and there’s only so many useless outings to be had before you find yourself going stir crazy. Distraction-less, your thoughts swirl hopelessly around Jake and your bitter, self-hating disappointment. 

You think fondly about the first time you met. You think of your flirting and of the soft moments the two of you shared before it all went to hell. You even think of that damn bar bathroom; you think of the passion and the hope that had bloomed in you that night, and of the crushing disappointment and hurt that soon followed. And inevitably, your thoughts always seem to circle back to that last night, when you finally mustered up the courage to say something, only for the universe to seemingly throw it back in your face with a laugh and a middle finger. And the very worst part of it all had been Lindsey’s obvious kindness and concern towards you, despite having only just met. You hate that you can understand why he chose her. 

Those thoughts feel particularly loud tonight as you stare down at an invitation to a group dinner from Josh. He, along with Sam and Danny, had texted you here and there – little things about what was going on in their lives since you last had seen them. But this was the first time that you had been asked to go out with them. 

You’re torn. Torn between the desire to see all of your friends again and wanting to avoid having to see Jake (and even worse, Lindsey) if you didn’t absolutely have to. But, deciding to put your big girl pants on, you accepted, texting Josh a simple Sure :)  

He responded almost immediately, eagerly letting you know how excited he was to see you. 

And here you find yourself, nervously adjusting your top for the millionth time that night as you drive to the bar that Josh had told you about. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but to think about Jake as you had gotten dressed. You feel silly for still allowing yourself to be so hung up on him. You shake your head at yourself, almost in the hopes that the thoughts will slip from your mind at the action. Despite everything, you’re determined to have a good time tonight. 

You’ve never been to this bar before, nestled away just a few blocks from Broadway on the East side of Nashville. It’s a nice place, but not so fancy that it comes across as too uptight or uncomfortable. Walking through the doors, you see that there’s a bar off to the right, with a few larger tables scattered across the floor to your left, and some pool tables and a dart board tucked away in the back. It seems laid back and comfortable – just the kind of place the boys like to frequent. Sam and Danny are already at a table, excitedly beckoning you over. 

“Sunflower!” Danny calls, standing from his seat and opening his arms wide. 

You jog over to him, grinning from ear to ear as you allow him to engulf you in a hug. 

“I missed you.” He tells you sweetly, squeezing you a little tighter. 

“I missed you too, Dan. Especially your hugs.” 

“Quit hogging her!” Sam interrupts, gripping your wrists in his long fingers and pulling you from Danny and into himself. 

Giggling, you hug him too. 

“And I missed you.” You pull away from him, casting your eyes between the two of them. “I missed all of you guys. Speaking of… where’s tweedle dee and tweedle dum?” 

The three of you sit, Danny pulling your chair out for you like the gentleman that he is. 

“Josh is running late, as usual.” Sam supplies with an eye roll, “And I think Jake and Lindsey should be here soon. He said they were on their way a while ago.” 

It feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on you but you keep your expression smooth. Of course he would be bringing Lindsey tonight… Why wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately for you, they do arrive soon, and seeing Jake again feels like a punch in the gut. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans coupled with a white button up, and his signature necklace glitters against his chest. He looks stunning, and Lindsey’s beauty only stands out more in the beautiful sundress that she has on.

“There you two are!” Sammy says loudly, and Jake inclines his head. 

“Ladies,” he nods at you and Sam, “and Danny, good to see you.” 

Sam scowls as Jake and Danny share a laugh. 

“Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Lindsey says with a smile, taking a seat in the chair directly to your right. You push back the annoyance, reminding yourself that it’s not her fault that Jake doesn’t feel the same towards you. 

The table descends into easy conversation, though you find yourself having a difficult time keeping up. You smile and nod at what you hope is the correct times, but your thoughts are a thousand miles away. All you can think about is that night in that damn bar bathroom, and how good it had felt in the moment. You think about that night more often than you’d ever care to admit, but the memory is soured anyway by what followed. You can still see Jake’s face, passive and expressionless, as he shattered your heart in two. 

And of course, you think of the last show, when you’d allowed Josh to convince you that Jake felt the same. God, you’ll never forget seeing him lean over to kiss Lindsey’s cheek, her arm wrapped around his waist just like yours had been that night at the bar. You wish, suddenly, that you’d ordered alcohol instead of water. 

“Right, Sunflower?” 

The question snaps you from your racing thoughts and you look up to see everyone at the table looking at you. Your cheeks flush as you wrack your brains to try and recall what they’d been talking about but you come up empty. You open your mouth to spew some bullshit excuse when you hear the door to the restaurant bust open obnoxiously. 

“The party has arrived!” Josh bellows, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the building, and – thankfully, the attention of everyone at your table. You slink down further in your seat, suddenly feeling like you’ve run a marathon. 

Josh and his partner take a seat to your left, and their presence instantly soothes you in a way you can hardly explain. 

“What the hell are you two always doing that makes you so late to everything?” Sam asks him, taking a sip of his drink and quirking his brow. 

“You don’t want to know, brother mine.” Josh says with a lewd grin, causing the entire table to erupt in groans of disgust. You laugh softly and Josh’s partner gives you a wink. 

Conversations pick up again amongst everyone, though you mostly only speak to Josh’s partner, the two of you scooting backwards in your chairs to speak around Josh – who’s leaning forward as he tells an animated story about something or other, hands flapping about wildly. 

“Does he ever run out of things to say?” You stage whisper at his partner, who guffaws loudly and assures you that no, Josh does not, in fact, ever run out of things to say. 

“You should see him when we go to the store!” He tells you, eyes twinkling with affection, “He talks to just about everyone in the fucking Publix. I have to drag him out – for my sake and for theirs.” 

“What does he even talk to them about?” You ask through a laugh. 

“I don’t know. He talks a lot but says very little, most of the time.” 

At that, Josh leans back into his chair and turns his head back and forth between the two of you, eyes narrowed and a mocking frown on his face. 

“Are you two talking about me?” 

“Never!” You tell him seriously, giving your best poker face. 

“Absolutely not. I love you just the way you are, babe.” His partner assures him, and you know that he’s not kidding in the slightest. They’re annoyingly perfect for each other. 

Josh looks on in suspicion as you and his partner lock eyes, both fighting to hold back your laughter and Josh raises an eyebrow at the two of you. You just shrug your shoulders and smile, while his partner smiles into his drink – the both of you completely unable to meet Josh’s eyes for fear of breaking out into giggles. 

“Sure. Whatever, Very convincing.” Josh mutters, shaking his head and fighting a smile of his own. “Anyways, tell us what you’ve been up to, Sunflower.” 

You feel warmth overtake your cheeks as everyone’s eyes turn to you and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as Jake’s gaze finally lands on you as well. For the life of you, you can’t get a read on him – a fact that hurts you beyond measure. 

“Oh, not much, to be completely honest.” You tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “Not much to do around here when I’m not dealing with you guys’ craziness.” 

“Nothing?” Danny asks in disbelief, “No family or friends you’ve been hanging out with?”

“You guys are the only friends I have here in Nash.” You glance down at your lap. “Just been me, myself, and I.” 

Josh, in typical Josh fashion, changes the subject upon noticing your discomfort – and you promptly excuse yourself to the ladies’ room. Rising from your seat, you scamper quickly away from the table. 

You splash cold water on your face and smooth down a few fly-away hairs. Gazing in the mirror, you smile at yourself. Even you can see that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

You jump as the door to the bathroom opens, eyes widening as you see Lindsey entering. You fight back a frown. She’s the last person you want to see. 

“Hey.” She says simply, coming to stand beside you in front of the mirror, 

“Hi.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You tell her, and wince at the harshness of your tone. “Thank you for asking though.” You add, softer this time. 

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She says kindly, giving you a soft smile in the mirror. “I know we don’t really know each other, but… I’m here, if there’s something you want to talk about. I’m good at listening.” 

You sigh, heart warming just a little at her obvious kindness and sincerity. You don’t know whether it’s better or worse that she’s a good person – it would be easier to dislike her if she wasn’t. But it’s also easier to accept Jake choosing her over you knowing that she’s a genuine person. Deciding to go out on a limb, you choose your next words carefully – keeping them truthful, but vague. 

“Just guy trouble. It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I’m letting it affect me like this.”

“A breakup?” 

“Not necessarily…” You scratch the back of your neck, nerves beginning to show themselves again. “We, um- we slept together. Once. And I really liked him. But he said it was a mistake and we haven’t really spoken since.”

“Did you,” she speaks slowly – delicately, even. “Did you know him well? Before?”

“Yeah. He was always so sweet. Flirty, but not obnoxiously so. I really thought something was there. Something… real.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, looking in the mirror to smooth her own hair down. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

“Not in a way that matters. Not about what happened.”

“Maybe you should try.” She says, tilting her head at you. “You never know unless you try.”

You duck your head, fighting the tears that begin to burn behind your eyes. 

“He’s with someone else now. And they seem to be happy. I don’t want to cause trouble where it’s not necessary. I just need to…” you trail off for a moment, staring at your reflection hopelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” 

“You love him, then?”

Her question makes you freeze for a moment. Do you love him? You hadn’t really wanted to put a direct name to how you feel about Jake. But standing here, crying over him to the girl he chose over you, you figure you’ve hit rock bottom already anyway. 

“Yeah, I do.” Your admission comes out quiet – broken in such a way that you almost don’t even recognize it. 

“I’m sorry.” She says, her gaze dropping down onto the counter, staring at the little puddles of water. “I wish I could say something to help, but I know there’s nothing to say. It just fucking sucks, feeling like that.” 

You nod, sniffling a little and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“And you know what the worst part of it all is?” 

She just shakes her head, allowing you to continue. 

“The girl he’s with now… I get it. I totally get why he chose her.” You let out a watery laugh and you see Lindsey’s eyes fill with her own tears as she watches you fall apart. “I would have chosen her, too.” 

You blink and suddenly you’re being hugged. You’re stunned for just a moment before you hesitantly wrap your arms around her loosely. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” She says, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders, willing you to meet her gaze. “You’ll find the one. I know you will.” 

“Thank you.” You sniffle again and laugh quietly, “God, this is so embarrassing.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She says kindly, dropping her hands and smiling. “Sometimes you just need another girl to listen. I love the guys – and they’re more sensitive and understanding than most, but they don’t get stuff like this like we do.” 

You nod at her, taking a deep breath to gather yourself. 

“Ready to go back out?” 

“Yeah.” You say, and you follow behind her as the two of you make your way back out to the table. 

The rest of the night passes by in a blur. After your return from the bathroom, you don’t allow your thoughts to prevent you from enjoying time with your friends. They really are all you have and you’ve missed them terribly. You catch eyes with Lindsey every now and again, and she always gives you an encouraging smile as she watches you engage, and little sparks of affection and thankfulness for her warm your chest. It really isn’t her fault. 

After you’ve all eaten, and the alcohol begins to take more affect, Sam suddenly rises from his seat and slams his palms against the table (effectively causing all the plates to rattle obnoxiously)

“Daniel!” He says, pointing a finger at poor Danny who looks back at him with wide eyes. “I challenge you to a game of pool right this instant. I’m tired of sitting.”

Danny rolls his eyes playfully and stands, rubbing his palms on his jeans. 

“Don’t start something you know you can’t win.” Danny tells him with a grin. 

“40 bucks says I beat you.” 

The rest of you watch on in amusement as the two bicker all the way over to the pool tables. 

“Jake?” Josh asks, turning to his twin, “Wanna play?” 

“Fuck ya.” Jake responds, also rising from his place. “Ready to beat your ass.”

“In your dreams, Jakey.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jake says petulantly, brushing past Josh with a deliberate nudge against his shoulder. 

You, Josh’s partner, and Lindsey follow the boys over to the tables, laughing at their antics. Everyone is sporting a buzz now and you’re well on your way to getting your own little buzz. You figure you deserve it.

You watch on in amusement as the boys allow themselves to let loose – you love watching them like this. They’re like little kids, giggling and messing with each other as they play pool. 

“I haven’t seen them all together like this.” Lindsey tells you from her seat next to you. “They’re like…” 

“Children?” You supply, giggling softly. “They’re always like this. Even during a tour.” 

The both of you laugh loudly as Josh sinks a ball, exclaiming loudly in triumph before Jake interrupts his celebration to let him know that he hit one of Jake’s into the pocket and not his own. Josh lets out a particularly petulant “Fuck!” and Jake tosses his head back and laughs. 

You watch him, completely unable to pull your eyes away from him. He looks… transcendent like that, joy and laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners in the way that always makes your heart melt. A pang shoots through your chest as memories of when he used to laugh with you like that enter your thoughts unbidden. You shake your head at yourself, tearing your gaze away from him to look at Lindsey – only to find her already looking at you. 

You can’t quite read her expression – but there’s puzzlement in her eyes. You look away, unwilling to answer (or even acknowledge) her silent question. 

Before long, the boys are far too drunk to be allowed out in public any longer, and Josh’s partner begins making the rounds to let them know that it’s time to go. He’s met with grumblings of disappointment but the boys don’t protest as you all begin to make your way outside. 

“Well, Sunflower,” Danny says, smiling widely with flushed cheeks as he looks at you, “I guess we won’t see you again until tour starts again.” He extends his strong arms, waiting to give you a goodbye hug. You fall into him, letting your eyes fall closed as he squeezes you. 

“You give the best hugs, Danny.” 

“So you keep telling me.” He grins, pulling away as Josh’s partner ducks in to hug you as well. 

“Me next!” Sam exclaims loudly, yanking you from his grip to pull you into his lanky arms. 

“Bye, Sammy.” You giggle. “Till next time.” 

You pull away to see Josh waiting patiently for his turn. 

“See you soon, Sunflower.” He says, pulling you flush against him. Just as you go to pull away, he pulls you in tighter and leans in close. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. You blink away the tears that want to fall at his words.

Lastly, Jake stands, hands awkwardly in his pockets as he waits. You’re not sure what to do until he opens his arms for you. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent as it envelopes you. 

He leans in close – so close that his lips are almost touching your ear. 

“See you later, Sunflower.” 

“Bye, Jake.” You say quietly. 

He squeezes you tighter, letting the embrace last for just a moment too long. 

Pulling away, you catch Lindsey’s eyes, and for the first time tonight, she doesn’t return the smile that you give her. 

You trudge your way back to your car, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t gone tonight. And even more, you wish – desperately, that you didn’t have to see him again at all.  

Climbing into your car, you allow yourself to put on your sad song playlist and wallow in your misery the entire way home, before collapsing heavily into your bed – the call of sleep pulling you under. 

///////

Jake K        1:02 AM

I think we should talk

The text is the very last thing you want to wake up to – especially with the pounding in your head and the feeling of nausea that threatens to overtake you. You hadn’t had much to drink the night before but you have a feeling that it’s not the alcohol making you feel this way. You stare at it for a long while, thoughts racing through your fuzzy brain as you try and figure out how to respond. 

You knew you shouldn’t have been honest with Lindsey – no matter how kind she is. Of course she would have caught on after seeing your inability to fix your face when you watch Jake and of course she would tell him what had happened in the bathroom. 

And now he’s probably upset with you. Maybe he’s angry that you’ve kept your feelings from him and fucked him in a bar bathroom like it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s going to fire you. Maybe Lindsey wants him to fire you. Your mind races with every worst possible scenario as you shakily type out your response. 

You 10:17 AM 

Is everything okay? 

The speed with which he answers tells you everything that you need to know.

Jake K 10:19 AM 

Can you call? 

You 10:19 AM

Yes. Whenever you get a chance.

Not a second later, his name lights up across your screen with an incoming call. Heart pounding, you can only stare at it. You haven’t had time to think. To plan out how you’re supposed to just act like everything is okay. With a heavy sigh, you accept that it’s too late for that and you swipe to accept the call. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Y/n.” 

Your actual name… hardly a good sign but you will the nerves and fear from your voice the best you can. 

“Is everything okay?”

A heavy, pregnant pause. Then finally, 

“Lindsey and I talked last night. She um. She knows. About- About us.”

 You close your eyes tight, heart hammering.

“Fuck.” The word escapes you with a sigh, tears already beginning to burn in the back of your throat. “I swear I didn’t tell her, Jake. I swear it. I just-”

“I know.” He interrupts. “She explained. I um.”

You can hear him swallow and you can picture what he must look like on the other end – eyebrows pinched, maybe playing with the chain of his necklace like he does when he’s nervous or stressed. You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image from your mind. 

“Jake, I’m sorry.” 

He sighs – heavy and defeated. 

“Don’t apologize. I- I’m sorry that I hurt you like that. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Silence again, both of you just listening to the others breathing. 

“I think it might be best if- if maybe you all find someone else for makeup.”

“No.” He starts, the word louder than any of the others that he’s spoken before. “You can't just walk away. You can't leave. ”

“But I think it would be best if I did.”

This time, you can practically hear him trying to come up with something to say in the silence. But you know there isn’t really much else to say.

“You’re our friend.” He finally says, voice just barely above a whisper. 

That makes you pause as you think of the others – of Josh and his soft, reassuring smiles. Of his partner and the inside jokes the two of you share. Of Sammy and his ridiculous jokes and of Danny’s hugs. You think of all the other tech people – the ones who had taken you in and treated you like family from the very start. All the people that you’re willingly walking away from... and most of them will never even know why.

It kills you. The ache in your chest is a real, breathing thing as the reality of it all sets in. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Y/n, don’t-”

You end the call. 

End of Part I

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

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[abiteofhoney]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

Hello!! I won’t do intros/notes in the beginning like this every time, but for the first time, I have a few things to say! First off, thank you to everyone that reads this story and takes this fun journey with me <3 thank you and i appreciate and cherish you all :) Secondly, I hope you can have a bit of patience with me as this progresses and I figure things out. As of posting this, I am 16 chapters in at roughly 50k. I am a proudly proclaimed pantser, so while I have a general direction for this story to take, most of it forms along the way. We're just having fun here, anyway! Third, this is, of course, a vampire story with some romance, and will come with the usual content warnings: blood, violence, biting, angst. All the fun stuff :) It follows both Magdalena and Anzurin's third person POVs.

Alright, enough of me. Here we go :)

4,889 words

Chapter 1 - Magdalena

She sits on her knees, slouching and weak, held up only by the fist gripping the back of her shirt, with only two thoughts tumbling around in her broken head. 

The first being her name. Magdalena Pierce. She knows that. There isn’t much else that she knows, but she knows that much, at least. 

The second is that she’s hungry beyond comprehension. The ache screams alive in her stomach, an empty hole unable to be filled, even though she’s tried. Blood still coats the front of her, having run in waves down her chin and throat and chest as she fed, and she thinks that she might have spilled more than she drank. 

They didn’t allow her to clean up before they attacked her, chained her wrists and ankles behind her back like she’s some type of animal. And Maggie just really doesn’t understand. The black-eyed woman told her to feed, so she did. She fed, and fed, and fed, and she’s still hungry. Starving. 

She tries to tell that to the man holding her, only getting out, “So hun-” before he slaps the back of her head with vicious force. Her teeth snap together, her fangs poking into her lip and drawing a bead of blood that she quickly licks up, then she looks up at the man that slapped her and gives him a throaty growl, baring her blood-coated teeth at him. 

“Should be stuffed, the way you fed. Now keep your mouth shut,” he snaps at her. Something about his empty black eyes and ruby red skin make her want to rip his sharp horns off of his skull. 

Maybe he’s right and she should be full, but the hunger gnaws at her stomach, an empty pit that cannot be satiated. Her fangs ache in her gums. Her eyes burn with frustrated tears. 

“Is he coming or what?” the same man barks at the two others standing across the room. 

They’re smart to keep their distance. Their sweat smells so tempting, even from this far. The blood from these black-eyed devilspawn tastes so delicious, and she yearns to taste it again. It was so sweet on her tongue with a hint of smoke. It settled in her stomach so nicely, and she wants more. 

“Anzurin should be here any minute,” one of the two answers. 

Magdalena peers at the man holding the back of her shirt. His corrupted heart beats heavily in his chest, a nervous thrum behind his ribs, which would be so easy to break. She got through the last one’s ribs with ease – but that’s also what has landed her here. 

She’s not really sure where here is. Where the lost causes go to get one more chance before they’re put down, the man holding her had said while they were transporting her, and she figured that sounds right. She did just drain a woman of all of her blood, and attack a few others that tried to stop her. Herra was the woman’s name, and Maggie only knows that because they wouldn’t stop yelling it at her. 

Why’d you kill Herra?

She’d like to kill them, too. She’d like to drink their blood until they’re empty, carve through their red flesh with her teeth. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” the man holding her barks, and the venom in his tone sets Magdalena on edge. It’s not her fault she’s hungry. It’s not her fault she’s like this. 

She’s not sure whose fault it is, but she is almost certain it’s not hers. 

Maybe it’s his. 

Magdalena lunges for him, fangs bared as she lurches for his leg. He yanks back just fast enough that all she gets is a mouthful of denim. She releases a growl from between her clenched teeth, a vicious one that comes from deep in her chest, but it’s quickly cut off by a kick to her ribs. 

A cry of pain falls from her as she tumbles to the floor, hands and feet still bound so that she can’t brace herself. Her shoulders and hips protest when she tries to curl in on herself, pain throbbing through her ribs. 

“You little shit!” the devilspawn shouts, giving her another kick. His leather boot slams into her hard enough to send her sliding backwards a few inches, only stopped by the wall behind her, and it feels like the second kick to her ribs cracks something. “Anzurin had better get here, now, and take this worthless leech off of my hands. I’m not -” 

He’s cut off by the door opening, somewhere near Magdalena’s feet as it shoves into them. “Hells below, Velur, have some patience,” a new voice drones. “I do have an entire coven to run, you see.”

Magdalena tries to move out of the way, scooting as much as she can but still crying through the pain in her ribs when the man kicks her again, not as hard this time but enough to move her out of the way of the door. She tries to bite the man’s leg even though she gets nowhere close. 

The newcomer laughs. “Well, what’s going on here?” 

“Fucking fledgling pain in my ass! She just tried to fucking bite me, and she’s already killed another devilspawn. Herra. Thought maybe you should knock some sense into her, but now I’m thinking that we ought to just put her down.” 

Another chuckle, and then he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Covered in blood, the poor thing. Hers or someone else's? She looks positively hungry.”

The man scoffs, and a wet glob of spit lands on Maggie’s forehead. “Some of it’s hers. Most of its Herra’s, her mentors. Drained her dead. If the bitch is still hungry after that, then something’s wrong with her.” 

Magdalena bucks at the insult, trying to break the chains around her wrists. If she could just use her hands again, she could sink her teeth into the black-eyed bastard’s neck before he could stop her. She snaps and snarls, throwing out hissed threats. 

He stares at her with those wide and empty eyes, mouth hanging open in shock before his entire face twists up in rage. His leg rears back, and Maggie welcomes it, knowing that if he really goes for it, she might actually be able to get a bite in if he gets close enough. 

But he doesn’t have the chance to send the kick when a voice cuts through the room. “Kick her, Velur, and you’ll be seen to.” It’s said so calmly, so casually that it doesn’t even sound like the threat it is. 

The one named Velur sneers down at Maggie, spits on her once more, and snaps, “She’s your problem now,” before storming out of the room. 

She tries to get him as he walks by, kicking his own legs out to trip him up, but it only yanks on her wrists. He gets away without a scratch, much to her dismay. Something about that man makes her just want to tear into his flesh, more than anyone else’s. 

When Maggie looks around, the two horned men are still standing across the room, but the new one stands much closer, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at her. He’s much like the others – red-toned skin and horns sharper than her fangs – only his eyes are slightly different. The rest of them just have empty black eyes, and his are mostly the same, but he also has glowing red irises that gaze at her, giving his eyes more life. 

“Oh, dear, what are we to do with her?” the man murmurs to the two others.

“I don’t know, sir. She seems quite wild, yes? Maybe Velur was right and she’s just not made for the fledgling life. Perhaps death is the only thing that will fix her.” 

The man moves in a flash over to the one that just spoke, and Maggie giggles softly when he reaches out and smacks the back of the man’s head. “Look at her. She’s just hungry. Shall I kill you the next time you get hungry, Brem? Go take her chains off.” 

“You’re kidding. She just tried to bite Velur - more than once.” 

“Are you frightened by a little fledgling, Brem? Take those chains off of her. I won’t ask a third time.” 

Magdalena snarls at Brem as he dares closer, feeding off of the fear in his eyes and the shake in his hands. “Hells, please don’t attack me,” he whispers once he’s within reach. He grabs the chains around her ankles and moves her across the floor so he can reach the restraints behind her. 

She jerks away from his touch. She wants to be unbound, but she also wants to rip into the next person that touches her. She tries to kick at him, spit flying as she growls and snarls and gnashes her teeth at him.

But that red-eyed man flashes across the room again, and in an instant, he’s kneeling over her, a hand at the base of her throat to pin her to the ground. “Knock it off,” he commands sternly. His striking eyes bounce back and forth between her own, black eyebrows bunched together as he studies her face, but her gaze is only on his neck, the pulsing veins under his garnet flesh. 

She’s so, so, so hungry. 

“We’re going to take the restraints off of you, but you have to behave yourself fledgling. Can you do that?” 

Breathing heavily, Magdalena shakes her head. She truly doesn’t feel like she can control herself, not even a little bit. She doesn’t want to. 

“Oh, I think you can. Brem, let’s go,” he says to the other red-skinned creature, and then instructs the third in the room to, “Catch Velur before he leaves and get him back in here. I have questions.” He hasn’t taken his eyes from Maggie, nor has she taken her stare from his throat. “My name is Anzurin, and we’re going to make sure you’re taken care of here. What’s your name?” 

She doesn’t answer him, even though it’s probably the only time she will know the answer to anything. She grits her teeth together and runs her tongue over her fangs. They feel out of place in her mouth, new, even though she can’t remember a time without them. She can’t remember… much of anything.

All she knows is her name and her hunger, that she has fangs in her mouth and a need for blood. A hunger for red flesh. Thinking about sinking her fangs into the man above her sets her to wriggling again. 

Still pinning her to the ground, he smooths his hand over her blood-caked hair, brushing it out of her face. When she snaps for his wrist, he chuckles softly and holds his arm out of the reach of her teeth. “You’re just starved, aren’t you?” 

Once her chains are off, she’s going to bite him. She will. He smells so sweet, so tempting, she won’t be able to stop herself. 

The man rolls her on her side so that the other – Brem – can undo the chains behind her. He doesn’t yet release her wrists or ankles, but at least detaches them from each other so she can stretch out. 

“I’m going to sit you up, but you’re going to behave,” Anzurin says softly, but it’s not a question. It’s not a request. 

Not promising anything, Maggie pushes against his hand on her shoulder, sitting herself up, and she sighs in relief when she can put her legs out in front of her. The jeans she’s wearing are covered in blood, especially at the knees, as if she’d knelt in it, and maybe she did. She can’t really remember anything more than the feeling of her fangs in flesh. 

She tries to reach for the chains around her ankles without thinking about it, only to yank at the chains around her wrists still behind her back, her shoulders jerking painfully. An angry growl rips from her throat, wishing that she could rip the chains with her teeth like she so easily ripped through skin. She yanks on them again, this time on purpose, thinking just maybe she might be strong enough to break them. 

But they don’t budge. 

Brem kneels in front of her feet, eyeing her cautiously as he removes the chains from around her ankles. Her hungry gaze follows his every move, watching his wrists, his neck, salivating to think about the blood underneath. She bristles excitedly once her ankles are free and holds her wrists out to him, beyond ready to have use of her hands again. Saliva pools in her mouth as he slowly inches towards her side, nervousness radiating off of him. His black eyes shift to Anzurin. 

“I’ve never seen one like this,” Brem murmurs. “What’s wrong with her?” 

Anzurin grasps Magdalena’s chin, forcing her attention away from Brem. He searches her face for something – Maggie doesn’t really care what, because she’s stuck on his throat, unable to look away from it, unable to think about anything else except for how good it felt to flood her throat with that devilspawn’s blood. She bets his would taste just as good. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you, is there, fledgling? You’re just hungrier than normal,” Anzurin coos to her. He lifts her chin, trying to get her to look at him, but she doesn’t. She can’t. 

“So hungry,” she rasps. It’s a never ending hole inside of her, begging for more and more and more, a thirst unable to be quenched. 

“I thought as much. Come on, we’ll get you fed.” 

He hauls her to her feet, keeping a secure hold on her, but he makes no move against her, even when she tries to reach for his wrist, even when she bares her fangs at him. He only chuckles and guides her to the plush sofa against the opposite wall. Anzurin sits down first, then pulls her to sit at his side. He doesn’t have to guide her too much, as she easily follows his neck and wrists wherever they lead her. 

Once she’s settled next to him, pressed close against his side, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and places his wrist just in front of her mouth. Instinct tells her to chomp her teeth into his skin, gnaw until she’s full and his wrist is nothing but bone, but she gets distracted by the heavy pounding in her left ear. 

The noise comes from his throat, just inches from her face when she turns towards it. Wrists are dainty. So little would come out of it, compared to what would flow from his neck. She begins to lean in, but he jerks back and grabs the hair at the back of her head to keep her teeth off of his neck. “The wrist, fledgling, or nothing.”

He places it in front of her mouth once more and she can’t deny it a second time. She sinks her teeth into his rose-colored wrist with a starved fervor, fangs piercing him easily. Her mouth pools with delicious blood that tastes even better than Herra’s did. She was too sweet, almost like having dessert before dinner, but this… Anzurin… He’s a hearty meal. Savory and delicious. 

She digs in further, ripping through his flesh with her sharp, sharp fangs, biting down as hard as she can. She drinks from him with greed, unable to take a lot at a time but taking as much as he will give her. She’s so entranced by his blood that she doesn’t even open her eyes when the door opens once more and someone says, “I have Velur.” 

“Bring him in,” Anzurin drones. Maggie expects him to take his arm away any moment now, but he lets her keep feeding from him. 

“Stupid to let her loose,” Velur snaps, “and even more stupid to let her bite you. Don’t close that door, Brem – we’re going to want an escape when she’s down gnawing his arm.” 

“So dramatic.” Anzurin hums and brushes Maggie’s dirty hair off of her forehead with his free hand. “Sure, she’s a little rough with the teeth, but she’s starving. Insatiable, this one. Tell me about her.” 

“She can tell you whatever you wanna know if she doesn’t kill you.” 

“I think she’s a bit too distracted to answer any questions. I tried to ask her name, but she wouldn’t say.” 

“Weird, since it was the only thing she’d say earlier,” Velur scoffs. “Magdalena Pierce.” 

The hatred in his voice when he spits her name gets Maggie to open her eyes. Every time he speaks, she just wants to tear him into little pieces, so she tries. She shoves Anzurin’s arm away and lunges for Velur. She makes it off of the couch and across the small table, sending papers and items clattering to the floor. She reaches out for Velur, trying to grab him, scratch him, rip him apart with her teeth, anything she can do to hurt him like he’s hurt her. He’s the one that chained her up after she fed, and he smacked her and kicked her many times. She’s sure that his blood would be bitter, but she wants to taste it anyway. 

But she doesn’t get to, ripped away by Anzurin’s arms closing around her waist at the last second, yanking her back against himself. He puts his wrist back to her mouth, saying, “Right here – feed,” but she pays it no mind, too wrapped up in her seething anger directed at Velur. She fights and kicks and scratches and bites to no avail. 

“See what I mean?” Velur snaps. “She’s fucked! Just do us all a favor and put her down, Anzurin, before she kills another.” 

Anzurin struggles to keep Maggie restrained, but manages to sit back down on the sofa with her. “I’ll be honest, Velur, I’m not sure she’s the problem here. I think you are.” He smears his blood across her lips, going as far as to grip her chin to force her mouth open to drip blood on her tongue, but she continues to fight against his hold to get to Velur. “Doesn’t even care. I think she just wants you dead.” 

Velur scoffs. “Or you just don’t taste as good as you think you do, big shot.” 

“So, what’d you do to her?” Anzurin asks and then brings his lips to Maggie’s ear to whisper, “I know you’re still hungry. Drink.”

And she is very, very hungry, so she gives up her fight - for now- and sinks her teeth into his arm once more, marking more of a mess of the already mangled flesh. 

“Gentler,” he hisses through his teeth, and she hisses right back at him. If he were as hungry as she is, he wouldn’t want to be gentle either. She wants to rip and tear and gorge herself on both flesh and blood. 

“She killed Herra,” Velur says incredulously. “It took multiple men to drag her off of Herra’s corpse, and a few of them even got bit in the process!” 

Anzurin strokes her hair as she quits fighting and settles once more. “And?” 

“Wh - And?! She killed one of our own! Do you not care?” 

“Not so much,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the risk we take. She’s a fledgling, Velur. It’s her very nature to feed. To kill. Why would you punish her for it? Every part of her screams for blood and she shouldn’t be denied; she just needs to learn a little control, that’s all. How long ago was she changed?” 

“Hells, I don’t know! Didn’t even know the bitch existed until she had to be ripped off of Herra’s neck today.” 

At the insult that leaves his lips, Maggie lets out a growl and cuts a glare at him, but she doesn’t lift her mouth from Anzurin’s wrist. Her hunger never ends. 

Anzurin laughs heartily. “Oh, she definitely just hates you. When’d she come into the coven?” 

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I don’t usually handle the fledglings.” 

“Find who does and bring them to me. I want to know where she came from.” He trails his touch down the side of Maggie’s face. He’s not even holding onto her anymore; she’s just happily drinking from him and not even trying to get away anymore. Her hunger is outweighing her instinct to fight, but only by a fraction. “She acts as though she’s gone weeks without feeding. And if that’s the case, I’m not at all surprised that she drained Herra. And she’s still going.” 

“She -” 

“I said to find who knows where she came from. Now. Not later.” 

Velur grumbles angrily, but jumps at the chance to leave the room. 

Once the door shuts behind him, a moment passes in which the only sound is Maggie drinking greedily and desperately from Anzurin’s wrist, but he soon says, “That’s enough for now.” 

She doesn’t listen. Magdalena holds onto his arm tighter, taking bigger gulps. Her nails dig into his skin just as her teeth do, drawing even more blood. She just wants more, more, more, and it’s still not enough. 

But then Anzurin fists the hair at the back of her skull and yanks. Her teeth rip from his arm, tearing flesh as he jerks her head back. 

Magdalena snarls and tries to twist and bite the hand grabbing her, but Anzurin keeps his grip and stares down at her. Gently, but sternly, he says, “That’s enough, Magdalena. We need to go get you cleaned up and looked over so we know what we’re dealing with here. You have to control yourself.” 

She whines, low in her throat. “But I’m so –” 

“Hungry, I know,” he coos. He looks to Brem across the room. “Get me three bags from the fridge, please. Open one of them.” 

Brem does as told, and all Magdalena can do is watch with Anzurin’s grip still in her hair, her head angled backwards. Brem goes over to a small black fridge in the corner, opening to the door to reveal two shelves stuffed full of bags of blood, but Magdalena hardly cares about that when the fresh taste of Anzurin’s blood is still stuck to her teeth. He grabs three of them as asked and brings them to Anzurin, who stuffs the first two in the pockets of his black coat while Brem opens the plastic spout of the third. 

A small bubble of blood pools out of the top as the pressure is released, spilling onto Brem’s finger, and he freezes in place while his fearful black eyes flick to Magdalena. 

“You know,” Anzurin murmurs as he takes the open bag, “she probably loves that you’re so scared right now. You know they don’t just feed on blood, Brem.” He waves the packaged blood under Magdalena’s nose, but the cold scent of it nearly makes her gag. She wants the fresh stuff, and tries to look for Anzurin’s bitten arm. 

He jerks her hair. “No, drink this.”

The stinging in the back of her head is what makes her snap. Magdalena yanks her head out of his grip, leaving chunks of hair between his fingers. She claws his face and her fangs go straight for his neck. He tries to grab her hair again, but she’s faster, and slams it to the wall above his head. 

On her feet, crouching next to him on the sofa, she uses her foot to pin his other hand to the sofa cushion, and that leaves a hand free to hold his head to the side so she can sink her teeth into his neck. She rips and tears, getting flesh stuck between her teeth, but filling her screaming stomach with his delicious blood. 

But as her stomach fills, so does the room with shouts and yells and screams. Something wraps around her waist and pulls, but she claws back at it and it goes away, but then something cold is wrapped around her throat, and the chains that once bound her yank her back. 

Magdalena loses her balance and falls to her back on the floor, but quickly turns on the one that pulled her off: Brem, backing away with large black eyes. Her rage swells into something unmanageable and she lunges for him, biting anything she can get her teeth in, which happens to be his upper arm, biting through cloth to tear at the rosy skin underneath. 

His blood is sharper than the others, only a fraction of the sweetness, and Maggie doesn’t like it as much, but it softens the edges of her hunger, so she pins his arms to his side and gulps as much as she can. As she knew she would be, she’s yanked back seconds later, turned by her shoulder and slammed back against the wall with a large devilspawn body in front of her and his forearm across her chest. Something else wraps around her ankles, and she kicks at what she assumes is the chains, but looks down to see a red tail curling tightly around her leg. 

“Stop it,” Anzurin growls at her, red eyes blazing. “Control yourself, fledgling, or I will do it for you.”

She tries to shove him off to no avail without the element of surprise on her side this time. He stays put, holding her down. Breathing heavily, she stares at his torn neck, his blood running down his throat and chest, soaking into his tan shirt. After a few moments of futile fighting, she relents and lies perfectly still to glare up at him. 

Anzurin breathes just as heavily, touching his fingers to his bleeding neck with a sharp inhale through his teeth. “I’d like to be able to let you go, but I need to be able to trust that you’re not going to attack one of us again. Can we do that?” 

In a jerking motion, Maggie shakes her head back and forth. She’s only stopped fighting for now because she knows it's a waste of energy to fight against him. As soon as he gives her even an inch, she’ll take it, but she’s saving her energy for that. 

“Now, Magdalena,” he says with a tsk. “Do you understand what’s going to happen to you if you can’t control yourself?” 

She spits a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva at him, which lands on his chin. 

Besides clenching his jaw, he shows no other reaction and uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his chin. “You’re going to have to be put down if you can’t behave,” he tells her. “I do not tolerate this kind of behavior in my coven, and you are too wild to go anywhere else. If you can’t control yourself, then you will be controlled. Is that what you want to happen? Do you want us to have to kill you?” 

She doesn’t answer, unsure that she has an answer at all. Does she want to be killed? No, not particularly. But does she want to keep living? Maybe not, if this is the pain and treatment she has to endure. Her hunger is insatiable, fueling a need to rip and tear. She even thinks about biting her own flesh just for a taste of blood. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Anzurin murmurs in her silence, keeping his voice gentle and comforting. “We’ll feed you and make sure you’re taken care of, but you have to behave with us. With me, at the very least. I’m the one that will decide what happens to you, so I suggest you behave.” 

Magdalena only grumbles unhappily and tries uselessly to wriggle out from under him, but his arm holds her shoulders against the wall, his tail around her ankle keeping her from kicking. 

“Okay, you can’t keep denying that there’s something wrong here,” Brem says from where he stands nearby, chains still in his hands. “This isn’t normal for a fledgling.” 

Brows creased, Anzurin studies her quizzically. “There’s something wrong with the situation, definitely. Something’s been done to her. Someone else did this to her.” 

Brem dares a step closer. “What do you mean?” 

“She’s starved, Brem. Her fangs are sharper than a new fledgling's should be. Hazarding a guess, I’d say that she’s a few months old, and I’m thinking that today is the first time she’s drank since she was changed. Am I right about that?” he asks her. 

Maggie can’t remember anything before today, but she’s certainly older than just a few months. She’s a grown woman. But she does also feel like she hasn’t eaten or drank anything in quite a while. Maybe ever. 

With his free hand, Anzurin brushes Magdalena’s hair out of her face. He then orders Brem to hand him the bag of blood that she’d turned her nose up at before. “You can’t keep drinking from me right now - I don’t have that much blood to spare - but you can drink these bags. I know they’re not as good, not as fresh, but it’s what you’re going to get right now. I’ll give you as many as you want – but only if you promise to try to control yourself.” 

Against every fighting instinct, Magdalena nods. 

—

Ending notes won't happen all the time either, but just a thing or two more to tack on.

I will make a chapter navigation post and link that here, to make accessing all chapters easier, and after this chapter, that link will go at the beginning of each post.

And my lovely taglist!! Thank you to everyone that has joined and shown interest in this story! I wouldn't have decided to post this at all if it weren't for all of you cheering me on, so thank you, and here's to you!!

@pizzamanstan @leahnardo-da-veggie @swollenkiln @dyrewrites @trippingpossum

@possiblyeldritch @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @jgc-comeundermybridge @shortcircuitthegreat @seastarblue

@bloodmoodtrash @theaistired @korol--reznii @simonnebethel @danimia

@written-among-stars @lofiyaketyblr @quill-main @bellascarousel @alexanderflowerbird

@lead-to-code @annothersummerofsleep @tragedycoded @saecarnell @albatris

If you aren't already on the taglist but wish to be, interact with this linked post right here, which has a little more information for you. If you are on it and want off, just let me know, no questions asked!

I think I've yapped enough for the first post, so this is the end lol. Thank you <3

[zepskies]

Hello hun! 😊

Okay, since I'm still on hold up here 🙈, I thought I send you a question.

How do you find a plot for your storys? What get's your inspiration going or what does spark you to make it a WIP?

So interested to hear how it works for you. 😁

Hey there, lovely!! 💜

Aww still waiting on Tracker to come out for you, huh? Almost there, right? 😅

But thank you for this question! The lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats asked me a similar one not too long ago in this ask, so my answer will be similar on some things.

⚡ Getting inspiration for stories:

Initially, my imagination always gets sparked by the "What If" question. Here are a few examples:

"What if Soldier Boy could be redeemed?" (Break Me Down - Soldier Boy x Reader)

"What if Dean Winchester had a Latina girlfriend?" (Midnight Espresso - Dean x Plus-sized Latina!Reader)

"What if Dean was a firefighter?" (Smoke Eater - Firefighter!Dean x Reader)

"What if Dean met his soulmate in season 1?" (Never Say Goodbye - Dean x Soulmate!Reader)

"What if Russell Shaw set his sights on his sister's best friend?" (Every Second Counts - Russell Shaw x Reader)

"What if you had a messy past you were running from, just like the new sheriff in town?" (Take Me Home - Beau Arlen x Reader)

You get the idea. 😂

✍🏽 Developing the plot:

After that, where I draw ideas for the plot depends on the kind of story I'm writing. And for that, I'm a big advocate of:

"Write what you know."

"Write what you can research."

"Write what you're interested in."

"Write what you've never tried to do before (but may secretly want to)."

Again, a couple of examples...

Break Me Down:

With BMD, I already had a loose concept in Checkerboard, with the reader working surveillance at Supe Affairs. It would paint her and Soldier Boy (Ben) as enemies from the start. "Enemies to lovers" was a trope I had never written before, but I thought it was a fun challenge, besides the obvious one of attempting to "redeem" Soldier Boy lol.

In general, I'm a sucker for the gruff, devil-may-care, rough exterior guy who only becomes soft for his girl. 😂

More practically though, I drew from the source material a bit for the Black Noir twist (the comics), and also from my love of Smallville for some of the superhero plot aspects. I also knew that if the reader was going to eventually give Ben a chance and see the humanity underneath, she would need time to do it. So what better way than with an accidental kidnapping? 😅

And somehow it became this quasi- Beauty & the Beast storyline that developed into Ben and the reader saving one another, in more ways than one. 💚

Smoke Eater:

With this story, I had several influences that helped me develop the plot. I have a deep and abiding love for cop and medical procedurals like Law & Order, House MD, and Chicago PD, but also for Chicago Fire in particular. (Also my uncle was a firefighter.) That helped me create Firehouse 25 and decide which canon characters I wanted to pull into the narrative.

It was my first ever full AU as well, so I drew a lot from the SPN canon S1-2 storyline to create the overarching murder mystery/the string of arsons. I was also very much impacted from stories my friends had told me of their experiences with sexual harassment, which is unfortunately where the Nick storyline came in.

And I actually drew a lot from my own experience with grief and loss in that story. Specifically in the challenges the reader faces with her family (with Dean's help). I wasn't conscious of it at the time, but after I wrote the initial drafts and started editing each chapter, I realized just where I was drawing from for that storyline. 💙

All that to say, that's a snapshot into my process from ideation to plotting! It's not always easy when you hit those difficult beats in a story, whether it's grief and loss, trauma and PSTD, or just the difficulties of making complex plot lines connect.

But overall, I do my best to have fun. If I'm not having fun, then why am I writing? 😘

Anyway. 😂 Thank you so much for this question, my friend! @jessjad I'm pretty sure this is way more than you wanted to hear, but I so appreciate you for asking about my writing process! 💗

[seeingivy]

Hi!! Can you do an angsty song fic for “hits different” with Gojo? Love the ts series !!❤️

hits different

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: older brothers best friend!satoru, teenagers being dumb teenagers, drinking, satoru calls reader belle, reader spends a fuck ton of money on toji's credit card

an: HELLO SWEETIE PIE!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DA LOVE IM GLAD YOU'VE BEEN ENJOYING IT SO FAR. this ended up at a 9k so I hope you enjoy pookie

--

present day 

“Are you even listening to anything I’m saying?” he asks, his hands folded across his menu. 

You close your own menu, setting it neatly on top of the plates, as you look over at him - the look in his eyes downright murderous. Granted, sticking your nose in the menu while he was trying to talk to you for the past twenty minutes couldn’t have helped, but he should cut you some slack. You’re really hungry.   

It’s then and there that you see the look, that twitch in his right eye, and know exactly what’s going to happen. Toji Fushiguro, the accountant you’ve been dating for the last six months, is about to break up with you. 

“It’s like you aren’t even paying attention when I talk to you, when I’m trying to sit here and tell you how I’m feeling.” 

“Okay. So tell me how you’re feeling, Toji.” 

He flares his nostrils, exasperated by your response. You thought it was polite. But you’ve been told your tone is downright argumentative, like grating nails on a chalkboard. 

And then Toji lays out his final card, waiting for your broken expression. 

“I’m breaking up with you. You-you and me. We’re done.” 

No broken expression comes. Because you don’t let idiots like Toji think they have power over you, your feelings for even a second. 

“Okay. Well, I still came here to eat dinner so could you pass me the main menu?” 

You give him your best smile, sickly sweet, and it pushes him over the edge. 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re not going to say anything to that? Anything at all? I just broke up with your pathetic ass and you don’t even feel a bit sad about it?” 

You set the menu down again, crossing your wrists against your chest. 

“Do you want me to, Toji? Because I can if you want me to.” 

He gets even more frustrated, standing up at the table to yell his final words before he storms out. 

“Do you know what your problem is, Y/N?” 

“Please enlighten me. I’m dying to know.” 

“You-you’re shit to be around. Literally the most frustrating, agitating, irritating person I’ve ever met. You can’t ever take anything at face value - you just argue and argue because it’s the only thing you know how to do. True love could knock on your door and you’d send it running away with that cold, dark heart in your chest. Because you’re hard to love.” 

You clench your fists under the table, drawing blood against your palms. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t as agreeable as you wanted me to be. Surely the secretary you’ve been fucking for the last three months we were dating is a sweeter taste in your mouth than I am.” 

“Wait, what-” 

“If you’re going to fuck another girl while you’re dating me, make sure you don’t butt dial me while you’re doing it, sweetheart.” 

He furrows his brow, ears pink from what you’re sure is embarrassment as he storms off. You turn your head over your neck, lifting your hand to signal Nobara, Megumi, and Itadori to join you at the table. 

They all awkwardly take the empty seats at the table, Itadori immediately reaching for the free bread on the table and Megumi reaching for the bottle of wine. 

“You okay?” Megumi asks, a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“Toji has this really, really shit habit of leaving his stuff everywhere. His sunglasses, his keys, his wallet.” 

You hold the wallet in the air, Nobara immediately snatching it from your hands and pulling out his credit card. 

“No way.” she says, immediately running through the menu to find the most expensive thing to eat. 

“He’ll cancel it tomorrow. So, we should make the most of it tonight.” you say, the three of them smiling back at you. 

“You know, I’d feel half bad about this but he cheated on you for three months, so I really, really don’t.” Megumi says, ordering another bottle of wine. 

Itadori puts his hand on yours, squeezing once as he asks. 

“Are you sad about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, come on. She’s heartless. Ever since that idiot she dated from her hometown took her heart and went running with it, she’s been cold ever since.” Kugisaki says, spreading the leftover butter on the bread she just stole from Itadori. 

“Exactly.” you say, smiling at the three of them. 

You tilt the rest of your wine into the back of your throat, the sensation burning as you push it down. 

You hate that after all these years, even the mention of him makes your head spin. 

Satoru. 

--

two years ago 

“Go fuck yourself, Y/N.” 

“Real clever, Getou. You really got me there.” 

Getou immediately knocks you off your chair and starts wrestling with you on the ground - the two of you yanking each other’s arms and pulling each other's legs. 

“Cut your hair, Getou. You look like a hillbilly with that uglyass manbun.” 

“Check your attitude, Y/N. You’re getting bitchier as time goes on.” 

You immediately reach up and grab a fistful of his hair, yanking hard as he elbows you in the eye. And you’re about to punch him straight in the stomach before you feel two arms around your waist, the hold firm, as you fight off the hold. 

“That’s enough from you two, alright?” Satoru says, his voice in your ear sending a shiver down your spine. 

“It’s not enough, Satoru. I need to give him a piece of my mind.” 

“You’re going to give him a piece of your mind with your fist, princess?” 

He finally lets you go, Shoko mimicking his actions as she lets Getou go on the other side of the kitchen. You’re both glaring bloody murder at each other, the stupid look on his ugly face only enraging you more. 

“Quit calling me princess, it’s stupid.” you murmur, lifting your hands up to fix the mess Getou made of your hair. 

“Cmon, Belle. Don’t be like that.” 

You cringe at the nickname, even worse than princess, as the memory comes straight to your mind. Third grade. Halloween Eve. 

You were going to be Cinderella for Halloween - all set with fake glass slippers and a sparkly blue dress and butterfly hair clips. But Getou and Satoru had come home straight from their soccer practice, all muddy and disgusting, and accidentally sat on your costume. 

The pretty blue dress you had saved all your allowance on was ruined and along with it, your hopes of impressing Haibara - the guy that you had a crush on at the time. 

Except Satoru, in his infinite kindness that he’s always shared with you, dragged you to the costume store the day after, his hands wrapped around your waist as he biked the two of you there in the scorching midday October heat. 

“Do you guys have any Cinderella dresses left?” 

“They’re all sold out. We’re so sorry, sir.” 

As the clerk walks away, Satoru turns over to you, a giddy smile on his face. 

“Did you hear that? That lady just called me sir.” 

“Really funny, Satoru.” 

You push him into the stand by the cashier, as you stomp to the other side of the store. You look up at the little catalogs, the sparkly blue dress in the picture with a red “sold out” sign stamped on top of it. He catches up, his hand soft on your shoulder, as he talks. 

“Sorry we messed up your dress, Y/N.” 

You can feel the tears building in your eyes as you start aggressively swiping them away, trying to hide the fact that you were crying in front of Satoru. Knowing him, he was just going to run home and tell Getou so the two of them could laugh at you. 

“No, you’re not. You probably did it on purpose.” 

“We didn’t, I-I swear.” 

“Getou literally told me yesterday that he thought it was stupid I wanted to be a princess for Halloween. That girls like me aren’t princesses, because they have a rotten attitude. He said I should dress up as the Scream instead.” 

You look over at the ghost mask - all elongated and scary - and it only sends more tears running down your face. 

“Hey. You can still be a princess if you want to be.” he says. 

“No, I can’t. Because you guys ruined the costume I already did buy. And I don’t have the money for another one because I-I spent my entire allowance on that costume.” 

Satoru pulls out his wallet and brings his hand down to yours, placing the crisp dollar bills in your hand. You look over at him and he’s smiling - the tips of his ears pink. 

“Now you have money for the costume.” 

“There’s still no costume, dumbass.” 

Satoru drags you down the aisle and points at the sparkly yellow dress, his hand now slung around your shoulder again. 

“They still have this one.” 

“Belle? You want me to be Belle?” 

“You’re more of a Belle than Cinderella. Getou’s right in the sense that you’re a little bit too harsh to be a Cinderella type.” 

“Geez. Thanks Satoru.” 

“But you’re smart, ambitious, headstrong enough to be a Belle. Cinderella’s the type of bitch to always back down from a fight. Belle on the other hand fights for what she wants, like you.” 

You look over at him and smile, your heart pounding in your chest as the two of you biking back to the house with the sparkly yellow dress in the bag in between you guys. 

“Just don’t fight to date a literal animal like Belle, okay? That’s bestiality.” 

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

You feel a hand on your head, shaking hard, and grounding you back in the moment. And at your irritation at Getou, who's still hurling insults at you from the other side of the room. 

“She started it, Shoko.” he says. 

“No, I didn’t. You’re the dumbass who-” you start. 

“I’m so fucking sick of you, Y/N. You’re always fucking nagging me in some way or another. You know, I heard you crying the other day about how you’re the only girl in your class who's never had a guy like you. Maybe if you took a look in the fucking mirror you’d realize why. You’re insufferable to be around.” 

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes - hot and angry - as you bolt straight out the door and down the street. You can faintly hear the three of them calling for you, but you reach straight for the bike on the curb and go as far as you can. 

You make your way five blocks down from your house to eventually stop at the lake, resting the bike against the dock before you walk down. You take your shoes off and dip your feet in, watching the sun fall behind the water and the sky turn brilliant, beautiful shades of pink, orange, and yellow. 

And when dark blue starts creeping in, you lay back against the dock and watch the stars trickle into the night sky, hundreds of tiny sparkling lights. Except your view of the sky is then obscured by Satoru’s face, upside down from your vantage point. 

“Hi Belle.” 

“Screw off.” 

He sits down, taking his own shoes off and dipping his feet into the water to lie down next to you. 

“Did you have to take my bike when you ran off? Yours was two feet away from it.” 

“Closest one. Cry about it, Satoru.” 

You both sit in silence, save for the sound of your feet splashing in the water as Satoru breaches the topic. 

“Never had a guy like you, huh?” 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that? First, you watch Getou literally rip me a new one for no reason and now you’re here to rub it in my face?” 

“You know that wasn’t what I was doing. Have I ever made fun of you like that?” 

You sit up, running your hands through your hair, as you look down at the water, your leg sending ripples far beyond. You swallow hard, the tears rising to your eyes again. 

“No, Satoru. I haven’t had a guy like me like that. I’m the only girl going into senior year who hasn’t been kissed by a guy.” you whisper, the confession making you turn red with embarrassment. 

Satoru sits up, scooting closer to you so your knees are knocking each other, as you both look down at the water. 

“So why’s that a big deal, Y/N? You’ve never cared about what people think, let alone men. I mean, you’re basically a misandrist at this point.” 

You smile, looking over at his blue eyes, almost indiscernible in the dark of the night. 

“It’s a big deal because I want someone to like me. I-I know that you all think I’m mean and I argue all the time and-and whatever, maybe it’s true. But, I want someone to like me. You know, butterflies, first kisses, someone who saves all their secret jokes for you.” 

He puts his hand flat against your forehead, like he’s checking your temperature. 

“You feeling okay? Who are you and what have you done with, Y/N?” 

You shake his hand off, rolling your eyes at him, as you both laugh into the night. 

“You’re so mean, Satoru. I hate you.”

He lifts one of his legs out of the water and turns to his side, so that he’s facing you. You mimic his motions, the look on your face bored as you look over at him. 

“I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to wound my ego a little bit, so don’t tell anyone okay?” 

“You with a wounded ego? I would live for the day.” 

He lightly nudges you before turning back down to the water, swishing the water with his legs. 

“What you said isn’t true, Belle.” 

“What part?” 

“About going into highschool and not having a guy like you.” 

“That guy who chased me around in first grade doesn’t count because he literally thought I was-” 

He brings his hands down on your face, squishing your cheeks so hard that you can’t get another word out. His eyes are closed, his face only a few feet from yours. 

“Princess, I really, really love it when you argue with me like that but can you please just let me finish?” he whispers, the words sending a shiver down your spine. 

You nod as he lets go, giving you a satisfied smile. He turns his head back to the water, leaning over the dock.

“That guy in first grade did like you. And I like you too.”  

He looks over and smiles and it makes your blood burn. You lift your hands to cover your pink face, the implication of the entire thing making your stomach burn with anxiety, embarrassment, and the gross, mushy gushy feelings you’ve had for Satoru for years. For the boy who always came to your defense when you’re fighting Getou, always came to your aid when you were crying, and the only, only person you’ve never argued with. 

“So quit crying about it, okay? My type has always been girls like you.” 

“Girls like me?” 

“Argumentative.” 

You nod as Satoru stands up, holding his hand out. And ignore the pounding in your chest when his skin touches yours. You both walk your bikes - you pushing his bike and him pushing yours back down the blocks as you cheese at each other in the dark, sharing a secret smile before Satoru ducks back into Getou’s room. 

--

three months later 

You push up on the counter, swirling the cup of lemonade in your hand as you watch everyone mill around the party. 

Your parents went out of town on a business trip. Getou throws the biggest party of the summer. And specifically tells you to stay in your room, because no one likes freshmen at a party. 

Yet here you are, drinking lemonade and watching everyone mill around the party. Getou’s trying too hard to hit on a girl way older than him and Shoko and Utahime are so blatantly flirting that its giving you physical pain to watch them pine the way they are any longer. 

But there’s one person you haven’t seen. Satoru. 

He should have been back from his family trip to Tokyo for the summer since school was starting next week and there’s no way that he would miss anything that Getou and Shoko planned. 

Even the thought of him makes your heart race, his swift admission of his feelings for you that were all but unrequited right before he left. You feel a tap on your shoulder, throwing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey. Can you hand me a cup?” 

You halfheartedly smile as you reach over, handing her a cup from behind you. She gives you a smile as she swirls through the random potion Getou was serving - a dark purple color. You’re sure there’s an unfathomable amount of liquor mixed in and that it tastes disgusting. 

“You want some?” 

“I’m good. Getou poisoned that for all I know.” you mutter, which elicits a laugh from her. 

“Interesting guy. He’s cute, right?” 

You gag, the thought making the lemonade you just drank roll over in your stomach. 

“Disgusting. He’s my older brother.” 

She laughs, pushing up on the counter to sit with you and smiles. 

“My bad. He’s ugly, downright horrendous.” 

“Thank you.” 

You smile as you look over at her, her eyes scanning the mess of people in front of you two. 

“Oh shit. Wait, you’re Y/N, right? Satoru was talking about you.” 

And any good feeling you have is now replaced with a green, jealous monster. And that part of you - the one that argues, the one that feels bitter, anger so powerfully is fighting its way out. 

“Y-yeah. How do you know Satoru?” 

“I don’t. I just met him upstairs. I almost puked in your room but he stopped me, helped me to the bathroom, and held my hair for a while while I threw up.” 

“He’s a real nice guy, isn’t he?” you say, the sarcasm dripping from you voice. 

Of course the asshole shows up to your house and flirts with another girl in your bedroom. Typical. 

“Yeah. Cute too.” 

Just then, Satoru and Getou walked up to you - with complete opposite expressions on their faces. Satoru is shining like the sun, his cheeks tinted pink which you’re sure is from drinking. And Getou’s glaring at you like there’s no tomorrow, his forehead scrunched up in irritation. 

“Y/N.” 

“Getou.” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Lemonade.” 

Getou snatches the cup from your hand and sets it down and by the look on his face, you know he’s about to start a fight with you. 

“Are you fucking dense? That’s not lemonade, dumbass.” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday, idiot? I took it from the unopened bottle in the fridge.” 

“You shouldn’t be here right now. You’re too young to be here.” 

“You’re one year older than me, Getou. And don’t throw a party in my house if you don’t want me here.” 

Satoru puts a hand on Getou’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear until he gives you one last glare and walks away. Satoru gives you a big smile but before he can talk, the girl from before cuts him off. 

“Do you want to dance now? I promise I got all my vomit out earlier so I won’t throw up this time.” 

She gives him a big smile, and you swear Satoru’s considering it by the way he pauses and looks at her, which is enough said for you. You push up off the counter, telling them you’ll be right back and run off to the lake again, this time stealing Getou’s bike from the curb. 

You’re pushing your legs so hard that they’re hurting, the tears biting cold against your skin from how fast you’re going in the middle of the night. And when you make it to the dock, you throw his bike against the grass and angrily kick your shoes off as you start taking your clothes off. 

Is it a good idea to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night, alone? No. But is every human person that would come to this park at the party? Yes. 

Which is the only reason you take the plunge and stare up at the moon, a tiny silver crescent in the sky. You hear a splash behind you after a few minutes and are met with Satoru, wet hair matted on his forehead. 

“Find your own lake, weirdo.” 

“You know. You shouldn’t skinny dip in public. People could see you.” 

You look over to his pile of clothes and shoes, neatly folded in the pile next to yours. 

“Same goes for you, pervert.” 

You roll your eyes at him as you cross your hands across your chest, turning to your back so you don’t have to look at him. He’s faster than you are, because suddenly he’s floating right in front of you, inches from your face. 

“Did I hurt your feelings, princess?”  

“Quit calling me that. It’s disgusting.” 

He brings his hands to your face, pushing away the tangled wet mess of hair on your shoulders. 

“You like it when I call you that.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do, Belle.” 

“Satoru.” 

“I’m not saying my piece till you say yours. And you want to hear mine, so talk.” 

You take a deep breath as you look at his face - all calm and blank faced like he didn’t just do the biggest asshole move he could have. 

“You’re a dick, you know that? First of all, you tell me all this shit about how you like me right before you leave. And then when you come back, the first thing I see is you talking to another girl? You were holding her hair in the bathroom, fondling god knows what in my bedroom and now you want to come here and skinny dip with me? I am not some consolation prize you get to have because she was bored of those ugly pool noodle dance moves you have and don’t ever think for a second that I will be.” 

You finish, your chest heaving and a shiver running across your body from the cold water. And instead of a sincere, kind-hearted apology, an acknowledgement of what he did - Satoru Gojo is laughing in your face. 

You reach forward to smack his face and he stops your hand in the air, tangling his fingers with yours. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” 

“You’re so fucking r-” 

“Fondling? Pool noodle? Where do you even come up with this stuff?” 

He brings his hands up to your cheeks and leans your head forward, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. You can feel your head short circuiting at the sensation, your arms tingling from how close he is. 

“You’re so, so ridiculous you know that? I’m never going to get tired of you.” he whispers, the words making your hair stand on their ends. 

“What-you can’t just say that and-” 

“Why do you think I was in your room?” 

“What?” 

“I was in your room, because I was looking for you. And I thought I was being nice by stopping that girl from puking all over your sheets - because I know you hate laundry and Getou isn’t going to do it for you - so I took her to the bathroom.” 

You can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face for misreading the situation entirely, taking the palms of your hands and rubbing them into your eye sockets. He laughs as he tangles his hands around your wrists, placing them around his own neck. 

“Still the only senior who hasn’t been kissed yet?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. When I saw you last. Are you still the only senior who hasn’t been kissed yet?” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah. But I-” 

“Good.” 

He leans forward, tangling his hands around your waist as he presses his warm lips to yours, his hands squeezing you as he laughs into your mouth. You don’t have much to compare it to, but by the way he’s hanging off your lips, you can tell he’s eager. Way too eager - to be kissing you of all things. 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm?” 

“I like you too.” 

His face breaks out into a smile, so big that it makes you smile too. And when he cups his hand around your face again to kiss the tip of your nose, you can feel your insides screaming. For him. 

“No telling Getou. He’s going to kill me, okay?” 

“As if. He literally hates me, he’d be glad if-” 

“No. He can’t know. You-you’re his little sister. If he finds out I even looked at you this way, he-he’d end me where I stand. Trust me, Belle. If I break my promise, he'll never talk to me again.” 

“What promise?” 

“When we were little. He made me promise I wouldn’t like you.” 

“And yet here you are. Naked in a lake with me.” 

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. We all have our vices, princess.” 

You lean into his touch again, pressing your lips against his, as the moon shines a bright light on the two of you in the dark. 

--

four months later 

You and Getou awkwardly stand in the kitchen, by the open bottles of champagne, as you both secretly circle the glasses behind your back. Getou has his moments - and this is one of them. When your parents put you on display like shiny trophies for their coworkers, bragging about how smart the two of you are.

“You decided where you’re going yet?” 

“Tokyo or Kyoto, Toto.” 

“Toto. Ew. You haven’t called me that since we were little, idiot.” 

He brings his hand around your shoulder, tucking you into his arm as you lean against his shoulder, smiling. After Getou really realized you’d be leaving at the end of the year, he’s been nicer. Granted, he still fights like hell but he has his odd moments. Like this one. 

“You’ll always be Get-toto to me.” 

“I’ll get you a little Totoro plushie before you go, okay? So when those bastards you date fight with you, you’ll always be reminded you have a little bitch in you ready to fight.” 

“Why are you praying for my downfall? You’re not gonna manifest a sweet, warm love for me?” 

“Please. The guy you end up with will be all fireworks. Soft fireplace love has never been your thing.” 

He ruffles your hair as Satoru walks up, his tie loosened already. He gives you a smile and then shakes hands with Getou, the three of you leaning against the granite countertops, watching your parents mingle through the crowd. 

“D’you pick yet? Because Tokyo’s the right choice, Belle.” 

“I’m still thinking, Satoru.” 

“C’mon. Imagine it - you joining me and Getou in Tokyo. It would be really fun.” 

Satoru’s just trying to piss you off. He knows that you’ve already picked Tokyo, because it means you don’t have to long distance date anymore. No more driving up to see each other in between, getting pulled away from each other by the constraints of time or distance or really anything else. 

One of the smaller girls at the party tugs the end of your dress, whispering in her ear that she wants warm milk, which you happily oblige with. Satoru and Getou stay in their spots as you start rummaging through the kitchen, picking out a little glass and warming up the milk for her. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, love?” Satoru responds, turning his gaze over to you. 

You feel your eyes widen and Satoru’s face turn red as he looks over at you, realizing you were asking the girl if she wanted honey in her milk and not calling him. You both look over to Getou, who has a very strange look on his face that you can’t really discern. 

Fuck. 

You hand the girl her milk and stand farthest away from Satoru, giving Getou a weak smile as you all stare at the party again. 

“Look. It’s Shayla.” 

You and Satoru crane your necks over the other side of the room, one of your neighbors daughters saying hello to all the guests. Which you’re sure you’re getting to get a lecture about now, since you didn’t want to spend the time saying hi to all of them. 

“Remember when you had a really big crush on her, Satoru? Since we were kids?” 

“Uh, yeah. But I was just really little, y’know.” 

You can feel your throat drying as Getou pushes on, each word making your heart burn in your chest. 

“Yeah, but. She was basically your first love. Who forgets that? Who compares to that?” 

“I don’t know if I would say she was my first l-” 

“Then who is, Satoru? Because it’s not my sister, right?” he asks, his voice firm. 

Satoru said that he would tell Getou when you officially announced you were going to Tokyo. Because once you lived in the same city, nothing would stop you from being with him - not even his best friend. 

“No, no, why would it be her? She’s been annoying us since we were little, arguing with us and all that. You-you’re right. It is her. Shayla’s always been my type.” he says, his gaze lowering to the floor. 

You feel your heart sink, twist into a jumbled mess as Getou smiles and gestures for her to come over. There’s a fair amount of protests from Satoru as she walks over, which you know is him trying to save face. He deals his final blow the second she walks up, definitively and wholly breaking your heart into pieces. 

When Getou starts setting the two of them up. When Satoru actually takes her number down. When she presses a kiss to his cheek and winks before she walks away. 

“I have to pee, Toto. Cover for me?” 

“Yeah, got it.” 

And the second you walk away and Getou watches you wipe the tears from your face as you walk past, Getou knows he’s right. 

“Getou. You have to-” 

“No, Satoru. Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Wait, what- you can’t just-” 

“She’s my little sister. She’s not some toy you get to play around with till you figure out how you feel. And you don’t get to embarrass her by hiding her away either.” 

“We were going to tell you when she told you she’s going to Tokyo. You-you’re the reason I hid her away. I’ve liked her for years and I put that away because you didn’t want me with her. And now I-” 

“Don’t blame your shortcomings on me. Even if you did have to hide it in front of me, I would never call the girl I loved annoying to her face and throw everything she’s hated about herself in her face to make a point.” 

“I didn’t- Getou you’re the one who made her hate that about herself and-” 

“You love her?” 

“Obviously. Why would I go to the trouble of hiding something when-” 

“Talk to her again and I will literally break your face. In what world do you treat someone you love like that?” 

As Satoru watches Getou walk away and thinks about how hard you’re crying upstairs, he realizes he’s in his worst nightmare. Losing his best friend and the girl he loved on the same day. 

You and Satoru make promises that day. 

He promises that he’ll wear his heart on his sleeve from this day forward. You promise that you’ll tuck your heart away where no one can ever touch it again. 

--

present day 

“You’re no fun, Y/N.” Itadori says, pushing the paper into your space. 

“And you suck at tic-tac-toe.” you respond, sliding it back. 

Nobara and Megumi laugh as the three of you sink back into your chairs in the back of the conference room, your marketing manager droning on about stocks, the future of the company, and god knows what as you try to drone him out and focus on winning your seventh round of tic-tac-toe with Itadori. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t take much. 

“And lastly, we’ve employed a new marketing manager to work with the sales team. The four of you back there can decide who he’s going to be working with for onboarding.” says Ijichi. 

You nod as the four of you turn to each other, matching smirks on your face. 

“Rock paper scissors?” Nobara asks. 

“Deal.” 

It’s not that you’d hate to work with the new marketing manager. But the past three marketing managers were driven out by the end of the month because of you guys.

Megumi was too harsh with the first girl, who left crying when he asked her if she got her marketing degree from a trash can. Nobara drove the second guy away when she found out he chewed too loudly while eating lunch, claiming that he wasn’t a good fit for the company. And Itadori drove the last girl away, because she fell in love with him and he didn’t return her feelings, which made her resign the next day. 

“You know, logically. It’s your turn.” Megumi says, holding his fist up to Itadori. 

“Nope. We honor the rock paper scissors tournament in this friendship. 

You mince your words four rounds later because you’re the pouty loser getting stuck with the stupid marketing manager. You slide back into your chair as you massage your temples, preparing yourself for the upcoming headache for the next month. 

Either a lover, an incompetent idiot, or a loud chewer. 

Nobara and Itadori sling their hands around your shoulders, pinching your cheeks, as Ijichi swings the door open and the marketing manager walks in. He readjusts his tie - loosely hanging from his neck - and when you lift your head to actually make eye contact with him, you immediately sit up in your chair, your skin burning. 

Because Satoru Gojo is no longer six thousand miles away in Tokyo - out of sight and out of mind. He’s three feet away from you - taller, older, and more attractive than the time you saw him last. 

Everyone files out of the conference room, leaving the two of you standing miles away from each other, with you refusing to meet his eye. He walks up and holds his hand out, a shy smile on his face. 

“Satoru Gojo.” 

You put your hand in his - the touch warm, soft, all the way you remembered it. 

“Y/N L/N.” you respond, mimicking his voice. 

“Y/N, huh? You look more like a Belle to me.” he responds, smirking as he walks out to your cubicle labeled right across. 

You stomp right out, following him into your cubicle, as he takes the seat across from yours and starts eating the candy in your jar. You roll your eyes as you smack his hand, the smile on his face so big it's pissing you off. 

“Just so you know, there’s a very notorious reputation for running out the idiot who takes your position. And trust me, I’ll have you out by the end of the week.” 

“Is that a challenge, princess?” 

“You can’t flirt with me. I’m technically your boss, Satoru.” 

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. We all have our vices, princess.” he says, sticking one of your caramel candies in your mouth before pushing off your desk and making his way down the other side of the office. 

Six hours later, you’re face planting into the table at dinner, the words echoing through your mind. Along with all the memories you buried deep, deep down and tried to forget. Of running off to the lake all summer, Satoru washing your hair softly in the showers after, of nestling up in his arms to call it a day. 

Of Satoru rubbing circles into your back every time you fought with someone, of you kissing him after every fight he had with his dad, of whispering I love you against each other's lips like it was a sacred oath. 

“You look horrible.” Megumi says, sharing a judgemental look with Itadori. 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s just one of those lame interns. Just do what Nobara did - say he smells bad.”  Itadori responds, the three of them laughing. 

You dig your forehead into your forearms, only lifting your head to drink more of Itadori’s beer, as the thoughts race through your head. 

In all honesty, the problem has always been easy to avoid. Two years ago, Satoru smashed your heart into tiny pieces. You decided that you wouldn’t go to Tokyo or Kyoto like you planned and picked up everything and moved to New York instead. 

You didn’t say goodbye. To him or to anyone. Your parents drove you to the airport and Getou gave one of those weird, repressed older brother hugs and then you turned on your heel and never went back. 

You have a nice job. Friends who love you. Your dating life is abysmal at most - a long stream of guys you’ve ghosted, fought, and broken up with. Unfazed, unperturbed - calm, cool, and collected. 

It doesn’t bother you. Because you stuck by your promise. That you’ll tuck your heart away where no one can touch it. But it only takes five minutes of interaction with him and you can feel the concrete walls around your heart turning into clay, softened by the sweetness he’s always possessed, the softness he’s always shared with you. 

You have to drive him out of here as fast as you can. 

--  

Seven weeks later and Satoru remains at the company, steadfast and true. 

It drives you crazy, having him around. So up in your space, his smell lingering in your cubicle even after he walks away. He makes stupid jokes that make you smile so hard that you’re fighting the tears in your eyes and flirts with no shame like it’s breathing air. 

All in all, he’s everything you loved about Satoru, in your head again. In an even more attractive body, because of course time is nice to the asshole and he’s fit in all the right places. 

You ignore him the best you can, until you can’t anymore. 

You make it down to the parking lot, your high heels in your hand as you unlock your car and start loading your stuff into the trunk. 

That’s when you see him, slumped against his car with the hood popped open, with a very, very confused look on his face. You clear your throat loudly, which catches his attention. 

“Oh. Heading out late, Y/N?” 

“Looks like it. You?” 

“Ah. I actually meant to leave early today but my car hasn’t been starting so.” 

You take one look at his pouty face and give in. You slam the trunk of your car shut and whisper the words out, so fast that you can’t even think to regret them. 

“Get in the car.” 

“Huh?” 

“Get in the car, Satoru. Unless you want to stay here for the rest of the weekend, then be my guest.” 

He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen as he all but jogs over and settles into the front seat of your car, slumping down in the seat that’s pushed all the way up. You back up out of the parking garage as he plugs in the address for his apartment, a modest thirty minutes away from the office. 

“You know, you can move the chair back. I’m not going to bite your head off if you do.” 

He laughs and you see his shoulders deflate as he adjusts the seat, his long legs now spread in the open compartment underneath him. 

“What a shame. I’m into that type of thing, Y/N.” 

“Always the perverted one, weren’t you?” you respond, smiling over at him. 

Stop it, Y/N. Stop it. 

“Who the hell sits up here anyway? A toddler?” 

“Oh. It was just this guy I was talking to. He was really short but he always felt the need to monitor my driving so he pulled the seat all the way up to watch the lines.” you respond, turning left onto the street. 

“Ah. One of your many romantic escapades, so I’m told. I’ve heard you’ve become quite the player, Y/N.” he says, leaning against the glass. 

“Learned from the best, Satoru. Except this time, I don’t get overinvolved.” you respond. 

He laughs, leaning back in the chair as you both fall into a comfortable silence, the tension hanging in the air eating at your skin. It hangs in the air, like an embarrassing elephant in the room. 

Satoru’s the one who pokes it. 

“Then, you should get involved with me. Again.” 

You keep your promises to yourself. But Satoru keeps his too. An oath to wear his heart on his sleeve is translated into him fighting to get you back. 

You slam the breaks so hard that his forehead goes straight into the sun visor, a groan leaving his mouth. You apologize and immediately reach forward, cupping the side of his face and eyeing the angry red mark on his forehead. 

“Yikes. I’m sorry, Cyclops. That caught me off guard.” 

“Be careful, there. Almost thought you cared for a second.” he says, smirking. 

You park the car in front of his apartment and look out the window, the words making your head spin. 

“You know, I can tell you want to.” he says.

You turn around and frown, reaching forward to flick into the soft skin of his cheek. 

“Please. You’re not even all that-” 

“You brushed your hand against mine when we walked to the conference room. I caught you staring at me during the company lunch on Thursday. And I know you just stopped talking to the short guy because Itadori told me. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

--

The worst has happened. Because for the second time, you are irrevocably and deeply in love with Satoru Gojo. 

Maybe you never stopped. 

Just like you were when you were seven, you’re incredibly drawn to him, like two magnets being pulled together. What was supposed to be one date, one lousy hookup like every other guy you’ve talked to in the past year turned into a complicated, mushy gushy feelings mess. 

You stayed over at his house that night. But then he was shirtless, singing in the kitchen as he made you breakfast in bed the next morning. And little by little, he’s crawled into every little part of your life. 

He insists on driving you to work, buying you a sugary overpriced latte you would never splurge on for yourself and a pastry to go with it on the way. He claims he doesn’t want any but reaches over the seat to take a bite and then press a chocolatey kiss to your lips. 

He hangs out with you and your friends after work. And like always, he always backs you up in the thousands of petty arguments he has with each of them and then tells you that it turns him on when he drives you home. 

He draws little shapes into your skin every night, asking you to guess the little drawings he’s making while his soft, smooth voice lulls you to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t help but watch him, the little freckles he had when he was seventeen still the same. 

It makes your heart warm. The soft feelings you’ve always had for him, they make you warm. 

Which is why you curse yourself for ever thinking things could be different, when he drops the ball three months later.  

“Can you drive me to the airport on Friday, princess?” he asks, his breaths tickling your nose. 

“Where are you going, Toru?” you murmur, burrowing yourself deeper into his skin. 

“Home. The job posting was temporary, remember?” he responds, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“Oh. Are- you’re not going to look for a job here?’ 

“Nah. Time’s up right?” he says, the question hanging in the air. 

And when you wake up the next morning, to find him in your kitchen with a bowl of cereal all poured out for you and a bouquet of flowers, you can’t help but yell at him. After the shit he pulled last night. 

“You should probably go to your apartment and pack your stuff up. Since you’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“We can do it tomorrow, Belle. Most of my stuff is here anyway.” he says, holding the bowl close to his mouth as he leans over the counter. 

“I can’t take you tomorrow. Megs said he will so you can ask him for help. He-he’s actually on his way now to get you.” you murmur, crossing your hands against your chest. 

He frowns, coming up close to you to wrap his arms around you which you quickly side shuffle out of. You push past him and walk into the kitchen, clutching the countertop hard. Satoru smiles to himself before he turns around, knowing he’s won the war. 

“Do you want me to stay, Belle?” 

You roll your eyes, the audacity of him even suggesting that just pissing you off more. Irritated, because of course he said that. Agitated, because he can read you like a book. 

“No, Satoru. Go home.” 

“You sure? Because it seemed like-” 

“Do you really think it would bother me if you left, Satoru? Do you really think you’re different from any other guy I talked to?” 

Satoru frowns, the angry look on your face the opposite of the love-struck, warm confession he was expecting. But then again, this was you. Argumentative to your core - so he just needs to wrangle it out of you. 

“I know I’ve been here longer than the rest of them, that’s for sure.” 

“And do you think that makes you special, Satoru? Do you sincerely, genuinely think any of that means I would want you to stay right now?” 

“Well, wait- I’m not just any other guy now, you and I, we-” 

“We what? Have history? A long term fling doesn’t make us soulmates, Satoru.” 

“That wasn’t a fling. You and I were-” 

“You and I were no different than what we are now, Satoru. You should have known to not get over involved. I told you from the start that this is how it would be. You leaving didn’t faze me the first time and it won’t faze me the second time either, sweetheart.” 

Satoru moves past you, yanking his hoodie on and grabbing his key off the hook as he swings the door open. And when he shuts the door behind you, his tear-stained face being the last thing you see, you sink onto the floor and can’t help but sob. 

For the first boy you ever loved. Who burned you so bad, that you burned him too. Who soothed over every angry, irritating, argumentative part of you, until it was something you unleashed on him too. 

You wonder why you let yourself into these sinkholes in the first place. 

--

“Hey, man. Have a safe flight home, okay? It was nice getting to know you.” Itadori says, lugging the last of Satoru’s luggage out of the back. 

Satoru gives Itadori one last hug before Megumi starts lugging his bags into the terminal with him, the intense feelings from the day prior still hanging on his chest. 

“You-you’ll take care of her right? After I’m gone?” Satoru asks, as he pulls into the line. 

“Who?” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I will. This time around though, I’m not letting Itadori and Nobara invite her to the bar.” 

Satoru smiles, the thought of you drunk, making his heart ache. One of his many favorite sights is you on your fourth glass of wine - when your lips are all pink and when you climb all over him, whispering the corniest, cheesiest things that come to mind. 

“Princess. You’re kind of cutting off my circulation here.” 

“Sss-sorry, Satoru. Wanted to get closer.” you whisper, tangling your arms around his neck and readjusting in his lap. 

“What’s closer than this princess? You’re literally on top of me right now.” he responds, cupping your face to push the hair away from your face. 

“Not close enough.” 

“The only thing closer than this is if you crawled into my skin and became a part of my bloodstream.” 

“Is there a way to do that? Because I would.” 

“You wanna be that close to me, huh princess?” 

“Even when I’m sitting right next to you, right on top of you, literally skin to skin - I still can’t get enough of you. I want to be this close, all the time.” 

Satoru shakes the memory from his mind as the people behind him gesture him to move forward in line, his heart hanging heavier in his chest. 

“She always drinks too much, doesn’t she?” he says. 

“Well, yeah. It’s usually funny. But now she’s going to go back into her moping, angsty teenager phase for the next seven months. I’ll probably be dragging her out of that bar on her legs, for all I know.” 

“Y/N? Angsty? That’s real funny.” 

“No, I’m telling you. When we first met her, all this girl did was cry in the bar. Her sadness was like…contagious or whatever it was making me depressed. One time she sang All Too Well, on the countertop while sobbing until the bartender literally had to kick her ass out.” 

“The first guy she dated when she moved here was that bad, huh?” 

“No. Itadori and Nobara have this running theory, they’ve been trying to figure out who he is for a while. The one thing we know for sure is that he’s definitely from her hometown and that she broke up with him right before she moved here.” 

And that’s when Satoru gets it. That you’re a goddamn liar. And that you definitely did want him to stay. 

Satoru does the only thing he can. Drops everything and runs straight out the airport to make his way back to your apartment. He’ll be damned if he makes the same mistake twice. 

--

You look up from your spot, sprawled on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, when you hear a key turn in the lock. You immediately sit up to find Satoru, an almost angry look on his face, when he storms in and bends down in front of you. 

“Forget your diapers, grandpa?” 

“Shut up, Y/N.” 

“It’s a long flight. You don’t want to have an accident do you?” 

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing hard so you can’t get another word. And what he says next, the same words he uttered to you in that stupid lake, sober you u pearl fast. 

“Princess, I really, really love it when you argue with me like that but can you please just let me finish?” 

You swallow hard as he gives you a satisfied smile, giving him a soft nod. 

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“God, Satoru. Just quit it with this shit, I already told you no and I mean-” 

“You also told me that it didn’t faze you when we broke up the first time. But then I find out, you were slurring my name in bars and crying about it for months.” 

“So? Do you want a cookie or something?” 

“So you’re a liar. And now I want to know the truth. Do you want me to stay?” 

His eyes are burning, bigger than you’ve ever seen them. The gaze itself is piercing, making the ends of your hair stand up on your arms and legs. You shake his hand off your face as you stand up, scrambling to the other side of the kitchen. 

“I don’t want you to stay.” 

“Yes, you do. You’re lying, Y/N.” 

“No, I’m not. One measly piece of information my friends mention in passing doesn’t mean it’s about you, Satoru.” 

He brings his hands around your wrist, curling his fingers around the skin and squeezing twice. 

“I made the dumbest mistake of my life. I had an opportunity, a real one to be honest about how I felt and I fucked it up, okay? I’ve regretted it every day since you walked away. You were going to go to school - with me. We were going to be together. But then you picked up everything and move to the other side of the fucking planet to halfheartedly date all these guys without a care in the world.” 

“What does stating facts do for you, Satoru? What is it you want me to say?” 

“You know what I want to hear. Say it, Belle.” 

“What? That I left because of you? That I loved you so much that it made my heart hurt? That every second I’m around you it only feels like my love gets bigger for you? That the only person I can’t bring myself to get over is you? Because what does me saying that do for me because you’re just going to-” 

Satoru smiles before he closes the space between you, pushing you into the counter and cradling your cheeks in his hand. He’s leaning into the kiss, so hard that you can feel almost his entire body weight on you as his lips press against yours. 

He’s shaking hard and smiling into the kiss, pulling you back in every time you try to stop, his hands running in your hair as he laughs into your mouth. 

“Was it so hard to tell me that you wanted me to stay?” he whispers, giggling into your ear as he presses kisses into your neck. 

“Was it so hard to tell me you wanted to? You just had to come have this big moment with me here when-” 

“Yes, I did. You deserved a big, lengthy love confession when you were seventeen, at that stupid party. I’m trying to do right by you through this dramatic shit now.” 

“Because this is doing right by me? Making me cry and then running back?” 

“It’s romantic, princess. I ran out of an airport for you.” 

“After we argued. That kind of puts a damper on it.” 

“Oh, shut up. You know argumentative girls have always been my thing.” 

You place your hands around his face, yanking his head out of the crook of your neck as you hold his face in your hands, the skin soft. He still has all the little freckles, the same eyes and nose that you loved when you were seventeen. 

That you love. You love him. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yeah?” 

“How did you get a key to my house?” 

He rolls his eyes as he breaks out of your hold, sticking his tongue out at you. 

“That would have been a really sweet moment for a confession. You ruined it, princess.” 

You smile as you make your way into his arms again, looking up at him from his hold. 

“I made a copy of your key, Y/N.” 

“That’s illegal, Toru. Breaking and entering.” 

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. Everyone has their vices.” 

You bring your hands back up to his cheeks again, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks as you press a kiss to the side of his cheek. 

“Isn’t love the greatest vice, Toru?” you whisper. 

“Maybe for me. Every normal thing hits different when it comes to you.” he says, closing the space between you two again.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

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