#i WILL draw the remaining cast! the question is not if the question is when

[geminison]

i don't want new year to come early i want January 4th to come early so i could watch next candela obscura episode already 😤

[multifandomme]

Carmine

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: A lesson learnt?

Genre: Smut, (breathplay, degradation, power dynamics, thigh riding, pet names, praise kink, daddy kink, prentiss in crotchless panties), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1.7k.

This piece is for day 6 of kinktober under the 'lingerie' prompt.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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A carmine silhouette flooded your vision as you entered the bedroom, the distinct scent of smoke fizzling from a cigarette that dangled from her fingers. Emily regarded you with a knowing smirk having instantaneously secured your undivided attention, the intricate lace adornments fixated below your gaze as an air of suspicion cast its shadow. Beneath the subtlety of the surrounding candlelight, Emily was elysian, skin aglow with the gentlest spark of orange. 

On the exterior, the scene oozed romance, her motives unsullied, though you knew that this was merely a distraction tactic of the deliberate kind. No, she was in pursuit of ridding a very particular memory from your mind. 

Emily’s stare was unwavering as she sucked in another mouthful of smoke, wordless temptation suspended in the space between you. Daringly, she widened her thighs, offering a fleeting glimpse of what lay below, purposefully long enough for you to deduce that her panties were crotchless. Subconsciously, your tongue swiped across your lips and for a split second, the upper hand found itself in her possession. 

“You look hungry,” she lured, sexily, her free hand meandering until it settled between her legs, two fingers trailing across her exposed flesh in a valiant attempt at seducing you. “Why don’t you come and have a taste, hm?”

Deviously, she plucked the cigarette from her lips, replacing its absence with her arousal-covered digits, suckling them clean with sounds of zeal, excitement, eyes peeking open to assure your continual supervision of her. And she need not have questioned your observation of her for a second, engrossed in a way so resolute that you were almost tempted to set aside your plans and relinquish to senseless desire. 

“You really think you deserve my mouth on you?” You asked, stoically, a wry chuckle tumbling out of you when you noted the sudden disappearance of her smug little simper. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you did, sweetheart?”

A conspicuous glimmer of fear, of doubt materialised upon her face and only added to your entrancement of her. She gulped audibly, but the inadvertent display of nervousness was soon dismissed with a slight shake of her head.

“I wish I could help you,” she shrugged, feigning ignorance, her gaze averted as she discarded her cigarette into the ashtray upon the bedside table. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A conceited smile remained bitten behind pursed lips, paled as she crawled to the edge of the bed to gain closer proximities, to rile you further you assumed. 

“I had a very enlightening conversation with Doug Bailey,” you revealed, frankly, stepping forwards to clasp her jaw within your hand and observing as her irises kindled with lust. “He told me all about the clever little stunt you pulled today in the interrogation room.”

The harshened force that you had exerted around her jaw did nothing to deter her biting remarks, a grin activating, sizzling stabs of adrenaline piercing into you in response to her defiance. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she denied, cockily, her attitude beginning to hack away at your self-control. 

“How convenient,” you growled, releasing her abruptly to curl a finger below her chin, drawing her towards you until your lips were just short of making a connection with hers. “Apparently, Mommy put on a hell of a show for one lucky murderer.”

Emily hummed in faux surprise, her eyes widening to garnish the masquerade into believability. It was a game to her, always had been, bumping up against the boundary until you forcibly yanked her away from it. She never won, never had, though it never prevented her from playing, if anything, it only seemed to heighten the appeal. 

“But you didn’t stop there,” you husked, a tinge of anger pricking at your composure. “No, you unbuttoned your shirt for him, didn’t you, baby?” You questioned, hotly, your jaw flexing with intensity. “And bent all the way over that interrogation table so he could take a good, hard look at you.” 

The sound of cachinnation blurted out to hinder the flitting silence, ebbing out once Emily recognised the familiarity of the expression that you were sporting, wrathful, unpredictable. She leaned in, enticingly, her mouth agape and breezing air against your lips with each lengthened exhale, as if she was mustering the courage to do something that was certain to induce a marked response. 

“It worked like a charm,” she admitted, boldly, her words kissing against you. “You should have seen the way he looked at me,” she continued, fixed, unafraid, her eyes falling to a close with a contented sigh, as if she was recalling it with fondness to incite maximal rage. “If Bailey wasn’t behind the glass, I bet he-“

Emily’s sentence was forsaken to be stolen away, her breath held captive by your sturdy hand enfolded around her throat. She spluttered, let out a wavering gasp, her consciousness waning and re-emerging with the varying pressure that you applied. 

“Oh, I’ll bet,” you gnarled, viciously, a maniacal smirk fused to your lips as you basked in her state of incapacitation, admired her in all of her glory. “Did you like it, huh? Whoring yourself out for a criminal?” You probed, intimidatingly, your hand mirroring the force of your words, constricting until an almost undetectable squeak escaped her. “Is that what you are, baby? A whore?"

Emily’s thighs pressed snugly together as she knelt on the edge of the mattress, fixed in position with no way to break free of you. It was only when a reticent groan bled out into the deafening quiet that you realised that she was reaping gratification from her crafty manoeuvres. Her eyes bored into yours, scorching with allure, her mouth open as she gathered the coherency to utter a word.

“Be very careful with your next words,” you warned, thwarting her before she had the opportunity to instigate her own ruin. “Your oxygen is at my disposal, baby,” you cooed, a scoff bursting from you as Emily jolted physically at the prospect. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out now, would we?”

Emily released a pathetic whine, one that only grew in volume when you administered a squeeze of reiteration around her slender neck. She writhed lightly in your grasp, her mind wiped clean of thoughts, dizzied by the oxygen depletion with nothing but nonsensical fragments spilling from her lips.

“No,” she rasped, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes as she tried avidly to will them away. “I’m only yours, Daddy,” she insisted, fervently, despite the fact that she was breathless, weary. 

“There’s my good girl,” you extolled, loosening your hold until it vanished, Emily appearing to float away in the absence of pressure, her head bobbing around gently as its weight restored. “Now, let Daddy take a look at you, hm?”

Softly, you guided her onto her back, her pussy occluded by the arousal that had amassed during your exacerbation of her. She was swollen, desperate, so much that you almost pledged to give in, just once. 

“Please,” she murmured, completely malleable below your hands as her pussy twitched with every painstaking stroke to her clit, her back arching upward from the bed with verve. “Fuck, I need you, Daddy.”

Your sudden retreat saw her scrambling up onto her elbows to discern your whereabouts, creeping over to your newfound position against the pillows. 

“Disobedient sluts don’t get rewards, you know that, sweetheart,” you reminded, softly, your fingers caressing her silver tresses with affection. “But it would be a shame to waste those pretty panties, hm?”

Emily offered a zealous nod, her interest roused as she awaited instruction, eager to obey you. The palm of your hand met your thigh, your eyes flickering in an unspoken demand and Emily was quick to oblige as she settled herself atop it.

“Are you going to let me cum, Daddy?” She questioned, a lilt of hopefulness in her voice, her lip captured between her teeth. 

“If you behave,” you acceded, feasting on the view before you, your thigh soaked with arousal from the way her pussy smothered against your skin. “Maybe you can put on a show for me, hm, sweetheart? Since you are so good at it as you said.”

A testy frown tugged at her face, soon to be transformed into one of utmost enjoyment as she ground her hips down against your thigh, gyrating slowly, sensually with her eyes trained wholly on you. 

“Such a pretty slut,” you cooed, lovingly, taken by the way her hips rolled until her movement had mesmerised you, unable to draw your attention from her, not ever wanting to. “All mine.”

“Do you like it, Daddy?” She moaned, breathily, glazed over as she regarded you, her pupils blown, her jaw slackened until it hung wide to draw in shaky breaths. “Am I being, mhm… good?”

Her aura expelled warmth, her form illuminated at its edges like some kind of deity and you vowed to worship at the altar of her if it meant that you could have her like this for eternity. 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” you assured, tenderly, your hands springing to grope at her breasts, your thumbs sliding over her lace-clad nipples just to watch her rhythm falter, propelled into sporadic chaos. “So desperate to cum for me, hm?”

Emily rutted with ardor, her clit pushing into your thigh with a rapidly mutating pace, her hands flailing to reach out for you, to attain some stability. 

“Gonna cum,” she blurted, mindlessly, her expression overtaken by the forceful craving to come undone, to find alleviation. “Can I cum, Daddy?”

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” you coaxed, intently, your hands sinking against her hip bones as a means of encouragement, observing with delight as she lost control before you, trembling. 

A guttural sound echoed out into the room, her body lurching forward in lethargy as she battled to settle her breathing. You carefully peeled away the sticky strands that obstructed her beauty, her lips painted in sanguine, swollen from the way she had buried her teeth into them so brutally. 

“Have you learned your lesson, sweetheart?” You asked, curiously, a palpable sense of unrest gnawing at you as Emily raised her head, a sly smile of pearly white greeting you. 

“Yes,” she winked, flopping into your embrace, her body aflame as it melded with yours. “And, I agree with you completely,” she clarified. “Bailey really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut, right?"

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[endereies]

MOVIE NIGHT - CS

No Nut November - Day 9

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ You and Chris relaxing and watching a film together

You and Chris had gotten settled on the sofa together while the tv was shining over the pair of you while it displayed a film you’d seen before. All the lights were turned off and the smell of fresh sweet and salty popcorn filled your senses. A fluffy blanket covered the majority of your body while Chris just sat next to you in one of his larger hoodies These moments happened less than you both wanted, with both of your schedules colliding. However, when they did happen, you both settled into each other’s company quickly, unwinding from the week just gone.

The longer the movie plays, you take notice of his movements towards you. Even with your legs touching, he needed more of the person he loved. In his mind the film had been long abandoned, and his attention drew to the way the film cast a soft glow to your face. Your cheekbones were slightly more accentuated, your eyes had gained a little more sparkle, and a dusting of blush covered the tip of your nose. He just couldn’t stop admiring you. Chris loved the simple things about you especially the way your nose twitched whenever he made popcorn to share. He was just so drawn you, and he had no control.

After a while of Chris inching closer, his chin laid on your shoulder. You were used to Chris being close to you, but after realising how much he moved, you giggled in confusion.

“Chris...? Whatcha doing...” He didn’t utter a word and just wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, his fingers rubbing back and forth where your shirt lifted. Eventually he spoke, his voice melodic and lethargic.

“Nothing, just love m’girl.” You rolled your eyes, covering the way your blush grew deeper in your cheeks.

“Are you even watching?” you questioned his behaviour subtly.

“I’m watching you, does that count.” As much as you try, you can’t seem to regain focus back on to the film and you just feel him watching you silently. He notices the way you react, quickly commenting on it.

“Sorry baby, you’re just adorable what can I say?” Chris smiles softly, drawing one hand up to run through your hair, pushing back a few strands so he can see you better.

“Chris. You’re actually a dork.” A few pieces of popcorn shovel into your mouth, distracting you from his sweet comments. You couldn’t help but blush whenever he spoke about you. His words lulled you further into your emotions and he somehow always knew what to say.

“You love it” he leant his head forwards slightly and glanced quickly at your lips. “May I?”

With a nod from you as permission, he closed the remaining amount of distance and shyly kissed you. A satisfied hum leaves him which makes you smile into the kiss. You both kept it mild yet tender and when he pulled back, he stared into your eyes, a stupid grin on his face.

“I love you, you know that right?” In that moment, everything faded away. You knew he loved you and yet you still found yourself acting like a high-school kid with their first crush when he said it to you. “I love you too Chris.”

He leant back to his original position, not before grabbing a handful of the now cold popcorn and shovelling it into his mouth.

“Babe? Can you rewind it? I was not paying attention…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[sunasbon]

the two of you sitting on the couch together, you both remained perfectly relaxed as you continued watching the classic program playing on the television. the sight of choso’s warm hand settling on top of your soft skin. you couldn't help but savor the peaceful and calming touch of his fingers as they lingered on your thigh.

choso’s muscular structure is something you can never get bored of. his chiseled abs perfectly formed beneath his black tank top, flexing with every movement he makes. his purple eyes are shifting toward you, commanding your full attention and sending shivers down your spine.

you can’t help but notice how breathtaking he looks in that tank top, the way his muscles are constantly shifting and flexing is incredibly attractive. you feel like you can’t tear your eyes away, you just want to gawk at him for hours at time enough to make you weak in the knees every time. never failing to have you right where he wants you..

you took a deep breath, the tense muscles in your body loosening and relaxing as choso's pale hand continued to rub small circles on your soft skin. you felt yourself slowly releasing any built-up stress inside of you. the moment was so serene and tranquil that you felt yourself melting away, slowly losing yourself to the euphoric sensation of bliss and contentment that seemed to be sweeping over you.

“choso . . . baby?”

“yes?”

“i . . well— . . was wondering if we could try thigh riding . . ?”

likewise he draws you closer, he places his hand on your waist. his warm palm brushing your smooth skin. the question lingers in the air the tension thickens between the two of you, as both of you remained in close proximity to each other.

“hmm. .” choso murmurs the softness of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, you feel as though he’s casting a spell over you. his warm breath blowing hastily against your nape causing you to shiver uncontrollably in a teasing manner. “don’t worry i got you . . baby.”

further when he rests his palms on your curves, straddling you onto his thigh, you feel completely overwhelmed by the sudden sensation. it’s almost as if everything around you has faded away, until there’s nothing left but the two of you.

“choso. . . c’mon..” you let out a needy gasp beginning to grind your hips against his, the friction between his thighs causes your body to shudder and your breath to catch in your throat it’s unbearable even so you just started wanting more, it seems it didn’t take long for you to fold underneath his fingertips—that’s guiding your slowly pace on his thigh. “please. . . .”

you whimper as the fabric of your underwear clings to your slick causing your hips to quiver against him and it’s the best and worse feeling at the same time. his movements are slow and steady as well, his soft groans fill your ears as your crumbling against him practical—the grasp of your nails sinking into the softness of his thigh. “mmm . . use your words if you want something, badly . . baby.”

“. . n-need you.. so badly.”you managed to muster out in a a little whine turning your view over your shoulder—seems it didn’t take much for you both to reach ecstasy. you could see choso nibble on the softness of his bottom lip hissing against your spine from behind, choso’s black hair falls softly down his shoulders, framing his sharp features and angelic features it’s was enough to crumple underneath him.

the dimlights cause the beads of sweat on his forehead to sparkle, making him even prettier as they glisten. the blush on his cheeks, however, is the most evident factor of all, it made him look innocent and shy even when he tries to take control of the situation for once. “that’s . .my good girl..”

“fuck . . . choso..“furthermore, your chests rise and fall heavily against each other, breathing heavily in each other’s presence, the high is slowly coming down, but choso doesn’t seem to be done with you yet. the friction of your bodies rubbing against each other is making him hot and bothered as well.

“yeah . . that’s it baby.” he muttered keeping a firm grip on your waist, holding you tightly against him with one hand, while the other lightly traces gentle circles up and down your body.

choso slowly pulls you to his chest as he embraces you tightly, wrapping his arms around you now that you’re both starting to calm down. you feel his strong and warm embrace as he holds you close to him, burying his face into your neck. “ . . but I’m far from done, baby heh . .”

as the friction between your bodies eases, you’re both taking deep breaths and slowing down your heartbeats, still holding each other tightly in a soft moment. the heat is starting to die down, but the memory of your earlier passion is still fresh on both of your minds. choso’s arms are still wrapped tightly around you, holding onto you fondly and comfortably, as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

@preciousamethyst @hoshigray @screampied @shaguro

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[underlove-official]

What is UnderLove?

"UnderLove" is an AU created by Radicalrainbow, based on the renowned role-playing game Undertale. In the universe of UnderLove, the struggle between love and hate shapes its story. It introduces a unique twist with love-centric magic and the contrasting power of hate. Characters’ appearances are heart-themed, adorned in shades of pinks, reds, and whites, with frilly trims, fluffy details, and prominent heart motifs embracing a Valentine's/Lovecore theme. Yet, this AU can show more than just one side of the coin.

Underlove's history

History of the Underground: Long ago, humans and monsters lived separately and in disarray upon the surface. Humans were known for their ruthlessness, hostility, and HATE, which led them to push the kind and loving monsters away.

Tragedy struck one night when the king’s life was brutally taken, leading Asgore to ascend to the throne. Blinded by his own growing anger, Asgore sought to avenge his father, and the once kind and loving monsters turned hostile as war was declared against the humans.

The war raged on, with magic clashing and bodies falling. Eventually, humans emerged victorious, and with the help of a powerful mage, they sealed the monsters underground. The Underground was filled with despair and darkness, but the magic of LOVE gradually began to bloom again, restoring harmony among the monsters.

The royal family made certain that their people remained full of LOVE, fearing the resurgence of HATE that had swept the surface. Royal guards were tasked with protecting the Underground by preserving love and happiness, removing those who began to corrupt with hatred, and dealing with any humans who entered their realm.

Chara’s Arrival: After many years after banishment, their peace was interrupted when a human named Chara fell into their midst, seeking refuge from human cruelty. The Dreemurr family adopted Chara despite their initial wariness, it came to be the best decision of their lives as the two kids grew up together.

Tragically, Chara fell terminally ill from consuming red rose seeds, causing them to cough up petals and roses. Before the illness could fully silence them, Chara expressed a dying wish to see the surface sky one last time.

Asriel, their adoptive brother, absorbed Chara's soul and carried them through the barrier that separated their world from the humans. However, upon reaching the surface, they were met with misunderstanding and rage, resulting in the tragic demise of both Asriel and Chara.

The Dreemurr family, torn apart by the loss of their beloved children, decreed that any human who fell into their realm would be imprisoned in the depths of their castle dungeon.

Official Character Illustrations

FAQs [to be updated]

Question 1: What inspired "UnderLove"? Answer 1: [I've always favored the theme of Lovecore and the holiday of Valentine's Day!]

Question 2: How is "UnderLove" different? Answer 2: [UnderLove started off as a simple theme overhaul, with the characters and locations falling into its theme. Yet I wanted it to be unique, so the story follows a different path from Undertale and other AUs]

Question 3: Can I create fanart for "UnderLove"? Answer 3: [Yes! Absolutely! I'd love to see artwork done of these characters! Just make sure to tag me or use the hashtag #UnderLovefanwork so I can see it!]

Question 4: Can I draw my OC depicted in "UnderLove"? Answer 4: [Of course! I'd love to see what their designs turn out to be and how they'd interact with the cast of characters.]

Question 5: Does "UnderLove" have a wiki page? Answer 5: [Yes it does! I created it a while back and I intend to keep it as updated as possible for UnderLove]

Ask Guidelines

Respect: Be kind and respectful in your questions. Any asks that reflect HATE or are disrespectful will be ignored. No NSFW Content: Please refrain from submitting any NSFW content or questions as this blog and AU are intended for all audiences to enjoy.

Topic: Try to keep asks relevant to the blog and UnderLove in general. Any asks that are off-topic may be passed over to my main blog @radicalrainbow

Repetition: Before submitting your ask, check if it has already been answered via the hashtag on the blog #AsksofLove

No Roleplay Asks: While I love the enthusiasm for the characters and its story, this blog is not set up for roleplaying.

Patience: I try to respond to asks as quickly as possible, but response times may vary depending on the volume of questions and the progress of the story. If your ask doesn’t receive an immediate response, please be patient!

UnderLove's story

The official story of "UnderLove" will be told as a written narrative across multiple chapters. Each chapter will feature illustrated titles, and the written story will be accompanied by drawings that bring key scenes to life. These illustrations will help you better visualize the scenes that are being told. Artist Collaboration While I will be the main artist creating these illustrations, I’m excited to announce that other artists can collaborate on this project! If you’re an artist and would like to contribute: Contact Me! Reach out via my Discord handle or send an ask to the blog (please note that anonymous asks won’t be considered). We can discuss how you can get involved and the specific scenes you might illustrate.

All contributing artists will be fully credited, and I’ll link back to your social media profiles so the community can see the amazing work you’ve contributed!

Written Story chapters

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

There's alot more to come to Underlove, so stay determined and keep an eye on this blog for the upcoming story, official artwork, fanart, and updates! Your support and love fuels this story's creation!!

In this world it's Love or be Loved!

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one too many times luffy has allowed himself to hit the sea, sinking beneath her waves, completely at ease with the trusted fact that you would save him. this time, though, you've had enough.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.9k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: continuation of this fic, a liiiiitle bit of angst, fluff, feminine terms used, requested

Your chest heaved as you glared through slitted eyes, targeting your limp and drenched captain who lay beside you. Your tail scraped uncomfortably against the wood of the deck, water dripping off your nose, cheeks, and shoulders.

"Why," you seethed, "On this wide blue sea did you even conceive that jumping after the bitch was a good plan?"

He sputtered up some water, laughing dopily as his eyes met yours. "I thought I could catch 'im. 'Sides, you saved me, didn't ya?"

Fists coiling on the ground, you gritted your teeth and thought to lash out your nails at him. "I am not your lifeguard, Luffy. Did you even consider that it hurts me when you put yourself in danger like that?" You thought back to the battle, growing blind to the awkward presence of the crew. "I was stuck fighting two of those pirates! What if I hadn't made it in time?"

"But... you did," he shrugged, not understanding one bit. He trusted you, and why shouldn't he? You're his mermaid, his favorite mermaid in the whole world ("You only know one mermaid, Luffy." "And I don't wanna know another!")

Ticking your teeth, you couldn’t stand to just lay there any longer. "Zoro, take me away."

After huffing to himself, Zoro lowered himself at your side, hooking your arms round his neck and scooping you up into his broad arms. Luffy's eyes narrowed, but he remained unable to lift his head more than a few inches, forced to watch his first mate carry you to your room.

He cast a look around, befuddled. "What did I do wrong?"

Nami sighed with a shake of her head. "Idiot."

All afternoon he replayed what had happened, muttering to himself all that could have gone wrong, anything to pinpoint why you were so worried. Did you not trust yourself? Or perhaps... no... it couldn't be that.

Luffy searched you out, brows met in a stiff crease. You sat perched atop the barrel dragged up against the window of the girl's cabin, soft melodies slipping from your lips, your legs wrapped up in your arms. Luffy could listen to you all day long and never tire of the beautiful tones of your voice.

You caught him leaning on the doorframe, snapping your mouth shut mid-song. Pressing your cheek to your knees, you turned away from him. "Go away."

Instead, Luffy came closer, taking a seat on your bed with crossed legs. "Why're you still mad at me?"

"Because," you hissed, trailing off less convicted, "you scared me today."

He blinked, shifting around. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me anymore. I wanted to talk to you all afternoon but you'd locked the door."

Finally lifting your head, eyes softening, you relented, "I'm not mad anymore. Just please don't do that again, not on purpose."

Soft smile splitting his face, he nodded firmly. "Promise." He scooted over to allow you room next to him, leaning back on his palms as you lay on your side and propped your head on his knee. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

"Will you ever go back?" His question had you rolling over to stare up at him. "To your home. The reef."

"Oh." Throat dry, you couldn't draw your gaze away from his, forced to face his curiously tilted head. "I suppose so. Someday. I am a princess after all. It'd be... wrong to abandon my kingdom."

"Right." Luffy nodded, eyes unfocused. "And... what if you didn't?"

It was a question you'd been wondering about a lot lately, particularly when you spent time with Luffy. "My parents would choose a new heir. One of the young warriors probably... But I couldn't ask that of them. Besides, being the queen of my reef is my destiny. What would I do instead?"

Luffy fought internally, words prying their way up, up, up, and out, until he snapped his head away and stared at the wall. "You could go back and be queen there... or you could stay, and be queen here, with me."

Internally, you were screaming. Eyes wide, you slowly rose to sit beside him, a hungry look on your face. Your lips parted in surprise, revealing the two shiny fangs Luffy often found himself mesmerized by, wondering what they would feel like if he...

"Your queen?" You asked breathlessly. "You'd want me to be Queen of the Pirates?"

He nodded, halfway into a soft reply when you flung yourself at him, nosing at his neck and clutching at his sides till he was giggling beneath you. "That--That tickles!"

Laughing along with him, you grazed a fang over his chin, looming over him with eyes alit by unfurling joy. "The reef can find a new queen."

Luffy beamed up at you, his hands finding your waist, laughter rolling off his tongue even as you swiftly narrowed your expression. "So long as you don't scare me like that again! I'll only save you if you need it!"

He hissed out one last giggle through his teeth before tugging you down into a tight embrace. "Okay, okay. I promised, all right?"

Curling around him, you nearly jittered from the mere happiness swirling inside you. "All right."

Your parents would fight this, for certain. Their princess, their heir running off with a pirate was one thing, but claiming to never return for her birthright was entirely different. Something entirely more scandalous.

And you really couldn't care less. Let them try to take you away, you thought, feeling Luffy's heartbeat beneath your palm. You were a daughter of the sea, and he felt strangely like sunlight incarnate.

A king and his queen, to be known 'round the seas.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 6) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Only cursing for now

Note: Hey, everyone, I hope you are all doing well. I just wanted to share the last chapter of Fallin' All In You. I'm sorry it took so long, but I had a horrible writer's block for the ending. Good news: I'm already working on my next series. I'll share more info soon. Happy reading, everyone!

Word count: 3,162

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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"Y/N," the blonde boy's voice pierced the air, a potent mix of urgency and confusion. He abruptly halted before the temporary fence enclosing the Ferris wheel, his eyes wide in suspicion.

You were frozen in your tracks as his voice hit you like a splash of cold water. At your side, Wanda gently let go of your hand and took a step away, causing a pang of pain in your chest at her sudden distance.

Pietro's eyes danced between you, yet yours remained fixed on the boy. The longer you remained silent, the more suffocating the atmosphere became. Crystal bounced on her feet uncomfortably and could no longer withstand the tension. She loudly clasped her hands together, drawing the attention of the group.

"I'm just gonna head to the restroom. I'll be right back, babe," she announced, awkwardly walking backward. Pietro half-mindedly nodded as he returned his gaze to you and Wanda.

"This is unexpected," he finally said, scratching his head. "I thought you were doing photography with Shuri today," he told Wanda with a quirked eyebrow before addressing you, "You said you were hanging out with Daisy, but instead, I found you here with my sister."

From your side, Wanda shifted, shooting you a questioning look. You internally kicked yourself for not thinking of a better lie than hanging out with another girl.

Wanda twisted her rings, eyes settling on anything but her twin brother. "Piet, I know you're upset. The last thing you expected to see tonight was your sister and best friend together."

Pietro scoffed and violently shook his head. "Is that what you think? Wanda, I've known about you two since before either of you did." The two of you shared a bewildered look, and Pietro released an exasperated sigh. "Sistra, anytime I mentioned Y/N, you'd grow flustered or hide away when she came over." He turned to you with a scrutinizing glare. "And you're no better, Y/N. Third grade, when Wanda shared her favorite color with the class, you suddenly started buying all things red despite blue being your favorite color."

You froze in place, utterly speechless, as his words hit you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you stunned and reeling. Your brain raced as the haze of the childhood memory disappeared at his words, and you suddenly remembered ruining your school supplies so your mother would have to buy you everything in red.

"I would have to be blind not to notice your little interaction while you're on the field. You were throwing lovesick glances at eachother throughout the game, for god's sake." He waved his arms around to make his point.

Your face flushed red, and you stuttered embarrassingly, trying to deny his words, yet you couldn't. Similarly, Wanda shifted in place, her face burning, as she stared at the grass.

"I'm not mad about you being together. In fact, I couldn't think of a better match since I love you both. Which is why I am hurt you were so afraid to tell me." He stopped stepping closer to you as he took a deep breath, calming himself. "It was fun at first watching you scramble around me, but now, are you that scared of me?"

Your heart dropped.

"Don't be mad at Y/N. She wanted to tell you, but I was too scared. You two have been friends since we were kids, and us being together..." She cast her gaze down, wrapping her arms around herself, and continued in a small voice, "If you want to blame anyone, blame me."

For the first time, you opened your mouth. "Wanda, you can't take the blame for a decision we made together. We are both at fault." You pried her hand away from its confinement, securing it as you turned to Pietro. "I'm sorry we kept it from you, Pietro. And no, it wasn't because I was scared of you. I lied because I was afraid of ruining our friendship."

Pietro's face softened at your declaration. "Y/N, unless you plan on hurting Wanda, you will never lose me, and I doubt you would ever do that to her."

"Never," you assured, shaking your head and glancing at Wanda. The young woman stared down bashfully with a tiny smile, and your heart swelled. You said the following words, staring directly at her. "I'm serious about us. I would have never risked our friendship if I wasn't."

"I know, and I'm sorry if I overreacted earlier. It's just you're my baby sister," he said, looking at Wanda.

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "It's only 12 minutes."

Pietro ignored her, turning to you, "And you're my best friend. That fact that you are together doesn't change anything. I still want you to rant to me when she nags you over playing too many video games like she does with me. Or whenever Y/N is being an idiot because we all know how dense she can be. I mean, it took her ages to figure out she liked you."

You turned red, and Wanda snorted, bringing her hand to cover her mouth in a futile attempt to save you from further embarrassment.

"No matter what, both of you can come to me."

Wanda lunged forward into his arms, hiding her face in his neck. He enclosed her in his arms, squeezing her tightly as he gave you a goofy grin.

"Bring it in." He removed one of his arms from Wanda and extended it to you invitingly. In normal circumstances, you would have pushed the boy for subjecting you to the embarrassing public display of affection. Yet the rollercoaster of emotions you endured clouded your judgment, and you soon joined the siblings, wrapping your arms around the two.

Although you could feel a few curious eyes on you and a tinge of self-consciousness, you still wrapped your arms around the two.

"Aw, how cute," Crystal cooed, settling next to you three, effectively ending the moment as you scrambled away from eachother. "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"Anyway, I wanted to ride the Inversion, but Crystal's a chicken," he flinched as she slapped his arm. "Are you down?"

You looked at Wanda, and she nodded. Yes, you were whipped.

"Lead the way."

The four of you made your way to the ride, only separating as you and Pietro got into the line, leaving the girls to wait on the other side.

Wanda and Crystal leaned on the metal railing, observing the spinning contraption in complete silence. Despite their lack of interaction, Wanda felt comfortable with the girl. Wanda had been around many of Pietro's conquests, and although she knew little of Crystal, she seemed different from the frivolous, self-centered girls his brother liked to date. Of course, she was otherworldly beautiful with her flowing strawberry-blonde hair, striking green eyes, and alluring personality: charismatic, confident, intelligent, athletic, but most importantly, kind. No wonder she was popular, and no wonder Pietro had gone after the girl.

Crystal shuffled on her feet while watching the operator open the railing gate, and more people, including you and Pietro, entered the ride.

"You know, when Pietro mentioned Y/N and Daisy were hanging out today, I thought the girl had finally mustered the courage to ask Y/N out," Crystal mused thoughtfully.

Wanda's furrowing face sharply twisted her way. "Ask Y/N out?

"Yeah, everyone knows she's had the biggest crush on her since freshman year, but you beat her to the punch. I'm not disappointed, though. You two make a cute couple," she explained dismissively, not sensing Wanda's distress, before waving to the moving ride. "Oh, there they go!"

She watched as the platform spun, and the two continued in silence. Wanda's mind lingered on the so-called Daisy. Who the hell was this girl who had a crush on you? Why did you tell Pietro you were hanging out? Did you know of her feelings? Wanda's head filled with insecurities like a dark cloud lumming in the sky.

The thoughts continued as you and Pietro rejoined the girls. However, they eased into the back of her mind as you took her hand and flashed her a bright smile—a reminder that she had the privilege of tasting your lips; she was on a date with you, and you wanted her.

Wanda squeezed your hand as the two of you followed Pietro and Crystal to the game stalls after deciding to continue as a group. The two of you teased her brother as he attempted to outsmart the rigged games as if you hadn't faced the same predicament earlier as you tried to impress Wanda.

"Why don't you try hook-a-duck? Maybe you'll have better luck," you playfully suggested as Pietro failed to knock down the entire tower of cans for the third time. Wanda snickered into your shoulder as her brother fixed you with a glare.

"Fuck off, Y/N. ," he said as he handed the boy in charge of the stall more bills. He recoiled his arm, preparing to throw, before an idea crossed his mind. "In fact, why don't you show me how it's done?" he offered, extending the bean bag to you.

You huffed nervously, looking to Wanda for help, as you remembered how you could only knock over a few cans earlier. Wanda had cleared all the cans.

"You should give it a try," she said with a devilish smirk, crushing any hope of evading the challenge. You stared at her in betrayal, eyebrows drawn together and mouth agape. Wanda revealed in your reaction, finding it humorous and equally adorable, so much so that she leaned in to kiss you on the cheek and whispered, "Aim for the bottom middle, detka."

A blushing mess and dazed, you took the bean bag from Pietro and positioned yourself behind the stall. Detka. The word rang through your skull, and you tried to recognize its meaning. For all you knew, she could be calling you an idiot, yet the soft and endearing tone made you think otherwise. You would ask her later, you settled.

You experimentally swung your arm, analyzing the pyramid. The base consisted of four metal cans, and per Wanda's instruction, you were to aim for the second and third. You inhaled deeply before releasing the bean bag in an underhand throw. It hits the second tier's third can, and three crumble, leaving seven remaining. You run your tongue between your lips, irked that you have missed your target, and you readjust your position. You throw again, this time hitting your target. The remaining cans in the second and third tier fall, and they miraculously knock the first can in the fourth tier, leaving only one left.

Wanda cheers you on from behind, and so does Crystal; Pietro complains beside her. "Babe?" He questioned reproachfully, and you stifled a laugh.

You aim the final bean bag at the remaining can, calculating how much strength to use. The bean bag grazes the can, moving slightly but not falling over.

"Fuck," you whisper defeatedly.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" Pietro mused, quirking an eyebrow at you.

"I don't think you have any room to talk, Piet. She still did better than you," Wanda defended, crossing her arms as you returned to her side with your new keychain.

"She's right, babe," Crystal joined in, biting back a laugh when Pietro turned to her with a look of betrayal.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be. You're going to gang up on me, now?" He scoffed, his eyes jumping between the three of you. "Traitors."

The three of you could no longer contain your laughter at Pietro's antics. Oh, how you had missed him the past few years. Though you chatted frequently, nothing compared to the banter you shared when you were together.

"You're such a drama queen, Piet," you say, wrapping your arm around Wanda's shoulder, who hides a snicker behind her hand.

Pietro turns to respond, but Crystal takes him by the arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The boy's face softens, and the bright lighting of the stall allows you to notice a faint redness on his face as he grins, pleased with himself. He had accomplished what he sought: charming Crystal.

Some of you wanted to tease the boy, yet how could you when his sister had you following her like a lost puppy? Her kiss or a simple touch had you melting like ice on a scorching summer day. The evidence came when Wanda turned to you, a radiant smile spread across her face, causing your chest to tighten and leaving you momentarily breathless.

The group of you wandered around the fairgrounds, and before you knew it, it was 9:45 PM. You could feel your body growing tired, your feet aching after so much walking, and you could tell Wanda felt the same way. As your arms circled her waist with your chin resting on her shoulder, you could see her head tilt up and release a long yawn.

When Pietro and Crystal invited you to watch a local band the organizers booked to play, you and Wanda declined in favor of going home. Wanda fell asleep within ten minutes of your journey home, perhaps lulled by the soft voice of Lana del Rey. Unlike the night she had stayed over, you couldn't afford to admire the sleeping girl lest you wish for disaster. Then, you would undoubtedly replace Jarvis for the worst date ever.

You contented yourself by humming to the music and tapping on the steering wheel. When you parked in front of her house, Wanda remained deep in slumber, her chest rising slowly with each breath. How could she become more beautiful each time you look at her?

You reached over, gently rubbing her arm, and Wanda groaned, scrunching her face into a scowl, disgruntled by being disturbed.

"Wake up, sleepy head. We're here," you said, biting back a laugh.

Her eyes snapped open at your words, embarrassment washing over her face.

"Sorry," Wanda said, rubbing at her eyes.

Your lips twitch upwards, arching a singular eyebrow. "What for?"

"I fell asleep."

"I don't mind. In fact, I immensely enjoyed the little nose scrunch you do when sleeping. It's cute," you teased, recalling the small detail from the one time you risked a glance.

"Oh, god, stop," Wanda grumbled into her hands.

You hummed, your teeth grasping your lower lip, lost in deep contemplation.

"I don't think I will. I like making you blush. It makes you even more adorable," you stated matter-of-factly.

"Is that so? How about you then? You were red as a tomato when Pietro exposed you. Hmm, buy everything red because it's my crush's favorite color."

You opened your mouth to counter, yet nothing came out. She had you.

"Touche," you said.

"Oh, let's not forget all the staring you do. Just so you know, I have noticed. I preferred not to call you out, but why not since we are discussing what's adorable? Definitely adorable, don't you think?"

"I invoke the fifth," you said with a pout, glad for the lack of lighting, which concealed your burning face.

Wanda reveled in her victory with a knowing smirk. She would have happily continued her teasing were it not for a yawn that reminded her of her fatigue.

"I should get going," she signed.

"Okay," you agreed reluctantly, knowing you could talk to her for hours. However, you would not prevent her from getting her much-needed sleep.

Wanda moved to grab the door handle, but you stopped her.

"Let me," you said, rushing out to her side of the car to open the door. "Oh, let's not forget this."

You opened the back door, retrieving the bear you had gifted her. You then accompanied her to her front door, where you both lingered, trying to prolong the moment.

"Thank you for today. It was fun." Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, shielding herself from the light night breeze.

"Best date you've had, right," you remind, and Wanda rolled her eyes with a smile tugging at her lips.

"So far," she countered before giving you a chaste kiss. "Goodnight, Y/N." She turned to leave, but you reached out, grasping her elbow, fueled by the sudden kiss, to ask something you had been dying to.

"Wait," you drew out the word, heart hammering in your chest. "I was waiting to ask you because I wanted to do it right. You know, after we told Pietro—not that I need his permission or anything," you fumbled, scratching the back of your neck. Wanda watched, amused yet curious.

"Anyway," you said, taking her hands into yours and looking straight into her forest-green eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Wanda remained still, processing your words. For a moment, you thought she would reject you, telling you it was too early to commit in such a way. Then, something shifted, and you noticed the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes, reflecting pure happiness. Her wide grin stretched from ear to ear, revealing a set of radiant, pearly white teeth. Her answer came in one word.

"Yes."

"Yes?" you questioned, unbelieving eyes switching her own to her lips as you pulled her closer.

She only nodded, closing the gap. Your lips locked together, fitting like puzzle pieces in a gentle kiss. You quiver under her delicate hands as they settle on the curve of your jaw. Your hands found a home on her waist, pulling her closer and sealing any gap that remained between your bodies. Your lips moved gracefully and in perfect sync in a kiss of pure tenderness and devotion. There was no rush as you parted with a gasp, searching her face and finding her swollen red lips gaping for air and unbridled affection in her green eyes.

The mesmerizing sight ignited a surge of emotion as you retook her lips with intensified passion, causing your teeth to collide in a fierce kiss. Your surroundings disappeared, unconcerned by being discovered by the neighbors or Wanda's mother. You could only think of Wanda, the warmth of her body, and the hunger with which she returned your kiss. You felt your body ascend as you bit down on her bottom lip, and she moaned.

The kiss and the day's events quickly overwhelmed Wanda with emotion, from cracking jokes or intentionally making a fool of yourself just to make her laugh to the heartwarming way you had gifted her your skeeball prize—the same one she had dropped in favor of grasping your jaw. She would have to take better care of the bear. Even being discovered by Pietro had ended pleasingly. Everything had been perfect—everything except...

Wanda suddenly pulled away, lips smacking from the action. The brunette arched an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side in the menacing manner you loved. Although confused by the action, it only made you want to kiss her more. It was only her following words that stopped you.

"Who the hell is Daisy, and why did Pietro think you were out with her today?"

You chuckled nervously, looking at anything but the brunette. You were so in trouble.

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A/N: Thank you to all who have read this story and liked, commented on, or reblogged it. I was hesitant to share my writing, but your support has given me the confidence to continue posting my work. Hopefully, you'll like what I have planned next!

Taglist: @alexawynters

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[dsknsk]

I love how PM keeps playing with tropes. We've seen the tropes that they deconstruct within Limbus (in fact, it is a theory of mine that each Sinner is based on a stereotypical character from gachas), the way that they pick up the cyberpunk trope and basically throw it across the room, but another huge one is...

Carmen.

Look. I think that Carmen was and is based on the traditional 'Mary Sue'. Because...well, some traits that are said to belong to the 'Mary Sue', are turned brilliantly on their head by PM. So, for typical 'Mary Sue' traits, there's:

Pretty in the traditional sense. 'Mary Sues' always look perfect, peerless and never have to work hard to maintain their image. While, as far as I know, there hasn't really been made an in-universe compliment on Carmen's physical appearance...you'd rather stop and listen to someone who at least looks like they can be trusted wouldn't you? She's likened to the sun, as Oswald called her that, and is inside the light. (Also, out-of-universe: she is certainly pretty in my eyes. She adheres to the modern beauty standards at the very least).

Related to the above: charming. The 'Mary Sue' often has an innate charm that attracts others to her. The way that Carmen has this is through her voice, which already was powerful enough to let her traverse the dangerous Backstreets unarmed, standing out from all those other Backstreets preachers somehow and draw in the most cynical noblemen, but is even more charming after death. She doesn't even need to give a breaking speech or anything, as we've seen, she just gives you questions and comments on things. Which falls in line with...

Powerful, yet without having to break a sweat. Even before dying, she was already drawing in people without having to get physical (at least, none we know of). The only time we fight her as of yet (Kether realisation), Angela needs to use an attack that depletes all her HP to win, after five phases have already passed.

The 'Mary Sue' is often a so-called spotlight stealer. She will have a major role in the story, inexplicably, at least one other character will fall in love with her and she will overall have a large presence. So far, Carmen is the only character who has appeared in all three of the games, and if you count the Distortion and the Library, she has influenced WonderLab, Leviathan and Distortion Detective as well. She was also relevantly connected to the main cast of LobCorp and has influenced most of them in some way (i.e Ayin, Angela, Giovanni, arguably Kali, etc.). She remains to be relevant to several major story turns and has left her mark in them, in some way.

Unusual eyes. It's a stereotype that 'Mary Sues' always have unusual eyes. A common type is heterochromia (which is why I often jokingly call Hong Lu a 'Mary Sue'), but other types exist like sparkly rainbow or them changing like a mood ring or something. Carmen has red eyes, which are a common side-effect of body enhancements (Vergilius had them and the R Corp pack leaders too)...except, as we said, for as far as we know, Carmen hasn't had any. They are also a trait of Bloodfiends, but she isn't (yet) confirmed to be one. Either way, red eyes are a sign of the not-weak in the City.

Oftentimes, 'Mary Sues' are referred to as divinity, as pure grace from an utmost high all-powerful deity. They may or may not even be that deity. With Carmen, she practically had a cult of personality around her when she was alive...and she also had an analogue in another pale-skinned, red-eyed being that is also treated like this. She was described as this paeon of altruism and someone who genuinely wants the best for humanity.

Meaningful name. While not so immediately on-the-nose like 'Flowersparkle', Carmen's name can be seen as a reference to the infamous prototype of the femme fatale, once again hinting at that charming quality of hers.

Perfect. A 'Mary Sue' never fails at what she does...and that's where PM shows through that...

...Carmen is a parody on the 'Mary Sue'. A so-called 'Parody Sue'...but not played for laughs. The thing is that she is described as being all this...by those she already has enthralled. Those that aren't really involved with her - Hokma (was more loyal to Ayin), Binah (who wasn't in the picture during Carmen's life), and Roland (a stranger to LobCorp to begin with) have their say during Ruina and offer us another view at Carmen, our first, and one thing becomes clear:

A real 'Mary Sue' would be weird as fuck.

Carmen shows us how weird a 'Mary Sue' would actually be in a world that isn't sunshine and rainbows - an extremely uncanny, severely misguided being who nonetheless draws people to herself, who show a creepy amount of belief and devotion to her. Carmen thinks that the 'be yourself' message - so omnipresent in media - should prevail...in a world where the majority of people are either pieces of shit or are living such a dreary, miserable life that they just give up all hope.

But all of this is only revealed in the second game and pulls the player out of the dream. And so, Carmen does end up failing to convince some people like Dongbaek and Dongrang who manage to develop E.G.O instead.

Because despite what she was painted as in the past, in reality, Carmen is not a 'Mary Sue'. And she is not perfect.

That's why she's such a great PM character.

[moonselune]

Telling the men that your pregnant!! I absolutely adore pregnancy tropes. I just Know that Wyll would be such a sweet father. Son would Halsin and Gale!! Ugh, I love them. Actually, if you could, probably also Minthara somehow? Only if you want. Have a good day <3!

Hey hey so I have actually done this request here but I will add Minthara and Raphael x Because if we can have dragons we can have w/w pregnancies xoxo

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The flickering glow of the campfire cast long shadows across the forest clearing as you sat beside Minthara, the night quiet except for the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures. The air was cool, and the two of you were wrapped in each other's warmth, the world around you seeming to disappear as you shared this rare moment of peace.

Minthara’s strong arms were wrapped around you, her touch as familiar as the rhythm of your heartbeat. You had always felt safe with her, protected in a way that transcended mere physical security. Tonight, however, there was something more you needed to share, something that would change everything.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you turned to face her. Her eyes, those piercing, fierce eyes, softened as they met yours. You could see the love there, the adoration she rarely showed to anyone else. It gave you the courage to speak.

"Minthara," you began, your voice a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "There's something I need to tell you. Something important."

Minthara’s brow furrowed slightly in concern, her grip on you tightening just a fraction. "What is it, my love?" she asked, her voice low and hushed, as though she already sensed the gravity of your words.

You placed a hand on your stomach, the gesture subtle yet significant, drawing Minthara’s gaze downwards.

"I'm pregnant," you said softly, the words hanging in the air between you. "We’re going to have a child, Minthara. A child of our own."

For a moment, Minthara simply stared at you, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched on, and you wondered if perhaps she was in shock, struggling to process what you had just told her. But then, slowly, the edges of her lips curled into a smile—an expression so rare and beautiful that it took your breath away.

"You’re carrying my child?" Minthara’s voice was filled with awe, her hand reaching out to gently touch your stomach, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. "You’re carrying my heiress?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the certainty in her voice. "Heiress?" you teased lightly. "How do you know it’s a girl?"

Minthara’s eyes met yours, and there was a glint of possessive pride in them as she smirked.

"I can just tell," she said, her tone confident, almost as if it were a challenge for you to question her instincts. Without hesitation, she leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your stomach, the touch of her lips sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fire nearby.

The kiss was filled with reverence, her possessiveness flaring in a way that was both intense and comforting. When she looked back up at you, her gaze was fierce with determination.

"This child," she whispered, her voice low and possessive, "will be our legacy. Our bond, our love, made flesh. She will be strong, like you. She will be fierce, like me. And she will be ours."

Minthara’s hand remained on your stomach, as though she was staking her claim, ensuring that you knew, and that the world knew, that this child belonged to both of you.

"No one will harm you, or her," Minthara vowed, her voice growing more intense. "I will see to it that you are both protected, cherished, and revered. You are mine, and so is she."

You could feel the intensity of Minthara’s emotions in every word, every touch. The fierce drow warrior, who had always been so strong, so unyielding, was now revealing a side of herself that was vulnerable and deeply protective. It made your heart swell with love for her, and you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Minthara pulled you close, her embrace both gentle and possessive, her lips brushing against your forehead as she whispered, "You’ve given me a gift beyond measure, my love. I will not fail you. I will not fail her."

In that moment, you knew that Minthara’s love for you, and for the child you carried, was unbreakable. And as you leaned into her, feeling the strength of her arms around you, you knew that no matter what came next, you would never be alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The grand, opulent room of Raphael’s abode was dimly lit by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. The rich, crimson curtains were drawn, casting a warm, inviting hue over the elegant furnishings. You paced restlessly, feeling the weight of the news you needed to share with Raphael pressing heavily on your shoulders. His usual aura of confident elegance seemed more distant than ever, and you could sense his sharp eyes watching you with curiosity and a hint of concern.

You had tried to summon the courage to tell him earlier, but each time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to falter. Raphael’s disdain for children was no secret, and you couldn’t help but fear how he would react to the news of your pregnancy. It wasn’t just a matter of his feelings towards children; it was about the future you both shared and how this new life might change everything.

Raphael, sensing your distress, had taken it upon himself to investigate. His elegant footsteps echoed softly as he approached, his eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and worry.

“Darling,” he began, his voice smooth but tinged with concern, “I can see something is troubling you. You’ve been unusually distant lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You stopped pacing and turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. His piercing gaze seemed to demand an answer, and you couldn’t avoid it any longer. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Raphael… I have something important to tell you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Raphael’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing his face. “Oh? What is it, my love? You know you can tell me anything.”

You hesitated, then finally forced the words out. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Raphael’s eyes widened further, his usually unflappable composure momentarily shaken. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more urgent tone. “Pregnant? You… you’re with child?”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yes. I was worried about how you would react, especially given your… feelings towards children.”

Raphael’s expression shifted from shock to something softer, a hint of hurt flickering behind his eyes. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm.

“You think so little of me that you’d believe I would cast aside you and our child?” His voice, though gentle, carried an edge of reproach.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with regret. “I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel. I know you’ve never been fond of children, and I didn’t want to burden you with this.”

Raphael’s features softened, and he sighed deeply, as though releasing a long-held breath.

“How could you think that I would reject you, or our child?” he said, his tone earnest. “Yes, I have my reservations about the little brats that plague this world, but you and our heir are different. You are my love, and this child… this child is a part of us.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the affection that he had always hidden behind his devilish charm.

“I would never abandon you or our child,” he continued, stepping closer and cupping your face in his hands. “I may not be the most traditional of fathers, but I will embrace this responsibility. You have my word.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your worries melting away as Raphael’s words sank in.

“Really? You mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Raphael nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Of course, my love. The thought of our child brings me a sense of… unexpected joy. I suppose it’s a sign of my affection for you that I am willing to embrace this new chapter.”

He leaned in and kissed you gently, his touch tender and reassuring.

“We will face this together,” he murmured against your lips. “You, me, and our little one. We will build a future that is ours alone, one that defies expectations and embraces our unique bond.”

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “Thank you, Raphael. I was so afraid of what you might say.”

He smiled, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth you rarely saw. “There is nothing to fear, my dear. As long as we have each other, we can face anything.”

As you held each other, you felt a deep sense of peace and gratitude. Raphael’s love and acceptance made the future seem bright, and you knew that together, you would welcome this new life with open hearts.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1100

Chapter 28:

Evanora's ghost might have left Agatha's body and be defeated, but it was not over yet. For Alice's power kept being absorbed by Agatha.

At first, Agatha did try to pull more; a subconscious need to get some magic into her system like someone that had been thirsty for too long and was finally given water.

However, hearing the shouts of the coven and seeing Aice weakening face; Agatha realized she was killing her. She did try to stop, but her body kept absorbing the magic, draining Alice with each passing second.

"Y/N! Do something!" Alice shouted, turning to the frozen you.

"I can't! My magic will kill her!" You confessed amongst the ongoing panic.

The nature of your magic was special, pure one might say it. You could blast Agatha, but she would subconsciously draw your power, too. The only issue is the fact that if she dared to absorb a lot of your power; she would die.

"Do something!" Jen insisted, and yet you remained where you were.

You knew she could not be stopped, for you had never seen her do that. Once she got even tackled and body slammed and yet she kept absorbing; ending only when knocked unconscious or all the magic had been absorbed.

And you could not harm Agatha, not to that degree to make her stop. All you could do was watch helpless as Alice's skins started to wrinkle and dry; literally being suck alive.

During the chaos, Teen took notice that the Ouija board thrown to the side was alive, or at least the pendulum was moving. He wasted no time rushing towards it, hoping it would offer some help...any kind of help before it was too late.

"Who are you?" He asked, and immediately, the pendulum started to spell letters. "N, I, C, H, O, L, A, S, S, C, R, A, T, C, H. Nicholas Scratch." The time on the watches beeped, as if accepting the answer. "Nicholas Scratch!" Teen shouted.

Suddenly, the familiar voice of a young boy echoed across the room. "Mama! Stop."

Your eyes grew wide, and the shock was big enough to make you lose concentration on your magic and let it die. "Little Nicky?" You questioned, desperately looking around for any signs of his ghost self.

You were not the only one affected by it, though.

The boy's voice and his nickname that you dared to say out loud bypass all the defences of Agatha and shock her to the core; resulting in her stop absorbing Alice magic and life force.

Wounded and emotionally hurt, Agatha looked around with hope of seeing her son; who had left her one night, and she never gotten to truly say her goodbye.

Yet she saw nothing for the timers on the wrist watches reached its end, the beeping sound unlocking the exit and also signalling the end of the trial.

"...no..." Agatha whispered faintly.

"Alice. Alice. Wake up." Teen shouted as he rushed to the fallen witch. "Alice, please wake up. Alice!"

His voice was filled with fear, and everyone focused on him, seeing Alice dead on the floor. She had been sucked dry, her skin parched and white; eyes wide open.

Agatha had not been interrupted fast enough, and now one more coven member was dead.

The magicless witch tried to approach, to check in case Alice was weakened but not dead.

Teen did not let her. His grief slowly turned into anger. "Don't touch her!" He shouted at Agatha. "She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it."

Agatha looked hurt, and she cast her eyes on the ground faintly. "I didn't,"

Yet her words fell on deaf ears as the boy was too focused on the dead coven member to even spare her a glance.

Seeing the looks from the other coven members and considering all the emotions running through her heart and mind... Agatha chose to leave first, needing a moment alone to control herself.

She had shown too many emotions with her mother's ghost, and she needed to mask it, to mask her weakness and not let the sudden change of Teen's attitude towards her affect her at all.

While she was out, Teen looked with desperation at the other witches until his eyes fell on you.

"Please, Y/N!" He begged, eyes glowing misty. Alice had been from the few good witches to him, and she did not deserve to die, not like this. "You saved me. Save her, too!"

Your heart ached at his desperation, but even you knew there was a limit to the miracles you could pull.

"I am sorry... this is beyond my magic, " you explained softly, glancing at Rio, who nodded her head in approval; a silent signal that Alice was beyond saving.

You looked back at Teen, who eventually let defeat and grief settle in; along with anger. Furious, he marched towards the exit, and it did not take long for Jen and Lilia to follow.

They left you behind with Rio, and you knew you had to leave as well. But first, you had to pay your respects to the witch; who should not have died.

You knelt by her body and gently closed her eyes, whispering a faint prayer as a sign of respect. There was no need to pray for her soul, for she would be collected any moment now.

Yet even then, after you finished everything, you did not move. Somehow, you did not wish to let Alice soul be taken; leave her all alone to realize she had died... just after she had broken that damn generational curse.

Rio remained standing close by, patiently waiting for you to get up. "It is done. She is beyond saving, " she reminded you, sensing your hesitation.

"I know," you replied dryly, no need for any reminders.

You knew damn well she was beyond saving. That did not make it any easier for you to just leave her behind.

Rio let a small silent sigh, her face softening. "Timor Mortis Morte Pejor," she spoke in Latin.

Those four words were familiar to you, not only cause you had mastered the language centuries ago and spoke it fluently... but because they had been told to you before.

"Fear of death is worse than death," you translated, and as you leaned back on the balls of your feet, you could not help but remember.

Remember the first time you heard those words... the first time you felt the blood of someone on your hands... the first time you met Rio...

The beginning of your complicated relationship.

Chapter 29

[amiableness]

Threads ; part one

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Language, angst, anxiety? Let me know if there's more!

A/N 💌 Part one is finally here, thank you for all being so patient with me and I promise the future parts will be better!

Interaction keeps me motivated to write, so I would love to hear your thoughts!

Series Masterlist!

The Great Hall is thrumming with activity as the anticipation of the new school year sets in. 

Sunlight pours through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue onto the tables and cold walls. The clinking of cutlery melds with the lively chatter and bursts of laughter that permeate the hall. Students eagerly catch up with their friends after the summer break, their faces illuminated with excitement and anticipation for the year ahead.

"I don’t know if I’m quite ready for this year." You admit softly. Lily, seated to your left, casts a surprised glance in your direction. Your tone carries a hint of nervousness, a stark difference from your usual excitement for the new school year.

As seventh year begins, the reality of it all felt surreal, almost as if time had slipped through your fingers without warning. Contemplating life beyond Hogwarts seemed daunting, a foggy landscape you weren't quite prepared to navigate. The thought of a future without the familiar halls and comforting routines left you feeling unsettled. Questions about your path post-Hogwarts lingered causing anxiety to tighten in your stomach. The uncertainty of what lay ahead, and where your friendships would stand in the grand scheme of things, clouded your mind.

"Because this is the year you find your soulmate?" Marlene's question hung in the air, causing your stomach to sink even further.

Soulmates were tethered by a thread, an intangible connection that tightens with proximity, drawing them closer by an irresistible pull. As their 18th birthday approached, the magnetic pull between soulmates intensified, drawing them closer together in an undeniable bond. 

Even in their younger years, soulmates could sense the faint tug of their connection, though it often was difficult to discern between fleeting infatuation and the unbreakable bond between soulmates. However, as the milestone birthday drew nearer, the pull became unmistakable, a magnetic force guiding them to their soulmate. 

At least, that's what you've heard from those who have experienced it firsthand.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” You confirm, and Lily sends you an understanding look. Neither of you had found your soulmates, while Marlene had found her soulmate in Dorcas.

The timing of finding one's soulmate varied greatly from person to person. Some discovered theirs early on in life, while others didn't find theirs until mere days before their 18th birthday. It all depended on the person and how open they were to the connection.

"We'll be going through it together." Lily says, her smile soft as she bumped her shoulder against yours. It did offer some comfort. Lily Evans had been your best friend since first year, and the thought of her being by your side made the upcoming year feel a bit more bearable.

"What if James is your soulmate?" You ask, your tone laced with playful teasing. However, Lily's hopeful expression catches you off guard, prompting you to shift your gaze towards Marlene in shock. Across the table, Marlene and Dorcas appear just as taken aback by Lily's unexpected reaction. It's a stark contrast from the adamant denials she would have offered last year.

"Maybe he is." Lily says quietly, her tone nonchalant as she offers a simple shrug, as if what she just said isn't a big deal.

“Are you..When did this happen?” Dorcas asks, and you and Marlene eye Lily curiously.

Since the moment you met him, Lily had been skillfully evading James's advances, urging him to seek out his true soulmate rather than pursuing her. Despite Lily's dismissals, James remained steadfast in his belief that she was the one destined for him. Deep down, you sensed a potential soulmate connection between them, but you never brought up the subject with Lily, knowing she would vehemently deny the idea.

Lily looks up with feigned innocence, “What?”

Marlene sighs, “Lily Evans, don’t you dare play dumb. When did your feelings towards James change?” 

"I don’t know. Over the summer, I guess, I realized I’ve been a bit unfair to him," She sighs. "He’s been nothing but kind, and I’ve just blown him off. And honestly, he was on my mind most of the summer."

"Merlin, we've barely been here for two hours, and the soulmate bonds are already starting." Marlene grins, amused.

"I didn't say I thought he was mine!" Lily cries out.

"You said maybe. That heavily implies that you do." You chuckle at the panicked look on Lily’s face, fully aware that she's going to be teased about this relentlessly.

"Have you felt a pull with him?" Dorcas asks, and Lily's cheeks flush with a delicate shade of pink.

“I mean, yes. But couldn’t that just be the annoyance I feel towards him half the time?” Lily asks.

"With that logic, you and Sirius are soulmates." Marlene interjects, her grin mischievous as she takes a sip of her tea, her gaze fixed on you over the brim of her mug. Your expression sours at the mere mention of his name, a subtle shift in mood palpable in the air.

“There is no way that Sirius Black is my soulmate.” You snark, the mere thought of Sirius causing your stomach to knot with intense emotion. Hatred, you conclude.

It's the mere mention of Sirius Black that tends to stir up the worst in you. His name alone triggers a cascade of emotions within you, igniting a visceral reaction that you struggle to contain. Just the thought of him is enough to set your nerves on edge, reminding you of past conflicts and tensions that still linger beneath the surface.

It's not as though you hadn't attempted to be friendly with Sirius. Shortly after your arrival at Hogwarts, James Potter had introduced himself to you and Lily in the Gryffindor common room. He was accompanied by Remus, and while James eagerly engaged Lily in conversation, you found yourself drawn to Remus, the two of you hitting it off. You chatted for what felt like hours, so engrossed in your conversation that you barely noticed Sirius and Peter entering the common room.

However, the moment your eyes landed on Sirius, it felt as though the air had been knocked out of your lungs. For a brief second you had wondered if he was your soulmate. Everything blurred into a hazy backdrop, your eyes unable to part from his figure.

Remus didn’t miss the way you seemed to drift away from the conversation, your gaze fixed on Sirius as he made his way over to where you all were seated. You and Remus occupied the couch, while Lily and James were comfortable in their own armchairs. Sirius and Peter hovered nearby, a curious expression etched across their features, clearly unsure who the two unfamiliar girls engaged in conversation with their friends were.

Remus had introduced you while James and Lily remained preoccupied, not yet noticing the two boys, "Mates, this is Y/n," Remus had said, his warm smile welcoming.

Peter had been friendly and eager, extending his hand with enthusiasm as he shared a bit about himself. But Sirius remained silent, his expression etched with a subtle frown. When you attempted to engage him in conversation, he responded with curt one-word answers, leaving you feeling increasingly self-conscious, questioning what you might have done wrong.

Remus had assured you that Sirius wasn't usually like that, and he promised that the next time you saw him, he would likely be more talkative and outgoing. You clung to hope, eagerly anticipating a change in Sirius' demeanor, only to be met with disappointment when his behavior remained unchanged. In the company of others, he exuded friendliness, cracking jokes and radiating outgoing energy. 

Yet, when his attention turned to you, he completely shifted, hardly communicating and barely sparing you a glance.

You couldn't figure out what you might have done wrong. From the moment you met Sirius, you had been nothing but friendly, offering a warm smile and introducing yourself with genuine enthusiasm. Lily, who shared many similarities with you, greeted Sirius in much the same manner, yet he responded to her without hesitation. It left you wondering: what had been so different about your interaction with him?

Over time, frustration crept in, and you found yourself growing increasingly sarcastic or curt in your interactions with him. Before long, your relationship devolved into incessant bickering and exchanging snide comments.

Any inkling that Sirius might be your soulmate was swiftly forgotten.

"Oi! Princess! You talking about me over there?" Sirius' voice cuts through the chatter, drawing your attention to the Marauders down the table. His cocky smirk meets your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if he overheard your conversation. But he's too far away to have eavesdropped, yet close enough to call out to you, and his voice effortlessly grabs the attention of quite a few other students at the Gryffindor table. 

The students in your year hardly flinch, accustomed to the heated banter that often erupted between you and Sirius. Observing the familiar fighting between you and Sirius was almost expected; it wouldn't have felt like the first day of school without it for some of the students.

“Not everything revolves around you, Black.” You retort, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. Anger begins to simmer within you, heat radiating through your body as frustration builds.

You assume he must have just noticed you, considering you've been had a peaceful morning so far. But little did you know, Sirius had fixed his gaze on you the moment he entered the hall, and he's been eager to get under your skin. Anything to capture your attention.

Sirius, undeterred, flashes a grin that seems to stretch from ear to ear. “So mean already. Didn’t you miss me? The months without you were unbearable.” He calls, his tone dripping with amusement, clearly deriving great enjoyment from riling you up.

“Do you really think I spend my free time thinking about you?” You're sending him an irritated frown, but your eyes are lit up with a fire that's reserved only for him. It's the same look you get every time the two of you fight, and he loves it.

"I think you do, princess. I think I drive you crazy.” He declares with that smug grin plastered on his face, igniting a burning sensation in your stomach.

You remain silent, too consumed by anger to muster a response. His words strike a chord because, deep down, you know he's right. He has a way of driving you to the brink of frustration. You have wracked your brain, relentlessly trying to decipher why he harbors such animosity towards you and where you might have gone wrong with him.

You're momentarily caught off guard, your mind racing to come up with a response that doesn't betray your irritation, much less let Sirius think he's gotten to you. Fortunately, Remus swiftly engages him in conversation, likely sensing the tension brewing on your face.

"I'm telling you, there's a connection there." Marlene insists, and you shoot her a glare, prompting a laugh to escape her lips.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

The initial night back at Hogwarts always proved the most challenging for you. It took a few nights before you could finally settle into the unfamiliar bed and drift off to sleep without difficulty. The weight of it being your final year lingered heavily in your mind, along with the daunting task of uncovering your soulmate.

Seated before the crackling fire, you enveloped yourself in the warmth of your blanket, captivated by the dancing of the flames. Your silent wish lingered in the air - that, perhaps, if you remained in this cozy atmosphere long enough, fatigue would gradually claim you.

"Up late thinking of me, princess?" Sirius's voice breaks the silence, causing your body to tense reflexively. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as he settles into the floor beside you, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames instead of meeting yours.

"What are you doing?" You quip, your tone laced with irritation. Sirius glances in your direction, leaning back on his palms with a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Amusement dances in his eyes as he takes in your furrowed brows and the unmistakable look of irritation etched across your features.

“Warming up. It’s rather cold in the dorm,” He says, before glancing down at the blanket that’s wrapped around your figure. “Care to share? ”

“Get fucked,” You huff, pulling the blanket tighter around your figure, your gaze fixed on the fireplace as you ignore Sirius's laughter, “Why are you sitting here? Go somewhere else.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” You snark, your hopes of relaxing by the fire dashed by the unexpected disruption.

“And when are you?” Sirius's tone carries a teasing edge, and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips as he observes your bristling reaction. 

He longs for you to turn and meet his gaze, to shoot him the scathing glare he's so accustomed to receiving.

You turn sharply, your eyes narrowing into thin slits as you fix them on Sirius, a silent warning brewing in your gaze. There she is, he thinks.

“Go somewhere else.” You repeat, staring Sirius down.

“No.” He declares, shifting his position to squarely face you, leaving no doubt that he has no intention of backing down or leaving anytime soon.

“What’s your problem?” You grit out your words, and Sirius narrows his eyes at you as though you've struck a nerve. His reaction is swift, catching you off guard. While you and Sirius have always engaged in banter, he had never looked at you with such palpable hatred before.

“You.” He snaps, his voice dripping with disdain, devoid of its usual teasing lilt that never fails to irk you. Instead, his expression morphs into one of genuine animosity, a stark departure from the usual banter that fuels your frustration.

“Why? What have I ever done to you?” You're worked up now, your heart thumping with frustration as you pivot to fully face him. In your angered state, you miscalculate the proximity between you, and you're startled to find yourselves mere inches apart. Neither of you budges, both refusing to back away, as doing so would feel like conceding defeat.

Neither of you speaks, the air heavy with tension as you stare at each other through narrowed eyes, chests heaving with unresolved emotions. And in a heart-stopping moment, you feel it—the undeniable tug, the unspoken connection between you.

Your mouth parts in surprise, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. Before you can truly react, Sirius rises abruptly and strides back to his room, leaving you sitting in stunned silence by the fireplace.

TAGS: @daisiesformylove @idkbbyx3 @dreamingofmarauders @siriuslyjanhvi @urmomw4ntsme @arwensloanebarnes @harahettania @kitchenbread @ghostheartbeat @dovahqueen22 @y0urm0m12 @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @opalesquegirl @galaxystern08 @scvtdy @123iloveyou456

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Thirteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Thirteen!! I'm actually so excited to post this one. There's some angst, but like it's not all bad, this is actually probably one of my favourite updates to date. But this is just a forewarning! Lots of swearing too, to be expected really so.. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, have a feeling there's gonna be a lot of emotions over this one!

Thank you again for all the love this series has gotten, means so much and really does keep me writing:)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223

Masterlist

It was strained. 

The entire house, its whole atmosphere. It was just incredibly heavy and strange.

It wasn’t hard to miss either, judging from the careful way Rosie had been watching the two of us since she’d first woken up this morning. 

But last night hadn’t fared any better. Em had been weirdly distant; not meeting my eye, dancing around subjects, hardly speaking at all in actuality, and then he went as far as to avoid my touch— even as I’d handed him a fucking fork. 

It was such a harsh reality check for me in truth, because suddenly, I felt like an intruder. 

“El?” Rosie’s voice rang out, drawing me from my inner musings as well as the slice of toast I’d practically been burning a hole into. 

“Hm?” I replied belatedly, dragging my eyes up and away from my plate to cast her a distant look, but Z was just wearing this perplexed sort of frown that had me blinking away any remaining haze as she dropped her spoon into her bowl of cereal. The splash sent a few drops of milk flying over the countertop.

“Called you like four times.” She sighed, that frown of hers still prominent enough for me to throw a small smile back in apology.

“Sorry, just– must be half asleep still.” I attempted to shake off the solemn feeling I’d been cast in, laughing faintly before I finally took a bite out of my own breakfast, hating the way the bread tasted like ash in my mouth.

She didn’t seem to take the bait though, not if the scrunch of her brow was any indication, or her next words, “Are you sure? ‘Cause last night–”

I didn’t know whether or not to be grateful for Marshall’s sudden appearance in that next moment because the girl swiftly cut herself off in favour of hurriedly spooning another load of cereal into her mouth.

Marshall whipped around the island without so much as a glance in my direction, opening up the fridge before he turned towards the coffee pot he had laid out but hadn’t used since my first day here. The kettle and the half-made mug of tea I’d set out for him either going unseen or just ignored. I was betting on the latter.

I opened my mouth to say something, if only to break the debilitating silence, when the man himself unknowingly cut me off. “You almost ready?” He questioned Z, who was still slurping up the remnants of her bowl. 

The girl’s eyes darted towards him from over the porcelain brim of it before she dropped her arms to cast him a buoyant grin lined with, what could have only been, a milk moustache. I couldn’t help the fondness my smile gave way to, or how I reached out to wipe her upper lip with a nearby napkin. 

Her expression softened at either the gesture or my laughter, I wasn't quite sure, but her bright eyes glanced back over to her Dad just as I withdrew my hand.

“Nearly, just my shoes.” Rosie told him easily enough, kicking her legs out beneath the table to better show him her shoeless feet. I saw Marshall roll his eyes out of the corner of my own eye and deigned to take a long sip of my brew if only to keep from flashing him the shared smile that threatened to break through. I didn’t think it would fair well right now, me trying to buddy up to him over his daughter's shameless antics. 

“We got fifteen minutes ‘fore you’re late.” He replied to her as he all but drained his mug dry, the heady smell of coffee grinds polluted the kitchen's air. I bit the inside of my cheek when the familiar warning of scalding his mouth crawled its way out across my tongue, but I didn’t dare speak a word.

Rosie bobbed her head in a quick understanding, already jumping down from the barstool to run and grab the last of her things before she could set off for school, forgetting the dirtied bowl she had left on the counter.

I didn’t think much of my next movement, in truth, mostly looking for a reason to ignore the heavy cloud which had since settled over the shared space, as I picked up both the bowl, my plate too, to carry them both over to the bin and sink. 

A sound had me glancing back over my shoulder instinctively once I’d turned on the taps though, surprised to find Marshall already looking in my direction, or rather the sinks, I supposed.

But maybe I was wrong about that, because my surprise jumped straight up to shock when I heard him speak, to me. “How many times I tell you, you ain’t gotta do that?” It didn’t sound much like the question it was meant to be, more of a grunt than anything else as his hard stare flickered up to meet mine.

It was instinct for me to frown, but as my forehead went to furrow I was quick to smooth it back out again and turn my back on him, knowing this conversation would be much easier if I made quick work of the dishes in the sink. “I don’t mind.” I muttered back, hands already covered in soap duds.

He didn’t deign to respond, just let the sound of the water fill the lengthy space that had been created between us so suddenly. My heart ached a little over it, in truth, as I wondered what I’d done so wrong to have fucked up the easy thing we had going on here. 

Because look, it wasn’t as though I was new to quick snipes or heated conversations, or whatever the fuck this was. But it unsettled me enough to know that it was him that I was on the outs with. Marshall, he’d practically taken me in, done more than just house and feed me, but now he was just over it? Done with all the niceties because of an almost– what, kiss? If it had even been that at all. 

But I didn’t, scratch that, I couldn’t linger on the thought because if I did, then I would be sure to start fucking throwing back words a lot more scathing than just ‘I don’t mind’.

I was broken from the way I was furiously scrubbing away at my plate with the scour when my personal space was suddenly invaded. I all but jumped out of my skin as my head shot over to the left to find Marshall now stood there, leaning over me in the tight corner which sat between the two adjoining counters, just so that he could drop his cup into the soapy basin. 

His eyes met mine the second I looked up at him, mouth somewhat agape enough to have those icy blues of his dropping down to catch a quick look before they settled back on my own again. I went to swallow, confused and caught entirely off guard by the intrusion, but found I couldn’t. Which was good, in reality, seeing as I didn’t dare want to let onto the fact that he’d garnered anything more than surprise out of me.

“Seein’ as you don’t mind then.” 

Marshall’s comment perplexed me further, before I caught wind of what he was really getting at with it. So it was in that next moment that I allowed my eyes to narrow, even as he brushed back against me slowly, almost languid in his retreat. 

I huffed out a tiny, grim laugh, more air than anything, when I shoved the dish I’d been cleaning into his chest, flicking soap and water all over him. But it was missed only slightly by his moving form, catching his bicep instead and allowing a trail of water to drip down his bare forearm. “You won’t mind dryin’ then.” I shot back scathingly, clenching my teeth.

As much as my own action had surprised me, the drawl of my accent heightening in my anger gave way to the actual shock which lined beneath it, forcing me to turn back to the sink before Marshall could realise or actually comment on it. 

I didn’t know what it was about what had transpired that kept him from jumping down my throat, but he kept quiet even as it took him a good second or two to grab the towel hanging by the draining rack and wipe at the sodden plate. 

It was tense after that. Not a word was spoken, and so a shaky exhale left me the moment Rosie reentered the room, her shoes clicking against the kitchen tiles as she slung her school bag over a single shoulder. 

If Marshall heard the reaction, he gave no indication, but was quick in the way he jumped back from the counter to meet her. “Let’s go.” He all but demanded after he’d chucked the towel down onto the side so that he could round the island. 

I didn’t have to look back to hear the confusion Rosie obviously felt, “Is El not coming?”

Opening my mouth to answer her, my chest pinched when Marshall did so for me instead, “Not today. Come on, you gone be late.”

It was with that which he withdrew from the room with, leaving me blinking and Rosie gaping at his retreating figure. I wondered then where the hell it had all gone wrong. 

When Rosie casted her eyes back to me, my hands were still hovering over the sink but I witnessed the way her usual smile had transformed into something more solemn, or perhaps just ruminative. 

Being the adult, as well as the ‘bigger fucking person!’ I wanted to scream at his back. I forced my expression into something a whole lot sweeter than just the bewilderment that had plastered it a second before. I let go of a large breath and reached for the tea towel. 

“I just got a new idea for a song, figured I’d write it down before I lost it, you know?” I attempted to reassure, brushing off how odd the entire situation must have seemed to her.

Because why was I covering for a forty-something year old man and his pissy demeanour? Well, one simple reason could be that it wasn’t Rosie’s fault that her Dad was being a massive prick at the moment, and that I for one wasn’t going to be shucking her with the bubbling irritation I felt for him. Something which I’d picked up from living in a house a whole lot worse than this, where you didn’t know whether a reply would earn you an outright laugh or something to tell your future therapist about.

Z was nothing if not perceptive though and so when she just hummed I was quickly taken back to my own childhood, to when some of my mum’s less shittier boyfriends had attempted to lie their way out of what was obviously happening between the two of them. My skin itched at the thought.

“You gonna be here when I get home?” She asked me before I could say anything at all, which broke my fucking heart, because Rosie was so quick to add to her question, if only to make it seem as though it had been something other that it was, “You know, ‘cause Dad’s talking to the school about what happened yesterday… So I just figured you might wanna hear about it when I got back.”

“Of course I do, Z.” I promised in one hasty reply, already moving to dry my hands before I could even really think about it. “Of course.” I repeated as I made my way over to her, smiling warmly when she met me halfway. “It’ll all be just fine, you hear me?” I murmured to her the second I let myself get swept up in one of her gentle hugs, “Your Dad will sort it all and I’ll be here waiting to hear about it the second you get home, okay?”

She was quiet for a long moment before she just whispered, “Swear it?”

My eyes shuttered closed and I buried a sad smile in the top of her head, already reaching out to lock my pinky with hers. “On my life.” I swore quietly, forcing myself to match the wry grin she wore when she pulled away to peer down at our interlocked fingers. Rosie giggled lightly, choosing to swing our arms back and forth.

I shook my hand in return, wobbling the pair of our limbs ever so slightly, before a slight cough gained our attention. I looked up whilst Z spun around on her heel to find Marshall stood waiting just outside of the doorway, a hazy shadow crossing over the bridge of his nose as he toyed with the set of keys he had in his hand. 

His voice was all too soft when he spoke, eyes zeroed in on his daughter, “Time to go, bean.”

It took everything in me then to look away from him and over to the clock stationed on the far wall, letting Rosie’s hand slip from mine after I gave it a small squeeze. “He’s right.” I sighed lightly, “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

She was already peering back up at me when I looked over and so I wasn’t too startled by the sudden embrace she wrapped me up in before she hastily made her way towards the front door. 

The quiet which settled in after her wake forced my gaze to return to the man who had yet to follow, his eyes faltering between my own before he dipped his chin in a barely there nod, a gesture which spoke volumes as he turned to leave.

–

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 In school!! Sorryyyyy didn’t mean to ignore u Was out late and passed out At lunch now, promise to call later xxxxx Love u don’t miss me too much:))

I actually wanted to wring the kid’s neck. She was such a stress inducer that I was sure to head back home to her covered in hives come this point. I mean, where did she get off on making me worry like that? Especially after all that had gone down, all that she had kept from me. And with Rosie last night too, her entire situation having flooded my mind with memories of the past.

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 You’re the actual antichrist I swear Where the hell have you been Lotts?? I’ve been worried sick just waiting for a text or a call, did your phone just die? Or did your charger break again? I swear I’m flying home if you don’t call me the second you step out of those school gates

Or you know, maybe sooner if things with Marshall carried on.

I sighed at the burst of adrenaline which had rushed and drained from me in a too short moment, before I tossed my phone down onto the couch I’d taken to sprawling on, a plethora of notes and pages dotted all around me. 

I figured it was at least one less thing to worry about now though, even if everything going on with Lottie was still a rather large issue at hand. I wanted to scream about it all actually. But currently, my biggest problem was this song. And maybe the man who was set to return in the time between now and the moment Rosie got out of school. 

Because see, I had a small hunch that Marshall was probably going to avoid me for as long as he possibly could, which would end up being the very second his daughter danced back through that door.

The thought had me groaning again, unhappy with how everything was turning out, as well as the lyrics that I just couldn’t get to sound quite right. See, I hadn’t been outright lying to Z when I’d claimed that I had an idea for a new song. Being unable to sleep truly worked wonders on the psyche and could send your imaginative thoughts into a whole other realm.

But still, I was struggling to get it all to fall into place, the verse sounding much more like a bridge and the chorus still lacking something. Even so, it was promising. That much I could tell. Only thing was, I was stuck on whether or not it was going to end up on Marshall’s scrapheap or my next album. 

It was what I was here for, wasn’t it? To write, to collaborate. Even after we’d gotten a little bit side tracked the last few days. But I just didn’t know how much he wanted from me, we hadn’t really spoken about it or hashed over all the gritty details. And yet, even after last night and this morning, I was still here trying to pull something together for him to come back and hear. Even if I was sure that he’d can it the second he did.

“You look like someone just shit on your chest.”

I startled at the voice, flailing a tad to get a better look at the figure which now loomed behind the sofa, but it seemed as though the scare had been enough to send all my hard work flying. 

Three things happened in the next moment: I gaped, frowned, and then ultimately topped it all off with a rather hefty huff, turning back to grab at the pages I’d just been scrawling on with my tongue tucked between my teeth.

“Shat on my chest?” I answered back in the same dull monotone he’d just used, face screwing up slightly as I stretched to collect the last page that had slipped its way further down the sofa. “You know that expression intimately, or just guessing?”

A breathy snort sounded just as the page I’d been reaching for was snatched up before me. My gaze snapped upwards in narrowed slits to scowl at him, unimpressed by the action, before I held out a hand towards him, silently asking for it back.

Marshall took no note. Instead his eyes flitted over the red ink I’d been working on, reading it at a mile a minute. He handed it back without another word said and then rounded the sofa to fall into the seat beside me. 

He had picked up a couple drinks whilst he’d been out, it seemed. Just a couple of coffee’s from what I could first tell and so I wrinkled my nose at the obnoxious smell they let off whilst I settled the final page back into the pile I’d since formed.

“Figured you’d be gone longer.” I couldn’t help but mention whilst he settled in, taking a slow deliberate sip from one of the brown paper cups before he slid the other across the coffee table in my direction, an action to which I raised a brow to.

He shrugged languidly as though nothing had occurred between us earlier, like he had the entire world at his feet actually, and then gathered up the pile, flicking through the pages without much care. “Dealt with that kid and his shitty-ass father, stopped off to get somethin’ to eat when Paul called, then came home.” He quipped promptly enough, leaning forward in his seat to rest his cup back down on the table and shuffle the first few pages between the hands he now had resting on his knees, “This new?”

I flicked my tongue over my front teeth, harsh enough to feel it drag and keep my head from imploading, but careful enough that it didn’t bleed– just yet, I allowed myself to add on. Because honestly, if I had to refrain myself much more than I currently was it sure was going to. 

“Yes.” I quipped shortly, picking up my phone to slide through the brief voice notes I’d made the previous night in bed and then again when I’d stepped out of the shower this morning. “It was just something I kept on replaying, a little melody.” I explained if only so that I wouldn’t allow myself the space to start pestering him with questions and his sudden switch up, because what was with that? “Figured I’d just get it down whether it was good or not.”

He grunted out a hum.

I gritted my teeth.

“What happened at the school then?” I asked in a mutter, feigning nonchalance even though my eyes were already trained on him reading my words and the fact that I was now dying to know what he’d been on about when referencing this kid’s ‘shitty-ass father’. 

His eyes were slow in the way they sloped over to me, my own darting back down to my phone if only so that I could pretend to meet his stare. He looked away again a second later, rolling a single shoulder. “Some teacher caught the shove yesterday, principle was already waitin’ for me when I pulled up.”

Surprised, I blinked. “What, he dragged both you and the kid’s dad in?”

“She. Misogyny has no place in the modern world, Elia.” Marshall corrected all too easily with that curt smile of his that he was so used to using. Typically it would have had me chuckling, but now it just pissed me off further, especially with the use of my full name.

Instead of reacting though, something I supposed he was aiming for there, I rolled my eyes. “She, what the fuck ever. What happened?”

Marshall leaned back in his seat with a quiet huff, “Guy got what was comin’ to him, fuckin’ wrung him and his kid out. Bitch figured he could say a bunch of shit about me and my daughter and I’d just let him?” He blew out a small titter then, though his evident smile was grim, “Bastard’s jus’ lucky I didn’t throw him through one of them windows. Could pay someone more than what he earns in a year to chop his fuckin’ hands off for me.”

I didn’t know how to take his words, all I knew was that a strange emotion had settled over me upon hearing them, almost uncurling the coil that my shoulders had wound themselves into. 

Still, I licked at my lower lip and reached out to take the other cup he’d pushed down onto the table, pleasantly surprised by the lack of coffee it offered. Infact, the sweet taste of chocolate started to chip away at the icy irritation that had been brewing since early this morning. 

“So, no lawsuits?” I murmured over the brim, pulling up a leg to get more comfortable on the sofa, seeing as my little makeshift workspace had now been overtaken. 

Marshall’s eyes caught on me in that next moment and, stupidly, I wasn’t put off by the way they were so clearly examining me. The grit of his jaw softened after a minute and so I figured he’d found whatever it was he was searching so intently for. “A fine for parkin’ in a no-stop zone. But nah, no lawsuits this time ‘round.”

One corner of my mouth ticked upwards impulsively, though I was quick to smother it behind the paper cup, feigning a sigh instead, “And here I thought I’d get to witness a real court in session.”

Em didn’t hide his own smile at my words, his eyes gleaming in a way that gave more away than he realised. You see me, they said. 

I supposed I did.

–

Working on music had always been a way for me to channel or process my emotions and thoughts, whether it was when writing or just messing around. It was possibly the reason as to why I was constantly in a bubble of it, when working, when cooking, driving, when I showered or got ready for bed. It was just always there, a constant companion in a way. 

Em seemed to be torn from the same cloth. In the days I’d spent with him and Rosie, I’d gotten to understand that in a whole new way, he played music almost as much as I did, even if it was barely audible, I could still see the way it settled him in the drum of his hand or the tapping of his foot. I guessed it was why we worked so well together, just in the studio of course.

Somehow we managed to leave whatever resentment and odd feelings we’d been experiencing at the door to the downstairs studio when we’d moved from the living room to get a start on writing again. The song I’d been working on earlier had been pushed to the side so that Marshall could show me the few verses and ideas he’d had for the song we’d been messing with previously, the same one he’d called Dre and practically fawned over.

“I figure it’ll open the album.” He explained from where he’d wheeled his way over to the sound deck, scribbling over the top of it with the pen he kept chewing on subconsciously. “Set the tone, then we can just work around it.” 

I hummed noncommittally, rereading the chorus I’d jotted down and since toyed with. “Could have a big voice on it,” I suggested to him, “Like, it sort of feels like a symphony in the way it builds, I reckon a few people could be jumping over one another for a chance at it.”

When I was met by an immediate silence, the scratch of his pen having paused, the rustle of his papers too. I dragged my eyes up and away from my own page to cast him a sparing glance, but was evidently surprised to find him already watching me. Rather intensely.

“What?” I queried, dropping my hand away from where I’d been rolling my lower lip between my fingertips.

He levelled me with a blank look, “You’re fuckin’ stupid if you reckon I’ma ask anyone but you to sing on this.”

My brow furrowed, before I raised my hand in a placating gesture. “It was just a suggestion– a good one too. Song won’t get as much recognition if I’m on it.”

That blank look shifted so quickly that I could barely even blink before it morphed into something which visibly portrayed his inner irritation. “You think I give a fuck about shit like that? I care about how it sounds, not how much it can make.”

Rolling my eyes, I just shook my head and looked back down at the marked margain, not entertaining him with a reaction. I knew I was right in my words and hadn’t meant anything by it, he could take it how he liked for all I cared. 

He didn’t appear to enjoy that though, seeing as he dropped the pen down onto the deck with a clatter to push himself to his feet and walk closer to the couch I was still perched on. “I mean that shit. What, you think I was jus’ gone push you aside? You think that little of me? Last I checked, this was your fuckin’ song.”

His voice was littered with misplaced exasperation and the way he chose to tower over me, even if he was still stood a foot and a half away, showed it too. He was looking for a fight, had been waiting for it, gearing up. I realised then, rather belatedly, that he wasn’t too good at holding onto his emotions. Sure, he could wait and bite his tongue when he chose to, but those feelings he had only seemed to bubble further the longer he held them in, as though they were stewing in the acid of his stomach, waiting to burn through.

I could really see it now. He was antsy, overassessing, overthinking this entire situation. I could almost smell the unease he’d been simmering in, and I knew it was all down to what had transpired the night before. Only now, he had a real excuse to bite back at me. Rosie wasn’t around to hear or interrupt, and me? I was done being impassive. 

“Yeah, Em. Of course,” I drawled with little to no care as to how I was practically scoffing at his words, “I think you’re an egotistical prick who just wants to steal my work, wasn’t as though I was the one to suggest getting someone else on it or anything.”

He didn’t take too kindly to the sarcasm. 

“You’re awful fuckin’ mouthy for someone who claims they a nobody, you know that?” He sniped back with enough heat to have my back immediately straightening, “All high and mighty, that it? Like you can do no fuckin’ wrong.”

My mouth fell open because– what?

“Just waltz in here,” He continued on in his tirade, “Into my goddamn life and jus’ throw your opinions out, then expect me to lap it all up. Well I ain’t your fuckin’ lapdog and I’m sick of listenin’ to you tell me what to do and how to do it.” He shot out, casting me away with a gesture of his hand which seemed so pointless, what with the way his unblinking gaze was still hooked on me. 

“Me?” I bristled, my voice high in the face of his outright irony as I stared up at him. “You brought me here! You! You were the one to call me, Marshall. You were the one to ask me to collaborate. To come stay with you here. To invite me into your fucking goddamn life!” I mimicked callowly, “So don’t go throwing that shit back in my face just ‘cause it's blown up in yours now.”

“The fuck’s that meant to mean?” Marshall seethed, ridgid in his stance as I forced myself to my feet too, done with sitting below a man so full of anger. 

I laughed bitterly and shook my head at him. “I don’t know what the fuck last night was, but since it happened you’ve been acting like a proper dick about it. An even bigger one than I’d been expecting, too.” I told him plainly, pointing towards his chest as I tried to bite back my gall smile, “And everyone else might be fine soothing your ego and apologising to appease whatever fucking delusions you’ve conjured up in that thick head of yours, but I’m not gonna let a grown man mess with my head and make out like I’ve done something wrong or acted inappropriately. ‘Cause look, I’m sorry if I offended your sensibilities, but again, you’re old enough to fuckin’ be able to work through your own feelings. I can’t be expected to read your mind!”

My chest was heaving with all the anger that fueled my words and I only realised a second too late just how close we’d grown in the short space that sat between his heated question and my reply. 

I glanced up into his eyes, that familiar blue gone, now swimming in dark hues. They flickered between my own and for a split second, I wondered what he saw. He was breathing just as harshly as I was, lit by the intense conclusion we’d been pulled into. 

It was make or break, I figured. 

But then he met me halfway and suddenly I was drowning in him. His hands in my hair, tugging, my fingers digging into his sides. It was unlike the night before, where his breath had been teasing, ghosting over my skin in baited wait. His words soft and genuine. Now it was just sparks flying off–  only not in that shitty Disney magic sort of way, but instead it felt like steel being forged in fire. 

I couldn’t concentrate on the way he was biting at me, teeth clashing as he forced me to expose my neck, me responding in the only way I knew how, dragging his lip between my incisors and pulling. Tugging. Hoping it hurt.

He walked us backwards, feet encasing mine, drawing me up against the nearest wall. My fingers dug in harder, feeling the muscle of his torso jump beneath me. He knocked my head back and we both heard the collision it made with the concrete there but neither of us seemed to care. The sting was enough for me to sink my nails into the skin of his neck and he retaliated by dropping his mouth to my jaw, leaving me gasping at the ceiling that sat above us, pulling him closer even as his own hands started to explore.

“Bastard.” I blew out, voice hitching when his tongue circled around my pulse point.

He answered me by nipping at the skin there, not enough to bruise but to mark, dragging his mouth lower and lower, tugging at the hem of my top until he bit harshly into the collarbone he’d exposed. I choked on my next breath, clawing at his nape until he soothed the sting with a featherlight kiss. 

I dragged his face back up to meet mine, his jaw in the palms of my hands as I knocked my nose against his, panting against his open mouth, not even questioning how I’d gotten this worked up by just his teasing. Because that was what this was, a game. The opener before the real show could begin. He seemed to know it too, smirking briefly at me before he slotted his mouth back over mine, dragging his thumb down my cheek to pool in the small dip there.

My hands fell too, they clung to whichever part of him they could find, but it wasn’t enough. It felt as though everything I’d been feeling, every emotion I’d experienced, not just over the past twelve hours, but during our phone calls, our texts, and the days I’d spent with him here, were pouring out of me. From crevasses that I didn't even know could exist until then.

He pushed and he shoved, greedy in the task of getting what he wanted, but I was just as bad. Just as eager. The moments over the past week where I’d lingered too long, looked too intently, were all making sense now. Silently, I hoped I left my own mark on him, something that was enough to have his mind lingering on me instead. 

I wondered then if he’d known this had been coming. If all his irritation had just been pent up tension. If he’d been angered by the fact he’d given himself away last night.

But then he pulled away. 

My eyelids fluttered.

His thumb dropped to swipe over my bottom lip. It settled there for a second, then two. 

It withdrew, smeared in a sheer coat of spit. I watched on, jaw agape, as he lifted it up to meet his own mouth, wiping it clean in one swift suck all whilst he stared back at me, his eyes taunting. Mouth menacing. 

My next breath escaped me in a silent shudder.

His eyes, dilated and glimmering, flickered between my own. Mirrored arousal looming over us like a thick fog, before he took another step back.

Away.

Retreating.

Only, was that what it was?

I watched, baited by his stance. By the devious look his gaze gave way to. The rest of his features were solemn almost, so blank that it was practically daunting. But his eyes…

They told a different story.

The studio was so quiet I doubted the thought that he couldn’t hear my heavy pants, or the way I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I waited, pondering over his next move, what he might say, before he tilted his head.

The motion caught me by surprise, ever slight as it was, before he spoke, “Times up.”

My face must have ploughed through a dozen different emotions in that brief pause, but confusion won out, head shooting to the right the second he decided to move, crossing the short distance which stood between him and the door.

“Z’s home.”

Ah.

Fuck.

[nayziiz]

Hi I dunno if you’re taking requests but if you are do you think you could do a smut one shot where either Charles or Carlos is always like super cocky and confident in public and the reader finds it funny because she always has him whimpering and whining for her in private? Maybe like a bit of a dumbification kink too? Thank youuu

BRAVADO | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)

Warnings: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex, dumification kink

Author's Note: Yes, please send in your requests! I might take a few days to write it, but I will try to do it justice - I hope you like it anon! I haven't written anything for a dumification kink, so I tried my best here.

Masterlist

Carlos's public bravado could fill a room, his confidence radiated like a beacon wherever he went. With a swagger in his step and a smirk on his lips, he commanded attention effortlessly. His words dripped with self-assurance, and his demeanour exuded an air of invincibility. To the outside world, he was the epitome of cool, a picture of unshakable confidence. 

When she was with him, Carlos's bravado seemed to reach new heights, as if her presence ignited a fire within him that fueled his confidence to soar even higher. In her company, he appeared even more self-assured, his swagger more pronounced, and his demeanour more assertive.

It was as though being around her amplified his sense of power and invincibility, emboldening him to push the boundaries of his bravado to the extreme. With her by his side, he revelled in the attention, basking in the admiration that her presence seemed to command. With her radiant beauty and magnetic presence, she effortlessly commanded attention wherever she went. Her grace and allure were undeniable, drawing eyes to her like moths to a flame. And when she stood by Carlos's side, his chest swelled with pride, basking in the glow of her admiration.

He loved the way heads turned when they entered a room together, the whispers and stares that followed in their wake. It was as if her beauty cast a spotlight on him, elevating his own presence in the eyes of others.

As they arrived at the Chinese Grand Prix, the pair strolled hand-in-hand, their presence commanding attention from the moment they stepped foot onto the bustling scene. The cameras surrounded them almost immediately, eager to capture every moment of their presence at the prestigious event. Reporters clamoured for interviews, fans reached out for autographs, and photographers vied for the perfect shot, all vying to capture the essence of their undeniable chemistry and charm.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Carlos remained unfazed, his hand firmly clasped in hers as they navigated the sea of attention together. For him, there was no greater thrill than sharing these moments with the one he loved, basking in the adoration and admiration that surrounded them.

As the press clamoured to ask her questions or get her opinion on his season, his cocky demeanour came to the forefront like a shield protecting the one he held dear. With a sly grin and a twinkle in his eye, he deflected questions and bantered with reporters, his confidence unwavering even in the face of scrutiny.

Yet, beneath the surface, his protective instincts kicked into overdrive, a fierce guardian watching over her every move. While he showed her off like nobody's business, he was quick to intervene if he sensed any discomfort or intrusion. His swagger masked a vigilant eye, ready to step in at a moment's notice to ensure her comfort and safety. He may have enjoyed the attention too much at times, but his priority was always her well-being, his protective instincts kicking in instinctively whenever she was in the spotlight.

As they made their way through the bustling paddock, the love of her life exuded an aura of confidence and charm that never failed to captivate her. She couldn't help but chuckle at his swagger, amused by the juxtaposition of his public persona and his private demeanour.

Though she adored seeing him command attention in the paddock and on the racetrack, it was in their private moments that she truly enjoyed his company. Behind closed doors, he transformed into a different man—a man who succumbed to her every whim and desire, his bravado melting away to reveal a vulnerable, obedient side.

She loved the dichotomy of their relationship, the way he projected strength and confidence to the world, yet willingly became her devoted servant in private. It was a dynamic that brought them closer together, a secret bond shared only between them.

Once they were behind the closed doors of his driver's room, the air between them shifted, charged with a mix of anticipation and intimacy. She wasted no time in teasing him gently, her words carrying a hint of playful admonition.

“You better do well today,” she told him, her tone laced with a mixture of teasing and encouragement. It was a familiar refrain, a gentle reminder of the high expectations that surrounded him on race day.

Carlos's bravado, already softened by their private moment together, melted away completely as he gazed at her. In that moment, there was no need for pretence or posturing—just the raw honesty of their connection.

A knowing look passed between them, an unspoken understanding of the pressures he faced and the support she offered. In her eyes, he found reassurance and strength, a silent promise that no matter the outcome, he would always have her unwavering support.

In the hushed intimacy of their darkened hotel room later that night, the atmosphere crackled with electricity as she straddled him, her movements deliberate and enticing. With a playful glint in her eyes, she pinned his hands above his head, a subtle display of power that sent a thrill coursing through him.

Carlos's breath came in ragged gasps, his body tense with anticipation as she hovered above him, her proximity driving him to the brink of madness. Despite the exhaustion of the day's events, he was acutely aware of every sensation, every touch sending shivers down his spine.

She was intoxicating, her presence filling the room with a heady mix of desire and longing. With each movement, she teased and tantalised, her touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

“Tell me how much you want it, Carlos.” She murmured against the skin of his neck as she hovered over him..

The heat of her breath against him sent a surge of arousal pulsing through him, igniting a fire within that threatened to consume him entirely.

As she ground against him, her movements deliberate and tantalising, Carlos felt himself teetering on the edge of control. The sensation of her grinding over his swollen and throbbing cock was almost too much to bear, each movement sending waves of pleasure cascading through him.

His breath hitched in his throat as he struggled to find his voice, his mind clouded with a haze of desire and longing. He wanted her with a fervour that bordered on obsession, his body aching for release as she teased him with every touch.

He was powerless beneath her, surrendering to her every whim as she drove him to the edge of ecstasy. The weight of the day's challenges faded into insignificance as he lost himself beneath her, their passion burning bright against the backdrop of the night.

“I can't wait much longer, my love,” he confessed, his voice a soft whimper that echoed with raw emotion. “I need to feel you.”

As she shifted her weight onto his throbbing cock, grinding against him with renewed intensity, Carlos's breath hitched in his throat, his body on the precipice of ecstasy. Each movement sent bolts of pleasure coursing through him, driving him to the brink of release with dizzying speed.

But just as he felt himself teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion, she shifted her movements, slowing the pace and denying him the release he so desperately craved. A low groan escaped his lips as frustration mingled with desire, his body yearning for the sweet release that remained agonisingly out of reach.

She had other plans for him, he realised, her teasing touch driving him to the brink of madness with each tantalising movement. It was a game of pleasure and restraint, a dance of desire and denial that left him trembling with need.

“Be good for me, baby.” Her words, soft and imploring, cut through the haze of desire clouding Carlos's mind, momentarily grounding him in the intensity of their shared moment. 

Despite the overwhelming urge coursing through his veins, he fought to regain control, to heed her plea and be the good, obedient lover she desired. Carlos found it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure. His body moved instinctively, his hips bucking against hers in a desperate quest for more friction, more sensation.

The need for release burned like a wildfire within him, threatening to consume him whole. With each movement, he felt himself edging closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his desire.

“Please,” he managed to choke out, his voice a hoarse whisper laden with desperation. “I need..”

“Oh, baby, listen to you losing your words for me,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she continued to tease him.

Carlos's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he realised the effect her teasing had on him. He squirmed beneath her, feeling simultaneously aroused and humiliated by his inability to articulate his desires.

But deep down, a part of him loved the sensation of being rendered speechless by her, finding a strange thrill in the loss of control. There was something undeniably intoxicating about surrendering to her will, about allowing her to dictate his every whim and desire.

As she continued to taunt him with her playful words, he felt himself growing even more aroused, his body responding eagerly to her teasing. With each passing moment, he sank deeper into the deliciously humiliating pleasure of being dominated by her, his mind consumed by thoughts of submission and surrender.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she decided to end his torture, her fingers curling around the waistband of his boxers. With a swift motion, she pulled them down, exposing his completely hardened cock to the cool air of the room.

Carlos gasped as his arousal was laid bare, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden rush of sensation. He felt exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated by the raw display of desire.

As she admired him, her gaze lingering hungrily on his throbbing length, Carlos squirmed beneath her, overcome with a heady mix of embarrassment and arousal. But there was no denying the undeniable thrill that coursed through him at the sight of her, his body responding eagerly to her touch.

With a playful smile, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He shivered at the sensation, his heart pounding with anticipation as she teased him mercilessly.

She eventually ended her onslaught of torture as she gripped his cock, firm and unyielding. Without hesitation, she sank down onto him, impaling herself on his hardness with a gasp of pleasure.

Carlos's breath hitched in his throat as she began to ride him, her movements slow and deliberate, each thrust driving him deeper into the throes of ecstasy. He clung to her desperately, his fingers digging into her hips as he surrendered himself completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

As she rode him with abandon, Carlos felt himself teetering on the edge of oblivion, his senses overwhelmed by the dizzying rush of sensation. He was helpless to resist her, his body a slave to her every whim as she drove him relentlessly towards the brink of release.

And then, with a guttural cry of ecstasy, he finally succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure, his climax crashing over him in a tidal wave of bliss. He pulsed helplessly inside her, his entire being consumed by the intense pleasure of their shared release.

He struggled to find his voice, his mind still clouded with the remnants of ecstasy as he tried to form a coherent response. But no words came, his tongue feeling heavy and uncooperative in his mouth. He could only gasp and moan in response to her taunts, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of their shared release.

She chuckled softly at his inability to respond, her eyes dancing with amusement as she continued to tease him mercilessly. With a playful smirk, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered tauntingly, “Come on, Carlos, where's your voice, my love? Or did I fuck it right out of you?”

Her words sent a shiver of arousal coursing through him once more, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his inability to articulate his desires. Yet, despite the teasing, there was a warmth in her tone that reassured him of her affection, her playful banter a testament to the intimacy they shared.

As she pulled off him and nestled beside him, Carlos felt a rush of tenderness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they basked in the warm afterglow of their passion.

“You're going to be the death of me, my love,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of adoration and playful exasperation.

She chuckled at his words, the sound like music to his ears as she snuggled closer to him. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of her arms, Carlos felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that he was exactly where he belonged.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together in a cocoon of love and warmth, Carlos knew with absolute certainty that he would gladly risk it all for the chance to spend eternity by her side.

[makkir0ll]

setting the past (part one/ prologue)

ukai x reader.

wc: 837

synopsis: you coach a volleyball team, one of the best in the country known for having mostly recruited players. you take pride in the fact that you have led your team to win a national championship title. And with the news of the rising team karasuno, your interest is piqued, mainly because that was your old school. you had known that they were nicknamed the "fallen crows" and such, so hearing about their fast improvement you decide you want to see it for yourself. you call up the school and takeda picks up. you organize a practice match for later that week.

but what you don't realize is that their coach is your highschool ex.

a/n: woohoo finally finished part one of idk how many. i haven't written since my wattpad days and i have so many good ideas for this fic so i hope y'all enjoy this. i just need to like collect my thoughts and put them in order because thinking about the plot my brain goes like 100 mph but then when i actually have to write it, suddenly im illiterate.

anyways enjoy this!!

masterlist

Once practice concluded, and the clatter of equipment being stowed away subsided, the Karasuno boys formed a line in front of Ukai and Takeda, anticipating any last-minute announcements before dispersing.

".. and make sure you're eating well and getting enough rest. That's all I have to say for today," Ukai stated firmly, his arms crossed as he surveyed the team.

Takeda cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the eager players. "Yes, indeed. I know this is short notice, but the coach from Kozue Highschool reached out for a practice match later this week, and I accepted."

"HUH?" The boys chorused in a mix of surprise and excitement. A practice match against the reigning national champions was unexpected, to say the least.

"Didn't they win nationals last year?" Daichi questioned, his brows furrowing with intrigue.

"Did they? I'm not sure but you know more than I do." Takeda replies with a smile. "But apparently, their coach is an alumna of Karasuno," He glances at Ukai. "Y/N, I believe? Do you know her? She might be from the same graduating class as you"

Ukai's reaction to your name didn't escape notice. He knew exactly who you were—the pride of Japan's under-19 women's team and, to add a twist, his high school sweetheart.

"Yeah, I know her," Ukai replied, turning to the players. "That means this won't be an easy match. Not only because Kozue is a national champion, but also because Y/N is coaching them. She was- is one of the best womens volleyball player. So think expect nothing less from her team. Be prepared to face some formidable opponents."

"WOW! A NATIONAL CHAMPION TEAM! I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY WITH THEM!" Hinata exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "I won't lose to them!"

"Yeah, me neither," Ukai thought to himself, his expression unreadable.

After practice, as the Karasuno third years made their way home, Suga couldn't help but bring up the tension surrounding Ukai and you.

"So, Y/N is definitely Coach's ex, right?" Suga prodded, casting a knowing glance at his companions.

"Oh, absolutely," they agreed. They continued to discuss the possibilities as they walked home.

Ah, the history between you and Ukai. It was a tale of high school romance, filled with shared lunches, mutual support at games, and stolen moments in the clubroom. But graduation day shattered those dreams, as Ukai chose to explore college life, leaving you heartbroken and struggling to move on.

But some wounds never truly heal. Ukai remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, the memory of him etched into your heart as your first love, your first heartbreak.

Little did you know the storm brewing ahead as you prepared for the practice match against your alma mater, Karasuno Highschool.

The bus ride back to Miyagi was quiet, your team fast asleep behind you. As the bus slowed to a halt, you felt a surge of excitement—the familiarity of your hometown, the anticipation of facing your old school.

Karasuno High. The memories flooded back as you recognized the school's facade. Your stomach churned with excitement and nerves as you led your team off the bus.

"...twelve, thirteen, fourteen, yep! That's everyone," you counted, gently tapping your players as they stumbled out of the bus, still half-asleep.

"Why are we playing at a school two hours away again?" Haru, your team captain, yawned.

"Because, one, I used to go here back in the day, and two, I heard they're really good now. I'm excited to see what they look like. It'll be good practice," you explained, walking into the school towards the old gym where you spent multiple late nights after practice. you hear the familiar sound of volleyballs hitting the ground grow louder the more you walk toward the ajar door.

But what you didn't anticipate was a volleyball hurtling towards your face. Instinctively, you raised your arms, but it never struck you. A familiar figure stood beside you, his presence startling.

Ukai Keishin.

You were at a loss for words. It couldn't be him. Yet, there he was, saving you from a potential injury.

"Hinata, you can't be receiving like that!" Ukai's voice cut through the air, snapping you back to reality. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your tone sharp, eyes narrowed.

"What does it look like, Y/N?" he retorted with a teasing smirk. "Same reason you're here, I suppose."

You couldn't believe your luck—running into your high school ex at a crucial moment. Hoping to avoid any further interaction, you turned away and made your way to your team.

"Thank you for having us here," you bowed to the Karasuno team, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. As you started stretching with your team, your mind raced, your gaze occasionally drifting to Ukai. Your usual composure faltered, and your team couldn't help but notice.

This practice was shaping up to be far more challenging than you had hoped.