#i allowed myself to get swamped with asks

[fictionobsession]

devotion

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: She would give anything for him.

Word Count: 1,997

Warnings: blood, canon typical violence, Alastor being psychotic

A/N: okay friends, first time writing for Al. this was not beta'd or really edited at all so if something seems weird just... assume I meant to fix it. also, this was written as a QPR, but there's a little feelings on reader's side if you squint. I'm not 100% on how in character this is for Alastor, but we tried and that's what matters right

---

She plopped onto the shitty couch and pulled her knees to her chest, looking around the shitty house where they'd been hiding out in the middle of this shitty swamp for the last two shitty weeks. The wallpaper was peeling and yellowed, the floors covered in mold and mildew, the running water only worked half the time, and, more importantly, the refrigerator was empty as of six nights prior. Her stomach rumbled just thinking about a nice juicy cut. She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink into the daydream of food.

She knew when she'd gotten into this hobby with Alastor that there was a non-zero chance she would wind up on the run someday. She just wished they could have put it off a bit longer, had a bit more fun. She laid her head back against the rotting couch until she heard the creak of the floor near the front door.

Her eyes snapped open and her brows furrowed as she took in Alastor's hunting attire.

“Al, where do you think you're going?”

“Well, my dear, unless you feel like us both starving to death in this dismal abode, I thought I'd better go get some food.”

“Alastor. You know we've heard the dogs nearby. You can't possibly go out there without getting caught, at least until we've had a couple days where we haven't heard 'em.”

“Again, starving is not on my agenda, so we don't particularly have another choice.”

Another choice. Her face hardens as she realizes what another option might be. She stood up and crossed the room, grabbing Alastor's arm before he could open the door. “There is a way for us to make it out of this without you leaving. Or rather, a way for one of us to make it out of this.”

He hummed, and she could see the wheels turning as he put together what she was implying. “I'm not sacrificing myself for you to get away, you know.”

“I know. That's why I'm just asking you to get it over with quickly. You'll get more time, and I – well, I'll at least get to go out on my own terms. If I have to go, at least it'll be for you.”

His eyes widened just a bit, more reaction than she'd usually get, before he shrugged. “Okay. Painless it is. Not usually my style, but I think I can figure it out.”

She laughed, a genuine, full laugh. “I know, Al, and that's why we've worked out so well. But I think you could at least do that much for me.”

He pulled his hunting knife from where he had already slid it into his belt. “Are you ready?”

And with one nod, everything went black.

-

It seemed instantaneous, appearing in hell. She looked around, taking in the chaos around her. Literal dumpster fires, public sex, casual street murders, Hell had it all. Of course, arriving in Hell wasn't a surprise for her. You don't kill that many people and expect to get into Heaven. She wasn't even sure she had believed in the whole afterlife thing until she was experiencing it. She shrugged it off, finding the closest place with a mirror she could use for free.

Her body was... different, certainly. But intact, and honestly, she was quite happy with it. Given the various types of demons she'd seen just in her brief time there, it could've been a lot worse. She wandered, putting together a plan of action for getting herself set up in Hell. It seemed she would need income to make most things happen, which made finding a job a top priority. She also needed a place to sleep, as it seemed unsafe at best to stay on the streets.

She got a job fairly quickly at Ozzie's, though she wasn't thrilled with the outfit they made her wear for the whole thing. But it was money, and easy work, so she stuck with it. Asmodeus offered her a fairly decent rate on rent nearby, as well, so she could have done worse.

Shortly after getting settled, she started feeling pressure on her body in random locations and at seemingly random times, almost like someone was grabbing or poking her to get her attention. Occasionally she'd get hot spots, which she at first attributed to it being hot in Hell. Little scrapes and cuts would appear sometimes as well, but they always healed up quickly. It wasn't until the final time it happened that she realized what had been happening over the past few weeks.

A perfect bite imprint appeared on her forearm, accompanied by a sharp pain, and she realized it must have been an effect of Alastor in the living world. She traced her finger over the mark, which had healed into almost a scar, but not quite. It was a bit pink, but wasn't angry and fresh. She smiled a little to herself, happy that her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

As time went on, she found herself tracing the mark when she was feeling stressed, upset, or particularly lonely. It never healed all the way, making it always a bit sensitive to touch, and served as a reminder of why she was here. The mark always made her feel closer to Al, which brought a little comfort when things got crazy.

She had managed to stay within the same few blocks that she knew were heavily policed by Asmodeus's people. However, six months into her stay in Hell, she finally had to leave her little neighborhood to buy some things for the bar. She packed her gun, a knife, and made sure she was dressed inconspicuously – the rumors about the surrounding areas were very...detailed...about what might happen to someone who ended up on the wrong side of a fight.

Unfortunately, her preparation didn't keep her from getting spotted by some Sharks outside the store as she started back toward her apartment. She tried to hurry, sliding between demons and other sinners, before slipping down an alley to attempt to lose her tail. It was too late by the time she realized it was a dead end, and the Sharks started cutting off her only entrance.

She took one step, two, keeping them in her sight until her back hit the brick wall behind her. Her hand reached for her gun, ready to pull it when the lead Shark got close enough. Their glares were paralyzing, and she could smell the smoke and alcohol on them at that distance. She felt herself start to shake, taking a deep breath to steady herself before -

“You wouldn't want people to think you're picking on those of fairer means would you?” The sound and feeling of static crackled through the air like lightning as a dark shape enveloped the opening to the alleyway. A long, thin shadow ripped through the air, straight through the lead Shark, throwing him against the side of the neighboring building.

Green sparks shone through the seemingly infinite blackness, a pair of what could only be described as antlers growing from the approaching shape. Two more tendrils, picking up the remaining Sharks and tossing them into the air like dolls. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't look away from the gore. Sure, she had seen a lot of violence in her time in Hell, but she hadn't seen that level of overkill in quite some time.

As the last of the Sharks fled only to get a tendril through the skull, she pressed herself as far into the corner as possible, sliding down the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. There was only the hope that the demon forgot she existed, and the knowledge that if he hadn't, she would likely be next up for second death.

The shadow approached, darkness fading as he got closer until finally it revealed a man. A tall man, with horns, but just a man, nonetheless. He was straightening out his red coat, and twirling something around in his hands as he approached. “Always good to have an excuse to let off a little steam. Always good.”

He put a hand out to help her up. As she lifted herself off the ground, he was already vaguely shaking her hand, introducing himself. “Name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure.”

His name hit her ears about the time he caught a glimpse of her bite, and both stopped dead in the middle of introductions. She looked up, eyes widening as she realized that yes, that was a microphone, and yes, in fact, it had been quite a while since she'd seen that level of overkill, one could even say since her living days. He looked different now, sure, but as soon as she looked into his eyes, she knew that was her Al.

“Well maybe don't wait so long to come save my ass next time, eh, Al?” She smirked up at him, waiting for him to process what was happening. His nails traced the pattern of his own bite on her arm. She caught sight of his tongue tracing across his teeth, as if he was just then realizing how different they'd really become. “I bet your imprint looks a bit different now, doesn't it?” She spoke more to herself than to him as she reached to pull her sleeve down over the mark.

“Why, I should hope so, my dear. I should very much hope so. Let's see just how much it's changed then!” Without any more warning than that, he pulled her arm to his mouth and bit, hard. The new mark bled, sure, but it healed up more quickly than it probably should have, covering his old impression with his new one. His ears twitched subconsciously, his ever-present smile nearly faltering as he watched the blood drip, drip, drip down her arm. He shook himself out of whatever thoughts were distracting him rather quickly before acting like no time had passed at all since they'd been together last. “Now, I don't think I should leave you alone again. It seems to me that you still can't stay out of trouble, my dear! Come along, let me show you where I've been staying!”

“But – Hang on! Al! I've got to go to work!”

“Ah, there'll be no more need of that anymore. We'll send a notice to... whoever you're working for when you get settled.” He raised an eyebrow, practically daring her to argue. She knew, though, that she'd never gone against what he'd wanted before, and she didn't particularly want to start now. She took the elbow he'd offered her and allowed him to lead her out of the alley.

Occasionally, as they walked, she would catch sight of a shadow that seemed to be following them.

“Oh, don't mind them. They're just keeping an eye on your wellbeing. You better get used to it! Having a friend like me, why, other overlords will just be dying to get their hands on you!”

She scoffed, a look of adoration crossing her features before she tactfully replaced it with annoyance. “I'm not going to get any rest now, am I?”

“Oh contraire, ma cherie! You're going to get everything you've ever wanted and deserved. I owe you that after what you did for me up there, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh I just can't wait to show you Cannibaltown! You've got to meet Rosie, yes. You'll get along very well, very well indeed. And she makes the most delectable little treats! Maybe we'll go by tomorrow.”

As he continued rambling, she hummed approval when appropriate, watching him out of the corner of her eye with a mix of caution and longing. As he led her down streets she'd never seen before, she realized maybe this was all her afterlife had needed after all.

[meanwaffle]

Comforting Ruby (Diluc x Alcoholic!Reader)

Echoes of the Night (Chapter 1)

☆ Tags/warnings: alcohol abuse, rivals to lovers fic, bartender diluc

☆ Notes: I wrote this back in april! I kinda retired fic writing, but I want to get back into it because it was always a hobby that made me happy.

I have chapter 3 of my adachi fic half way written as well for anyone waiting for that! super excited to share that and this! :) thank you for taking the time to read!

-

The dimly lit bar echoed with the sounds of clinking glasses and hushed murmurs from patrons scattered throughout the building. Some were there to share a dinner with their family, and others were loud with celebration. Yet, in this atmosphere of joy, you found yourself the odd one out.

The purpose of coming to the bar tonight had long left you, drowned in the constant noise and the swirling currents of conversations around you. The air hung heavy with the scent of various liquors, wines, and as you sat amidst the lively crowd, all you could do was let your thoughts attempt to bubble into something coherent before completely vanishing.

“ Ughhh .” you groaned under your breath. How did this happen? You were so drunk you couldn’t remember what was even in your drink, let alone how you managed to finish it all plus several others.

Empty beer mugs were stacked haphazardly around you, evidence to the hours you had spent here. Your thoughts were jumbled and slurred and any attempt to make sense of them ended with an expected failure. “I want more.” The words stumbled out on their own. “I want to order something sweet.”

Charles, who was only a few steps away, turned to face you. The friendly, familiar bartender smiled at you, followed by a firm head shake. "No can do, little lady." With a quick denial, he started to gather the glasses cluttered around you. "Yer already sloshed beyond limit. "

“ Charles !”

“None of that whining. I would have cut you off earlier if I wasn’t swamped tonight. I’m gonna have to find someone to bring ya home.” He glanced around. “and I gotta start getting ready to close. Closing early tonight! Big plans—.”

Despite his words being clearly spoken, you found it increasingly difficult to clearly hear him. The subtle movement of his lips became a blur, and strangely enough, the more you blankly stared at him, the more you forgot what he looked like. The sounds coming out of his mouth seemed to fall on deaf ears as your attention drifted into an abstract haze.

You allowed your head to fall back into the empty air. The corners of your mouth quivered feebly, attempting to form a smile that refused to come to light. Suddenly, your body convulsed as your head involuntarily fell forward and vomit forced its way out of your throat and into some sort of rustic bucket in front of you. The acrid taste of bile and alcohol lingered in your mouth, making you gag even more. Your breath was heavy and you gulped harshly to suppress the desire to puke more.

You were confused, drunk, sick, and you wanted to ask why the bar was across the room when you were sitting there not even two seconds ago. Did you move yourself or did someone move you? Maybe you were teleporting.

As the wave of nausea passed, you lifted your head, opening your eyes to a blurry world. Shapes and colors swirled around you, and you could hear fragments of sentences from other voices. Your head felt like it was spinning out of control, and the sounds around you were distorted and garbled. Then, for just a moment, all the different lines and textures and colors of reality lined back up together to form visuals you could actually understand.

Three individuals you couldn’t make out stood in the empty bar. ‘When did everyone leave?’, you wondered. The bucket in front of you is filled with the remnants of your previous meal, or lack thereof. All of them were talking and still you couldn’t make out any of the voices.

“ I’ll go home by myself,” It came out as more of a sob. One of the figures, someone you knew yet couldn’t recognize, was swift to stand by your side and rub your back. The compassion you could feel from them reminded you of your mother which made you break into another drunken sob. They quietly spoke sweet words you couldn’t stop yourself from ignoring. “I’m– no , I'm fine!” Stumbling through the thick haze of inebriation. Whatever they were trying to tell you wasn’t important enough for you to retain the information. More words tumbled their way out of your throat, but you were none the wiser to what was being said.

Their voices continued to speak, but moments were slipping away from you. Everything around you felt like scattered fragments of a dream. A dream you were enjoying.

-

The shrill sound of bells forced you awake.

You bolted upright unintentionally. The unstable bed shook, creating a wobble which tossed you off the side of the bed and straight onto the floor. Strings of curses escaped your lips, but you gathered yourself and sat on the edge of the bed; burying your head into the rough flesh of your palms.

The events from the previous night were blurry. Fragments of memories were somewhat understandable; only due to the burning shame in your chest and pounding headache. You remember going to the bar and throwing up, afterwards you ran out to go home... then... bricks. Lots of bricks. What was that about, you wondered?

“Oh my god…” you mumbled.

You glanced up and came face to face with today’s chaotic appearance. Your hair was messy enough to represent a rat’s nest. And geez, you didn’t want to even mention the sorry state of your eyes. The unfashionable black circles were darker than usual, creating a sharp glare. If a child saw you, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for them to scream, "Mommy, there's a raccoon trying to impersonate a human again!"

This was a daily thing. Looking in your mirror and pointing out any flaw you can find. Some people might argue it's not good for your mental well-being, but for you, it was a comforting routine. It brought some order into your life, something you could rely on.

You'd even think of ways to fix yourself. A haircut could sort out the messy hair, and maybe some skincare advice from Marjorie could help with those tired-looking eyes.

Yep, with just a little touch up you could really sparkle. Similarly to the ruby ring on your dresser.

…...?

A ring?

There, on the dresser, a vibrant ruby ring laid, catching the light and dazzling in your gaze. The gem alone was huge, but the gold accents made your mouth fall open! Confusion set in like a fog. That can’t be right; for you knew you could never own, let alone afford, such an extravagant ring.

You attempted to think back and decode your blurry memories to figure out how this ring even got here, but you knew it would be a failed effort. You can’t even remember how you got home!

You were left with one giant question. How did this ring end up here?

Oh goodness… you could only pray you haven't accidentally turned into a mugger. If getting blackout drunk transformed you into a thief, your drinking would be developing into a real problem and that wasn't the case! You never drink by yourself so that means you're perfectly fine.

Surely, there was a reasonable explanation. Perhaps you struck someone's fancy and they gifted you this ring as an attempt to capture your favor?

You glanced back over at the mirror. Nope, you've unquestionably sunk to the station of a mere thief.

With your sole concern being speed, you swiftly dressed and tidied up your hair as best as you could. There was only one thing you could do; return to the scene of the crime and figure out step by step what events led to the ring to end up in your home. And god forbid, if you did end up stealing the ring, you were prepared to humble yourself and plead with them not to press charges.

You wouldn’t be able to survive in jail! They don't allow prisoners to go to the bar!

As you power walked back towards Angel’s Share, suppressing the anxiety of facing the consequences of the previous night, one name dominated your thoughts: Mr. Six-Fingered Jose. He was an excellent friend, a genuinely kind soul who continues to uplift you despite your obvious flaws. The best part is, he sings at the bar almost every night. Surely, he must have seen you last night at Angel’s Share and can give you some sort of summary of what occurred.

Best case scenario, Jose can confirm that the only crime committed last night was the embarrassing display you can only assume you provided.

Worst case scenario, he already contacted the authorities and is currently giving them your description.

The building came into view and you swallowed any lingering anxiety as you walked inside. And if Jose doesn't have any information to help, Charles absolutely should. “You’re fine,” you thought to yourself, “one conversation and all this worry will go away.”

The tavern's warm wooden exterior came as a surprise. You were used to the cluttered atmosphere during the evening. The knights dragging their buddies in and out of the bar, the inside flooded with loud singing and lots of beer.

Potted flowers hanged along the windowsills and families seemed to be enjoying a meal together out in the sun. The sight put a thought in your head you never had about the establishment before.

How peaceful. Why would anyone drink at home when they can come here?

As you stepped inside, the interior was flooded with natural light, revealing more patrons eating, chatting and spending quality time in a social setting. The scent of brewing tea and the hum of conversation filled the air, much different from your usual visits. Amidst the lively day-time experience, there was a disappointing absence. The spot by the door, where Jose usually performed, was empty. You blinked a few times, your gaze transfixed, similar to a hydro slime caught in the blinding glare of a sudden fire. A dreadful feeling of idiocy crept up your spine as it dawned on you that the only lead you had wasn’t at the tavern because Jose only plays here at night!

You were so concerned with the sudden appearance of your, or whoever's, ring, that you didn’t take into account the time of day. Jose doesn’t waste his days confining his performances to the tavern alone. He wasn’t like you, he had a life beyond this place, other audiences to impress, and possibly more enjoyable company elsewhere.

Well, the simple choice would have been to walk out and continue your obligation of figuring out the events of last night. But you walked all this way! Surely, it’s alright to stay for a brief moment. A glass of wine is a must, especially in a troubled situation such as this one.

The bar was empty, but that didn’t surprise you. It was always quiet when you first arrived, with people trickling in as the night went on. Besides, it wasn’t like you came here earlier for the sole purpose to drink. You just had a good reason to come here and a good reason to drink.

A sense of shame welled up inside you, with the rational part of your mind warning against the terrible idea of drinking this early, especially after last night which possibly involved theft. But still, your heart rate was skyrocketing and you felt your breaths getting choppy. This ring was making you anxious.

“Just one glass is okay, it'll make the hangover more bearable” you justified to yourself, “and you’re in a stressful situation. It’ll chill you out."

Plus, while drinking you can speak to Charles. You vividly remember him cutting you off, so he might have an answer and you won’t even need to bother Jose with more of your troubles, so going to the bar is actually a great idea. The glass of wine is icing on the cake.

“Now may I ask why you’re here so early?” The words spilled from lips you didn’t know. With an air of sophistication and directness; it was obvious this wasn’t Charles. You had been so in your head about last night causing you to overlook the fact that an unrecognizable figure now occupied Charles's customary spot and, worst of all, was wearing his uniform.

...What intense eyes.

It was the first thing you noticed from the striking figure; deep, fierce ruby eyes. Matching red hair was tied neatly into a bun, adding some flair to his proper appearance. Chiseled facial features, followed by a strong jawline and high cheekbones, you could gather that he was a younger man.

And yet, the allure of his looks was overshadowed by the rude intentions the young man brought forth with his words. His furrowed eyebrows, on top of a glare not so subtly hidden, presented the first ever unwelcoming attitude you witnessed in this establishment.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s noon.” The unnamed bartender pointed his finger towards a clock, not even bothering to look in its direction. He was too busy gazing ahead, seemingly scanning something. Perhaps other customers.

You didn't know how to respond. This rando’s audacity actually had you stunned! What was he implying here? You mean, he could be busy tending to other odd jobs before the flow of bar-goers hits and is annoyed you interrupted that, after all he did seem distracted, but with that glare? No, he's absolutely shaming you for drinking wine this early.

You wanted to scream at him, get over it! Making drinks is the main part of the job and you should be ready to do it whenever! Even Charles, who has kicked you out a few times and cut you off more times then you can count, always maintained his professionalism within the job.

“And…? The bar is open at noon isn't it...?” You fired back, heat creeping up your spine and igniting an intense warmth in your cheeks. You haven’t even ordered yet. Glancing around, you spoke with a bit of huff in your tone. “Is Charles around?”

With a raised eyebrow, he responded “He is not.”

“Where is he?”

“How come you’re asking?” The red headed man stopped the minimal cleaning he was tending to, leaning onto one elbow against the bar and giving you his full attention. “Did you come here to speak to him?”

It was as if you were in an integration seat. “Well, no, I was looking for Jose. Not that it’s any of your business.” With a sigh, you avert his gaze. Eye contact makes you nervous. "But, if you must know, he isn’t here so I thought I'd speak to Charles. Glass of red wine, please.”

The red-headed man crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering and filled with suspicion. Frustration lingered as you tried to understand why this guy would be here instead of Charles. He lacks social manners! Why would they hire him? You didn’t even know they were hiring!

"Why do you need to talk to Charles if you were originally looking for Jose?" he inquired.

Letting out an over dramatic sigh, you sank back in your barstool. “None of your business.” your eyes wandered to the enticing array of wines displayed on a shelf behind the bar. “Just get me a glass of red wine, please .”

The bartender clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Your attitude wasn’t this unpleasant last night."

"Attitude?" You began to raise your voice. Your body was halfway off the stool, preparing to create a scene. However, when the eyes of nosy customers bore into you, transforming your surroundings into a sea of awkward silence. You couldn't help but cringe at yourself as you shifted back into your seat, realizing your impulses always find new ways to embarrass yourself.

The bartender, with an eyebrow furrowed, was still looking at you as if he was waiting for a response.

“Wait, huh?” Your head tilted sideways, “You said last night?”

“Yes.”

“You mean, you saw me last, last night?”

“…Yes.” His lips pressed together in a straight line. “Remember? We talked lots about–”

“Oh my god!” Jumping out of your stool, unintentionally creating the scene you just narrowly avoided, but that was no longer a concern. There was a break in the case! “We were here, right? At Angel's Share?”

"I guess you could say that…" His nose scrunched up.

"You guess?!" More eyes focused on you. Embarrassed but trying to stay cool, you cleared your throat, sat back in your seat, and lowered your voice. "Sorry, I meant—what do you mean by 'you guess'? Did you see me leave the bar?"

His expression tightened. It was strange—every part of his face was tense, from his stiff lips to his furrowed eyebrows. "…You were there. Don’t you remember?"

Why was he acting so weird? If he actually saw you last night, it shouldn't surprise him that you blacked out. "You saw me last night, but didn't notice how drunk I was? Of course I don't remember."

His eyes shifted, but he didn’t say a word.

Your demeanor transformed into a gentle plea for the answer. Initially, the bartender regarded you with a puzzled expression, as if you were speaking an ancient language, confused on why this interaction was taking place.

“It was painfully obvious you were drunk." He finally spoke. "But... to forget the entire night is unthinkable.”

"Well, news flash, liquor can do crazy stuff like that," you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. "Aren't you supposed to be a bartender? Shouldn't this be common for you?"

"This is my first day." He cocked his head to the side. "Surely, you would have seen me before if I was regularly working."

Yikes. You fell silent. After all, what could you possibly say in response to that? He got you good with that one.

If only Charles was here. You hated eye contact, yet here you were, locked in a silent stare with him. It felt like the final round of a staring contest, with a billion mora on the line. First, you wake up realizing you might’ve stolen a ring expensive enough to get you jail time, and now you have to deal with this… "aggravating roach."

"Did you say something?" "Yeah, I said, where's the wine I ordered?" You huffed. "Since Charles and Jose aren't here, and you aren't adding

You expected another snappy response, but instead, his face finally softened. Maybe if he kept it that way, the wrinkles on his forehead would ease up too. “…You were here past closing last night…” His tone wasn’t harsh. "I was here to talk with Charles about business. When I arrived, the place was supposed to be cleared out, but there you were. Head in a bucket. Jose was rubbing your back."

"And…?"

"….hm." He glanced to the side. "Jose walked you home."

Your smile transformed into a frown, the disappointment hitting hard. You had hoped for more—some crucial detail. Instead, all you got was a shrug and a nod, and the vague confirmation that Angel's Share was not the place the ring was snatched. Unless, of course, you pickpocket someone without anyone noticing, but that's absurd. How could you sneakily take a ring, drunk as hell, without anyone noticing? Especially when you were escorted home. The weight of the ring in your pocket felt heavier now, a reminder that you needed to figure out what the hell happened before there were any serious consequences.

He nodded, then turned his back to you, probably getting back to work. But who cared about his job? Certainly not you—what kind of bartender doesn't bring the wine after being asked twice? Whatever. That wasn't the goal right now.

Frantically, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the ruby ring, holding it delicately between your thumb and finger. You leaned forward, showing it to the aggravating roach. “Do you know whose ring this is?”

He glanced back for just a moment. “....It’s yours...?” The bell rang, notifying him that more customers walked inside. He turned over to the side, no longer looking at the ring.

Well isn't he unhelpful? Just loud and wrong. You parted your lips to speak, but then quickly shut them. Even if you knew it wasn’t a good idea to reveal to a stranger that you could possibly be a thief, especially one who asks so many questions for no reason. He absolutely seems like the type to report you to the Knights of Favinous! And yet, he was so quick to answer. It must be embarrassing for him to be so confident in an incorrect answer, but you can’t even point that out without exposing yourself. What a shame, that would have been good payback for earlier.

“That’s was a strange question,” he added, disrupting your thoughts. His attention was back on to you. “Do you not like it now that you’re sober?”

Is he implying you bought it when you were drunk last night? Funny, like you or him could ever afford such a ring. This is at least six months of your old salary.

You tried to think of a reasonable response. “It was… uh, lent… yeah, it was lent to me and I need to return it.” shaky reasoning, though it was all you had, “I’m just having some problems remembering… the wine... where's the wine I ordered?”

The man's lips tightened into a thin line before he pivoted and reached for a bottle of red wine. With no words, he poured the crimson liquid you had been yearning for into a glass. With an indifferent gesture, he placed it in front of you, not even granting you a glance anymore. "Jose performs near the Favonius Cathedral during the day, if you still want to talk to him.

"I'm well aware!" you retorted, quickly and untruthful, but he had already moved on to attend to another patron.

With shame, you brought the glass to your lips, allowing the robust flavor to momentarily distract you from the unsettling realization that this jerk seemed to know your friend better than you.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Shanghai was only an hour behind Tokyo so you were able to hit the ground running as soon as you landed. Unlike Japan, the itinerary didn’t allow for a day to rest and reset. Check-in at the new hotel wasn’t until later in the afternoon, but they let you drop off your luggage with them so you wouldn’t have to lug it around the city with you.

You passed your bags off to a woman who promised you they’d be safe in the closet behind the desk- not that you were too worried about your collection of t-shirts and Vera Bradley duffle bag that was nearly two decades old- before joining the Hans by the seating area a few paces away. The lobby was dressed with dark woods and jade tiles, accented with plush white furniture and expensive-looking plants. It was easily the most sophisticated place you’d ever been, and that was saying something considering you’d been on a fucking yacht a few weeks ago.

You felt extremely out of place in your travel sweats and beat-up sneakers. Even looking at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling made you feel like you didn’t belong. You knew the Hans had a reservation under their names, you knew that you were being paid for, but you still felt like you could get kicked out for loitering at any minute.

“First things first we need to find a currency exchange place and then we can grab a bite to eat,” Dom explained. You tried not to wince as his voice echoed around the room. You were still getting used to these ‘family meetings’. “Are you guys hungry?”

There was a collective nod and then you all followed Mr. Han out of the hotel onto the bustling street. He used his phone’s GPS to navigate through the twists and turns of the city. Jisung grabbed your hand instinctively, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles like he always did.

Guilt bubbled up in your chest as soon as the warmth from his palm spread to yours. You hated the way you couldn’t even enjoy a simple gesture, something that was so commonplace for your friendship, without feeling like your stomach was turning itself inside out.

Jisung noticed, of course he did, your hand tensed as soon as he took it and even if it was barely perceptible he was too observant, too in tune with you to miss it.

“You okay?” he asked, eyebrows creasing together in worry.

“Just feeling a little sick is all,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, you did feel nauseous. You just hoped Jisung couldn’t tell there was something else you were holding back.

“Do you need to sit? We can stop for a bit and meet the others later.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“We have our phones, we won’t lose them,” he pressed.

“I probably just need something to eat, and we’re stopping for lunch soon. I’m ok, I promise.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but dropped it anyway.

You waited in line behind the rest of Jisung’s family at the currency exchange place where you traded your yen for yuan. You didn’t have much on you, since most travel sites warned against carrying a lot of cash on your person when in a new place. The Hans always insisted on paying for you too so it wasn’t like you needed it either.

After everyone had gone through the queue, you stopped for lunch in a square with about a dozen street vendors peddling different kinds of food. They were all swamped with customers, businessmen and women dressed in suits waiting to get their meals before inevitably having to return to the office. There were families wandering around too. Mothers struggled to wrangle their small children in strollers or their arms as they stood in line at the various stalls, calling for the older kids who were playing in the fountain.

You and Jisung chose a kabob cart to try while the other members of his family split off to get their own thing. You let your best friend order for the both of you as always while you scouted a spot to sit. The square was full of tables and benches scattered about. Some were shaded by trees, others offered unobstructed views of the skyline across the water. You opted for one that was surrounded by a couple of other close tables so everyone could sit somewhat together.

“Thanks for finding a place to sit, y/n!” Dom exclaimed as he approached you with Minho right on his heels. “Perfect amount of shade and sun.”

“I had to fight off some pigeons for it,” you joked, earning a laugh from the older man.

“I commend you for your bravery, pigeons can be quite brutal.”

“Especially city pigeons,” Minho added, coughing awkwardly when you made eye contact with him.

“Minho was attacked by pigeons once,” Dom said suddenly. You didn’t have time to ask any further questions before Jisung was returning with your food, giving you an apologetic look. 

“You weren’t boring her, were you?” He shot an accusatory glance at his father.

“No more than you usually do,” Minho answered smugly.

“Minho, please don’t start. We just got here, and since we’ll all be staying together I’d rather not have to listen to the three of you bickering all week.”

“What do you mean we’ll be staying together?” your best friend asked worriedly, voicing exactly what you were thinking. “Did you mess up the reservations again?”

Minho’s smile had also fallen and he was wearing an expression of concern similar to his brother’s. Dom sighed, running a hand across his forehead.

“I was going to wait until your mother returned with Felix to explain, but no. We’re all staying together in the penthouse of the hotel for the week. You all will get your own rooms and such, but we figured that since we’re on a family vacation we should spend time together as a family. We can have meals together, we can cook- or rather, Jisung can cook for us, and we’ll all be sleeping under the same roof.”

The two boys nodded in understanding, though neither looked thrilled. You knew that if Felix were around he’d have some smart comment to make, but since he wasn’t, there was just silence.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” Dom chided. “Minho, you’ll get your own room and so will Felix. That should be exciting to you at the very least.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, eyes much brighter than they had been a moment earlier.

His father nodded with a hum, just as Felix walked back up to your group with Nikki trailing a few paces behind him. Both of them had their hands full of food that they dumped on one of the empty tables and started dividing between each other.

Felix looked up when he noticed the silence and tilted his head in confusion. “What’d I miss?”

-

After lunch, you traveled together to the Oriental Pearl Tower. The number of fucking landmark towers in the world was… too goddamn many in your opinion. There seemed to be one in every city you’d been to, and you thought it was a little excessive.

You debated going to the top of this one just so you wouldn’t be a downer, but both Jisung and Minho were quick to shut it down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Minho grumbled under his breath, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s right,” Jisung agreed. “It’s not worth it to make yourself miserable. I’ll stay down here with you, baby.”

You pouted, but didn’t put up much of a fight. You knew Jisung didn’t give a fuck about the tower so you let him keep you company at the bottom.

“We should stay in tonight,” he suggested, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Since you’re not feeling well and everything. I can cook you dinner back at the apartment and we can watch a movie or something.”

“Do we not have plans tonight?”

“Do you ever look at the itinerary?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jisung just chuckled. “Brat. But no, we don’t really have plans. They’re kind of up in the air. Everyone can do their own thing if they want to. I think I heard Felix and Minho talk about going out, but I don’t think we should.”

“If you want to, you should!” you urged. “Don’t stay in because of me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’d much rather spend time with you than those idiots?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Ji...”

“I’m just being honest! We can go out with them tomorrow night, or the night after that! I just don’t want you to overdo it. Especially since we’re going to be out all day tomorrow.”

“Fine, you win,” you gave in. “Promise you’re not just staying in because you feel like you have to?”

“I promise.” He held out his pinky as if to seal it. You looped your own pinky with his despite the gesture being a dramatic formality and grinned. “I don’t really feel like being a wingman anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, they’re trying to pick up girls tonight?”

“Emphasis on the word ‘trying’,” Jisung scoffed.

“Come on, they’re handsome guys,” you said, though you didn’t quite know why you were defending them.

“Sure, but it’s their personalities that are their downfalls.”

“You’re so mean!”

“You’ve met them!”

You opened your mouth to respond but came up short. Jisung smirked knowingly and you both burst into laughter.

“Well, what are your parents doing tonight?” you asked once you caught your breath. “Are they also going out on the town?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can cook dinner for the four of us if they decide to stay in.”

“That sounds nice,” you mused, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It could be… my mom would love the opportunity to get us alone. I’m sure she has loads of questions for you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is a bad thing! It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. My mom would do the same thing if the roles were switched.”

“Okay, but that’d be easy. Your mum already knows me and she loves me.”

“She wouldn’t if we were dating.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because she knows you’re a whore.”

“What the fuck? No, I’m not.” You gave him a look. “Okay, well does she know her own daughter is a whore too? Arguably a bigger one than me.”

“Weird way to say I get more bitches than you, but alright.” Jisung rolled his eyes at you and gave you the finger, but you just laughed. “I don’t think she knows that I’m a little slutty-”

“A little!?”

You ignored him. “But even if she did, she still wouldn’t like me dating you. She’s very protective of me.”

Your best friend stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I feel kind of betrayed. I thought your mom and I were pals.”

“You are. As long as you keep it in your pants around me.”

-

The penthouse at the hotel you were staying at was even bigger than you imagined it would be. There were four bedrooms, the primary and three guest rooms on the other side of the apartment. Your luggage was already waiting for you in the foyer along with some toiletries and towels.

“Y/n and Jisung should have to stay in the middle room,” Felix had exclaimed as he claimed the room at the very end of the hallway.

“What, why?” Jisung demanded.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair if only one of us had to share a wall with the two of you, that’s why.”

Jisung clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. His parents were right across the living room and they could probably hear every word. Not for the first time, you were mortified by Felix’s inability to keep his mouth shut.

“What the fuck, bro,” Jisung muttered.

“You asked.”

You and Jisung did end up taking the middle room. It turned out to be the biggest of the three so you lucked out. You’d still have to share a bathroom between the four of you, but it was nice to have your own space to get away. It wouldn’t be like Tokyo where you could never let your guard down.

Jisung took you with him to the market to shop for ingredients for dinner. The market was overwhelming but beautiful. It was full of life and vibrant color. The stalls were pushed so closely together under an array of tents that it was difficult to tell who was selling what, but somehow Jisung figured it out. He led you by the hand through the crowd, being sure not to lose you. Watching him speak to the vendors, asking questions about the cuts of the meats and getting advice on what was in season… watching his fingers linger over the different fruits and vegetables, trying to gauge which was the ripest and best for the dish he was planning in his head. It was refreshing to see your best friend in his element. He hadn’t had the chance to cook in forever, and you could tell he was excited to.

It was a chance to show off in front of his parents too, you realized. You could tell he wanted to impress them. He’d cooked for you at least a hundred times, but this was an opportunity to show his parents everything he’d learned in school and prove to them that the degree they were paying for was worth it.

By the time you got back to the hotel, Minho and Felix had already gone out for the night. You had no idea when they’d be back, but that was the least of your worries right now. You were much more concerned about the questions from Nikki that Jisung had warned you about.

Should you study? You still had the stack of flashcards in your backpack. You might be able to squeeze in some last-minute cramming before dinner.

“She’s not going to quiz you,” Jisung said in the elevator on the way up to the room as if he could read your mind.

“How’d you-”

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get nervous.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

You shrugged. “I just don’t want you to be worrying about me when you’re trying to focus on dinner.”

“I always worry about you,” he said casually. “But I know how to multitask.”

You helped Jisung carry the groceries inside and put them away. He’d gotten a lot of food for the rest of the week in addition to what he needed for the night.

“Do you need help cooking?” you asked, suppressing a smile.

Jisung whipped his head in your direction, panic in his eyes, before realizing you were joking. “Hilarious.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious? I could be your sous chef!”

Aware of his parents in the next room over, Jisung smiled weakly and shook his head at you. “You’re very cute, but we both know you’d set this kitchen on fire.”

“Whatever, I’ll just sit over here and watch.”

You seated yourself at one of the barstools tucked underneath the island and rested your head in your palms, watching Jisung do his thing.

He finished sorting the groceries and then washed his hands before searching the kitchen for a cutting board and various cooking utensils that he’d need. Back at home, your best friend had a collection of ridiculous aprons that he’d don as he cooked. Your favorite was one that you’d gotten him for his birthday one year. It had your face on it and said “she loves my meat”. One of his roommates had spit his drink all over their rug when Jisung opened it at his party, and you considered that a job well done. It was the apron Jisung wore the most, and you knew it was secretly his favorite, even though he’d never admit it.

He hadn’t packed any aprons for this trip, though, so he was stuck with the t-shirt he was wearing with nothing to protect it- not that he’d need one. He wasn’t very messy in the kitchen. The aprons were more for show than anything else.

Jisung filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil while he chopped vegetables. He was so fast that you could barely see the blade moving.

He’d whipped up a meal in under an hour and served it to you and his parents like you were in a restaurant. He circled the table with a bottle of wine, offering it to each of you as if he were your server.

“How about a nice red for you, miss,” he suggested, holding the bottle out to you so that you could read the label.

You giggled. “Do you recommend it?”

“I’ve never had it,” he admitted, not breaking character. “But the chef says that it pairs perfectly with beef.”

“The chef that looks just like you?”

Jisung winked. “That’s the one.”

“Well, in that case, I trust his judgment. I’ll take a glass.”

“Excellent choice.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Nikki said once he’d poured you a glass. She was smiling warmly at her son, completely enamored with you and Jisung’s little display. Your heart swelled with pride at the realization. Maybe you weren’t so bad at acting.

“Excellent choice,” Jisung repeated as he filled his mother’s glass. “And for you, sir?” he asked, addressing his father.

“Do you have whiskey?”

“I believe I do,” he answered thoughtfully. “Let me go check.”

You already knew he did. He’d stopped in a liquor store on the way back to pick some bourbons that he thought his dad and brother would like.

You watched him disappear back into the kitchen and went back to your meal, smiling to yourself in satisfaction.

“I know I’ve mentioned this before,” Nikki whispered quietly, “but I’m so glad you were able to join us on this trip. It’s been so lovely to get to  know you, and I’ve never seen Jisung so happy.”

Your cheeks grew warm at her comment. The feeling of pride in your chest threatened to be replaced with guilt as it bubbled up in your stomach, but you pushed it down.

“Thank you for inviting me,” was all you could muster.

“We’re happy to have you,” she assured you, grabbing your hand firmly.

“What are we talking about?” Jisung asked loudly as he reentered the room, handing his father a glass of whiskey, neat.

He shot you a look that asked if you were ok and you nodded minutely.

“We were just talking about your wonderful girlfriend,” Nikki explained, “and how happy we are to have her with us on vacation!”

“Mom,” Jisung groaned.

“She didn’t embarrass you entirely,” Dom interjected, coming to the defense of his wife. “She didn’t even mention airplane stickers!”

“Wha- airplane stickers?” You looked to your best friend for an explanation, but he had his head in his hands.

“I cook you all a nice dinner and this is how you repay me!” he cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. What are airplane stickers?”

“They’re what Jisung thought menstrual pads were when he was little.” Dom clapped his son on the back affectionately as Jisung groaned even louder.

You brought your hand to your mouth. “You didn’t.”

“I’d never seen one before!”

“We came home and there were ‘airplane stickers’ all over our windows,” his father continued.

“Aw, babe,” you rubbed his thigh comfortingly, but you knew he didn’t miss the devilish glint in your eye that told him you’d never be letting this go. “That’s kind of cute.”

“It’s kind of humiliating,” he corrected you.

“That too, but you didn’t know any better. I’m sure lots of kids do that.”

Jisung ignored you and stood from the table, collecting your plate along with his. “Anyway, I’m going to start the dishes. Does anyone have any for me to take?”

-

Jisung’s parents invited you to watch a movie with them after dinner, but you politely declined, retiring to your bedroom instead. Jisung flopped on the bed as soon as the door was shut behind you and screamed into a pillow.

You chuckled as you unclipped your bra and pulled it off from beneath your shirt, joining him on the bed moments later.

“And they wonder why I never bring anyone home!” he hissed.

You rubbed his back soothingly. “It could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

You paused. “I don’t know.”

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, it’s not so bad. I could’ve told one of my stories about you.”

“Half of those are illegal.”

“Exactly.”

You managed to coax your fake boyfriend out of sulking and took turns getting ready for bed and showering in the bathroom before settling in your room together for the night. You flipped through channels on the tv together, but nothing good was on, so you decided to spend time reading your books instead.

You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until you heard the front door open, signaling Minho and Felix’s return. You traded looks with Jisung who then checked the time on his phone and showed you that it was past one a.m.

His parents had likely gone to bed hours ago, but you could still hear them talking like everyone wasn’t trying to sleep.

They’re drunk, you and Jisung mouthed at each other at the same time. He rolled his eyes but you just smirked.

“That’s gonna bite them in the ass come morning.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to have to be the ones to deal with it,” he muttered.

He had a point. You hadn’t thought about that. And you didn’t think a hungover Minho or Felix would be pleasant to deal with.

You tried going back to the page you were on in your book, but were distracted again when you heard their voices approaching. They were in the hallway now, saying goodnight to each other.

Then, you finally thought it had gone quiet when you heard a third voice. A female voice. You couldn’t make out what she was saying but you could tell immediately who responded.

“Yeah, this is my room.”

It was Minho. He’d brought a girl home with him.

“No fucking way,” Jisung whispered, verbalizing what you both had to be thinking. “He actually did it.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[ladyofthenoodle]

part time soulmate, full time problem

chapter 4: the taste of champagne

thank you @miabrown007 and @wackus-bonkus-maximus for all your patience and support this chapter!

you can find the heart-wrenching art by @thewanderersminuet to accompany this chapter here

chapter summary:

Adrien meets Marinette's friends.

chapter excerpt:

"You go here every week?" he asked in clear awe, his gaze devouring the rows of stalls. "My family goes every week," Marinette corrected. "Sometimes we all go together, or I go myself if they can't get away from the bakery, or they go without me if I'm swamped with schoolwork or ak— a killer design." Adrien squeezed her hand and winked. Both their palms were sweaty from the summer heat, but Marinette didn't mind. "Your parents sound so supportive. It's too bad they were busy today." Marinette blinked. She hadn't even considered inviting them—it's not like she and Adrien were picking up the weekly groceries. And wasn't it too soon to meet the parents? She'd have to ask Alya. Meeting the parents had never been an option before. A flutter of excitement rushed into her chest as she pictured it: her Papa, asking him if he knew how to bake and Adrien shyly admitting he'd never been allowed to use the oven. Maman offering them both gentle advice and suggesting Papa might go check on an order in the back that didn't exist, to give them some space. Chat Noir looking at her baby pictures on the wind— Wait! Adrien was the one looking at her baby pictures!

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Identity Pt 2

Part (2) of Identity, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Thought about holding onto this another night, but I could use some dopamine after some work bs that happened today (which is also why I only barely started catching up on all the comments and tags today before going quiet again... sorry - I'll try to respond to everyone tomorrow ❤️). It's only lightly proofread, and I'm apparently favoring shorter chapters currently. Also, I finished this from my phone, so sorry if formatting got weird

Warnings: Brotherly fighting, talk of hunting, nightmares with reference to gore/torture, heavy tension, profanity

WC: 2,379

“I knew you’d done something!” Sinker shouted, hand lashing out to roughly push Boost’s shoulder hard enough to nearly knock him from the couch. Boost was laughing too hard to defend himself, with Comet and I not far behind at the retelling of the Sergent’s unfortunate encounter with a slew of too curious gorgs. The thought of the stern man being relentlessly assaulted by the small, brightly colored amphibians, utterly oblivious to the pungent pheromone his brother had slathered on his armor as he trudged through the swamps of Naboo was a gift in itself.

“It… it was just a drop!” Boost barely managed to respond.

“Where’d you even get it?” Comet asked, voice strained as he tried to compose himself.

“It was… it was all over the markets – easiest way to hunt them.”

The lights were still too bright and the seats too soft, but the familiarity of this, of carefree laughter and unapologetic teasing was the perfect balm to an ache I’d nearly grown accustomed to. I sat lounging against Comet on a love seat caddy corner to where Boost and Sinker were seconds away from a one-sided brawl despite how near they were to the table holding their long forgotten, disassembled blasters. Wolffe had vanished elsewhere in the ship after relinquished the pilot’s chair to Warthog, decidedly ignoring the man’s grumbles about the apparently lacking capabilities of the civi transport, and Sinker had volunteered the explanation that the General was too well known to join us lest his presence attract the wrong attention.

“Hey, hey!” I cried out when Sinker’s foot bumped the table, darting forward to grab the corner before it could fall. “If you knock this down, I’m not helping you find all the pieces!” The attempt at a feigned reprimand was lost beneath the richness of my lingering glee. Boost sent his brother a toothy grin that only worsened the man’s scowl as he reluctantly returned his attention to his weapon.

“He doesn’t listen to me when I try to get him to get him to calm down.” Comet’s grumbled murmur drew a final chuckle from me as I pressed fondly against him. “It’s late. We should probably turn in.” He sighed after a few seconds of stillness, and I tried not to note the way my heart dropped.

“Yeah.” I relented, fighting the way my jaw threatened to tense at the thought of forcing myself to close my eyes, of the noises awaiting me in the coming silence. With a deep breath, I leaned away from the gentle man at my back, ignoring the brief moment of hesitation, the way I could feel his gaze linger on me as I got to my feet.

The ship was designed to allow each passenger their own room, but that privacy had thoughtlessly been forgone in favor of using those rooms for additional storage. The minimal space allotted for each hastily installed, wall mounted cot was a thing I’d long since become accustomed to with these men and spared no hesitation before taking the bunk below Sinker’s, but rest refused to grant me escape.

It was strange not having Crosshair’s arms around me, not hearing Wrecker’s snores or seeing the faint glow of Tech’s datapad. This squad would always have my love and trust, but the familiar sense of home no longer resonated in their presence, and after everything that had happened in the past months, I found myself desperate for that comfort long after noting the unmistakable cadence of sleep lengthening their breaths, and forced my eyes closed if only to feign joining them.

It's not real.

Crimson coated my hands.

It’s not real.

Blackened skin marked exactly where my pistol fire tore between the joints.

“This is your fault.”

Wet coughs sent waves of blood spilling down his chin.

Please tell me this isn’t real.

It didn’t matter how hard I pressed against the gaping wound in his chest.

“You did this.”

How tightly I bound the tourniquet.

“Traitor.”

How certain I was that this isn’t how it happened as the echo of dislocating fingers reverberated sickeningly around me.

Stop, stop, stop, stop.

False memories of my fist slamming into my brother’s face orchestrated by endless apologies.

“I’m not your brother.”

The look of hatred in his eyes as my finger tightened around the trigger.

“Ple-”

My body jerked violently away from the hand settling lightly atop my arm, diaphragm seizing to drag air into lungs burning with suffocation as my head snapped around in search of the source of that touch. And I froze. There was such stillness in those mismatched eyes as he looked at me, a silent understanding that threatened to break what miserable grip I had on keeping the sobs at bay.

Without a word, he stood back, shoulders weighted beneath the same sorrow and regret I knew I’d never be free of, face carefully neutral as he started silently toward the cockpit. I glanced hesitantly over the familiar forms lying atop the cots across from me, relieved to find no signs that I’d woken them in my fit before forcing myself to take several deep breaths and pushing myself to my feet.

Wolffe didn’t look at me as I slipped into the copilot’s seat, knees automatically tucking to my chest. The controls were different, the colors of the panels and the shape of the viewport nothing like the GAR ship we once frequented, but that feeling, the unrushed quiet between us as our thoughts settled and we felt drawn to speak for the comfort of connection in the stead of some need to fill the silence with empty, frantic words… there was such gentleness in that feeling that I couldn’t help but let the tension begin to slip from my stiff form.

“What happened?” He didn’t turn from the dancing hues of blue illuminating the darkness of space as his voice hung softly in the filtered air.

“A lot.” I whispered, granting myself a moment longer to remember how to speak, how to condense the need to purge everything, every violent emotion and overwhelming memory into words and sentences. “My brother’s dead.” From the corner of my eyes, I saw the initial surge of grief hesitantly shift into confusion, brows pulling subtly together though he didn’t push me to explain.

“He enlisted… or was drafted, I don’t know how exactly, but…” I watched that grief return in an instant, jaw tensing as his eyes closed.

“Devaron.” I should have been surprised, should have found myself wondering over the simple fact that he was familiar enough with my past missions to reach that conclusion, but it was almost a relief to not have to explain further, replying only with a small nod.

“I’m sorry.” His voice quieted, lips just threatening to pull into a scowl as his mind worked over what he’d just learned.

“I tried to save him… but I didn’t realize who he was until it was too late. He…” My throat tightened, and I had to let out a slow breath before I could continue. “He blamed me… When he saw me in that armor…” I found myself shaking my head as I shifted to rest my chin atop my knees. “He hated me, Wolffe…” That barely murmured sentence lingered far too long after tumbling from my lips, and I felt it grow heavier with each second of silence that followed.

“You want me to tell you it wasn’t your fault?” There could have been a harsh bluntness to those words. They could have been filled with boredom or impatience or pity, but they weren’t. He asked only because he thought I needed to hear the question, to hear how doubtless he was in his own conviction that I might remember how to breathe before my guilt destroyed me.

“No.” I answered quietly. Still, logic offered little comfort in the face of raw emotion. “But that doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

“Your brother died.” He stated simply, and my chest bucked at hearing that horrible truth spoken by another. “You’re not going to feel better. Not for a long time.” I knew how clearly the sorrow shone through my eyes as I finally turned to look at him, and I hated him for the honesty in his words just as much as I loved him for offering no false hope or empty platitudes.

“And your last mission? Can’t say I believe Hunter’s excuse of your ship needing repairs.”

“Clearly.” I retorted, glancing pointedly at the ship around us, but the intensity of his gaze didn’t waver, unphased by my feigned jab, and I had to turn away, teeth catching at my lip.

“One of my men got caught.” My voice sank into a quiet whisper, as though it might keep me from hearing my own words as I forced myself to answer him. “He was trapped. I don’t even think the guy who was did it was even a Separatists… pretty sure he was just a merc.” My tongue dragged haltingly over suddenly dry lips, heart racing at the memory of that fight; and the screams still echoing over the low hum of the engines.

“He wouldn’t free him… wouldn’t tell me how to get him out… not until I made him tell me.” Jaw taut beneath the effort to keep my breath steady, I turned back to him. “You want to tell me that wasn’t my fault, either? That I had no choice other than to torture him? That I couldn’t have found a way to cut the power or bribe him or hold off until help arrived?” It infuriated me how perfectly still Wolffe remained, expression locked in that passive stare.

“Do you think I give a damn that you tortured some money-hungry civi to save a brother? You think I’d do any less to save you? That any of us would do any less?”

“Do you think granting me permission makes me feel less like a monster?” I shot back, unable to chase the hint of a snarl from my face.

“This is war, kid.” He replied, a gentle apology woven through the softly spoken words. I felt the urge to snap at him threatening to wrench my lips into a scowl, felt my heart balk at the simplicity of his statement and how crudely that simplicity contrasted with the horrors it represented, but I allowed no reprieve in vying for some way to deny myself the forgiveness implied in that putrid truth, no release of my fury and guilt and hatred by arguing purely for the sake of flinging shouted insults absent thought beyond the base need to lash out.

I could feel him watching me as I forced myself back under some façade of control, but something seemed to shift, a heaviness that held the same tension I’d noted in him the day prior, and I found myself quieting my breath as I waited for him to speak.

“And the thing with the toothpick… how long’s that been going on?” It took barely a second to realize what he meant, what he knew, and my entire body froze, eyes widening as the air caught in my chest, mind racing too quickly for me to grasp onto a single thought long enough to make sense of the waves of dread and guilt and confusion.

“Closet doors don’t hide thermo-signatures.” He explained, voice carefully void of emotion, and my heart dropped. The damn closet. Cody must have already planned to speak to Wolffe immediately after his meeting with me to confirm the mission status… Of course, he would have been nearby…

“I… I don’t think that’s any of your business, Wolffe.” I said quietly, trying to force some measure of indifference into my voice.

“Is that so?” There was a darkness in those short words as he shifted just enough to catch my gaze from the corner of that pale cybernetic.

“No.” I stated more firmly, back straightening as I turned fully toward him. “It hasn’t been for a while… not since you let them take off this squad.” His brows drew together above eyes failing to hide the beginnings of anger.

“Is that what you think happened?” He asked, shoulders pulling back slightly.

“Isn’t it?” This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with him. These thoughts and fears and insecurities were never meant to be given breath, yet I couldn’t seem to stop them lest the conversation return to something far more dangerous.

“Did you ever tell them ‘no’?” The instant I saw the flash of remorse dart through him, I felt something break in me as I realized I was right. “Did you even try to fight for me?” I barely whispered as a fresh surge of devastation flooded my veins with ice. He didn’t need to speak for his answer to scream between us, and I couldn’t begin to hide the betrayal and raw hurt left in its wake.

“You didn’t… You just let them…” Some vain hope for denial forbade me from finishing the thoughts, silently pleading for him to prove me wrong, but he offered no whisper of reassurance.

“You were all I had, Wolffe…” I could hear how the words clawed up my throat amidst tears I refused to let fall. “I was… I was so… so scared, and you just let them take me away?” He refused to turn from me as the reality I thought I knew shattered. I wanted to ask “why,” wanted to shout and rage and sob, but that time had long since passed. Drawing a sharp, unsteady breath into my lungs, I finally turned from him, gaze trailing blindly across the control panel.

“No… What I do now… who I spend my time with… it’s none of your business.” It felt as though I were talking more to myself than to him, and the new silence that fell between us held none of that gentle familiarity that had seen me through some the worst moments of my life. For the first time, I couldn’t bring myself to stay, every cell demanding I flee from his presence. With another deep breath, I pushed myself to my feet, unable to even glance at him as I began walking away.

Next Chapter

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[room-surprise]

Hi there, I’ve been reading your Kabumisu fic (SMHTGOTG) and I am obsessed!!! I love the way you interpret Kabru’s and Mithrun’s personalities and adapt their stories to a modern world. I can’t wait to see more of Mithrun’s past and them meeting the Laios gang!

I truly feel like you gave them the love and depth that Ryoko Kui wants for her characters. I really appreciate it after seeing more one-dimensional takes about Dunmeshi characters on twitter (of course it’s twitter) and even tumblr as the series got more popular.

Kui put so much effort in creating a beautiful and heartfelt story, trying her best to reflect complicated social issues through fantasy setting, showing how characters with varied backgrounds/ races overcome prejudices, grow to respect each other’s differences and how human they all are deep down, all while encouraging fans to care for their health, but all some people zoom in is which race is the most obviously problematic, which race is allowed a free pass to hold prejudice, which character is not that great actually did you not know they were racist at some point in the story??? (Growth? Never heard of her. Ignorance? That’s a CRiME!)

Ironically, all of that just reminds me of how performative the canaries are when they act all shocked and offended about Mithrun stating the slur the elves used to say all the time

(So sorry for the long rant 😭, I just really appreciate your fic and the analysis your made about Dunmeshi among the increasing bad faith takes)

OMG... Anon thank you so much for writing to me! This absolutely made my day. You're very sweet. Honestly I have the best readers in the world you're all paying such close attention to what I write and picking up what I put down, and that makes me so so so happy 😭

The #1 thing I ask myself while I'm planning and writing my fics is "does this feel like something that would happen in Dungeon Meshi?" And I guess I'm doing an OK job of that because people keep telling me what my writing feels like :D

And you are 100% right, there's always been bad takes and oversimplifications of the world and characters of Dungeon Meshi like what you're describing, but since it's getting more popular that means more people are talking about it, which unfortunately means, statistically, that there are going to be more bad takes…

On the positive side, there's also been lots of wonderful new fic and art that people are making, and lots of good takes too! Just a bit frustrating to wade through the swamp of bad stuff to get to the treasure.

Gotta just try hard to stay positive and focus on making good stuff you love, and not stressing about stuff that's bad and makes you upset.

And never apologize for writing me a long message!!! I agree with everything you said and I was so happy to read this when I got up this morning, so thank you for taking the time to write to me. You can write or DM me any time (though obviously you can't stay anon if you're DMing me lol)

[v3nusxsky]

Hey!! I know you said earlier that you are swamped with lesso requests, so really please dont feel like you have to write this. I just had this idea for an agere fic, so yknow how in the school for good and evil movie, when rafal is trying to destroy the schools, and he turns the staff (including lesso and dovey) into dolls?? What if reader is their girlfriend, and she didnt get turned into a doll because dovesso hid her in a room away from rafal so she doesnt get hurt. And reader notices that her mommas havent come back for quite some time, so she goes to search for them. She finds them as dolls, and at first she thinks its funny and she plays with them, but then she starts to miss the real human them and gets really upset. Once rafal is defeated, they turn back into their regular human forms (and remember everything that happened while they were dolls) and they comfort reader to make her feel better, super fluffy ending?? LOVE your writing, i hope youre having a great day. <333

Dolly heart

*Authors note~ I'm sorry it's taking ages for this to be posited but Agere will always have my heart, slowly smashing out these requests and getting ahead of myself which means you'll have fics prepared for when I move :)*

Trigger warnings~ little r Leonora mumma and Clarissa mommy Rafal being a horrid human sad little r

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Your girlfriends would always protect you and put your safety and health above their own. It took loving you for them to finally accept the love they'd been denying all the years for one another. And then they realised you regressed, allowing them to function as your caregivers which only strengthened their feelings for you and each other. When you regressed they took you to your old chambers in the school for good, where you had everything your little mind could ever think of.

This particular day, you happened to be snuggled up in the bed with your mommas happily suckling on your fingers as you dozed in and out of consciousness. That's when they heard it, the bang. What on earth would the Nevers and Evers doing now that would be so loud? But then came the terrified screams. Both woman made sure you would be happy and have all your needs met when you awaken before carefully leaving you to rest, they had every hope to be back before you even realised they had gone. But Rafal had other plans for the women.

Waking up cold was something you hated in either mindset, normally you'd have the warmth of at least one of your girls but not today. Your little mind struggled to understand where they'd gone. You spotted your favourite sippy cup and your favourite biscuit shaped like little animals at the bedside, all ready for you to pick at. But soon after you began to notice their absence again, you truly didn't know what to do or where they were which caused you to cry.

Twenty minutes of crying had you trying to escape the bed and flee the room, angry whines of frustration when you couldn't open the door. But after a few minutes of tugging and crying you managed to get it open just enough for you to slip through the gap. There you managed to stumble your way through the halls until you entered the great hall. Colourful and pretty much the dream wonderland for your mindset, but the best part was it came with dolly's.

Both mommas knew just how much you loved dolly's so of course they'd surprise you with dolls in certain places that you'd happen to find. This time it appears you'd been extra good because of the number of dolly's. If you were less excited and in more of a mature mindset you would've noticed the likeness to the people you call friends and your lovers. But you weren't, so with an excited squeal you threw yourself to the ground and scooped up the two dolls that looked like your mommas. "Momma" you whimpered stroking the dolls curly hair, "mommy!" You squeaked happily twirling the doll so her dress moves.

For a while you acted out all the little things your mind came up with, from momma and mommy being with you to adding in your friends miniature versions, going through daily things as you babbled to yourself happily. Looking at the Lesso doll had tears sprinting into your eyes, "mamamama" you babbled as the sadness overwhelmed you. "Want mamama mommmy" you whimpered putting the dolls down gently before curling into yourself in an attempt to self soothe.

You cried yourself to sleep on the cold hard floor, which is how you missed you dolls turning into the usual selves. Leonora was first to run to you, Doveys good instincts wanting her to check on everyone first, she know lesso would make sure your okay. "Dove? Wake up my little devil. Wake up for momma" she murmured while trailing her finger through your hair in a soothing manner. "Momma" you blinked sleepily coming to rub the sleep out of your tired eyes, "miss yous where gones?" That moment you caught sight of your mommy you could've sobbed for joy.

"Hi baby" Clarissa murmured coming to scoop you up in her arms, "I missed you sweet girl, and thank you for being so kind to those dolly's angel, we are very proud of you little love." At the mention of the dolls you began to search the room, not finding any dolls which caused you to cry. "What's wrong my darling?"Clarissa murmured now coming to rub your back in a soothing manner. "Mana dolly gones!" You sobbed hiccuping as the sobs wracked your body. "You want a mama dolly baby?" You nodded watching as Leonora magically produced two dolls, exact replicas of what you were playing with before. "Let's go lay down my love, I'm sure you wanna show momma and mommy dolly to all your other stuffies don't you?"

Word count~ 1019

[sunstaar]

Goodnight's Rest

Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Word Count: 0,7k

Ao3

Summary: Cuddling up on the couch with your dear husband and falling asleep was exactly what both of you needed after a long week of work.

Kakashi’s frame felt almost weightless as the silver-haired male allowed himself to fall back onto the couch, the several cushions he had gotten when moving in softening his impact significantly. He let out a long-needed sigh, sinking further into the cushions as he allowed himself and his muscles to relax after a long and undoubtedly stressful week.

“Can I get something for you, darling?” Your sweet voice asked from where you rested your arms on the backrest of the couch, your back slightly arched as you stood.

He pondered for a moment, before ultimately shaking his head, ignoring how several strands of his silver hair fell to land in between his eyes.

“I’m going to get myself some tea and join you then.” You said before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of his head, leaving to make your way to the kitchen.

It was almost a routine the two of you settled into for one evening during the week, a day on which neither of you was swamped by mountains of work, leaving barely to no time to spend with the other. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the tranquillity and domesticity that followed after a stressful week which had you ready to pull out your hair one by one, the workload gnawing at your nerves. Coming home to rest in the loving embrace of your spouse was the cure to your difficult work life, the one thing keeping you from exploding after a long day of near insanity.

In the kitchen, you placed the tea kettle on the stove and carefully began boiling the water and kept a careful eye on it as you prepared two mugs with your favorite flavors of tea in it. While your husband would always shake his head when you would ask him if he would like something, a nice hot tea in the afternoon to soothe his throat and warm his body was something he was never able to reject.

As soon as the kettle began to whistle loudly on the stove, you slipped your hand into an oven mitten and reached out to pick up the kettle, pouring the steaming hot water until both of your mugs were almost filled to the rim. Atop floated each of your teabags, soaking in the water and staining it a different unsaturated colour.

“Here you go.” You said, placing down one of the mugs in front of your husband and the other where you intend to be sitting. Similar as Kakashi had done before, you also allowed yourself to fall back onto the couch, your body sinking into the soft material.

Kakashi leaned toward you and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, my love.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, further leaning into his body. “It was my pleasure,” For a moment, you closed your eyes and simply indulged in the warmth radiating from your husband’s body, a sigh of relief escaping you.

“Exhausted?”

“Very.” You confirmed with a yawn, one you were unable to stifle with your hand.

Kakashi gently knocked his head against yours. “Then get some sleep, my love.”

Your eyes grew heavier with every minute you resisted against the exhaustion weighing down on your frame, the soft and comforting voice of your husband slowly lulling you into a more sleepy state. You could barely keep your eyes open, even as you excessively argued with him about not wanting to go to sleep yet, that you wanted to spend some more time with him before ending the day. There were barely opportunities to spend such a day with your husband, after all, and you were not ready to waste one of them by going to sleep early.

The solution to the silly problem, Kakashi had come up with was rather simple: instead of further indulging in the argument, which he admittedly found to be very endearing, he reached toward the other end of the couch and grabbed onto the wool blanket placed there, pulling it toward him. In one swift movement, he spread the blanket across himself and his spouse, gently tucking them into it.

“We’ll both get some sleep then.” Kakashi said with a certain amount of finality to his words, pressing one last kiss to his dear lover’s temple, before he allowed for his eyes to flutter shut, giving into his own pent-up exhaustion.

Curling into Kakashi’s warm side, you were the first to doze off into an undisturbed dream, swiftly followed by your husband also dozing off, his head leaning onto yours, the tea set on the table long forgotten.

[jeon-s-sins]

HEAT | JK

Synopsis : You're in your mating season, but you can't tell Jungkook, your mate, because he's busy with more important things, and you don't want to disturb him. His uncle has just declared war on him, and Jungkook is busy finding allies and developing a reliable strategy to save his skin and his pack. You told him you'll go to your parents, who live in another pack. But what will happen when Jungkook finds out the truth?

Heat : A period during the reproductive cycle when female animals become sexually receptive, signaling they are ready for mating.

Word count : 2.5k

Warning : Smut ahead

n.a : English is not my first language, so it’s possible that there are some mistakes that I missed while proofreading. This is a story I wrote when I was younger. I wrote it in the first person, which has changed over time. But I didn't want to rewrite it out of sheer laziness. So here it is as it is. Enjoy reading it.

YN's point of view

A beautiful sunny spring day after several snowy months. And another day I could not enjoy. The reason? I'm in heat.

I know another person who can't enjoy this beautiful day either: my mate Jeon Jungkook.

It's been three months since his uncle, an Alpha from another pack, challenged us. Jungkook's uncle is his father's younger brother. After his father became the pack's Alpha, his younger brother didn't like the idea and challenged his older brother, Jungkook's father, to a duel.

The goal of the duel was a fight to the death where the winner would become the Alpha. Of course, Jungkook's father won, and because he loved his little brother too much, even after what he had done, he spared his life but punished him by banishing him from the pack.

The uncle then used the opportunity to create his pack with only rogues. Still unable to accept his defeat, he always found a way to provoke his older brother.

After Jungkook took the reins of the pack by becoming Alpha in his turn a few months ago, his uncle offered to unite the two packs and let him take Alpha's place.

Jungkook refused. His uncle continued to insist until one day, he got fed up and finally defied Jungkook.

For three months now, Jungkook has been running around without taking a second to rest. We don't even have time to meet and spend time together as we used to.

He is always traveling, meeting with our allies, dealing with other Alphas, trying to expand our ranks, and signing an alliance.

As the Luna of this pack and his mate, it is my duty to attend every one of his meetings and take control of the pack in his absence, but since two days ago, I have been unable to do so.

My heat prevents me from doing so. A female's heat varies from five to ten days, depending on many things, including her rank and whether she is about to be "taken care of" by her mate.

Today is my third day of heat, and I can say that it is by far the worst of all. On the first day, the heat is uncomfortable but bearable. On the second day, the heat gets stronger and almost unbearable.

On the third day, the heat is unbearable and a little painful. I need him terribly, but I don't ask for him. He is swamped, and I can't afford to bother him with such a small thing. I have to do it myself.

I had to make an excuse on the first day of my heat. I told him I was visiting my parents, who, unfortunately, are from another pack, and that I would stay with them for a few days.

The truth is that I am staying in a second home that belongs to Jungkook's family, which is specially built for the Alpha couple's privacy during the heat, allowing them to have some privacy and not be disturbed by other pack members.

Jungkook doesn't know I'm in heat, which is good. Far be it from me to distract him from his priorities. First, the pack, then the couple.

I can't afford to be selfish and want him to do this for me when the time is critical, and the fate of many wolves is in his hands. One wrong step, and it's the end for all of us.

So here I am for three days, locked up in this big house alone. Feverish with desires, needs, and longing for my man, who knows nothing about my current situation.

Which, on the one hand, is very dangerous, I admit. If ever a wolf who still has no mate comes by and sniffs my scent, his wild side would take over, and he would be able to break into the house and take what does not belong to him.

And I would be unable to defend myself, weakened by my need. The second their hands lands on my skin, I will only want one thing: for them to shorten my suffering. Unfortunately, this is how things work with wolves, which I do not like. 

No one knows about my situation, so I'm in trouble if something like that happens. I've built a barrier between Jungkook and me so he doesn't feel anything.

I don't know if he's tried to contact me since I left - probably - and if he has, I'm definitely in big trouble. For the moment, it didn't matter because I needed to relieve myself before my body exploded like an overheated pressure cooker.

Caressing my body, I stopped at my chest and grabbed my boobs. Brushing my nipples with the tip of my thumb made me lose my mind. My moans clashed with the room's silence, hitting the walls with full force. 

Usually, my moans are immediately followed by grunts from Jungkook. The sounds blend together to form a beautiful symphony forbidden to anyone who is not us. 

Through the delicate, silky material of my red satin nightgown, I take my hard, sensitive nipples between my fingers and squeeze them hard. I arch my back and moan loudly, filling the room.

I writhe on the bed with pleasure. I run a hand through my hair, grab a good handful and pull my head back, imagining it was Jungkook doing it.

Unbearable, I slid my hand from my chest to my stomach and lifted my dress a little towards inside my panties.

As soon as I touched my clit, a scream came out of my mouth, and I bent over entirely on the bed. When I lowered my finger a little further - between my lower lips - I was not surprised to find my juice dripping from my slit.

I stroked a little, spreading my wetness on my crack before lubricating my fingers with my cum, and pushing two fingers right into my pussy.

Jungkook's name leaves my mouth, and I close my eyes tightly, continuing to please myself, thinking very strongly about my man.

Jungkook's point of view.

It's been three days since I haven't heard from YN, and I'm getting worried. It is unlike her to go more than a day without contacting me.

I've tried contacting her several times, but it's the same every time I encounter a barrier.

What the hell is she up to?

I'm very patient, but I don't know how long I can be patient. If I don't hear from her in half an hour, I will see her myself at her parents' place.

Fortunately, the meetings and other things I had to take care of a few days ago are over, finishing earlier than predicted, and I can finally rest and take care of my mate.

I want to make the most of my time and enjoy my YN before the battle with my uncle.

In order not to count the seconds and to give YN the thirty minutes I had given myself to contact me, I decided to shower, hoping to think about other things and not let the worry take over. 

The water was pleasantly warm. My tense muscles relaxed as soon as the first drops touched my skin. 

I was in the shower, soaping my body, overwhelmed by a strong feeling of pleasure. The intensity was so great that my legs could not support my weight, and I collapsed on the floor.

What's happening to me?

My eyes close, and I see a pair of naked legs spread apart with a hand between them.

I frown in incomprehension. I felt myself being pulled by my hair, and a moan escaped my lips.

My body heats up and becomes painful at the same time. Pleasure settles in the pit of my stomach, and I am not far from cumming.

It didn't take me long to ejaculate on the floor. When I caught my breath, I understood what had happened.

She had lied to me and kept me in the dark the whole time. Furious, I left the bathroom and didn't even get dressed.

I ran towards the woods before taking animal form when I left the house. When I was still in the bathroom and had a brief vision of her body lying on the mattress, I immediately recognized where YN was. And that's where I'm going. 

She had better have a good explanation for this. 

YN's point of view

My breathing was jerky, and all my limbs were shaking. Nothing beats Jungkook's touch and care, but the orgasm was still intense. Much stronger than when I enjoyed myself.

It was as if my pleasure wasn't just mine, as if someone else's was added to mine. This is impossible because I put up a barrier between Jungkook and myself.

While lying on the bed, trying to come to my senses despite the thick fog, I jumped when the bedroom door suddenly opened and slammed into the wall.

For a moment, I thought a male of the pack, or worse, a rogue, had entered the house to ease my suffering. But relief washed over me when I saw that it was none other than my man. 

Relief. Well, not really. Because I knew from the dark look Jungkook gave me that I was in trouble.

Shocked, I sat down on the bed and looked at him. The saliva I was about to swallow had difficulty moving down my esophagus, making the borderline process painful.

There he was, in front of me, naked, showing his beautiful, muscular body, steel, and well-defined abs.

Goddess, I want to run my tongue all over him.

Although I was happy and eager to feel him touch me, I could only be surprised to find him here.

How did he find me?

"So, Luna, is there something you're not telling me?" His voice was hoarse, and his look was deep.

His eyes were crimson, and he was angry. His chest lifted erratically and jerkily, and I imagine that was because he had run up here, but not only that, he was also mad about something.

Jungkook approached the bed before climbing up and crawling on top of me. I tried to sit up, but his hand went to my stomach and pinned me to the mattress. 

While one hand supports his weight and prevents him from falling on me, his other hand runs over my body without touching me. Even though he didn't feel me, the heat from his hand made me lose my head.

"Jungkook," I moaned, arching my chest and making our skin touch.

"Answer me!" He uses his alpha voice to get what he wants.

"I... I didn't want you..." I have difficulty expressing myself. Seeing him above me, naked, drove me crazy.

"You didn't want me what, YN?" he pressed me.

"I didn't want to bother you." Oops... I shouldn't have said that. His face hardened, and he stood on the bed on his knees.

Surprisingly, he grabbed my red satin nightgown and tore it, exposing my body. He did the same with my panties, now in a thousand pieces.

"Bullshit! I am your man." He takes my breasts in his big hands and massages them. "Your fucking mate," he pinches my nipples, "and your heat belongs to me!" He takes his member - already hard - lines it up against my crack and inserts it into me.

I screamed his name, clinging to him as if my life depended on it. My eyes closed, surrendering to the pleasure his cock was giving me mixed with the pain his sudden entry had caused. 

Fuck, that's good. 

He withdraws entirely before coming again even harder. He repeats the process again and again. My pleasure is not far away. With one more thrust, I could easily touch the clouds with my fingertips.

But Jungkook disagrees with me. He stops all movement and withdraws from me, leaving me in the most significant misunderstanding.

He was about to leave the bed when I told him to stay in a loud and firm voice.

"JEON JUNGKOOOK, don't you dare leave the damn bed." My strong desire and a great need for him made me do something I'd never dared to do before. I used my Alpha female voice on him.

I was born to alpha parents, which makes me an alpha female. 

Jungkook stops all movement and doesn't move anymore.

A smile appears on my lips, happy and satisfied to see that I have some control over him, the big Alpha.

"Good boy, now you're going to rest your pretty little ass a little higher on the mattress, and we're going to finish what we started." If he thinks he can take me to the edge and then walk away, he's sorely mistaken.

He does what I tell him to do, sitting in the middle of the bed. I sit on his lap, straddling his lap, and cling to his hair.

I pull on it a little to make him turn his head to the side and give me a clear view and access to the space between his neck and shoulder before I plant my canines on his pulpit, where a mark resides. My mark.

Jungkook growls and digs his claws into my ribs. His hard cock erected between us twitches and comes up against our stomachs.

Now it's his turn to want me. I will make him lose his mind and beg him to push me inside.

It's funny how I'm the one in heat and desperate, and he's the one being dominated. 

Teasing and always with my canines in his pulpit, I pump his member.

Occasionally, I stand up a little and tease him by bringing his cock in front of my entrance, teasing the both of us before sometimes sitting down, just pushing the tip of his thick dick inside me, which takes a complaint out of both of us.

Jungkook tries to make me impale myself on him more than once, but I growl at him and forbid him to carry out his idea.

"So now you want to be inside me again, hum?" I whisper into his ear. "If I remember correctly, it was you who ended our mutual pleasure," I lick his earlobe, and he moans, "now bear the consequences, Alpha."

I attack his neck with wet kisses before kissing his full mouth. He surrounds my body with his muscular and veiny arms that, God knows how much, drive me crazy.

Against all odds, he turns us around in the bed and is on top of me again. I try to get us to change positions, to be back on top of him, but I don't have the strength. He is too strong.  

"Don't try to turn the tables, baby. You're the one who should be punished for not telling me. So just be happy I'm here with you and didn't let you go through this alone like you planned."

He jerks his dick into me, and this time he takes me to our orgasms.

As I cum around his cock, he sinks his fangs into my neck and marks me again. My orgasm was triple exquisite. Our pleasure was shared, and we felt each other's pleasure.

This is one of the countless reasons why I love being a she-wolf. I would not have changed it for anything in the world.

n.a : I hope you enjoy this short story as much as I do. To make sure you don't miss the progress of the chapters as well as their release, don't forget to check out the Working on and Updates section, where you'll find not only updates on "HEAT", but also other stories and "One Shots" that you'll probably enjoy as well. Also, don't forget to check out the Masterlist, you'll probably find something for you among my other stories in progress and those to come.

If you enjoyed the story, please consider buying me a coffee.

As with all my other stories, TRANSLATIONS will not be tolerated. Thanks for your consideration.

[comfortless]

Hey! What were your favorite books/authors growing up and what are they currently if you don't mind me asking? I would love to know where you get your inspo from cause you write so pretty

hello!! ohhh.. i love this question it’s so cute. thank you for the compliment and for asking! 💞 apologies for my rambling heheh

growing up, i was never allowed to read most… popular series because my mother went through an extremely religious phase until i was a teenager. dodged the bullet of succumbing to Harry Potter and the like, so i always found myself in the library reading the most obscure things!

i obsessively read the Deltora Quest books by Emily Rodda most of all. the covers were so sick. i can’t recall which one it happened in, but when the main trio all had their toes chopped off?? i do not think 8 year old me should have been reading that, but i was obsessed with dragons as any other kid should be! it lead me to reading The Inheritance Cycle series by Christopher Paolini, too. anything fantasy that was a bit odd held my attention. The Pricker Boy by Reade Scott Whinnem, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, and all of the Moomin books by Tove Jansson were some other favorites!

i also read a lot of fairytales (to the surprise of no one, i’ll bet) and The Mabinogion. i still go back and reread those whenever i can. The White Cat is one of my many favorites!

as an adult i do not get to read much, unfortunately. so, i do sort of feel that my writing is a bit stunted at times. i was combing through a lot of Mercedes Lackey’s stuff for a little while. and recently, i finished The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock. a coworker gave me Twilight Eyes by Dean Koontz and whereas I do not care for his writing that much… parts of that particular book were really intriguing to me. poetry is nice too, always, but if anyone were to ask me for a list of my favorite poets i think that i would combust <- so many things in my brain and i can not remember most unless i’ve obsessively read over their work 90 times minimum sorry.

but….

i think that most of my inspiration comes from music with lyrics that capture me and long bouts of daydreaming, nowadays. i also like to visit abandoned places or overgrown parks when i need a place to think or just… feel for ambience. my favorite places in the world right now are this huuuge swamp full of alligators with a tiny cemetery that’s at least two hundred years old (like fifteen people have died there in the last decade & i will never be one of them) and a park that houses a supposed werewolf (no matter how many treats i bring it is yet to be seen… pain… but it is dreadfully silent there and a park keeper once told me “watch out!! that thing is big and super ugly!!” which i think is very funny). i would not recommend doing things like that however unless you are of similar stature to me (insert chad meme) or go with a group!! do not get eaten by a giant dogman, please.

in conclusion I am NOT immune to good cover art or the appeal of pretending to be a lil knight in the old wood…

^ syl reveal pt 2

[separatist-apologist]

1, 6, 25 :) <3

I already answered 1 you sneaky sneaks. Trying to make me admit personal truths about myself.

6. what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

The best part? I always think about when I was writing RWYLM and how personal the whole thing was. It's a niche genre in a fandom that sometimes feels very hostile about children so I expected it to be a very quiet project for me and just a few other people. And what I found is the thing I love most about being in an online space. So many people reached out about how they felt the same way, had the same experiences, had the same wishes- and that it felt healing to read the same way it felt healing to write. That's what I like so much- that connection. The world feels less lonely.

I dislike the weird assumptions strangers make about me, or the projections people place on me and then run with it, treating one snippet of interaction or their opinions as fact and then going around telling people I'm awful and then said people meet me and are like, oh. You're not that bad actually. This happened recently and it was pretty hurtful, honestly

I think the thing about putting yourself on-line is that a lot of people will like you, but a lot of them won't, too and it's difficult to navigate at times. I'm know I haven't always handled it well.

I do also dislike the way a handful of writers get asked to write everything- I understand and appreciate loving someones style, and-AND- when I was brand new, I LOVED a prompt. I filled every prompt I got for like, an entire year before it was just too much. I'm never upset if someone sends me an idea, but also consider reaching out to newer writers who I know would love even half the engagement that gets thrown my way. It allows for greater diversity in story telling, too-some of my most popular fics started as prompts (like Dragon!Lucien!). You never know what you'll get by taking a shot on someone- but you should, if you can.

25. fave season and why?

Autumn, we all know this. Next month I'll begin my Halloween countdown. I like that its cooler- I live in a swamp and summer is always miserable so when it cools down it feels like a gift. It's also the start of my birthday month which I enjoy, and Halloween which has always been my favorite season. We go all out of Halloween- I wish I could show more Halloween costumes, but my kids start planning for it. There are also a lot of cool activities we look forward to every year. Things feel slower, somehow- like life isn't so hectic and there are things to look forward to. I always feel saner when the leaves start to fall.

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 5: slide & 6: trap

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 5: slide & 6: trap

I should have made these one chapter, really, but I was enjoying the punchy brevity of these scenes, and making each one try to express one main idea, from which I derived the chapter-title word. I wrote to a friend at the time: "bonus points if the word applies to one thing explicitly and one or more others metaphorically, but I only manage that when the special writing fairies are listening". I had a whole list of words I definitely wanted to use, and at once point, I toyed with the idea of having them create some overall secret message or code, like the 36 Lessons. I did not do this, but you are welcome to use them as a fridge-poetry set to create secret messages (or emo poetry) of your own.

Iriel has reintroduced himself to civilisation... well. Urbanisation, at least. He was probably better off in the swamp.

Iriel on his way into Vivec.

“I TOLD you already, you filthy n'wah! I don’t have any more, and I’m not going to get any! It was a one-off, do you hear?

The whole scene in the No Name Club was more reheated gameplay - the barkeeper is one of the only people in Vivec who sells moon sugar, but he doesn't restock it, so once it's gone, it's gone. I made up a plausible narrative justification for this. I did not attempt to reproduce or justify the fact that he, like all non-Khajiit shopkeepers in Morrowind, will refuse to talk to you while carrying moon sugar, even if you just bought it off him! Constantly having to drop your stash at your feet in shops, then forget to pick it up after your transaction and have to scurry, cursing, throughout the canton, retracing your steps until you found where you left it - a complication of the Morrowind drug addict's life that I spared Iriel. Because while it might be funny, it's also incredibly stupid.

nasty-looking Camonna Tong Dunmer

I could have done more to actually explain who the Camonna Tong are, since their war with the Thieves Guild ended up being more significant than I expected in the story. But it's clear they're a gang of xenophobic local thugs, at least.

But his top priority was surviving, and if that meant continuing to take sugar until he was in a better position to kick the habit, then that’s how it had to be.

Iriel has to keep taking the sugar, because the moment he stops, he has to face up to himself and his situation, and getting one more hit of sugar is a way to keep kicking that can down the road.

“Because you’re a Khajiit.” said Ire, seeing no reason to beat around the stereotype.

Ire isn't as racially sheltered as he would have been when he moved from Summerset to the Imperial City, but he still isn't very familiar with Khajiit. Now he's doing the awful thing white university students do, where they ask a random Black guy with dreadlocks if he can sell them weed.

Ire had a brief, guilty pang of regret that he’d never learned a Charm spell.

Guilty, because, as he lectures people later, once he's in a position to start caring about ethics again, he considers Charm spells to be unethical.

He had to settle for making the most pitiful face he could muster, which was pretty damn pitiful, since it involved no acting whatsoever.

See, there's no real charisma at work here, just puppy-dog eyes. I think I actually banned myself from using the Persuade mechanism, ingame. If Ire couldn't win people over through raw Personality skill, he wasn't allowed to try and talk anyone round.

It did not prevent him now, in these straitened circumstances, from taking to petty thievery to support his drug habit, but it did mean he felt really, really awful about it.

When I was young, it seemed like every other celebrity was a junkie. Maybe it's less fashionable nowadays, but it used to be everywhere. Not that it sounded glamourous! I can't say I read, eg,  William Burroughs, and thought that kind of existence sounded aspirational. But I understood it as something human beings were drawn to, sometimes, and that while addiction was, in itself, morally neutral, it could very easily put you in a place where everything in your life became subordinate to the drug.

one-room hovel he was crashing in. It was in the St Delyn canton, and Iriel was sure something was terribly wrong with it.

I wish I'd spent more time on the bleak reality of Ire's existence in St Delyn, the sordid poverty of the area, row upon rows of tiny dwellings full of miserable people. Everyone scraping out an existence, all living on top of each other, but with little real contact beyond hoping the 3am screaming coming from your neighbour's flat will stop, soon. It's a grim, concrete high-rise block of flats, basically. Everything is piled high with rubbish and covered in mould.

Instead of having it here where I ought to, I put all the nasty details and description of St Delyn to chapter 83, when Iriel returns here with Julan. And now I'm trying to twist it into something clever - maybe it kinda works? That when we're seeing it only through Iriel's eyes, nothing registers, because he's numbing himself to everything, and we just skim over the details, because he barely remembers, himself, and anyway, he thinks he deserves it. But then, later, we have Julan there, being all clear-sighted about it and saying "this is awful and unacceptable and you deserved better", and suddenly all the horrible details become visible? Work with me, here, I refuse to revise this fic again.

Iriel was then able to convert the ingredients into potions, and the potions into money at the many traders around Vivec.

It's actually sort of hard to play at poverty in Morrowind if you know alchemy, because it's a totally broken way to make infinite money. Thank Azura for moon sugar habits.

On reflection, I shouldn't have said Iriel was doing alchemy for money, that's a silly relic of what you do in gameplay, and it shouldn't work in reality, especially when he's in no condition to keep anything sterile, or stay awake long enough to monitor a reaction. He should just have been stealing things, and getting occasional coins tossed to him, when he passed out on the canton walkway again.

Dro'Zaymar had a quiet manner, but a certain precision to his movements and uncompromising directness in his gaze hinted that he was not to be underestimated.

He's an assassin, according to his class, and holds one of the Threads of the Webspinner, a Morag Tong quest item. Iriel has no idea about this, and is lucky Dro'Zaymar is at least a little bit susceptible to Ire's pathetic woobie charms, and is therefore way more patient with his bullshit than he needs to be.

Iriel, for his part, has found someone willing to tolerate him, and, his inhibitions sufficiently sugar-dampened, has relaxed somewhat. Which is to say, he's started being a bit of a brat, and Dro'Zaymar's patience is wearing thin.

He pulled a book labelled Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi from his bag. “It’s a Khajiiti creation myth! But there are some fascinating changes from those in other mythologies. I wondered if you could explain something to me about how–”

Iriel may claim to be a scholar, but he is not, and never has been, a scholar of comparative religion, and has no interest in it beyond cheap pretexts to talk to his Khajiiti neighbour. Probably best that said neighbour shuts him down before he says something cluelessly offensive. Oh wait, apparently he's already done even worse:

One night, under the influence of a potent mixture of sugar and loneliness, Ire had tried to persuade Dro'Zaymar to educate him about certain peculiarities of Khajiiti male anatomy he had heard about. Dro'Zaymar had told him, not unkindly, that Ire didn’t want that as much as he thought he did, and had gently but firmly sent him back to his room.

Quite a lot of sugar, presumably, as Iriel is still mortified about this, months later. But even sober, he has a tendency to move straight to blunt sexual overtures, when craving affection, because, in his head, that's a less complicated way to get it (or something close to it) than other forms of social interaction.

Even with the sugar, this still might seem like remarkably forward behaviour from damp mouse Iriel. What's happened here is this: Iriel has decided that Dro'Zaymar is a safe person. Probably Ire said something accidentally gay, and Dro'Zaymar didn't react badly - there's evidence Khajiiti culture is pretty relaxed about these things. And in Ire's head, safe/unsafe is an immutable category of person, so he's flipped his social switch from "mute terror" to "no filter whatsoever".

Anyway, Ire's inappropriate behaviour isn't about attraction, libido or anything similar, it's just his need for contact expressing itself in stupid, desperate, embarrassing ways,and Dro'Zaymar is well aware of this. (Also, possibly saving Iriel from himself.)

“You told Dro'Zaymar a pack of lies you tell yourself to make it easier to take the sugar. There is no good time to stop taking the sugar, because the nature of sugar is that it is sweet! But it is a trap for you, Irrrriel, and you must get yourself out of it. It will hurt very much - ask the one who chews off his foot to get out of the trap! It will hurt, yes, and you do not like to hurt. But you must do it to free yourself, Irrriel, because to be free is sweeter than any sugar.”

Iriel reacts defensively, but he does take in Dro'Zaymar's speech. He's just not capable of responding to a tough-love approach to coming off the sugar, because he doesn't have anything else in his life to replace it with.

D'you know the Rat Park experiment? Rats were offered two water sources, one plain and one laced with sweetened morphine. Some rats were isolated, left alone in small, bare cages. These rats drank the morphine water obsessively, until they overdosed and died. Other rats were housed in "Rat Park", a large enclosure, full of toys and, crucially, lots of their fellow rats. These rats preferred the plain water, sometimes drinking the morphine, but not as much, and never to the point of overdose. In an experient where addicted rats were taken out of isolation, and placed in Rat Park, where they could play, mate and socialise with other rats, many of them stopped taking the morphine of their own accord, even though they still had access.

Drug addiction as a replacement for love, sure, okay, we can work with that narratively, right?

Except that I knew this wasn't a story about Iriel finding someone to magically fix him by loving him.

Rat Park was important, in that it highlighted the social factors of addiction, and the key role of family, friends and community support in recovery.

The trouble is, people are more complex than rats.

The trouble is, while addiction is morally neutral, it is highly stigmatised, and so causes shame. And if kicking addictions requires love, and love requires self-worth in order to successfully absorb it then if you're a shame-filled, self-loathing addict, it's extremely difficult to get yourself in a position where you can successfully metabolise enough love for it to replace the drug, and this is something you need to keep doing all the time, for the rest of your life, and if you slip up, you get more shame, and next time is harder, and...

We've already established that Iriel was drowning in shame before the drugs.

Welcome to Operation: Getting Iriel Out of the Pit - lightened with as many jokes as I could manage, because we are going to have to watch him scrabble and slip back down the slime-slick sides of this for a while.

Playlist pick: The Smiths - Shoplifters of the World Unite. You'd think more Smiths songs would fit Iriel, because Morrissey's always on about some irritatingly hot criminal boy, or being snarkily self-deprecating. But in the end, this is the only one that survived on the playlist, and mostly just for the shoplifting. I think it's that with Morrissey, you never actually believe him when he's being self-deprecating, you always get the impression he thinks he's fantastic, and the real problem is everyone else. For all his sins, Iriel's self-esteem isn't on that level, and while he can certainly be reflexively racist, he's conscious of the lie of Altmeri supremacy. Not that I would ever suggest Morrissey was a massive racist - he sues people who do that. Anyway. While writing, I would occasionally lecture Iriel, when he threatened to get too over-dramatically maudlin about something: "character development" does not mean you get to turn into fucking Morrissey! Words to live by, to be sure.

My only weakness is a list of crimes. My only weakness is... well, never mind, never mind.

next: 7: choice & 8: simple previous: 4: falling

[bidonica]

DISCLAIMER that I should have put in since the beginning: this series of posts is me documenting my second (but first in the Director's Cut) consecutive Death Stranding playthrough in an unserious way. I try to keep the actual story spoilers on the light side, but the point of these posts is also to allow myself to think out loud about things I didn't catch the first time around, seeing foreshadowing in light of the payoff et cetera, so it's not entirely spoiler free. 

Guess who's back on the road after spending four days with a migraine that locked me out of any screen based entertainment and allocating some of my precious free time to a portrait of New Higgs... One of my biggest "hear me out"s maybe... Gut window sexy..... Kojima retweeted....

It's insane how much I memory holed this part of the map (the swamp with Homo demens), which according to my calculations I probably played between Christmas and New Years? I wonder if changing the difficulty setting has anything to do with it.

Anyway we're off to what is unironically my favorite part of the map: the snowy mountains! Carrying a bomb that is very fragile on my back! 

I think ultimately DS is a pretty forgiving game, it's not easy to "die" (think of how avoiding combat by being stealthy or taking a detour is often an option) and even if its physics are more realistic than other games, Sam's bones are pretty much made of steel. Creating a voidout is bad but you can still go forward in the game. However I fell over like an idiot at the beginning of this mission and the catastrophe you set off if you don't carry that bomb like a precious and fragile crystal egg is of such magnitude that, after the scene freezes and crumples and whites out, you just get a load screen that puts a hand on your shoulder saying "now we're going back to the latest save" like a slightly disappointed but still encouraging father figure.

Anyway. I hate the "Death Stranding is a walking simulator lol" meme with a passion, but it *is* true that it recreates the experience of hiking in a very satisfying and realistic way... This is literally me huffing and puffing in the Dolomites this past October, like, this visual gave me a real life flashback.

Unsure whether we were supposed to see this grass coming out of the snow at this altitude or if it's a glitch (some people on reddit have found trees spawning in unexpected areas and nobody knows whether it's by design or not).

NOT THIS PLACE!!!

Okay, false alarm, the first time you pass by the "graveyard" nothing happens. Totally quiet location, zero danger, absolutely not infested with BTs, absolutely not a spot you'll be forced to go through over and over in the upcoming missions

I kind of like how antagonistic Lockne is... Never beating the allegations that mountain people are kind of grumpy and insular...

In some mysterious way the bomb I delivered will fix this black tar and floating boulders situation, how? Fuck me if I know, I love Sam Porter Bridges but I wish he asked some more questions sometimes.

Speaking of someone more loquacious I've been wondering how my friend Peter Englert is doing

Aaaand there he is. Why does he write like this.

Joking aside, the "it marks another year since the joining of myself and my beloved wife" hints at Higgs meeting Amelie two years ago, right? The timeline is always a bit fuzzy to me.

Anyway as the previous pizza missions were actually pretty doable I took this on today after work to decompress. Reader, I didn't decompress, but that's for another post

[ladybugjournal]

Why "Ladybug"

I ask myself "why Ladybug?" far too often. But why the name? Because it's what my father called me. The story is pretty simple.

Back home, in a far away place where I no longer am and at a house which I will probably never return, there was a backyard. This backyard was not just a backyard, it was a sanctuary, a play ground, the home of my imagination. That backyard was bigger than the entire world, it was the entire world, at least it sure felt like it to a tiny little Ladybug.

The backyard had three main realms: The Deck, the Field, and the Left Side.

From the sliding glass door that brought you from the dining room to the backyard, the deck was straight in front. It was probably the biggest part of the backyard, mainly because it was also part of the patio. My parents built the deck that stayed up for over twenty years. There was a secret trapped door in the deck, certain boards squeaked and bounced, and the grey wood they built it with was a perfect canvas for my chalk. I spent many summers camped out on that deck, building a tent made of blankets with the railings and heavy mental patio furniture. I had lunch out there with the neighbor kids, slept under the stars with my best friend (who was possibly one of the first people I ever loved but also one of the first boys to break my heart), and sat out there when my parents locked me out of the house (on accident... probably).

The deck was always special. It looked like a stage (and I made it my stage often). I could see it from my bedroom window and could hear the conversations happening out there when I was hiding away. Parties were spent out on that deck. Pictures taken, games played, memories made. It was a good deck.

To the left of the deck, a realm deemed "The Left Side" was a flat terrain were the gravel and grass were separated by the River of Stones. It was home to my Blue Sky Castle (a treehouse/swing set my parents built for me), and was were the River of Stones (a lava rock path where my mother kept her painted stepping stones) was the barrier between the "backyard" and the side of the house where the shed and side entrance to the garage was. I never spent much time on the gravel, mainly because that's where my father kept his tools and there were usually a bunch of spiderwebs there. Plus, it's where my childhood family dog used to shit and I didn't want to step in it.

Just past my Castle, and beyond the tiny trees my mother planted, was the entrance to the "Underworld" a secret 4th realm that was a trench that spread along the back fence from one end of the yard to the other, and the underside of the deck. Under the deck wasn't very full, there was a broken hammock, random popped pool floaties that got stuck under there, a forgotten ball or two, and some plumbing or electrical accesses that my father sometimes had to get to (hence the trap door in the deck). It was scary under there for a tiny ladybug who's nightmares felt far more real than her dreams. It's where the monsters lived, where the bodies were buried, and where I wasn't allowed to go (I went anyway, obviously).

To the right of the deck was the field. It wasn't actually a field, just a larger section of grass that led off to the swamp behind our house. A broken fence came to an acute triangle separating us from the marsh where the toads lived and the trees grew high, swaying in storms and threatening to fall on our house (hence the broken fence). The field ran from the gate on the side of the house, past the broken and rotting gazebo, past the newly built but sinking pool deck, past the garden and down to the triangle.

The field was important because of a small path of wood that wound from the side of the house all the way to the bushes that separated the yard from the drop off. That little path of wood was where the ladybugs were march.

Looking back, we may have had a nest or something near by, maybe an infestation that had to be taken care of, but for a little ladybug like myself, it wasn't for me to worry about. All I had to worry about was watching them march. It seemed, at the time, like there were hundreds of these ladybugs marching one by one on this little wooden path. I was mesmerized by millions of black dots on red bodies, tiny legs making the long hall from somewhere near the gate all the way to the bushes. Families of ladybugs marched, dutifully back to their home under my supervision.

I used to watch them for what felt like hours, but really, could have hours or minutes (I didn't have a good concept of time at that age). My father would watch me, sometimes my grandmother, sometimes no one, while I watched the ladybug march.

After this became a habit, my father, who like my mother, has never actually called me by my given name always preferring to call me by one of the many, many, nicknames they came up for me, deemed me his little ladybug. It was fitting because I too was small and red (I'm a ginger) and had little dots (I have freckles).

It's the nickname I most identify with, it's the nickname that means the most to me, and it's the nickname that I'm most referred to as.

So long story short, that's why "Ladybug".

[journeytodrawiii]

Just finished the second page in a new sketchbook given to me by a dear friend for my birthday a while ago. I've been swamped with the final days of school before the summer, but I'm finally out!! I do have to study during this break, which isn't necessarily what I wanted... but it's fine. Either way, I finally had time to make a little thing for myself. On this page there are six characters from the book I'm writing. The main two characters — Miguel and Ajei — being the ones who show up the most. Drawing children is still a bit difficult for me, as you can see, but I'm sticking to it and I'm — slowly but surely — improving. Practice makes perfect, or, well, at least better. I recently finished a large painting as an exam but haven't managed to take any photos of it; we have a phone ban at our high-school, and when I was finally allowed to whip my phone out, the lighting was wretched so, I couldn't get an intelligible picture. Yay. But, I also embroidered a shirt with a little lamb as a supplement to the larger piece which I'm planning on showcasing later! :)) Have a great day, everyone. Stay strong and have a good summer. <333

P.S. This is practically irrelevant, but when I clicked on these photos to post them my phone registered them as n*de photos. Whaaat???? I mean I do n*de drawings as anatomy studies or simply poetic pieces but there aren't any on this page. It then asked me if I felt safe... so that was a nice feature I guess... but whaaaaat????? Anyway... yeah.

[ase-trollplays]

The Need For Space

Vvv Can I call ya Thiomi instead a Mimi from now on? vvV

..aww... why don't you want to call me 'mimi' anymore?...

Vvv Same reason I started sayin' Dan instead a Danny. I'm six sweeps now. I ain't a wriggler anymore, an' sayin' Mimi is a wriggler thing. vvV

...if thats how you feel... then its okay with me if you call me my full name instead...

Vvv Thanks, Thiomi. vvV

------------------------------------------------------

Vvv Can we go ta the city tonight? vvV

...oh... uh... s-sure...

Vvv ... Yer still sad about yer face, aren't ya? vvV

... ...y... yeah... ...i am...

Vvv Havin' scars ain't somethin' ta feel bad about. Scars mean ya survived what tried ta kill ya. Me an' Dan an' Corali are covered in them. You even have other scars, and they don't make you feel bad. Why are the new ones different? vvV

...i dont have these s-scars because i s-survived... ...i have them because s-someone wanted to hurt and upset me...

Vvv Well, what about the scar on yer arm I gave ya when I was little? I was tryin' ta hurt ya, an' yer not worried about people seein' that one. vvV

...thats different... ...you didnt know better when you did that... ...the person who cut me up knew exactly what s-she was doing to me...

Vvv Well, that's just more reason not ta be upset. You bein' afraid ta let other people see you means she won! vvV

...varoll... please... ...its not that s-simple...

Vvv Why ain't it?? vvV

...can we s-stop talking about this??!...

Vvv !!! vvV

...i... ...im s-so s-sorry... ...i didnt mean to yell at you...

Vvv 'S fine. I'll ask Dan ta take me instead. vvV

------------------------------------------------------

...you want to go alone?...

Vvv Yeah. I ain't a wriggler anymore. I can go ta the city by myself. I know what the streets an' stuff are an' how ta get ta places, and I always keep my knife in my pocket an' my arrows in my strife deck if I gotta fight. vvV

...but youve never been there without me or dantli with you... ...are you s-sure you dont want one of us there?...

Vvv Yeeesssss, ugh, you don't have ta act like I'm still a little kid. I can take care a myself. I live all by myself in the swamps an' I been just fine--

...because you have your lusus to protect you... ...s-shes never more than s-shouting distance away from you...

Vvv Yeah, okay, but I also like, hunt and kill things way bigger than me! An' ya don't gotta problem with that! Why's goin' ta the city by myself such a big deal?? vvV

...because trolls arent like animals... ...trolls are a lot more dangerous... ...animals dont use weapons... or lie to you to hurt you!...

Vvv An' I killed trolls, too! Plus, I'm the highest blood color, so I'm allowed ta hurt or kill people lower caste than me anyways! vvV

...you s-shouldnt be thinking like that!...

Vvv I'm not! I'm just sayin' if I get in a fight I ain't gonna be in heaps a trouble like Corali! Why're ya makin' this hard?? vvV

...im just worried!...

Vvv An' I'm tellin' ya not ta be cuz I can take care a myself! vvV

...varoll kaydur... do not take that tone with me!...

Vvv Yer the one yellin'!"

...im not--!... ...im not yelling...

Vvv Yeah ya were! If yer gonna be mad about it, then fine. I ain't goin'. Happy now?! vvV

...of course im not... ...youre angry with me...

Vvv I just want you an' Dan ta stop treatin' me like I'm still little. I can do stuff without y'all, ya know. I don't need ya glued ta me all the time anymore. vvV

...youre right... ...i guess im just having trouble letting you grow up...

Vvv So... I can go? vvV

...ill talk it over with dantli... ...if he s-says yes... then you can go on your own...

Vvv Yes!! vvV