#i have another chapter in the drafts ready to post too

[libra-cant-just-dance]

MIRRORED WALLS CHAPTER ONE IS HERE!!!!!!!!!

The wait is over! Come and get it!!!! I'm very excited for this fic and I hope you are too :)

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .11 [Slight Nsfw]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, ec project with Nickolas the transfer student, drunk sukuna shows up at the dorm(!?), a small makeout session, some sexual touching and mentions of grinding/humping at readers thighs, caring for this stressed out man-slut, ooc sukuna.

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 5.036k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: hey guys! sorry for the delay ^^ i've been wanting to get some chapters drafted before posting them! ty sm for the patience i hope u enjoy and r ready for the upcoming drama between sukuna and y/n!

a/n 2: so so sooooo sorry for being three days later after saying i'd be posting right away!!>< I was with family and the wifi was being iffy the last few days. I couldn't access many of my socials and much less work on the final draft of the chapter!! i powered thro until i was satified and it's finally here! i hope you enjoy!!

chapter/idea cred to: @misslauravillanueva i needed to give credit for the help! i was struggling on what to do!><

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

“Ah, are you alright?” Geto’s cool tone echoed from the kitchen, his brow raised with a curious expression written on his face. “Coming down with something? I told you to relax from studying for a while–”

“It’s not that!” You huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ”I just sneezed. I don’t know why though..”

“Okay, relax. I’m not gonna get upset.”

With a pout, you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bowl of mac and cheese with little hot dogs in hand and a Coke on the coffee table. Eyes returning back to the TV screen and watching the current crime show playing, listening to the crimes that the murderer committed as he was handed a death sentence. 

Sometimes, when I let my mind wander to Sukuna.. It feels like that.

The idea that he’s now stuck on your mind despite all the anger he had towards you. The almost strange obsession and addiction to the idea of him. While you’ve been repetitively trying to control these new emotions and thoughts, you couldn’t help it. Seeing Sukuna that day in Ec class all those days ago. Having to tutor him. Even dealing with his weird smirks and teasing.

..That kiss too..

“Your face is doing that thing again, Y/n,” Geto’s voice chirped out of nowhere, causing you to jolt in your spot. “So jumpy over a guy? You know therapy exists, right?”

Returning a rather poorly chosen burn, Geto stood from his spot on the couch and waved a hand at you. Grabbing his things and his shoes from the carpet near the door, he sent you another telling look.

“If you're this upset, just ask what's up. Seriously, seeing you get stressed over this is kinda.. sad.”

There was a stabbing pain in your chest. You knew.

“Good night to you too, Suguru,” You hum, leaning on your fist as the door closed with a click. Leaving you alone in the dormitory for a few moments.

Your thoughts clouding your headspace until you decided to go to bed. Unable to understand this dreadful lil thing people called love, unable to understand why Sukuna Ryomen had crawled his way into your heart just by being an ass.

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

“Today we'll be picking partners for class projects!”

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

You blinked a few times at the announcement, looking down towards Toji as students began to groan and complain a little. Quickly these were silenced as Toji lifted a stack of papers and chuckled deeply in his husky voice.

“It's not my problem, just get them done. You have two weeks to do it, so get your partners. The class is uneven so be ready for one of y'all's groups to have an extra person. It's a self-pick topic type of thing so start discussing today or tomorrow your topic and go with it!”

Toji tapped the papers on his desk and sat, letting his tie loose as he started relaxing for the rest of the period.

“If you need suggestions for your topic, there's a list in here along with your presentation requirements. I expect all names and correct citations with these as well.”

You let out a small groan and rub your temple. Not only were you stressed, now you had to deal with this? Extra shifts at work couldn't save you from this type of annoyance. It's not that you hated group projects, it's just a small tick when half of them throw the work onto you.

Pros and cons. Pros– none. Cons– work was usually tossed onto you.

You stood from your desk and began making your way down the steps to grab a paper. A strange chill ran up your spine as you passed Sukuna’s. Sparing a glance over, your cheeks warmed almost immediately.

Some bits of hair were pinned back and a pen rested on an ear. His shirt had a few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black pants tight enough to have made a bakery spawn on the seat he sat upon. He looked really handsome, daring to battle even Toji’s good looks, and it was getting to you. 

What hit the nail in the coffin is when he just so happened to catch you ogling with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. His eyes sharpened at your expression as a smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

An almost playful yet teasing smile you weren't used to seeing on his face caught you off guard. It made your face hot, and your shame grow a few beats in that moment.

“Stop creeping” was basically what his face was saying.

Letting out a strained cough, you covered your face and made your way back up to your desk. Positive that his eyes had followed you all the way up the stairs before you sat in your spot. Hiding behind the paper and some random book you grabbed from your bag.

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

While fellow students started to shift in their seats and partner up with friends and just random buddies from in the room, Sukuna was swarmed with a small audience of girls as he stood from his seat to also fetch a paper. The guys that sat around him gave him annoyed side-eyes and snorts as he absorbed the attention from all the women in the room. 

“Sukuna, do you wanna partner with me?” One asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and letting the blush on her cheeks show.

“Me too, we could all do it together!” Another spoke up, poking her button nose into their conversation. Her bright green eyes staring up at Sukuna with a needy gleam.

It makes you confused to an extent, making you press your brows together as you look to the side. Sukuna probably thought that's what you looked like every time you saw him. It makes your heart ache and head throb, another grand headache to your already upsetting day.

Just let your mind be normal for once in your life.

You begin to gather your things and part from the room, the hustle and bustle of the classroom quietly fading into the background. Letting out a relaxed sigh as the sight of your bed creeped into the corners of your mind– oh, how you wished to be relaxing in bed with your favorite stuffy.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to be my partner for the project?” A voice suddenly called from behind you, somewhat echoing throughout the quiet hallways. It startled you since you didn’t expect anyone to follow you out of the classroom asking such a thing, it piqued your interest.

Lifting your head, you come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark hair was up in a bun with his undercut showing behind his pierced ears, a kind smile flashing behind yet another piercing on his lip. Tanned skin that seemed to glow like it was pampered with the best beauty products around, not a scar or pimple in sight. Cute dimples at the corners of his lips adding to his boyish charm while his honey eyes gleamed at you. It reminded you of Yuji in a sense, but this was not Yuji.

You’ve never seen this guy before– a really cute one at that.

“Hello,” you say, momentarily stunned at the stranger, letting your hand weakly wave. “Uhm, partner?”

There was an adorable chuckle that furthered your stunned silence before you heard a response. “Yes, I saw you walk out here alone and thought you might need one.”

You take in a deep breath, regaining your composure quickly and patting yourself down. “Ah, right. I actually don’t like having a partner, my past experiences have led me to conclude that they’re not the best option for a project. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can handle one on my own.”

“I can see why,” He starts, looking back at the classroom with the still clamoring students before returning his attention to you. “That horde in there was after one guy, they don’t care about this project. I was actually about to do the same as you when I saw my choices were so low.”

Rubbing a big calloused hand over his nape, the strangers’ almond eyes looked from the empty halls and to you, his smile sheepish. “Please? Don’t make me beg now.”

There was a small silence between you and the stranger as you considered walking off and letting him go with his original plan before the Economics class erupted with whines as Sukuna and a girl walked from inside. The color left your cheeks, seeing the girl’s arm wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s. Looking as if he was protecting her from the growing crowd of the class, engaging in an active conversation as they walked on by.

Your heart sank sharply, seeing Sukuna letting someone else into his circle. He used to be so cold, so annoyed with people when he was younger. Only letting you really hold him that close, giving you nuzzles of appreciation since he didn’t like to say it aloud.

Now, he gives you the cold shoulder and holds others that aren’t you close.

Without letting your head finish its last thought and your eyes still trained on the back of Sukuna’s head, you gave a nod and looked back at the stranger. “Sure. I’m Y/n L/n, by the way.”

“Really? That’s great!” He smiled, the warmth of his company lightening your mood sufficiently more than it was a few moments ago. “My name’s Nickolas Alveres, it’s nice to meet you, L/n.”

The both of you share a smile for a second before Nickolas nods down the hall, motioning for the both of you to head to your next classes. He doesn’t wait for you to join him, but you do anyway. Trying to make small talk with him as you try to get to know your partner, letting the smile on your lips stick.

While you wore a smile, someone else had a frown. A deep scowl, if you will. You didn’t feel it, but Sukuna’s partner saw it.

She raised a brow, cheeks tinted a slight color as she cast her gaze in the same direction. Seeing you close to another man, only escalating the befuddlement.

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

A disgruntled look was plastered all over said man’s face, his frown so prominent it was a waste of time to even attempt to hide it. A chasm of wrinkles forming on his forehead as his brows pressed together at the sight before him. Watching the way you and some kid walked side by side with a smile on your face, not a care in the world.

When did you get so chummy?

“It’s nothing.. Let’s go, Haru,” He said, not sparing a second to look back at you. With a huff, he pulled his work partner, Haru, with him to the nearby library to find a good subject for this project.

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

“Wait, wait.. He punched Gojo in the face?!” Nickolas laughed, holding his cup up to his lips quickly to cover his giggles and chuckles. His nose crinkled up as they continued despite his obvious resistance. “He must’ve been drunk too to get so defensive!! I thought he was just a jerk most of the time.”

“Usually he is,” You start, crossing your legs under the coffee table. Looking over some of the notebooks the both of you had sprawled out onto the wood to look for any good topics to talk about in the presentation. Quickly, you scribbled out one, taking a sip from your cup and looking back up to Nickolas. “Recently though, he’s been alright. Not as mean as he used to be, but not one-hundred percent rude and annoying.”

A calm silence filled the air as Nickolas rested his work in his lap, taking a moment to look from them to you. “Speaking of, how long have you known this guy? You talk about him like he’s an old friend.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards for a short second before you let your face relax. “He was. Not really interested in joining forces again recently.”

Nickolas nodded his head in understanding, eyes glazing over somewhat on what response to give. Seeing that the idea of this guy somehow hurt you, it got him concerned. Why bother letting him get to you so deeply if this is the result? It doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Y/n,” He mustered after a short silence, placing his cup on the coffee table and letting his ring tap against the plastic. “If he’s still letting you be this close, even helping you care for a friend, that’s gotta be something.”

You nod numbly, knowing the obvious has been said too many times. Talk to him, ask him how he’s doing about the relationship, what does he want from you? The same three things that you always wanted to say when you were with him, but how. Other than tutoring, other than being near each other in class, you and Sukuna spent little to no time together.

All you remember about him is that he was the tough kid in school with home problems that liked to play tag and hide and seek. That he scared you with bugs and frogs while at the lake or near the Willow tree. The fond memories you shared with him couldn’t be the only factor that you had to use to judge what you wanted, you had to be around him more.

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

“Oh well,” Nickolas yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s about time i get headed to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll leave you my number so that we can plan meetings for the project!”

Jokes and laughter filled the room as you and your partner exchanged information when there was a loud commotion at the door. You glanced from Nickolas to the dorm door and let out a light hearted chuckle, waving your hands next to your head.

“Ah, I’ll go get that! Gather your things, okay?”

Nickolas nodded and turned to his open binder and mess of notebook paper splayed on the coffee table, humming to himself as you rushed over to the front door. Hair stood at attention when you opened that door, seeing a messed up man laying on the hallway floor. A big wine bottle squeezed tightly in his right hand, the other placed next to his head on the floor.

His voice came out in gentle hums of some random rock song, lyrics jumping out from his mouth every second or so in a drunken daze. His fluffy hair was messy and almost unrecognizable until you realized who it was.

It was Sukuna.

“Wh.. What are you doing here?” You shout, shocked at his arrival, but there was not really a response. Only his hand raising to wave his finger around to the hum of his song. “Sukuna, answer me!!”

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

Letting out a sigh, you look back at Nickolas and see his confused face staring at the gap between you and the door down at Sukuna. He stood there ready to go with his bag strap on his shoulder and keys in hand, giving you quick glances for some semblance of an answer. You give a small shrug, looking back to the immobile man on the ground.

Gently, you kick at one of his legs to try and get something out of him. “Sukuna, get up!”

Not a single thing, just a grunt and a tussle before your eyes finally connect with glazed ones. Maroon pools that were foggy beyond belief, not having a thought behind them. Nickolas tilts his head to the side and shakes it, giving you a pat on the arm and a sheepish smile.

“I'll get out of your hair, Y/n. Good luck!”

You step out of the man’s way, looking down at the disgruntled Sukuna and give a weak chuckle. Parting ways with Nickolas for the evening and kneeling down to Sukuna and shaking his shoulder. “Sukuna, you’ll get sick, get up.”

“..Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. “F’m sick, I’ll just be sick..”

“It does matter, now get up.”

You did your best to pull Sukuna up by his arm and into a sitting position, hooking the limp appendage over your shoulder and lifting him up onto his feet. It was a struggle since Sukuna was so heavy, but you managed. The stench of alcohol reeked from his breath and shirt, mixes of dirt and some stains that you didn’t feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Stumbling into your dormitory you freed the near empty beer bottle from Sukuna’s grasp and pulled the door close. He wasn’t giving much fight– probably due to the amount he drank– and just leaned his weight onto you. Mumbling to himself about things you weren’t going to pressure him into answering. Still, it made you wonder.

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

With a huff to your lips you plopped Sukuna’s heavy ass onto the couch and folded your arms. The beer bottle in your hand swirling around as you rotate your wrist ever so slightly, brow raising at Sukuna’s nearly asleep form. It was odd to see the big, strong and mean Sukuna Ryomen on his last leg from intoxication. 

Despite this, you found it cute.

“I’ll go get you some water and maybe a change of clothes,” You announce, tilting your head to see if that gauges a reaction. Sadly there was nothing but a huff and some finger taps on the couch’s cushions. Letting your arms fall to your side, you grunt and place the beer on the table. “Whatever, I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some extra sheets from your bedroom before making your way back into the living room to Sukuna. A fresh set of clothing was provided, thanks to Geto’s many late night bang sessions with Shoko, and some cooling pads were placed next to Sukuna on the couch. He didn’t do much but glance at the items, turning his face away in– what you assumed– was a quiet protest.

Sukuna never acted this petty and spoiled before. What’s gotten into him?

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Gently, you press your hands to his chest, earning a reaffirming nod and proceeding to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. 

It was strange to be in this position. On your knees, undressing the man you’ve pinned for for so long, only to be seeing this messy and unkempt side you didn’t like to imagine him being. The feelings in your chest that you wanted to put away were making your heart race once more, every glance you got to see from the mess you called Sukuna.

His hair made him resemble his brother more than anything else now, hanging over his sweaty forehead and tattoo. Arms hanging loosely at his sides, man spreading for all of the world to see. Shamefully, you enjoyed the calm attention. Even though it was unsightly, you liked getting to touch all over Sukuna’s body.

“There,” You mumble to yourself, having officially released Sukuna from his shirt. “N-Now, onto your..”

Trailing off, you look down at Sukuna’s pants. Swallowing thickly at the idea of pulling off his trousers, you took a deep breath. I’m never going to live this shame down!

Gently, you began to undo his belt. You face burning ever more as the air began to tense, wishing that anyone but you would be this bashful over something so silly. Still, regret hit you harder than the embarrassment or shame ever could.

Sukuna was watching you. Watching your hands slip the belt loose, pulling his button undone and pulling at his waistband. You tugged, unable to yank them down and free his lower half.

“Sukuna.. Can you lift your hips?” You ask in a soft voice, startled by the quick response. But what was it really, he was watching your every move. You felt like you were being examined in some office and not helping Sukuna undress. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Making haste of the situation, you pulled down the fabric of his trousers and grabbed the loose shorts you had found from earlier. Ignoring all thoughts of Sukuna and how perfect his legs looked, the thick black bands of his tattoos on the fat of his thigh. The way the bulge in his briefs was much a cause for distraction, even denying that it twitched once freed from it’s confines.

Yep, never happened.

“There, all better,” You sigh, satisfied. “Now that your ready for bed, I’m going to do the same.”

It took a few minutes, but you had completely reclothed Sukuna and he now looked more sleepy and ready for bed rather than drunk off his ass and about to black out on the couch. You had struggled to even get him to take a sip of water and sober up, but to no avail. You figured you’d have to try again tomorrow morning and explain the situation once he woke up in a confused fit.

Getting him comfortable on the couch too was another ordeal you didn’t think you’d go through, but you did. Tucking in the large male until he was all cozy and warm, safely resting his head on one of your spare pillows.

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Ryo,” You mumble, letting your mind wander for a moment and tracing the outline of one of his tattoos on his bicep. Feeling the muscle twitch under your touch momentarily.

“Mgh,” Sukuna muffled out, cheeks warm to the touch.

Letting out another sigh, you stand from your spot next to the couch. Only to be pulled back towards the culprit at hand, falling ass first next to his lap. Sukuna didn’t make a sound, just grasped onto your hips and pulled you in for a hug. His arms anchored around your lower stomach, pressing into the arch of your spine and forcing you to press against him as well.

His nose was pressed into the crook of your shoulder, but you continued to crusade for answers from the sudden affection. “AGH! Sukuna, that was highly uncalled for!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Answer me, dammit–!!”

“Who was that guy?”

You flinch, caught off guard. The clarity and conviction in Sukuna’s voice was strange, seeing as he had been stumbling and leaning into you for the last few moments. “Uhm, my Economics partner Nickolas. It shouldn’t matter, you need to sleep!”

“I don’t need sleep,” Sukuna grunts out, lifting himself off of the couch and trapping you underneath him. Using his big arms like a cage, eyes locking you in place with a vice on your heart. “What was he doin’ hanging here?”

“Sukuna, this is childish,” You start, ready to defend yourself for a confrontation. “He’s my class partner, you shouldn’t be upset over it.”

Wait.. why was he upset?

Previously, he had never seemed to give a flying fuck what you did or whom you did it with. What’s with the sudden change of heart? It made yours ache at the possibilities, wondering what could it be that made him so hostile all of the sudden over Nickolas.

“I barely know him anyways..”

“And you let him sit here on this couch?”

There was a small slap sound as skin met skin, Sukuna’s palm and fingers grasping your chin and cheeks. A gentle but firm squeeze sent shivers down your spine, your hand reaching up to try and pull Sukuna’s off but to no avail. His eyes scanned your face for anything, a sign.

Something. Anything that would make this ache in his chest stop.

“What is he to you, huh?” His voice came out rough, deep. Intimidating. 

It was scary, but a shudder was sent up your spine. A lustful and unneeded shudder, one that sent ideas to your brain. That made your mind wander, but you held them back. 

Even as Sukuna’s lips captured yours, as his teeth grazed and nibbled at your lower lip, your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his pink locks. You had to deny, because the Sukuna that was here wasn’t really him. It was a drunk and dissociated version of him, a side that you normally didn’t see. 

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

“Did you let him do this, mh?” Sukuna muttered, pulling away from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting the both of you for a moment as your lungs fought for breath. Chest rising and falling heavily, your hands hold onto Sukuna’s arms, trying to find something to stabilize yourself in this mess of kisses.

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

Sukuna retreated his touch from your face and instead placed them on your thighs. Laying beside you on the couch, keeping you trapped against his chest and making sure to dress the blankets over you.

“Sukuna, seriously, this isn’t funny anymore,” You whimper, covering your face. How could you push this away? You’ve wanted nothing but to be closer to him, haven’t you?

Desired, pleaded. You wanted everything.. But this wasn’t the way.

Feeling Sukuna’s hands wrap around your waist, having his hot breath on your neck and shoulder as he rutted his hips against the fat of your ass. You felt utterly guilty, like trash. Wanting to crawl away from Sukuna and save him the little grace he had, to avoid giving him something to wake up and regret tomorrow.

“Y/n.. look at me.. Look at what you’ve done,” The man in question ordered, hooking your top leg over his elbow. Letting the bulge in his pants grow more and more, his voice becoming ragged and deep as he got harder and harder. “You’re making a mess of me, can’t you tell?”

You nod, wanting to pull away and sleep in your bed. But the desires in you only wanted you to fall deeper. The strings of your heart being plucked as Sukuna’s lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Marking and sucking, lewd sucking sounds erupting from his lips as he made harsh hickeys form on the skin.

Mewl after moan escaped you, your pussy wet and slick under the confines of your panties and pajama bottoms. Sukuna could tell, releasing your leg from his hold and slowing his hips for a moment until his hand migrated to your front.

Grinding the flat surface of his palm against your clothed cunt, whispering naughty words into your ear that you had to drown out. Even if the wants in your belly wished for Sukuna to be there, to fill up your insides and make a mess. To be closer than he’s ever let you been for the last month or so, you had to stop this.

And you did, with much regret.

“Sukuna, stop,” You whimper, pulling Sukuna’s hand away from your body. Breaths coming out in baited huffs, you sat up. Not taking a moment to let yourself get lured back in, feeling Sukuna’s hand find your waist again as you resisted further.

“Stop what?” He mutters, annoyance in his voice. Laced with an emotion you wished to unhear. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Not like this.” Cold, respectful. You had to be this way, to give Sukuna another chance. Letting him have his way now in such a drunken state, you wouldn’t be able to recover a good relationship. “If I was like anyone else, you’d be taken advantage of.”

Sukuna’s touch softened, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as he looked at the back of your head. Seeing a shimmer of something on your cheek, his fingers trembled. He desired to reach up, to brush those tears away. It was against his very nature, his very being.

He didn’t like the idea of being all cuddly and cozy, being soft and vulnerable with someone. The idea of it made his stomach churn and made the urge to vomit impending. 

But, with you. Seeing those tears form, for his sake. He felt irritated with himself. He caused it. Him.

“I’m going to bed now,” You say, voice shaken up. “Get some water, sleep.”

You stood from your place on the sofa and walked over to the small hallway, entering your bedroom and letting out a shuddering exhale. A weight was now firmly sitting on your chest. It ached, it hurt, it burned.

Everything that pain felt like was exploding in your chest. Reaching up a hand to try and comfort yourself wasn’t worth the effort either as you slid down the wood of your bedroom door. Curling into a feeble position as the tears fell from your eyes, finally free after holding them the whole time.

What you wished you could do about the man on your couch.

. . .

a/n: y'all i literally have a crippling addiction to crime videos and all that shit it's just so interesting for no reason oml (crying inside) also sorry for the month long pause (i say sorry too much) i was creating new characters and working on ideas for the next few chapters!

Chapter Song Them: — Granite - Sleep Token (Lyrics)

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleebloomed, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9, @heyitstacy, @lost-in-tokyo, @marksassybanana, @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-c-h, @chaoticqueen33, @dxxny-loves-u, @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci, @opossum0-0, @gumisgirl, @mommasbigd, @heyitstacy, @misslauravillanueva, @fallenlostarchives, @infinitivesearch

last chapter || next chapter

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 1

Summary: Most stories tell you about a normal girl who falls in love with a famous football player. But what if things were the other way around? What if she was the famous football player, and he was just a normal guy? 

Author’s note: I'm back with another Pedri story! 💃🏼 This one has been sitting on my drafts for a while because I wasn't too sure about part of the plot, but after giving it another read, it is finally ready to see the light 😁 I was in the mood to write something simple and just nice to read that, for example, had the same vibes as "Red and blue". A happy story with just some ups and downs and not big dramas. But I don't know if I managed to do it, you can let me know as you read it😅 Unless I'm forgetting someone, except for Fer (Pedri's brother) and Aitana, all the characters are made up and named after people I know in real life or that I follow on social media, so if there happens to be someone somehow related to Pedri in real life with that name, it is just a coincidence. Also the title is like a play on words because in Spanish you use the same word (canario) to talk about a man from the Canary Islands and the animal. I hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

“Inés, can I use your phone to call my mum? Mine has run out of battery.”

“Again?” I chuckle, passing it to Carla.

“Yeah… I think I need a new one” she says while typing. “Wait, who is this Pedri you are getting notifications from?”

“What?”

“I just saw an Instagram notification saying that someone called Pedri has posted on his stories.”

“He's no one” I quickly say. “Aren't you going to call your mum? You know she starts getting worried if you don't do it right after a game.”

“She can wait. I, on the other hand, can’t. Who is this guy?” she smirks.

“Carla, stop it” I say, trying to retrieve my phone.

“You are blushing, Inés.”

“I'm not.”

“Yes, you are” she says, still smirking. “Let's see what he has posted, shall we?”

“Carla…”

“He is wishing happy birthday to one of his friends. Or his brother, you don’t know these days since they all call that to each other. But which one is he, the blonde or the brunette one?”

“Brunette. Now give me that” I say, trying to get my phone from her once again and only managing to hit myself with my bus seat. 

“He's cute. Is he someone random you liked or do you know each other?”

“He's a classmate.”

“Uuuh!”

“Carla, lower down your voice!” one of our teammates says from the other side of the bus.

“Sorry!” she replies. “I may have to join you in some of your classes if the guys are this cute.”

“They aren't. Now give me my phone.”

“Does he follow you back?”

“Yes.”

“Does he also like all your photos like you do? Like, wow, Inés” she chuckles. “You do fancy him.”

“I don't, Carla. Now either call your mum, or give me my phone back. I want to take a nap before we make it home.”

“And dream about Pedri?” she teases me while still scrolling on my phone. 

“Carla!” 

“Silence!” another of our teammates says.

“Carla… please” I repeat, this time lower.

“Ok, ok. I'll call my… No!” she gasps. Loudly.

“Girls, I don't know what you are doing over there, but please lower down your voice” Aitana says from the seat behind us. “It's been a tough game and some of us want to sleep.”

“It won't happen again, I promise” Carla says, turning to look at her with her best smile. “But you need to explain to me why the fuck do you fancy a guy who has a girlfriend” she whispers.

“I don't fancy him” I insist.

“Then why do you have his notifications turned on and have liked all his photos, this one wishing his girlfriend a happy anniversary included?”

“Because…” I say, biting my lip.

“Because you fancy him, you idiot” she says, hitting my arm. “Inés, why would you do something like this to yourself?”

“It's just a crush, Carla. Nothing else.”

“It better, because if you are wasting your time with a guy who is taken…”

“I'm not. Now call your mum or give me my phone back.”

“Fine. I'll call her” she says, giving me one last look before closing Instagram and finally calling her mum, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Thoughts about how she is right. About how I do fancy a guy who is taken, and about how I've done it for the past three years. 

When I finished high school my career as a football player hadn't taken off yet, I was still playing for Barça B. And since I didn't know if I would ever make it to the first team or for how long I could live off football, I decided to start studying journalism and have other options for my future. 

It had been during my first day at uni, that I had met Pedri. Not Pedro, no. Pedri (though legally he is called Pedro).

He was sitting a few seats to my right, his Canarian accent making him be the centre of attention while he talked with some of our classmates about the differences between Barcelona and Tenerife, his hometown. And even though back then he looked like a baby since he still hadn't grown a beard, you couldn't deny that he was handsome. If you ask me, he had and still has one of the most perfect side profiles I have ever seen. And his lips… Dear lord. If you Google kissable lips, you will definitely find his photo.

During those first weeks one of our teachers decided to make different work groups so we could get to know each other a bit more, and yes, you've guessed it. Pedri and I were part of the same one. That was how we ended up following each other on Instagram, because we had made a group chat so we all could talk and work on the different assignments. 

At first we didn't say much to each other, I was too shy. I just basically stared at him and giggled like an idiot when he said something funny. But then I made my debut with Barça's first team, and he talked to me. Like, alone, not with our other classmates present.

I still remember the way my heart started beating when he called my name after class and congratulated me, the big smile on his face, and how honestly happy he seemed to be for me. I'm pretty sure that was the moment when I realized that I actually liked him. That I fancied him. And then when we kept talking just the two of us between classes… Well, you can imagine. I was on cloud nine. A cloud that hit the floor and broke into a million pieces when a couple of months later at one of our classmates’ birthday party, I saw him making out with his now girlfriend, making me feel like the biggest idiot ever. 

He had been friendly with me because that was who he was, because he liked meeting new people and getting to know them. But since I am simply stupid, I had thought that he was doing it because he also liked me, because he fancied me. 

After that I started to attend my classes less often and to do most things online because I became part of the first team and didn't have much free time, which led us to stop talking the way we had been. But because like I said, I am simply stupid, I kept liking his posts on Instagram as if nothing had happened. The crush was still there and it wasn't going anywhere. It probably only grew as time passed and he started to look more and more handsome. Which is how I ended up turning on the notifications for his posts. Because I don't want to miss seeing his pretty face since now we only cross paths if I am lucky and can attend some of the most important classes, if we are meeting with the friends we have in common, or during exams season. 

“Inés… Inés!” Carla says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?”

“What?”

“I was telling you that I was done with my call” she says, giving me my phone back.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I guess I do need that nap” I chuckle.

“Yeah… Now you nap, and tomorrow we go out.”

“Out? Where?”

“Partying, of course” Carla smiles. “We have a couple of days off, which means that we can go out at night and find you a man who isn't taken.”

“Carla…” I sigh.

“No, I'm sorry. It's been decided. We are going out tomorrow, and you aren't going home until you've made out with someone. And hopefully someone blonde and with blue eyes so you won't think you are kissing your classmate. This is operation forget about Pedri.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“So you play football for a living?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, you are messing with me” the guy I'm talking to laughs. “Like, girls who like or play football are either tomboys or lesbians. Or both. Are you a lesbian?”

“What?” I say, almost choking with my drink.

“You definitely don't look like a tomboy, you are hot. So are you a lesbian?”

“I'm straight.”

“Then you definitely are messing with me” he laughs. 

“I… I'm going to the bathroom. Can you hold this for me?” I say, giving him what is left of my drink. 

“Yes, sure. I'll wait for you here” he smiles.

“Umm… yes” I say, turning my back to him and starting to look for Carla among the crowd. Why did I let her take me out tonight? All the guys she's introduced me to and that I've talked with have been so… so… Brainless. I'm pretty sure that if we put them all together, they wouldn't make a brain cell. 

“Carla!” I call when I see her chatting and laughing with a random guy. How does she do it? How is she able to act so natural around men? “Carla, hey!” I wave. But I do it without looking around me, and I end up hitting someone in the head. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry!”

“Don't worry, it's… Inés!”

“Pedri?” I say when the owner of the head I just hit turns around. 

“I didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles.

“Me neither” I reply with a nervous laugh, trying not to stare at him like an idiot. He looks so good tonight.

“Inés, what happened with… you!” Carla says, joining us and pointing at Pedri.

“Me?” he chuckles.

“I know you!”

“Carla, I'm going home” I quickly say before he starts asking uncomfortable questions.

“Already?” she and Pedri say at the same time.

“I'm not used to going out until this late, I'm tired.”

“Oh, c'mon, Inés” Carla pouts. “We just arrived!”

Which is a lie. We've been at this club for the two longest hours of my life.

“I'm sorry.”

“But…”

“Pedri, your… you!” a guy that looks pretty familiar says, now pointing at me. “I know you! You are Inés, Barça's centre-back!”

“I… yes?”

“It's her!” he says, looking at Pedri and giving him one of the drinks he was carrying. 

“It's her, yes. Inés, this is my friend and roommate Mario. Mario, this is Inés.” Oh, so that's why he looked so familiar. He is the guy he is constantly posting things with on Instagram. 

“Can't believe I'm finally meeting you in person!”

“Finally?” I ask with a confused look.

“Pedrito has made me watch all your games for the past couple of years” he laughs, squeezing his friend's shoulder. “But I don't regret it, you girls are amazing. Such a shame you didn't win the last game… It was a tough one.”

“Yeah” I say, my brain stuck on the fact that Pedri has forced his best friend to watch my games. I mean, Barcelona’s. That's what he probably meant, not just mine. 

“At least we didn't lose. I'm Carla, by the way” she says, extending her hand towards Mario.

“Carla López, Barcelona and Spain national team's goalkeeper. A pleasure” he says, kissing her hand and making her giggle. And I know that sound. It is the one she makes when she really likes someone. Great, just great. 

“You know your football” she smiles.

“I do” he smiles back, the way they are looking at each other making this encounter even more uncomfortable and awkward than it already was.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I'm going home” I interrupt them. “So if you'll excuse me…”

“Inés, you can't go home alone and at night. It can be dangerous!” Carla says.

“I'll call an Uber, I'll be fine.”

“That doesn't make it any better.”

“I'll go with her.”

“What?” Carla, Mario and I say at the same time.

“I'll go with her” Pedri repeats. “She's right, going on your own can be dangerous.”

“I… I… I mean, I…”

“But bro, we just arrived. What about your drink?” Mario asks him while I keep mumbling.

“I'll drink it” he shrugs before starting to chug it as if it was water and not alcohol. “Done” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and giving the glass back to Mario. “Are you ready, Inés?”

“Uh?” I say, my eyes fixed on his lips and on how they still are a bit wet, making them look even more kissable than they usually are. 

“You wanted to go home, didn't you?” Pedri asks me.

“Yes, I did. Yes.”

“Then let's go. Enjoy the rest of your night, guys. And behave yourself” he says, winking at Mario and making me gasp. 

“Inés… Inés, are you sure about this?” Carla asks me while Pedri and Mario keep teasing each other. “We came here to forget about him, and now you are leaving with him.”

“But as friends. Offering to accompany me home confirms that that's all he wants from me. To be friends.”

“That's him, yes. But what about you?”

“I want the same. Just friends.”

“Inés…”

“Ready?” Pedri asks me, ending our conversation.

“Ready” I smile. 

“Text me once you are home, ok?” Carla tells me, the look on her face letting me know that she doesn't agree with this. 

“I will, I promise. Good night” I say before following Pedri and leaving the club.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Pedri… Pedri, wake up.”

“Uh?”

“You have to wake up, c'mon” I say, running my hand through his hair. 

“No.”

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because we just arrived.”

“Urgh” he groans.

“C'mon” I say, touching his hair one last time before unlocking our seatbelts. Because we both still are on the Uber that is taking me home, not waking up together in the same bed, you little dirty minds (I wish that was the case, tho. Wait, who said that?). 

Just five minutes after we had left the club, the alcohol he had drunk in one go had started to affect him, and by the time we were in the car, he was properly drunk. It looked more like I was accompanying him home and not the other way around.

“Where are we?” he says, slowly getting up from my lap. Oh, yes. Because Pedri had decided that the best thing to do, was to take a nap while resting his head on my legs. The most comfortable and soft ones according to what he said a few times before falling asleep.

“My house” I say, opening the car's door. “You were accompanying me, remember?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I'm a gentleman” he says with a drunken smile.

“You are, yes. Now c'mon” I reply, leaving the car. 

“Fuck!” 

“What happened? Are you ok?” I say, turning around.

“I don't know. I think… shit” he says, looking down at his hand. He's bleeding. “Inés…”

“Is he ok?” the driver says.

“He's… Pedri!” I say, catching him when he starts falling against the car.

“I'm fine, I'm fine” he says, managing to sit down again. “Just not the biggest fan of blood.”

“Should we take him to the hospital? He's gone so pale…” the driver says.

“No, no hospitals. This is nothing” Pedri says. 

“Miss?” the driver asks me.

“I…”

“Please, Inés. It's just a scratch.”

“Ok, fine. But let's get you upstairs before you hurt yourself again.”

“Do you want a hand, miss?” the driver offers. 

“I can do it myself, thank you” I smile. Pedri isn't the biggest guy out there, and after hitting his head he seems to have sobered up a bit, so I think we can make it inside and to the lift. “But you've earned five starts and a big tip.”

“Oh, there is no need, miss. Just doing what anyone else would.”

“I'm not so sure of that. Thank you very much.”

“You're welcome” he says.

“Can you walk?” I ask Pedri once he is standing up again. 

“I can, Inés. Though your arm around my waist will be very welcomed just in case” he smiles.

“Yeah… umm… Ok” I say, doing as he has asked and starting to walk towards my building, his arm around my shoulders. “Comfortable there?” I ask him once we are inside the lift and after a bit of struggle to go up the few stairs in the lobby.

“Yeah” he replies, resting his head against the wall, his eyes closing again. Looks like the sobering up is gone.

“Pedri, don't fall asleep.”

“I'm not. I'm just resting my eyes.”

“Pedri…”

“Is that the tone you use on the pitch to order around?” he smirks, his eyes still closed.

“What?”

“I've seen you. You will be captain one day, Inés. You have what it takes.”

“Yeah, well… Pedri!” I say when the lift stops and he almost falls again. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine” he replies, opening his eyes. With the light inside the lift they look as if the brown had some bits of gold, and they are simply beautiful. 

“Ok, c'mon” I say, putting his arm around my shoulders once again and leaving the lift.

“You have a nice apartment, Inés” he says when we walk in. “Very cosy.”

“Thank you” I reply, trying to close the door and keep him from falling again. He is getting heavier by the second. “Why don't you lay down there while I go get something to clean your wound?”

“My wound?” he asks as he lets himself fall on the sofa.

“You hit your head when you were getting out of the car, remember?”

“Did I?” he says, his eyes already closed. “Oh, yes. I did…”

“Pedri, don't… fall asleep” I say. But he's gone. In just a few seconds, he's completely gone, one arm and one leg hanging from the sofa. “Great” I sigh while putting him in a more comfortable position and covering him with a blanket. Sleeping like that, he looks like a kid, like someone who has never done anything wrong in his life. And I can't help but run my hand through his hair again.

I think he has the softest hair I've ever touched even if now it is a bit sticky around his face because of the sweat and the blood from his wound. A wound that thankfully doesn't look too bad and has stopped bleeding, and that I guess we'll have to take care of tomorrow. “Sweet dreams, Pedri” I whisper, stopping myself when I am about to kiss his forehead. Like, what the fuck, Inés? That's… No. Go to bed. That's what you should do, go to bed too. 

Though falling asleep knowing that I have Pedri, the boy I've had the biggest crush on for the past three years, drunkenly sleeping on my sofa, is gonna be interesting to say the least. And when he wakes up…

[hhie]

I love you im sorry

14. complicated

[11.01PM]

his door unlocks, with you still being high you pushed the door to his house and ran around the living room like a madwoman. “ omgg hyuckie THSI IS WHERE YOI LIVE”

he cant help but to laugh at your state and replied with a “yes princess, you like it?”. you eyes widened and began to nod profusely. “okay lets get you washed up and ready for bed” he holds your hand as he brings you to his room. having you seated on his bed as he took his makeup wipe to wipe your face and making you change into a comfortable sweatshirt.

“ okay we’re done, you can sleep now.” he tugs you into his warmth bed. wrapping his blanket around you like a baby. “i will be in the living room, wake me up if you need me okay” he pats your head as you noded at him in a sleepy state. leaving you there.

not long after

donghyuck heard a shuffle next to him as he was laying on his sofa, scrolling through twitter before getting ready for bed. he got surprised at your disheveled face and asked “whats wrong?” with concern . without answering him you sat on his lap and hugged him.

at that moment donghyuck couldn’t move he was shocked or at this point he can’t even use shocked as he was beyond shocked. his bubble burst when you whispered into his ear “can you sleep with me, i can’t sleepp and dont sleep here its not good for your backk ”. hearing your baby voice, he couldn’t say no. Hell donghyuck could never say no to you. he didn’t say anything and carried you to his bed. lying down and cuddling until you fell asleep. during that moment donghyuck’s felt like his heart was going to burst.

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taglistOPEN! - @junviadinho @injunnie-lemon @sunghoonsgfreal @nessaassen02 @dudekiss3r @munstvrs @sthwaaberry @nmlee @chenlesfeetpic @jaeminnanaaa17

#from인 sorry guys I REALLY WANT TO POST THIS NEXT WEEK BUT I CANT knowing it’s just sitting in my drafts 😭😭 so here’s another chapter for you guys. how are yall feeling rn 🫢 also i apologise if there’s too many words as it’s a smau 😭😭

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3 // Chapter II

Summary: After one last screaming match and a good cry, Feyre is finally ready to move on from her lousy ex and rebuild the life he took her away from. She didn't imagine she'd be right back in the thick of it, reviving buried feelings for her best friend's cousin.

OR;

Feyre dumps Tamlin, moves back to big city life, and gets herself an alpha who will treat her right.

AN: Omegaverse!Feysand, as promised. A gift for @whatishowedyouinthedark. If you hadn't posted Too Sweet, I don't know that this would have left the drafts. This ended up being 4.3k, but there will be a morning after chapter as well.

CW: NSFW, mildly dubious consent/coercion

Chapter I

“You sure you’re alright, Feyre?” Another ounce of weight seemed to lift from her shoulders at the soft worry in Mor’s voice. “I know you don’t really want to talk about this yet, but I’m always here for you.”

“I know. And I’m okay, Mor. I’ll be even better in, oh—” She lifted her wrist enough to glance at the time. “—six hours when you meet me outside SFO.” Her friend stayed quiet a moment longer. “I’ve wasted so much time and energy on that guy. He doesn’t deserve my tears too.”

“Damn right. I can’t wait to see you. It’s been so long, Feyre.”

“I know.”

That’s what it had really come to. The lost time. The isolation. A year ago, Feyre had been at the center of it all, her art sales lucrative enough to keep her head above water, her friend circle close but full of life. When Tamlin’s work had taken him out of the big city and to someplace more remote, Feyre had imagined it would be temporary. Her “nest egg” from her art sales would only need to hold her for a few months before she could dive right back into dealing with her clientele face-to-face.

But whatever silver lining her situation came with was in short supply. Hopeful as she had been once upon a time, nothing could change the fact that this move halfway across the country was made with only the purpose of separating her from the life and people she knew. Feyre was just ashamed it had taken her so long to see it herself. She’d confronted him last night and the truth had all come to light. “So what if your account is running low? Do I not take care of you regardless? I thought this was what you wanted, Feyre. Isn’t this what all omegas want? Someone to depend on?”

It turned out Feyre and Tamlin’s views on designations were worlds apart.

After a devastating break up fight and a good long cry, Feyre had locked herself in the guest room and called Mor with the promise that she was scraping together what she had left and coming home the next afternoon. “Say no more, Feyre. I’ll get Rhysie to make that ticket first class for you.”

“Don’t you dare, Mor.” But for the first time in months there had been laughter beneath her words. For once she didn’t find herself rolling her eyes when Mor reminded her that her older cousin was rich and single, last she heard of it. Not that Feyre’s memory needed jogging on that point. Ever since Rhys had stepped into her first art showing, oozing raw confidence and control, she’d been no better than a school girl doodling hearts and initials in her journal margins. But he’d then flown out to manage his father’s New York business, his return to California only in the past few months, when Feyre was long gone herself.

She shook off the flush running through her body, trying to focus on Mor jabbering in her ear about events around the city. Served her right, lusting after an alpha so far out of her league. Rhys might be nice enough to buy her paintings or bump her flight ticket to first class, but she certainly had no illusions that he would be the male helping her through her next heat. Hell, by now he likely had an omega of his own, hand-selected by his prick of a father. 

Not exactly fond of the flare of… something… that thought sent through her, Feyre stood, pacing the few feet she dared from her carry-on in the crowded terminal. “Hey, girl. We’ll be boarding any minute. Can I let you go for now?”

“Absolutely. Love you lots. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t eat anything huge. We’ve got dinner plans.”

~~~~~

Dinner plans amounted to a delivery of Feyre’s favorite chinese food not even five minutes after she was settled in from the car ride home. “You spoil me, Mor,” she said, setting down her chopsticks long enough to shrug into the oversized hoodie behind her that smelled absolutely delightful for some reason and debate the nearly identical bottles of red nail polish in front of her. Her friend certainly had a signature color.

“Someone has to,” Mor groused, starting an episode of a cop show they’d seen one too many times. “If you won’t spoil yourself, your bestie’s gonna do it for you.” She eyed Feyre’s newly acquired hoodie with a slight smirk. “Among a few others.”

“What? I was cold. And what do you mean, others?”

Mor just waved a hand in dismissal. “Rhys, Cass, and Az are around here all the time. Rhys lives a floor above me, for that matter. You know they’re all thrilled you’re back in town. Emerie is excited to meet you too. I think you guys will really hit it off.” Mor sighed, a wistful look in her eyes.

“You really like this one, don’t you?”

“She’s amazing. And she’s been so patient with me. You know how my family can be about my preferences. She hasn’t said much, but I think her family gives her a lot of the same shit about it. She gets it. Gets me.” Feyre’s heart just about melted at that and she reached across the couch to squeeze Mor’s hand. “I even asked—”

The front door opened then, to both their surprise, Cassian falling through the frame with a shit-eating grin on his face. “She’s back! Feyre Archeron, where have you been?! C’mere.” She squealed as he lifted her by the hips to spin her around

Mor shook her head, mumbling about how this was supposed to be girls’ night before everyone saw her at Rita’s the next evening. “Sorry, Mor,” another voice said from the door, warm, rich, and amused. “We saw you ladies pull in earlier from the window. I kept him there as long as I could. It’s good to see you, Feyre.” 

Grinning ear to ear, Feyre braced a hand on Cassian’s chest until the vertigo faded. “Yeah, good to see you guys. I—What?” she asked, finally looking at Rhys. 

He was just as she remembered. It had been fice years since he’d flown out to manage that east coast business after earning his business degree and he hadn’t changed one bit—still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. The only thing that truly caught her off guard was the odd glint in his eyes, focusing on the hoodie she was wearing—almost pleased, if she was reading him right. Another step into the room and his scent hit her, citrus and the sea, the same soothing fragrance that clung to the sweatshirt she’d thoughtlessly pulled on with the assumption it was one of Mor’s baggier favorites.

Fuck.

Rhys smirked then, every bit the smug alpha she knew he was. She wasn’t ready to analyze the response that inspired in her. The fluttering in her stomach that quickened as he approached, the heat that flushed her check when he stepped into her space, fingering the ratty sleeve that fell well past her fingertips. “I was wondering where that had wandered off to.”

“I—”

“Keep it, darling. It looks better on you anyway.”

She shuffled back a step, uncharacteristically flustered by his proximity. Omega or not, the flirtation of men didn’t usually affect her this way. Even in the early days between her and Tamlin she—She would not be comparing her ex to anyone. She came back to San Francisco to wash her hands of him, after all. 

“I—” She sighed. “Thanks.”

Mor cleared her throat, though her shameless grin was a near mirror to her cousin’s. “If that’s all, boys.” She batted her eyes, looping her arm back through Feyre’s. “This was girls’ night, remember?”

Cassian chuckled, ignoring the dismissal and slumping into the couch. “So, how goes the move in?”

Feyre scoffed. “My plane touched down only an hour ago. Can I finish my dinner and wine before tackling my bags?” The other three exchanged a look, Mor seeming suddenly guilty. “What?”

“With how quickly this all came together, I suppose I never got around to mentioning I… I asked Emerie to move in. It doesn’t change the fact the extra room is yours,” she hurried to say. “You have a place here of course.”

“Or you could have one upstairs,” Rhys mumbled.

Feyre blinked. “Excuse me?”

“They get their privacy, you get a good night's sleep every night.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s just a room, Feyre. You know I’m a gentleman.”

“I wouldn’t suggest otherwise.” Eyeing his reaction, she sipped from her wine glass. “Out loud.” 

Cassian cackled. “God, I’ve missed you. About time you traded the hills for skyscrapers again, little sister.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

~~~~~

“I told you,” Rhys sang as Feyre stepped out of the elevator and into his apartment. It had only taken two nights to change her mind about his proposal. She adored Mor and Emerie was a delight—a perfect match for her oldest friend. But that didn’t change the fact the walls were paper thin.

“Hush. Emerie is a wonderful woman. I could never begrudge them their happiness, even if it costs me my sleep.”

“Of course not. Anyways, welcome to my humble abode. The first door on the left down the hall is your room for as long as you want it. Just across from mine, if you need anything. I’ll let you get unpacked.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, heading down the short hall and into the room he directed her to, only to stop short in the doorway. “Rhys.”

“Yes?” he called back, presumably from the living space. 

“What is all of this?” 

He approached slowly, looking almost sheepish. “Too much?” She gaped. “I can return it if you don’t like it. I just happened to overhear you tell Mor you had left behind some of your favorite nesting things and… Here, I’ll just pack it up and—”

“No.” His brows rose as she shifted to block the doorway. “I—” She cleared her throat softly. “It was sweet of you to consider it. I’m not far from my next heat, actually. I really appreciate you letting me crash here and letting me nest.” 

He scoffed. “Nesting is natural. It isn’t something I’d try to stop any omega from doing.”

“If only my ex had seen it that way.” She flinched. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

He growled softly, eyes dark as he dropped his head to hold her gaze, one hand braced against the doorjamb she already leaned against. His scent washed over her once again and Feyre hoped her full body shutter wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “Your ex was an alpha?” She nodded. “Not one with any honor, it seems. You are what you are, Feyre. If that bastard ever made you take shame in it, I hope you’ll soon change your way of thinking.”

“I’m not ashamed of anything,” she murmured. 

The knuckles of his free hand brushed along her cheekbone. “Good. I’ll let you finish up here. As I said, if you need anything for the nest or otherwise, I’m here to help.”

“I’m not a charity case, Rhysand. I always manage to get back on my feet quickly enough.”

“I know that, darling. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy spoiling sweet little things like you rotten.”

A quiet, shocked sound escaped her, but her usually sharp wit had been neutralized, it seemed. And all by a few charming words. Sweet little things like you.

“No,” she muttered to herself, refusing to watch him walk away. Approaching heat or not, she was not getting tangled up with an entitled alpha ever again. And that vow would not be changing

~~~~~

The next few weeks were normal, all things considered. Rhys went to work in the morning and Feyre either arranged calls or set out to reopen contact with previous buyers interested in her art. In the evenings they alternated cooking meals and washing dishes, occasionally enjoying a movie or game together before returning to their separate rooms for the night.

Everything was perfectly platonic if you excused a few mildly flirtatious remarks. The only thing that left her unsteady was the surprise treats and little actions to take care of her, each one either frivolous or thoughtful. It was as frustrating as it was pleasing and she hoped Rhys couldn’t see how she truly felt about each little favor. She didn’t know what she’d do if he came to learn about the pure satisfaction she felt each time she saw that he had snuck into her room to switch out the sweatshirt she’d so carefully placed among the pillows and blankets in her nest the moment his scent faded from the fabric.

She had dared to ask him after the third time he’d replaced the garment why he was so attentive to that specific want.

“You may not be my chosen mate, but you are an omega under my care. Just as you follow your instincts to keep something with an alpha’s scent, I will follow my instinct to provide for you as long as you live with me. A missing sweatshirt is hardly a great sacrifice, Feyre.”

He’d stood from the dinner table with a smile, mumbling something along the lines of, “Such a pretty little blush you have, darling,” before loading his plate in the dishwasher and heading for his room. Any other remarks had been few and far between, but each one stuck with her for days afterwards.

She gave a sharp huff as she stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea, prepared to do nothing more than hole up in her room with a good book and a hot drink as the Saturday storm bathed the city. “Read my book and not think about this a second longer.” 

If only she’d realized what a hopeless endeavor that would turn out to be.

She was only two chapters into her newest read when the first hot flash came. Her heat. And damn if she couldn’t already feel this was going to be a rough one without a partner. Jumping from her chair, she started to head for the bathroom, reaching for the tub’s faucet. Then, a cool bath wouldn’t do her any favors. As quickly as she felt her skin burn, she knew she’d be shivering in a matter of minutes, that first cycle of hot and cold lasting for a few hours before the endless heat became constant, especially without an alpha to soften the effects of her episode.

“Fuck.” She needed to get off the floor and back to her room. To her nest, whatever small comfort it could offer her. “Fuck,” she repeated.

“Eloquently put,” a too-familiar voice said. She didn’t bother peeling her eyes open, letting Rhys drop to a knee and slip his arms beneath her knees and behind her back. “Come on. To bed with you.”

“Put me down. I’m fine.” Never mind that her teeth were already chattering and a cramping had started low in her gut.

“I’m sure you are, darling.” Shifting his arm so her back remained supported, he pressed his palm to the back of her head, pressing lightly until she caved, letting him guide her nose to that special spot on his neck where his scent was strongest. The tension that had claimed her body vanished in an instant. “There, little one. Better, hm?”

She mumbled something equally proud and bitter that she could really only half understand herself with this fog stealing over her mind so quickly, then, “Hurts,” she whimpered.

He hummed, laying her down in the very center of the nest of bedding and clothes she’d so meticulously arranged and rearranged over the past few weeks. She should have realized she was days from her next cycle when the impulse to perfect the space became so prominent. Now she would be glued to it for days on end. The problem? “Why are you so far away?”

Rhys chuckled. “You said you wanted to work through your heat alone, little one. That you don’t need an alpha. Have you changed your mind?” Feyre bit her lip, contemplating her options. Endure this alone and maintain her pride, or welcome his help and pray she was only opening a physical connection, rather than an emotional one. “Feyre.” She blinked up at him. “Temper your pride. Invite me into your nest, little one. This doesn’t have to be so painful.” It only took a moment for her to grip his hand, tugging softly. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, settling in carefully, so as to not disturb her arrangement.

“Don’t need a knot,” Feyre told him petulantly. “Just…” Nose buried in his neck, hand tucked under his shirt, Feyre stopped protesting for the moment, the only sound leaving her a soft whimpering.  

That’s when he began to purr, summoning a gush of slick, to her humiliation. “Rhys—”

“Hush, sweet girl. Let’s see what we can do about your little problem here.” She couldn’t help but squirm a bit as he peeled her leggings away inch by inch, face flushing hot when her slick clung to the fabric of her panties on their way down. “Settle now, pet. You just lay back and let your alpha take care of you.”

“You’re not my—I didn’t ask you to—” Feyre hadn’t realized her pants had been completely cast aside until his tongue was stroking up her slit. “Oh, god.” Another drag of it and her fingers were threaded in his hair, tugging sharply. He hummed. “Rhys.” She tried to lift her hips, only for Rhys to reach up and lay his arm over her waist, keeping her mostly still. She let out a groan of frustration.

“All in good time, little one. All in good time.” He looked all too pleased by the frustrated growl that passed her lips, her protest cut off the moment two thick fingers pushed inside of her, curling in a way that had her hurtling to the edge of her release. “That’s it, darling, he encouraged her, repeating the motion while twisting his hand enough that he could rub her clit with his thumb. “Come for me.” Considering the state she was already in and how it only seemed to worsen with time, it took nothing more than those few words for her to shatter, clenching around his fingers so tight he cursed—even as he stroked her through it. “Good girl.” 

Feyre shuttered beneath him, She didn’t need to peel her heavy eyes open to know she would find him smirking down at her. There wasn’t a chance in hell a man as observant as Rhys would misread what his praise did to her. She felt the tip of his nose skate across her cheek before his soft mouth was pressed to the flesh of her throat, his fingers already beginning to curl inside of her once again. “Rhys, wait.”

“Darling, do you really think that little knotting toy you bought the other day is going to be enough to satisfy you in this? You know what you need and you know who can give it to you.”

That unbearable cramping began anew, and Feyre knew she had no hope of resisting.

~~~~~

Most days, Rhys would consider himself an honorable man. He was capable of detaching emotions from matters of business and handling what needed to be handled without causing a fuss. Taking losses he earned himself with grace. Regarding his personal life, he never stooped to pursue someone who’s capability of consent was so precarious. He’d certainly never attempted to coerce a hesitant partner. 

But he’d walked into the house and her heat scent had hit him in full force. Finding her slumped on the bathroom floor and burning up had his protective instincts rearing their head. Now he was in her nest, had his fingers buried inside of her, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, addling his own mind.

He could reconsider the standing of his honor tomorrow. 

He’d get rid of that last edge of nerves his little omega was facing, then he’d show her where she belonged. Right here in this apartment, in this nest, for him to come home every day and spoil senseless. He had already come to enjoy their evening bonding immensely, and could only imagine he’d be even more delighted to share those talks when Feyre had her studio up and running, resuming the work she cherished so dearly. And whatever her reservations about alphas may be at the moment, she’d come around to the thought as well, he was certain. Every omega needs an alpha to lean on. 

“God,” she hissed, palm pressing low on her stomach. Eyes shut tight once again, Feyre let her nails bite into his wrist, spurring him into action. He stripped the shirt she wore, baring her entirely before bringing that hand back to her center, this time with the intention of preparing her to take his knot. At the rate her heat was progressing, her pride would fall away momentarily and she’d be begging for the relief she knew it would provide her, he was certain. 

Her next groan morphed to something softer, her head falling back to the pillows when his mouth closed over her nipple. Once again, her fingers found a home in his hair, tugging just harshly enough he felt justified in nipping her breast. “Be nice, darling.” 

Scowling, Feyre surged upwards, gripping his shirt front as her lips finally found his. “You know it’s really, really unfair that I’m the only one undressed here.” She didn’t give him the courtesy of unbuttoning the garment himself, yanking hard enough to send the buttons flying, lost to the fabrics of the nest. Her teeth sank into his bottom lip hard enough he groaned, his free hand sliding up around her throat. “Rhys.” 

He couldn’t help but smile as her eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxed enough for him to manipulate, guiding her back down into the pillow and removing his hand from its home between her thighs. “Sweet thing,” he cooed when a little pout began to form. “So needy for your alpha.” Moving his hand from her throat to her waist, he pushed those two slick fingers past her swollen lips, swallowing the growl building in his throat at the stroke of her tongue, letting himself watch as she fell deeper into that haze of lust and need.

“Well done, sweet girl,” he praised, withdrawing his fingers. 

“Alpha,” she whispered, one hand sliding down until it rested over the hard line showing through his jeans.

“You need your alpha’s cock, pet?” He began working his thumb over her clit, just letting his fingers graze the rest of her. “You think you’re ready for that? Think you can take my knot, Feyre?”

“Please.” The next down stroke was rougher and he knew she was close to coming again when her body bowed towards him. “Please give it to me. Need your knot.”

There it was. And how sweet it sounded.

Kissing her neck, he let himself enjoy that lilac and pear scent for a moment before peeling out of the last of his clothes. Feyre had a hand around him before he could reach down to stroke himself, painfully hard beneath her touch. The moment she grazed his knot he jolted, one hand closing over hers while the other fisted one of the pillows beneath them. “Fuck, Feyre.”

“I want to taste you.” He clenched his jaw tight. This woman would be the death of him. 

“Soon, darling. But first I need to be inside of you.” She lifted her hips, bending them at the knees in invitation. “Soaked for me,” he purred, lining up to claim her. “You’re going to take me so well, Feyre. Every inch.”

She swallowed, but nodded. Pinning her hips to keep her from rushing to take him, he pushed the tip in, grunting softly as she clenched around him. At this rate he wasn’t going to last long. “More,” Feyre begged, heels digging into his back. “Need more.”

“Patience is a virtue, pet.” Still, he fed her another inch, rocking in and out, working into her until only his knot remained. Smirking at the blissed out look covering her face, Rhys leaned down to whisper in her ear. “So fucking beautiful, filled up like this. Open those eyes for me, Feyre.” She trembled, eyes remaining closed. A sharp flick to her clit and she cried out, eyes flying open and snapping to his. “Watch, Feyre. Watch me give you my knot.” Her eyes darted down. Her nails bit into his back the moment he bottomed out. “Hot little cunt, taking me so well.” 

Rhys didn’t let her catch her breath before he started rolling his hips again, dragging in and out of her, animalistic pride beginning to build when he felt her thighs trembling around him and the hot little puffs of air against the shell of his ear, when each thrust was made easier by another gush of slick soaking his length. “So close,” she whined, writhing beneath him, his name falling from her lips in a constant chant. 

His rhythm faltered, feeling his release within reach as well. “Come for me, Feyre.” She keened, needing that push over the edge. Flicking her clit, he slammed home, spilling into her the moment her teeth latched down on his shoulder, nails cutting into his back. A moment later she shuttered beneath him, her grip going lax. He couldn’t help but push her damp hair back from her sweaty face, kissing her brow. Not wanting to crush her, he turned on his back, repositioning her legs on either side of him.

“That was…” She sighed, eyes drooping. “Thank you.”

“Rest, Feyre. Before the next wave hits. I’ve got you."

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[sunnie-angel]

The Ghost of You: Update

so based on the poll i did last week, it seems like people want me to upload the unfinished second chapter of the ghost of you. it's a pretty rough draft and it's not my proudest work, but i've been fighting with this update for so long that at this point i'd rather tentatively mark this fic as done than keep fighting it until i hate it. the chapter is posted below the cut as requested and at some point in the future i may revisit this fic, but this is all there is going to be for now. i'm sorry to anyone that was looking forward to a more satisfying ending, but i'd like to keep my fond memories of this fic.

If this were one of Ms. Einarsdottir’s romantic fairytales, your handsome prince would have come back to you the very same night and begged you to explain. If this were a fairytale, you would have told him all about your ghostly visions and tearfully asked him to forgive you for not sharing this with him sooner. If this was a fairytale, he’d say there was nothing to forgive, you’d fall into his arms for a kiss and the two of you would live happily ever after. This is not a fairytale.

You call in sick that first aching morning, painfully aware that you’re leaving your friends and co-workers in a tight spot but being brutally honest with yourself, you know that you’ll make mistakes and at the hospital, mistakes cost lives. The lingering weight of Matty’s life, cut too short too soon, already hangs on your conscience. You won’t add another to it, won’t create more heartache in the world. So instead you spend the day sitting on that same blasted couch staring numbly into the distance.  The mug wrapped in your hands grows cold and yet you don’t notice enough to care. Slowly as the hours stretch on the quality of the light changes as the sun travels high overhead of a city that won’t conveniently pause itself for your fractured heart. Notifications cause your phone to vibrate and buzz intermittently. You don’t check who it is until it’s dark out and you finally move from your statue-like position to turn on some lights. 

A few of your work friends from the hospital have sent you get well soon messages. There’s a few missed calls from Steph, but you dismiss the notifications with a flick of your finger across the screen. You’re in no mood for re-hashing the hurt that hangs like a shroud over the apartment, wouldn’t even know where to begin to find the words. 

There’s some leftover soup in the fridge and you heat it up on the stove. It’s as you’re dumping rice noodles into the pot that the smell of it really hits you. You’d made the soup noodles the night before, something quick and easy that even in his distracted state you’d known that Jason would devour. Your face is now oddly wet. It’s over stirring a pot that the first tears start to fall, anger and frustration mingling with numbness and a bone deep sadness. This was not the way things were meant to be. There was supposed to be laughter and joy in the apartment, shared sorrows halved, and a ring on your finger in a few months, a promise of forever. The rooms are cold and empty now, echoing with their silence. 

Jason doesn’t come home that night, or the next. It takes a full week of dragging yourself out of your lonely bed, staring unfeelingly into the bathroom mirror at your dark circles as you pull back your hair to get ready for work, of dodging questions about your silences and dark moods and fending off well-meaning invitations from coworkers for coffee, that you realize that Jason may not be coming back. That despite all your years together, shared moments and shared secrets, this one last truth might be what breaks you apart. That thought hurts, in ways you hadn’t considered before. 

It takes another week to wrap your head around that possibility. Another week of missed calls and texts from Steph and Dick, a DM from Tim, but nothing from Jason himself. His clothes are still in the closet and his collection of recipe cards from Alfred still sit on the kitchen counter. The bottle of cedar scented body wash taunts you in the shower the same way your single set of keys by the front door does. His presence haunts every room of your apartment more effectively than any ghost you’ve ever encountered. 

It is Ms. Einarsdottir with her fairytale romances that begins to pull you together again. She listens as you stumble through your story, a copy of Jane Eyre in your lap as a cover for the tears that occasionally escape you. In a quiet corner of the Gotham library, you begin to sort through just how deeply his reaction has hurt you to the only person that really knows the whole story. 

“Oh dearie, you really have been through it, haven’t you?” She clucks. “He seemed like such a nice boy too. He made you happy once, very happy I think.” She strokes your hair as best she can for a person without a physical body. “But he’s hurt you quite badly now. There may come a day when he apologizes, and Lord only knows he’ll need to spend ages making it up to you, but dear you can’t live waiting for him to make that decision.” 

“I know that. And I know that he’s hurt me. But I also know that he’s hurting too. I can’t get the image of his face, how devastated he looked, out of my head.” Your voice shakes, thick with choked back emotion. “I’ve got all this love for him still and it’s sitting like a lump of coal in my chest.”

“Dearie,” Ms. Einarsdottir says, leveling you with her gaze, “your love for that boy might never change. But right now, you need to have more love for yourself. Right now he’s hurtin’ over a what-if that the two of us know isn’t true. He’s hurt you–” she raises her voice before you can interrupt, “and that’s a fact. If he can’t figure out how to handle his hurt, if he isn’t capable of loving you for every last thing that you can do, then he was never the one for you. No matter how much you still care about  him.” Her words land heavy in the relative silence of the library, bitter in the way that the most effective medicines are. You swallow heavily, and continue to stare at the book in your lap unseeingly. 

“Now it sounds like there’s a little boy out there that needs your help. From the both of you. Let doing the right thing get your mind off of other things. And if that boy can’t get himself to accept your help out of fear, then you’ll know where you stand and I will know whether or not I need to start putting the fear of God into that boy.”

You smile weakly at her attempt at sternness, the deeply etched smile lines of her face so incongruous with her words. Thanking her, you make your way out of the library mulling over her words. She’s not wrong, that Matty needs help, help only you can give him. The only sticking point would be if you can make yourself reach out to Jason, if he’d even listen to you. 

It takes a few more days for you to come to a decision, and even then it is less of a conscious thought than a half-cocked choice that comes about because of how desperate you are for caffeine. Buying a cup of coffee, you drop your change, coins rolling every which way. One of them comes to a stop on the cobbled stone right as Matty dies again. His fingers still look so fragile scrabbling in the dirt, you think. Matty’s still there, trapped in the courtyard with the only good coffee stand in all of Gotham General Hospital. You can’t ignore the fact that he’s there anymore than you could the first time. He dies three times while you wait in line for your coffee, your already weary heart buckling under the strain of his terror. It makes you angry at yourself for how long you’ve left him there like this, too distracted by something as inconsequential as a broken heart when he’s been facing the stuff of nightmares without respite. 

The rest of the day passes by in a daze, but by the end of it you’ve resolved to return to the courtyard, to Matty. The sun’s going down by the time you clock out, the courtyard much emptier now that the coffee stand has closed for the day. It’s just you, the pigeons, and Matty. Hands tucked into your coat pockets for warmth, you call out to him.

“Matty! Matty, I’m here. Can you hear me?” Your voice isn’t that loud, the same firm but gentle voice you use with the traumatized children that cycle through your ward, but it causes him to flinch. 

“D’you know the way home, miss?” He asks again. You have to strain to hear him over the noise of the ambulance bay and the rush hour traffic. 

“Tell me where you are Matty and I’ll tell you how to get home, alright?” Your voice is coaxing, but you know that you’re short on time. If the loop continues to play out the way it always has, there’s precious little time before whatever is chasing Matty catches up to him. 

“I’m walking home from practicing the piano…” his voice trails off into nothingness as his eyes go wide with fright. You can do nothing but watch him, a fist in your chest, as he dies in the dirt. With a flicker the loop starts up again, Matty reappearing a few steps away from you. Taking a deep breath in, you start again. You stay for another hour with Matty, until the air is so cold that it slices up your lungs with a hundred paper cuts on every inhale and all the streetlights have turned on. You’ve asked every variation of where are you that you can in those brief few moments before fear consumed him. It’s selfish, but for that whole hour not once did you think of your own empty apartment until you’ve flipped the lights on in it.

And so it goes for the rest of the week. Every day after your shift, you’ll spend an hour or so with Matty. Not every day do you try and find out more from him. Sometimes you simply try to comfort him. He reminds you of someone and it takes a while for you to figure out exactly who. It’s Jason - or more accurately the ghost of Jason Todd, dead and gone too soon. Something about the lightness of their limbs, their shared love of the arts, the way their deaths have left them trapped, it has you even more determined to set Matty to rest. 

[vintagevict0ria]

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

“You brush past me in the hallway…”

chapter 1

pairing: Adam Driver x f!reader

content: n/a

a/n: omg i am soooooo excited for this you have no idea. Its been so long since i posted and this idea has been stuck in my drafts since july and since im back in my Adam driver era- id thought id finish this. This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swifts song "I can see you" and each chapter will be based on a lyric! So i am no expert on how film/actor/movie stuff works so bear with me. Hopeful as this goes on, it will get better. Im planning on finishing this by the new year (who knows if that will happen) but since im on break i should take advantage of my free time. Ok long story short I will be writing this shit non stop since im on a writing high so who knows if the next chapter will come out tommorow! Hope you enjoy! Notes are greatly appreciated!!

Y/n, a famous actress known for her beautiful face and captivating personality but also her incredible acting skills. You had been nominated for over 50 awards and won 5 oscars. It had been a while since you were on a set nor a movie. The last film was a roaring success and the critics were crazy about it! The media begged for another film starring Y/N Y/L/N.

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the sound of your phone ringing. Your agent- Carolina, was calling. You quickly answered- yawning and hoping she wouldn’t hear it. “Y/n! Great news!” You sighed, not really understanding what was happening. “You got the job!” The job? what is she talking about? “huh?” You rubbed your eyes, laying back down. “The movie!! Adam Driver is in it too! Oh my gosh i can hear them now! ‘Y/n y/l/n and Adam Driver are co-stars in the biggest hit of the year!” Once you heard his name, you sprung up “Wait what?” “Yeah! They want you here in LA by tomorrow morning. I’ve already booked you a flight to leave in..5 hours! Bye!” She hung up before you could say another word. You glanced over at the clock- 9:35. The flight was at 2:15 and it would take a while to pack and get ready. So, being the smart woman you are, you got up and started the day. Showering, packing, and of course- stopping to get starbucks.

Once you arrived in LA, you headed to the condo where you would be staying for a majority of filming. That morning you woke up and started getting ready for the day. Showering, and making a coffee before you headed out to the table read. You threw on a pair of leggings and a tshirt. It was late autumn so you took a jacket on the way out. At the studio you said hello to the crew and a huge thank you to the casting director. “Y/n!” It was Carolina- she ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug. “How was the flight?” You smiled at the redhead girl “Great.” Carolina jumped up and down with excitement and handed you sheets of paper. On the cover was the name of the film, the name of the director-JJ Abrams- and your name. “Heres your script. You need to go ahead and head in there! Bye!” She walked away, the sound of her heals clicked across the floor. You quickly skimmed through the pages while walking and not paying attention. You soon enough ran into someone, your coffee spilling over you and the floor along with your script- which was on the floor…covered in coffee. “Oh gosh Im so sorry!” You apologized while picking up your script, wincing at the wet paper. “You might want to watch where you are going next time.” The voice was soft but stern. You looked up and realized it was Adam Driver.

He was wearing all black and his hair was messy. He glanced at you with a subtle stare. “Im so sorry!” You stood up, brushing yourself off. “No worries, happens to the best of us.” He rolled his shoulders back and popped his neck, closing his eyes. Damn he was attractive. ”You headed in?” You asked, trying to keep your composure together. Adam simply just nodded.

The first day of the read consisted of going over the aspects of the film and the time line of production. After the read through, filming would start, then the movie premiere would take place after filming and production in Hollywood, but that was a whiles away. When the read was over you walked out with another co star. Heading to your condo, you received a text from Carolina. "Girl, just talked to JJ and he just gave me word that there is a sex scene between you and Adam 😁" The stupid emoji at the end made you cringe. Carolina giving you this news shot your nerves through the roof. As if you weren't already nervous enough about working with Adam, having to film a intimate scene made it far worse. Kicking your shoes off and falling onto your bed, you opened instagram, an attempt to get your mind of the situation at hand, it didn't work.

[occasionallyprosie]

"Hiding Behind Plaster and Ceremics"

Chapter 3

Wind reveals something. This marks the beginning of something new.

<<Previous

Read On AO3

Finally actually just ending this one, I've had this chapter drafted so long I feel bad not posting it but I really don't think there's much more to be added to this fic.

----

Legend really didn't like the new status quo. Twilight was very defensive of him, which he was on the fence about to be honest, and Warriors just kept giving him weird looks. Contrast that with the fact he couldn't get any space because Hyrule and Sky were trying hard to get close and he'd promised Twilight he'd try not to be as mean.

Which really just meant he couldn't force the others to just leave him alone. Even after he got over the sickness, they stuck close and he could feel his nerves turn to fire as he couldn't get time to himself.

He was biting down on his tongue, trying desperately to avoid them without breaking his promise to Twilight. Now, not only was he trying to avoid getting attached, he was also just trying to not snap as every nerve, every coil, every spring prepared to get set off because everything was just too close.

They were just starting to make camp when Wind chose his chore for it.

"I'm going on patrol!" He declared.

"Fine, but take someone with you," Warriors reminded him, the usual rule for leaving the larger group.

"Come on, Scholar!"

Legend startled as Wind grabbed his sleeve--not his arm, his sleeve--and dragged him off. He quickly pulled himself free but meeting Wind's eyes--Ocean's eyes, bright and expectant and far too smart--meant he was following him.

Wind happily moved across the rainforest floor, seemingly accustomed to brushing aside underbrush as tall as they were.

Legend decided not to ask why and just followed, letting a distance form between them and letting himself just... relax in the silence and space.

They did a number of expanding loops around the chosen campsite, only coming across some tektites at a nearby river and some Deku Babas here and there. As they turned to go back, having been silent the entire time, Wind spoke up.

"You need more time?" He asked, facing him with an overly knowing expression.

Legend frowned. "What?"

"More time alone and away from everyone?" He clarified, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. "Don’t tell me our ever-aware spitfire didn't notice I dragged him off so he wouldn't explode on everyone."

Spitfire. He'd been called that before by exactly one person, the kid in front of him. Not that he'd say it first.

"Oh," he responded, definitely with the eloquence of the scholar he was nicknamed for. "Why?"

Wind laughed. "Please, I could tell you were getting antsy, I just didn't want to find out if you getting overwhelmed by people is the same now as it was in Hytopia."

Legend stopped in his tracks, Wind noticed immediately and looked at him, a wryness in his eyes.

"You--"

"You think I couldn't recognize you?" Wind scoffed, as if insulted. "I recognized you when we met, but, well, you never said anything, and then you snapped at everyone and cursed out the Rancher when he tried to scold you for your language 'cause of the Smithy and I." He sighed. "It wasn't until you got sick and--" he grinned a bit, "you were hiding behind the Rancher, and his pelt-cloak thingie made you look so much smaller, that I knew I was right. You just didn't say anything."

Legend stared at him but Wind just smiled brightly.

"Which is okay," he said, still just as warm as when he'd asked if he was ready to head back. "I get things change... I get that you've changed and I can tell that something about all of this scares you--you haven't changed that much, Apple."

Legend grimaced. "I'm not scared."

"Can't be courageous without a bit of fear," Wind retorted with a still-wry grin. "But my point is, I noticed you were getting antsy and needed some time away from everyone. So do you want more time, more space, or what? We probably have another hour before we need to get back."

Legend ended up just backing up into a tree and slumping down to the ground, Wind hummed lightly as he followed and sat in the grass in front of him, a solid three feet of space, if not more, between them.

Silence settled, and if Legend closed his eyes, Wind was somehow so silent that as long as he ignored his magic, he could pretend he was in complete solitude.

They stayed like that for a while until Legend broke the silence. "Why aren't you mad at me?"

Wind made a confused noise. "What'd'ya mean?"

"I mean--For not telling, for not saying anything, why aren't you mad?"

Legend wouldn't admit he probably would've completely shattered if Wind was ever genuinely mad at him, Forest was their big brother, yeah, but it had been Ocean who he'd stared at and tried so desperately to mimic during Hytopia, from the casual singing of work songs to the way he fought. All of that had been Ocean, and even the blue cap he still wore to this day was the one Ocean had given him when they'd separated, sure it had been mended and resewn and altered to fit his larger head, but it was the same cap.

Wind laughed at his question though. "Why would I be? It's been years for you, I don’t think you realize how obvious it is that you've been through a lot, and what's probably only obvious to me is that it all hurt."

Legend opened his eyes and looked over at him, Wind gave him another warm smile.

"It's been years for you," he repeated, "but just over one for me. I think you've forgotten how well I know you, how well I can read you, and how little you've actually changed."

Legend stared at him. "It has been years, I'm not the same kid anymore."

Wind raised an eyebrow. "Well you have all the same tells as you did before."

"I do not."

"Oh yeah?" Wind leaned forward to poke his arm. "Then why did I know you needed to be away from everyone? It's almost as if you've been introverted since the day I met you and Hytopia was constantly getting on your nerves because of it, hmm?"

Legend couldn't help but smile a bit as he huffed and swatted him away. "I wasn't doing a very good job of hiding anything."

"And yet Forest didn't have a clue, the oblivious dumbass. I don’t know how he found out but I'd bet a gold rupee that it wasn't until you called him by his name or something."

Legend snorted. He couldn't even argue because Wind was exactly right!

For the remainder of the hour until Wind's necklace chimed with Wild's voice asking after them, they just talked and Legend didn't realize until that evening, just after dinner, that he hadn't even thought about his fear, about what was to come.

He'd reconnected with Ocean, he hadn't even thought twice about it either, which made it worse. He'd just forgotten exactly why he had been spending this whole quest sharpening his edges.

He'd forgotten that it was useless to reach out for them, as they were just going to be ripped away.

And as much as it hurt... he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when Wind joined him in his corner of the campsite and just laid down beside him, not chatting his head off, but quietly humming.

His heart felt softer, lighter, but even if he couldn't bring himself to regret it now, bringing his ocarina to his lips and putting a ringing tune to Wind's hums, he knew in his mind that it wouldn't last.

The quest would end and he'd be all alone again, whether or not it would be his breaking point was a different question, he thought Marin had been the breaking point but he still hadn't reached it even after her and then Ravio. What would he do then?

He didn’t know, but he’d have to concede here, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t be able to fend off both his brothers, which meant… well, it meant he was done. It meant this was the beginning of a new chapter, at least with some of the other heroes. It meant he couldn’t keep running, and once this was over, the pitfalls of grief would catch up to him… but he couldn’t stop it, and he had to just accept that.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 36 - Resurface

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

Previous chapter

A kind of a build-up chapter for Virgil, because he’s decided to be brave and face something but that comes at a cost because I am incapable of letting them be fixed first time around. I also had to apply some very very minor whump to Scott just because it amuses me so to do and he was RIGHT THERE being a doofus and asking for it.

Hesitating to put this one out because there is so much good fic that’s appeared over the last week and I haven’t read it all yet but… I think if I don’t get this one out of draft mode I’m never going to properly focus on the finale chapter and I really need to get that done so I can finally post the art a fabulous someone did for me four months ago when I last thought I was nearly finished 🫣😬🙄

SO… here we go…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Virgil’s studio was recessed into the cliff which meant it was protected from the elements. It was accessible only via his bedroom and a key coded door meant it was protected…ish from marauding younger brothers.

Although a huge picture window dominated one wall, very useful for those sky paintings, this could and often would be shuttered at the press of the button, transforming the room into a haven over which he had unfettered dominion.

Advanced atmospheric regulation meant he could ensure the air it wasn’t too arid for sculpting or too damp to allow a painting to dry. An objectively impressive array of light fixtures popped out at various levels, the angle and tone of each completely customisable at the flick of a slider (or twelve) on his tablet, meant he had absolute control of what bounced off his surroundings into his eyeballs. And the sound system…

Well.

What would be the point of a soundproof room if you couldn’t occasionally crank it up to symphony orchestra brass section volume. Virgil had played the French horn in high school and fully appreciated the sensation of his ribcage vibrating when the trombones sat behind him got into their groove.

He was safe here.

And yet, he couldn’t settle. Everything felt, off. Scratchy. As if sand had got into a sensitive mechanism and no amount of oil would flush it out again.

Virgil tucked the sketchbook under his arm and got up to adjust the brightness of the overhead spots down a little and nudged the temperature control up another increment. He’d been fiddling with it all morning but couldn’t quite find the precise balance he needed. Turning his back on the easel stool, he sat down heavily on the couch, removed a pencil from behind his ear and glared at the page.

He’d thought it might be a good idea to sketch out a few anatomical poses to build the detail on top of… to save Scott having to hang around while he got the basics done. Despite having shut himself in here all morning, he’d barely got beyond sketching a vaguely humanoid shape. Perhaps he’d got a little more fixated on the angle of an arm than strictly necessary… in fact he’d roughed it out in so many positions his graphite brother was giving off distinctly octopoid vibes.

The real one had been popping in and out all morning, providing coffee and snacks and unspoken reassurance but now was Here and Getting Ready and Virgil was also supposed to be Ready do some Healing. Find Some Closure. Desensitisation. All that healthy stuff. He tried to ignore the creeping doubt as to whether he was, or would ever, in fact, be ready to…

“Can I make a suggestion?”

He jumped a little and dropped his pencil as Scott called out from behind Virgil’s bedroom door. He put the book to one side and crawled under his chair to locate it.

“Virg?” The door opened and he could imagine Scott peering around it, with all the darkness creeping up his neck and around his throat… his heart raced and his breath escaped in a tiny squeak.

Uuuuh… he wasn’t ready. Not ready at all. Maybe he never would be. Maybe this was… maybe he was just…

“Virgil, are you alright?”

Realising he’d frozen with his upper body wedged under the couch and that Scott was inevitably now aiming the Concerned Eyebrows at his behind, Virgil forced out an airy “All good, I just dropped my… my… err…” he huffed a fake laugh to cover up the gap. Stifled the panicky breathing… the word had gone. Just gone. He spread his fingers out, feeling the grain of the wood beneath him, sanded almost-but-not-quite smooth, and focussed on drowning out the whistle in his ears with an inane little tune Gordon was humming earlier. This was transient…

“Pen. I mean pencil. Pencil!!”

The floorboards vibrated a little as knees slid into view just beside him. Navy blue knees. No, not navy. Shade 1620 “Airforce Blue” - he had a tube of it on the easel. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hex 00308F. Several paint tubes, just in case. And some inks. Zero zero three zero eight eff. Navy blue was 000080. The three and the F somehow changed everything.

A hand on his shoulder, unnaturally tentative as they all still were around him. Still. He scrunched his eyes still tighter and tried not to let it bother him, he wasn’t the type to be bitter about being ‘Poor Fragile Virgil best-not-surprise-him-lest-he-freak-out-and-see-things-again…’ ok, he was still a little bitter perhaps. And being not very kind to himself either. He’d tell Scott off for that.

Scott…

He pressed his fingertips into the floor just enough to stop them shaking, just enough to hurt. As his neck and shoulders tensed in sympathy he felt his brother’s arms curl around him, holding him steady, keeping him from bumping his head on the wooden frame. Holding him steady, keeping him from sinking through the floor into who knew where… he dragged in a breath, cursing his vocal chords for the little whine that caused.

“I’m here. What do you need?”

“Pencil.”

The harmonic skitter of light wood rolling over heavy before the pencil was nudged up close to his hand and he grasped it like a lifeline.

He couldn’t open his eyes, not yet. He was terrified he wouldn’t be able to trust what he saw if he did.

He could feel Scott breathe, the weight of his arm. He could hear the repeated “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

Yet both those senses had betrayed him before too. Only one had not. It had never lied to him, but, quiet and unshowy, it was easier to ignore if the others told him a better story.

Right now, the impersonal fog of the dry cleaning spray Grandma had used almost overwhelmed him. It was a white noise.

A grey noise?

He reached past the grey for something familiar, something safe - something to prove this wasn’t hollow. There was the ever-present scent of coffee on his brother’s breath and the subtle hint of super-shiny gel… no, he corrected himself, he’d upgraded to the pricier ‘sublime shiny’ recently… which he swore was better despite Virgil pointing out the identical ingredients, smell and, even taste… alright he might have taken the debate a little too far but when Scott had poked his tongue out at him Virgil hadn’t been able to resist giving him a sample. For science’s sake.

The look on his brother’s face had been spectacular.

He chuckled and a little of the dread melted away.

He still needed to sneak some down to Brains’ lab to run a chemical analysis actually…

“Virg? You with me, short stu…OOOFFF”

Scott had clearly ducked his head under the couch to try to see what was going on and the resulting clunk demonstrating he’d immediately forgotten that he’d done so vibrated through Virgil’s teeth.

“Scott! Your head!”

“Is fine. Thick skull, remember?”

“The thickest.” Eyes still resolutely closed, Virgil assessed his tone. It was light, but not the too-light tone Scott adopted when trying to conceal an actual injury from a brother… There was more than a hint of worry, obviously, which Virgil needed to Do Something About because he was painfully aware it was him causing it.

“Virgil, are you ok? What do you need?”

“I’m ok. I… yeah. I’m good.” He was. He could do this.

“Alright.” The audible skepticism was perhaps justified but Scott had clearly decided to let him call the shots today.

“I’m not criticising your process here but would it be easier to do the arting somewhere other than under the couch.”

Virgil grunted, which was frankly all the response the question deserved. Then, eyes tight shut he shuffled backwards. The sensitive skin just below the edge of his little finger brushed against Scott’s leg and he shivered as he recognised the fabric. Polywool. Strong but soft. Permanent military creases. More capable of withstanding a worried brother knee-sliding across a wooden floor than the string of ludicrously expensive but patently unScott-proof suit pants that the CEO wore to TI meetings and managed to destroy on a regular basis. But not robust enough for any kind of action. This was dress uniform. Just for show. He’d never have got in a jet wearing it.

But without it he’d never have got in that jet…

The voice of dread in his heart hissed at him. Virgil tried to squash it, but the edges were sharp and tried to steal his breath. He could feel his pulse begin to race again, echoing back through the thumb-tips he had pressed so firmly into the floor. No, that wouldn’t work. He knew this. He knew how to deal with this now. The hand on his shoulder tightened infinitesimally, lending him strength. So, he forced himself to take a slower breath and let himself acknowledge the thought. It was a logical fallacy, he knew that, but as the counsellor had advised he resisted the temptation to be angry with himself for thinking it. He could see where it came from. It wasn’t unreasonable or stupid for his subconscious to reach for something, anything to blame. It just wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t true.

What was true?

He’d come back. Scott had come back. He was here right now, humming Mom’s song as he rested his head on top of Virgil’s and stroked his arm.

Virgil opened his eyes. Brown floor. Black pencil. 1620... Scott’s legs. He raised his head a little, braced for the darkness…

Light blue?

Light blue shirt? Airforce shirt, yes, but not what he was expecting.

Scott interpreted his frown of confusion before he realised he’d formed it.

“I was going to suggest maybe I don’t wear the jacket just yet? I could, I dunno, just hold it or something. Till you’re used to it?”

Virgil realised he wasn’t blinking enough and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets for a moment.

“Right. I… yes. I’m sorry I…” he huffed irritably “This is so ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t.” Scott squeezed his shoulder again. “And you told me not to say things like that.”

Virgil swallowed the impulse to point out that for Scott it was different. Maybe, after all, it wasn’t so different. In the absence of anything constructive to say he removed his hands from his face and made an attempt at a reassuring smile. It was going quite well until his eye was caught by a rush of movement as the hastily slung jacket slithered off the back of a chair and curled into a pile of darkness on the floor. He averted his eyes and returned his attention to his brother’s face.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Here, Virgil drew a blank. Beyond his request to paint Scott wearing the dreaded dress uniform, he was surprisingly unsure about what he wanted to do. He hadn’t got much past the idea to get himself, Scott and The Uniform in the same room and not go mad.

As the heap of fabric continued to noisily suck all the light from the room, he wasn’t sure the latter part was going as planned.

“I don’t… I don’t actually err…” he tailed off but the point had been conveyed.

Scott hummed again, but not in a musical way this time. That was the ‘IR-Commander-is-formulating-a-plan’ hmmmmm.

“We have all day... no need to rush anything. Do you want to go outside for a bit? It’s really nice out there?”

Outside was Scott’s go-to fix. If things were difficult, he did better in the open air… or at least somewhere with a clear view of the sky. Virgil suspected he knew why and tried not to think about that too much. What he did know was that it was when his brother tucked himself away - when he found a hidey hole, enclosed and dark - well that was when little brother’s alarm bell needed to ring. Outside was good.

Yet, Virgil knew Scott hadn’t suggested it for his own benefit this time. It wasn’t for the air but for the sun.

Virgil’s comfort instinct was more towards warmth. The flannel wasn’t purely a fashion choice after all. It didn’t matter where he was - snuggled in bed, melting his face off in the sauna, taking an excessively long hot shower, hibernating on a sun lounger - it was all good as long as the goosebumps were kept at bay. Gordon had long ago given up trying to persuade him to lower the cabin temperature of Two. If Virgil’s skin was warm and relaxed he had at least a chance of thinking clearly about everything else.

Outside in the sunshine sounded good. It had a decent chance of being better than here anyway, in the bowels of the earth where the darkness was closing in and an icy draft scraped across his face.

So Virgil nodded and allowed his big brother to steer him towards the doorway. Where he stood helplessly for a few moments as he realised the hand with which he’d reached for the handle was a white knuckled fist clutching a pencil for dear life… and he didn’t quite seem to know how to put it down. He shivered again.

Scott rushed around behind him, chattering away and collecting whoknewwhat, then took charge of the door-opening and, taking a firm grip on Virgil’s pencil-free hand, towed him up the stairs and out into the daylight.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

[rashomonss]

A HUMANS WRATH

Part X

previous part

taglist: @miridiums-writing, @zerchlia, @aeongiies, @xmoogx, @coffeeandtealol, @food-lover9000, @l0diluvs, @vichsy, @valeriele3, @entolomaeden, @acaribeau, @sillybeanzo, @jessiegerl, @capricorn-anon, @crescentworld, @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r, @chumbinhoeba, @chaos-n-kindness, @strawberryfire17, @zenxvii, @misscaller06, @luminarysol, @simpinginthecorner, @your-next-daydream, @bontensbabygirl

a/n: let’s gooo!! this is officially the 10th chapter of a humans wrath! how are y’all liking the story so far? and don’t worry because there’s plenty more chapters to come! also I’m so sorry for making y’all wait this long life’s been kinda hectic right now especially since I got sick twice, but I seriously thought I posted this instead it’s just been sitting in my drafts… also we’re going back to the original timeline rn enjoy!

warnings: lesson 16 spoilers, choking, mentions of killing, angst

I’ll make sure you’ll know what it feels like

“-don’t know what happened!”

“-.... some space”

“.... calm down”

They were all so loud. All the voices in your room sounded familiar….were they the brothers?

Opening your eyes you winced at the harsh light of your room causing someone to freak out and turn it off. Someone else then turned on a small lamp by your bedside.

After a few moments you sat up and tried to adjust yourself, slowly recalling what had happened; however some loud voices had soon interrupted your thought process.

“You woke them up idiot!”

“Ow! You didn’t have to hit me! Besides blame Asmo not me, he was hovering over them”

“Don’t put the blame on me! You're the one who freaked out when Lucifer said they fainted”

“Shut up! I did not”

“Did too”

“Did not!

“Did too”

“How would you both like to hang from the ceiling for the next five hours”

“Eeep!”

“Wait, we're sorry!”

“Idiots”

“Would you like to join them, Satan?”

“I’ll kill you”

“Could you all quiet down, please” you said, grabbing your head.

The talking stopped and all seven of them turned to look at you. Concerned faces then turned into sparkling eyes as each of them threw themselves on you shouting your name.

It took you a second to register that six demons were now suffocating you. Once it did register however you yelled at them to get off, pushing some off in the process. A few looked at you with sad expressions and then looked towards the eldest brother.

“Don’t be upset, they pushed you off. After all, how would you feel after being rudely woken up?” He said, sighing.

The brothers then looked towards you and apologized, but you returned their apology with a blank stare. Even if it was a matter as small as this one you won’t forgive them.

“Let’s give Mc some space, once they’re good and ready they can come and get us” Lucifer then said realizing you were beginning to feel uncomfortable.

So he then corralled his brothers out of the room and shut the door behind them despite many protests and angry faces. After he made his way towards you, wearing a solemn expression.

“Let’s talk whenever you feel better. I’ll be waiting for you in my office” Lucifer nodded. Without another word he left, leaving you in the dimly lit silence of your room.

Sighing you rolled over in your bed and faced the wall. You didn’t really want to talk to the others, especially Lucifer for that matter. But for some reason a small part of you wanted too, which somewhat annoyed you.

The longer you laid in bed, the more you found yourself wanting to see them again. Which was unnatural because you’ve never experienced that before. This was probably an effect that voice had on you before fainting.

You’ll deal with it later, you thought. This feeling was becoming annoying and you were starting to get hungry. Turning over to face your bedside table you grabbed your D.D.D. and went to the messages.

And what you found were so many you never received before. So many conversations the you here was a part of. So many in which all the beings closest to them expressed just how much they loved them.

You were shocked because you had never really paid attention to the messages in this D.D.D. You only used it to contact the angels and sorcerer. There was much you did pay attention to, you then thought.

You sent Mammon a quick message before getting completely distracted, asking him to bring you some food. His reply was fast, it made you wonder if he was the type to have your chat with him pinned.

This you actually had a few pinned chats at the top of their messages. The first was the “House of Lamentation (New)”. The second and third were “The Royals” and “The Angels”. And lastly was “Lucifer, you S*CK” which made you laugh a bit.

As you continued to read through messages you found out a few more things about the you that resided here.

For starters, the brothers were always getting into trouble and you were always fixing it. Next was the fact that the brothers liked to message you about the most random and unnecessary things, but you still choose to humor them anyway. Why is that?

Third, was that you liked to visit the Lord Demons castle frequently for tea. And fourth was that the bond you shared with the brothers here was nothing more than something special to each of you.

A knock was suddenly heard at your door causing you to jolt and sit up.

“I’m comin’ in okay?” The voice said.

Before you had the chance to respond Mammon pushed open the door carrying a tray of food. When his eyes met yours he smiled and you gave a small smile in response.

“Here ya go. I didn’t know what ya wanted so I just bought a bit of everything” Mammon said, before putting the tray in front of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said, then began to eat.

Mammon pulled up a chair from your table and sat in front of your bed watching as you picked at the food in front of you. Neither of you said a word but your eyes met his countless times, it looked as if he had something to say but for some reason he wouldn’t say it.

Once you finished he took the tray from you and placed it on the table, then he sat back down and looked at you.

Silence filled the room again, only this time it made you feel a bit awkward. Since he hadn’t said anything yet you spoke, deciding that here and now you would be serious with him in what you were thinking of doing.

“Mammon I want to tell you something”

“Oh what’s up? Ya know you can tell me anything” he smiled.

You looked at his smile, maybe a small part of you felt bad, but in the end you were still the same old you with the same old feeling of hatred for the brothers.

“I want to sever our pact.”

With that the color drained from his face and he stared at you dumbfounded. “What do you mean sever the pact” he said, finally managing to get out.

“I mean I don’t want a pact with you anymore, so let’s break it off. Besides, what kind of demon like you would want a pact with a human such as myself?”

“Wait Mc, let’s talk this over okay? Ya don’t need to be so impulsive with decisions like this ya know” Mammon said, frantically waving his hands around.

“But I’ve given this enough thought and I’m completely sure of myself. Unless you give me a good reason as to why I shouldn’t do this, then I will sever our pact myself.”

“I, I um, well.” Mammon said. His brain was running a mile a minute trying to think of something, anything to say to you. A part of him was upset because he knew that you weren’t his Mc, however he had to stop you before you did something you would regret in the future.

“Mc. Please don’t do this.” He begged, grabbing both of your hands.

The action alone made you want to gag, but unlike the first time he touched you while you were here, this was bearable.

“Is that all? That’s not much of an argument.”

“No, that's not what I meant!” He yelled. “I just don’t want you to do somethin’ you’re gonna regret later.”

You raised an eyebrow and narrowed your eyes at the demon in front of you. “Bold of you to think I would regret something as simple as this. Besides if the only reason you want to keep a pact is to show it off then we’re through”

“What? Where the hell did ya get that idea?” Mammon asked, baffled. The second eldest sighed and looked towards you again before talking.

“I don’t want to sever our pact okay. I don’t wanna lose that connection I have with ya…”

“I was your first man, remember? And as your first I promised to be there for you all the time so don’t go tryna get rid of me now, because it’s not happening ya hear?” Mammon said.

He tried to appear calm and collected as he spoke but in reality he was gripping his pants with all of his strength in hopes he could have persuaded you to not sever your pact.

His anxiety only shot up more when you gave him a blank stare after he finished.

You sighed and then laughed.

Mammon looked at you wide eyed and confused. Was something he said funny? Was it a good thing you were laughing? He didn’t know what was going on and frankly it scared him a bit.

“That was sweet” you thought.

Maybe you won’t sever the pact just yet, you could wait just a bit more. No later than a second an idea popped into your head. If you were to ask each of the brothers the same question how would they respond? You wanted to find out, to see the utter shock on their faces as they tried to come up with an answer.

So that’s just what you sought out to do.

“Alright you win for now.” You said to Mammon, who finally was able to breathe in response.

“Really?” He exclaimed. Mammon was so ecstatic that he was ready to hug you.

However as he launched himself towards you he saw the annoyed face you made as well as the way you flinched away from him. So he stopped and looked towards you.

“Can I…can I hug ya?”

Your eyes went wide as you processed his words, none of them had ever asked if you were okay with being touched before.

After the incident you made a no touching rule due to the sheer fear you harbored after the youngest killed you, but they always choose to ignore it and touch you anyway which resulted in you using the pacts. However, for someone to actually ask you if you were okay with being touched threw you off a bit.

You blinked a few times then nodded slowly.

Mammon slowly made his way towards you and hugged you gently, and much to both of yours surprise you returned the gesture.

After your conversation with Mammon you then went to speak to Levi.

When you told him about wanting to sever your pact he fell off his gaming chair and had a conniption. You’ve never seen him cry before until then, honestly it was a bit refreshing in a sense. But wait did that make you a sadist?

After you spoke to him about severing the pact he claimed that if you did he’d have no reason left to live, which you paid no attention to. However he did confess that he loved you dearly after you said that his previous statement wasn’t a good enough reason for you. It was embarrassing enough for him so you left it at that.

Next was Beel and his reason was actually the only one you felt somewhat touched by.

Beel had told you that he loved you more than anything or anyone. He did mention his love for his twin and brothers, but he said you were different. You were everything to him, so if you broke the connection you had with him then he expressed how upset he would be. But he was the first to say that it was your choice and if you really wanted too then he wouldn’t stop you. You thought that was a decent enough response so you chose to keep the pact with him for now.

Asmo in the end had the same reaction as Levi, the only difference was his mascara ran because he cried more. Like Levi, Asmo exclaimed that he couldn’t live without you, however what you didn’t expect was him to compliment you till you were red in the face. So along with the others your pact with him stayed for another day.

Finally you had made your way to Satan.

You hadn’t spoken to the fourth born much while you were here however he did feed off of numerous amounts of your wrath making you less angry than usual, instead he was more irritable.

You knocked on his door and after a second a quiet “Come in” could be heard. Upon entering you saw him chained to a chair reading a book, and when he made out your figure he narrowed his eyes just the slightest bit.

“Still angry? After being that upset for so long I would have thought you'd be tired by now.” He asked.

“And I thought you would have been set free already but it appears not.”

Satan raised one of his eyebrows then spoke. “I never knew that a human as sweet and tiny as you could harbor so much hatred for others. Sometimes I felt it truly rivaled mine”

You laughed then and continued as well. “ Oh you think so?”

“Please Mc, I haven’t felt that angry since I was born”

You laughed and looked towards him, and before you could even speak he said “no”.

“No?” You questioned, confused.

“I heard you were going around telling everyone that you were debating on severing our pacts. And my answer is no, you will not sever your pact with me.”

You nodded in response. “So that’s your argument? Honestly I’m surprised, I would have thought you wouldn’t have cared”

Satan looked a bit shocked then spoke. “Of course I care about you Mc. I care about you more than anything, hell I worry more about you more than anything.”

“You really do have a way with words,” you replied, all the brothers did. Each buttered you up when you asked them to state their reasoning for not wanting to sever the pact.

Satan didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or not; well that was until he could feel rage boiling up inside you again.

“Mc, l-”

“Let’s leave it at that for now, I have someone else to go see” you said walking out before he could finish.

As the door closed you then made your way down the hallway, and the sound of things being thrown around again in Satan’s room could be heard.

Next was the youngest brother. You decided to go to him first before Lucifer because you didn’t want to see him just yet. In actuality you didn’t want to see Belphegor either but you’d eventually have to speak to him about your pact sometime.

Beel had mentioned his twin was in the planetarium the last time you spoke to him so that’s where you were currently on your way to. Pushing open the door you saw the youngest laying on a bench surprisingly awake at that.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you tried to calm your breathing. There was always something going wrong whenever you would see Belphegor. For example your chest would tighten to the point where you won’t be able to breath so you’d leave before you even got the chance to talk to him. Or your voice would get very shaky and you’d feel your hands sweat whenever you would pick on him.

It was hard to even be alone in a room with him because of the constant fear you had of being killed again. That fear played a large part into how you acted towards the brothers now. If it wasn’t for that constant fear of being on the brink of death again then you wouldn’t be as strict as you usually are.

Maybe if you were never killed in the first place you wouldn’t be like this, you thought staring at the ceiling of the planetarium.

“Are you going to come in?” Belphegor asked, looking over the bench.

Your eyes went wide then you took a deep breath before completely walking into the room. sitting next to the bench he was sitting on. You made sure to put some distance between the two of you just in case of anything.

“Why don’t you feel comfortable around me anymore?” Belphegor asked. He wasn’t even surprised about it since his question came off as very blunt. After he asked you he sat up and faced you tilting his head waiting for your response.

“Take a guess, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out,” you said, not looking back at him.

The demon in response sighed and laid back down, turning over to face the ceiling. “Is it because I messed up your bed again?”

“You’d think I’d be this upset over such a small thing? Well you're not wrong, however that is not why I'm upset.”

Belphegor knew what you were referring to, however he didn’t want to bring it up. He hoped after the whole thing happened you’d forget it, and you actually did to his surprise. It’s not like he didn’t want to apologize, he just never thought the time would be right. Maybe he shouldn’t have waited this long but he couldn’t help it. He was a coward.

Belphegor was afraid of what you would say if he did apologize. He was afraid to say anything to you because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he killed you. You were someone so dear to him now, and the fact that he took away your life once was something he’d liked to forget.

However for you to now take out your anger on him and him alone because you remembered that one trivial event really took a toll on him. But maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe this was finally his karma being served to him, no matter the circumstances he didn’t like seeing you this upset.

He was going to apologize. Now was the time, even if it was too late he was still going to try, he thought siting back up to face you.

“Mc I-“

“Shut up”

Belphegor felt his mouth snap shut at your command.

Your eyes finally met his, and they were ones filled with pure wrath. So much so that it could even rival Satan’s own.

“I was going to ask you the same thing I asked all of your brothers, but being here in the same room with you has changed my mind” you said.

“You don’t deserve my attention”

As you said that you leaned closer to the Avatar of Sloth as he slouched onto the bench. He appeared to be trying to distance himself from you but you continued to close the gap by towering over him.

“Stay.”

As you issued another command he jolted in place. This version of you was dangerous, he knew that much. But as you continued to stare him down only now did he truly feel helpless.

“I hate you, you know that? It’s because of you that I have panic attacks now. It’s your fault I get so upset. You are dead to me and you always will be.” You exclaimed lifting your hand up.

“I’ll make sure you know just what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you trusted so dearly.”

Reaching out you grabbed his throat with your right hand and squeezed. Belphegor made a choking sound in response as he struggled to breathe. Upon hearing that you put another hand around his neck then pushed him further onto the bench.

Belphegor was scared. He wouldn’t want to admit it but having you choke him without him being able to fight back really did terrify him.

Was this how you felt?

As you continued to squeeze his neck harder he felt himself become lightheaded, but what scared him the most was the look on your face.

You looked so happy.

So….relieved. You finally made him understand what it feels like. Why didn’t you just do this sooner? Well it doesn’t matter in the end, you finally got what you wanted you thought, as a single tear fell from Belphegor’s eye. His vision was becoming blurry but he was still able to make out your last statement before passing out. And it was,

“I am going to kill you”

Next Part

[elwinsglasses]

shannon's editor essay please if i beg will you give it to me

Haha so sorry about that y'all I'm pretty sure I answered an ask or smth about that essay all the way back in March, and now it's uh *checks notes* August. Whoops. I dug back through my drafts and it turns out that the essay was pretty undeveloped lol, and part of the reason that I procrastinated so long was because I was too lazy to hunt down sources for some of the stuff. Also, at this point a lot of the stuff I was going to write about is (at least in my perspective) pretty common knowledge, so I didn't feel it was super important. Anyways though I'll probably never get around to getting it well organized so I'll just bullet point the general ideas. Also just in case this is all my theories/speculations and none of them have been proven.

So basically I had a kind of far-fetched theory about why the character development of Sophie/Fitz/Keefe in the later books but especially Unlocked/Stellarlune was Like That was because of Shannon's editor

Shannon had a baby I believe 2019/2021ish? and as expected her writing schedule was severely impacted bc obviously baby

And the result of that was that (for at least Stellarlune) her editor ended up drafting the general plot, and she would fill in the outlines (this was stated in I believe an instagram live or barnes and noble interview for Stellarlune. There was a post floating around her that summarized that event but for the life of the I can't find it)

Anyways if you're unfamiliar with Shannon's editor, she's a super pro Keefe/Sokeefer, and is the reason why Keefe is on a disproportionate amount of covers. That wouldn't necessarily be a big deal except I feel she's allowed it to color her view of the story, instead of focusing on what makes the most sense narratively speaking

Like my biggest issue as stated in my last post was how the narrative treats Keefe, esp at the beginning of Stellarlune

However, as a whole, I personally found the whole plot and character development of Stellarlune to be a little forced, instead of it feeling like a natural progression

Because Sophie in Legacy, after breaking up with Fitz, was like "hmm I don't think I'm ready to date anyone"

And I was absolutely here for that. However, in Stellarlune, which is set just a few weeks later, she suddenly knows her soulmate is Keefe

And honestly now that I've had time to mull on it, I do think it's not 100% her editor's fault.

Shannon has been writing Kotlc since she was 21, and has been at it for over 10 years. I imagine a lot of how she feels about Kotlc and the characters has changed significantly. Plus she as a person has changed significantly, and is now a mom of two. As such I think she probably also wants to be done with Kotlc, which probably also explains why the Stellarlune felt that way

Either way this is kind of a negative post lol, but I don't exactly blame either of them. I have the feeling Kotlc has worn out its welcome one way or another, and like it or not, the chapter is about to close soon. I still remember fondly how much I loved this book in my early teens, even as I wish it could have ended with more of a bang than a whimper.

[anemicjellyfish]

Rough draft of Chapter 1 of the Andrealphus being into Stolas fic!

Below the cut, of course. Not ready for AO3 yet, will probably post it there when I'm almost done with every part of the story. Title is ready, but it's a fun secret for when I'm really finished with it!

This was a bit more serious than I originally intended; I might attempt a comedic version when I'm done with this. I stayed up way too late so I'm going to bed immediately after posting.

Info: Word Count 1,489. Not beta read. Wrote most of it on my phone. Probably has typos and incomplete sentences because I promised I'd have it out by tonight.

I'll catch all the typos, incomplete sentences, and other problems sometime tomorrow, hopefully. Sorry about any that I missed.

The burden of formality weighed down the party's atmosphere, stifling the already warm room. What could have been a lively evening was instead another game of choreographed interactions between all of Hell's most elite.

This was a game Andrealphus knew well. It was easy enough to initiate and maintain conversation with others, even those above his station. He had a lifetime of preparation for this. Ever since his sister’s arranged marriage, the two had undergone constant instruction in navigating the social hierarchy of Goetic demons. Perfection was the expectation, and Andrealphus always exceeded. 

Still, the Marquis found it dreadfully mundane. After over a dozen well-wishes to pass on to his sister and her husband, Andrealphus struggled to keep his annoyance in check.

With Stella now married off to the seldom seen Prince of the Ars Goetia, their family was now better off than almost any other. The social status alone would be enough to fuel any of his ambitions to fruition. The financial assets were a welcome addition, as well.

Andrealphus’ attention was drawn back to the conversation he placed himself in. Whichever distant cousin this was had roped him into a long story about duty and self-image, as though Andrealphus needed any education on either subject.

“Andrealphus, really,” the black-beaked raven scolded, “it is unbecoming of your position to be absent in conversation to your equal.”

“Not at all,” Andrealphus insisted, “I was simply ruminating on the meaning of your words. It was… really a captivating–” 

Fanfare erupted from the string quartet nearby. The ornate doors of the ballroom opened, revealing Prince Stolas and his new bride.

Oh, thank Satan, Andrealphus thought, a sigh of relief escaping from his chest.

A small butler imp announced their entry before closing the doors, once again sealing the air in the room. With Aamon no longer interested in correcting the perceived slight against him, Andrealphus was free to slip into the crowd. He exchanged his empty wine glass for a new one, taking his time to analyze the depth of the flavor as he observed the change in the party’s atmosphere.

Dozens of demons gathered around Stolas, congratulating him and his beautiful wife on their marriage. Elegant, yet stiff in his posture, the Prince thanked each one in turn.

Conversations grew louder as guests drank and began to enjoy themselves. A marriage such as this was a rare occasion for the Ars Goetia; a Prince securing the means of producing an heir to the royal line was cause to celebrate.

Andrealphus sipped his wine and reminded himself that that was what it was all for. His own future was as secure as his sister’s ability to reproduce… and her ability to not let her marriage erupt in flames.

He sighed into his glass, crystalizing the condensation on the rim into delicate patterns of ice. Stella’s beauty may have won her the coveted spot as Stolas’ bride, but her personality could be her downfall. If she could maintain her composure around Stolas, even in private, she would enjoy all the luxuries that come with her new position. As would Andrealphus.

The party continued on long into the night. Stolas seemed almost relieved when Stella removed herself from his side to entertain a group of enthusiastic relatives. Stolas moved through the groups of demons that had formed until he was leaning against a window near the back of the ballroom. Andrealpus took the opportunity to greet the Prince alone. He would have preferred his first meeting with his now brother-in-law to be a bit more private, but circumstances couldn’t be helped.

“Prince Stolas,” Andrealphus bowed slightly and rose, “I congratulate you on your marriage to my sister. I am Andrealphus.”

“Thank you, Andrealphus,” Stolas replied, his expression neutral, but amicable. There was a perfect, practiced poise in Stolas’ mannerisms that Andrealphus recognized. It was exactly as their interaction was supposed to go.

“It is an honor to meet you in person.” Andrealphus continued. “I believe Stella will make a lovely wife for you, your highness.”

Stolas looked out the window, the night almost enveloping the grounds outside the palace. His breathing slowed as he stared a while longer into the darkness.

“Do you think we could drop some of the formalities, Andrealphus?”

“My… apologies?” Andrealphus sputtered in surprise, nearly letting the glass slip out of his hand.

Stolas turned back to him. His lower eyes grew wide and he set his own glass of wine down on the windowsill. “No, no! Mine, actually.” He wrung his hands together before dropping them to his sides. “I seem to have lost track of my surroundings for a moment.”

Andrealphus studied Stolas more closely. The Prince’s heart-shaped face had been pale most of the night, but was now tinted a light pink. Whether it was from the alcohol or embarrassment, Andrealphus wasn’t sure. Either way, he saw this as an opportunity to gain Stolas’ favor.

“Perhaps you could use some fresh air?” Andrealphus suggested. He motioned toward a set of glass doors leading to a balcony. Stolas nodded in response.

The night was warm, but a gentle breeze cooled the air. With the lights of the party now behind them, The Prince and the Marquis could now see the treetops tinted red by the moonlight. With the doors to the balcony now closed, the sounds of the party were more distant.

“I only meant,” Stolas continued, “that since we are now brothers by law, maybe some of the etiquette, some of the formal titles, could be set aside.��� He sighed, covering his face with a hand. “I think today has worn me thin; I apologize for losing my composure.”

Andrealphus considered his options. There was a chance that he was being tested: that Stolas was feigning familiarity to gauge Andrealphus’ loyalty to his position. A very discreet power play, but without any initial rationale to back it up. Stolas should have no reason to suspect him of duplicity. 

As Stolas leaned on the railing overlooking the perfectly manicured gardens, Andrealphus didn’t see that type of cunning. 

“It’s understandable.” Andrealphus swirled his wine glass and stepped closer, leaning one elbow on the railing. “These parties, wonderful as they are, can be a bit… exhausting. Especially after a long day. And your day has been so much longer than mine, Stolas.”

Andrealphus didn’t have time to register any worry about foregoing Stolas’ title. Stolas relaxed instantly. With a wave of his hand, Stolas’ magic undulated before them. Several stars above them began to shine more brightly, first as pinpricks of light, then into glowing constellations. The sheer power of a Prince of the Ars Goetia brought Hell’s sky to life for a brief moment before it faded back to a dark red. 

“Today was written by the stars.” Stolas spoke without emotion. “This day, like every other, was prophesied before it ever began.”

Andrealphus stood in awe of the demon before him. Stolas had access to a cosmos of foretold events. The Marquis’ power paled in comparison.

Still, the new foundation between them was being formed tonight.

Andrealphus raised both arms, breathing out a breath of frost and snow. A fog covered the sky just above them; delicate snowflakes suspended themselves overhead, reflecting the lights of the party behind them. Nowhere near as bright or as powerful as the stars, but beautiful all the same.

“In case you ever read a prophecy you dislike,” Andrealphus joked.

Stolas’ expression softened.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, with a little hoot that could have been a laugh, “thank you.”

The party inside began to wind down. Some higher demons left early; lower members soon followed suit. The remainder of the guests were mostly close family to both Stolas and Stella.

“I believe I must make a final appearance before the end of the night.”

Andrealphus hummed. “Yes, social obligation and all. Not to mention, you still have your… well, the remainder of your wedding night to look forward to.”

Stolas’ shoulders shifted slightly downward, hardly noticeable in the dim light of the half moon.

“Yes,” Stolas’ voice was barely a whisper, “there is that.”

Andrealphus walked to the glass door, but paused when he grasped the handle. He wasn’t entirely certain on what he was seeing and hearing from Stolas. Saying anything could result in terrible, damning consequences. The Prince that had read the stars waited just behind him. He could open the door and return to the party immediately.

Or he could risk everything.

“Stolas,” Andrealphus hesitated, removing his hand from the doorknob, “if, for any reason, you desire my company after spending time with Stella, perhaps we could meet again?”

Stolas raised an eyebrow, eyeing Andrealphus with confusion, but not suspicion.

“Perhaps, I… could invite you over for tea sometime?”

Stolas blinked in surprise. He clasped his hands in front of himself. “I believe I would like that.” 

Oh, thank fucking Satan, Andrealphus breathed a sigh of relief.

[ravnarieldurin]

The Hobbit: Fire's Revenge

Chapter 1 - The Burglar and The Fire Mage

Summary: A fateful meeting between one wizard and a dwarven king sparks the beginning of a journey that will change the course of many lives...but will it be for the better or the worse? And what in Durin's name is a 'fire mage'?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author's Notes: This is a friendly reminder that this fanfiction - despite ultimately having a happy ending - is going to get VERY DARK and NSFW in some parts. I will put trigger warnings when needed so please take care of your mental health.

Only this first chapter will be posted to Tumblr with the rest of the series posted to AO3 since my draft is already SO LONG. (97k words and I'm not even done with AUJ...yikes!) This might change later, but for now, I will post updates when chapters are posted to AO3. I have made everything open to both members and guests of AO3 so anyone can read or comment.

This is my first fanfiction ever so any and all feedback is welcome!

And with that, let's go!

---

AO3 | Masterlist

It seemed the whole town of Bree was gathered in the Prancing Pony that fateful night in spite of the downpour outside. Wind and rain battered the old building, making the windows rattle and the shutters groan against their latches. A flash of lightning brightly illuminated the smoke-stained wooden walls inside followed quickly by a thunderclap, the sudden boom muffling the chatter inside for a brief moment before the spirited conversations resumed. All manner of men, and even a few ladies, lounged and moved about the tables strewn around haphazardly. Occasionally, a hobbit or two would skitter between the tables, ducking beneath the humans to avoid knocking their head on a serving tray or an elbow in the cramped fire and candlelit room.

Even with the constant movement and merriment of the crowd, one figure stood out amongst the rabble.

Thorin Oakenshield Durin sat alone at a table too tall for his dwarven stature in the center of the tavern. Water clung to his long windswept dark hair, neatly trimmed beard, and fur-lined coat, having come in from the storm raging outside not long again. He chewed silently on his meager dinner of bread, cheese, and olives, lifting his mug of ale to his lips mindlessly between bites.  

Unbeknownst to the pensive dwarf, he was being watched by a set of very keen, very wise, and very old eyes not far away.

Gandalf the Grey pulled in another long drag from his pipe, the fragrant smoke of tobacco wafting around him as he waited for the right moment to approach the unsuspecting dwarf. Dark circles stained the eyes of the much shorter man, and his mouth was twisted in a grim line. He was evidently none too pleased to be there.

“Probably wishing for dwarvish ale,” the wizard thought with a quiet chuckle.

Sweeping a glance around the tavern, an odd-looking man with one scarred blind eye and a bald head caught Gandalf’s eye. The strange fellow was sat under a window across the room, watching Thorin with unveiled aggression. With another slow turn of his head, he saw another scruffy man watching the dwarf, the same violent look in his eye as the first.

Clearly sensing the danger, Thorin’s sharp eyes flitted between the two men, tensing as they continued to stare at him. A moment later, the two suspicious men stood, stalking towards the lone dwarf. He slowly wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword resting beside him propped on the table, clearly readying himself for the fight headed his way.

While the timing wasn’t ideal, he figured it would be best to prevent a bar fight between two humans and the future king of Erebor. Or perhaps more than a bar fight if the message in his robe held any true merit.

Quickly tucking his pipe back inside his robe, Gandalf strode purposefully across the room and dropped down at the table across from Thorin, startling the anxious dwarf.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, smiling reassuringly and leaning his wizard’s staff against the table next to Thorin’s sword.

Thorin glanced at the men again before he dropped his hand reluctantly from his dwarvish blade. The two men hesitated nearby, watching the new individual.

Gandalf paid them no mind as he tapped a serving girl on her shoulder on her way past their table.

“I’ll have the same,” he said, gesturing to Thorin’s plate. The girl nodded and walked off to get his meal.

Thorin sighed deeply before turning to stare at him, his piercing blue eyes focusing on him like a hawk.  

“I should introduce myself. My name is Gandalf,” he said, trying to break the heavy tension in the air.

The dwarf blinked at him, clearly not impressed.

“Gandalf the Grey.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “I know who you are,” he said gruffly.

“Well now, this is a fine chance,” he said with a smile, clasping his hands together delightedly. It was, in fact, not chance, but Thorin didn’t need to know that. He’d been following the dwarf for the better part of the day, waiting for his chance to approach, but the message he intercepted earlier in the day had made him hesitate, waiting to see who was also tracking the dwarf. And it’s a good thing he did, judging by the two men that still stood glaring at him nearby.

“What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?” he asked. Though he was trying to make conversation to help ease the tensely guarded man before him, he was also genuinely curious why the exiled king was away from his people in the Blue Mountains.

Thorin lowered his head, his eyes shifting pensively.

“I received word that my father had been seen wandering the wilds near Dunland. I went looking.” Thorin shook his head, discouragement shining in his eyes as his shoulders sagged. “Found no sign of him.”

“Ah. Thrain,” Gandalf said sadly, bowing his head respectfully. Thorin’s father, and his old friend, had gone missing many years ago. Despite the efforts and searching of many, the former Dwarf King remained missing to this day.

Thorin turned toward him, his eyes hard. “You’re like the others. You think he’s dead.”

“I was not at the battle of Moria,” Gandalf said stoically, nodding.

“No…” Thorin’s gaze turned from him, his eyes unfocused as the dwarf lost himself in his memories. A look Gandalf knew all too well.

“…but I was. My grandfather, Thror, was slain. My father led a charge toward the Dimrill Gate. He never returned,” Thorin said thickly, his voice catching in his throat and his eyes shining hauntedly. He cleared his throat, his jaw clenching before he continued his tale, his voice biting.

“Thrain is gone they told me. He is one of the fallen. But at the end of that battle, I searched amongst the slain…to the last body.” Thorin shook his head emphatically. “My father was not among the dead.”

Gandalf shook his head slowly. He knew why Thorin still searched, but he feared his efforts were in vain. Losing a loved one, especially a parent, was always a hard thing. For mortals and immortals alike.

“Thorin, it’s been a long time since anything, but rumor has been heard about Thrain,” he said gently.

“He still lives! I am sure of it,” Thorin insisted, his eyes flashing.

The wizard and the dwarf stared at each other for a long moment. He sighed heavily. He wouldn’t be able to convince the dwarf tonight, but he still had a question that burned in his mind.

“The ring your grandfather wore, one of the Seven given to the Dwarf Lords many years ago…what became of it?” he asked, tilting his head.

Thorin shook his head, his brow furrowing in thought.

“He…gave it to my father before they went into battle.”

“So Thrain was wearing it when he d- …when he went missing?” Gandalf corrected himself, trying not to provoke the dwarf’s anger.

Thorin nodded stiffly.

“Hmm. That’s that then,” the wizard said with a tight nod. A missing ring of power was never a good thing. He could only hope it hadn’t found its way into the hands of the enemy like so many of the others.

“Here you are,” the serving girl said, returning to set down a mug of ale and a plate of food before him. Gandalf nodded his thanks and grabbed the pint, lifting it to his mouth for a drink.

“I know my father came to see you before the Battle of Moria,” Thorin accused, glaring at him.

Gandalf quirked a brow, putting down his ale.

The dwarf leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “What did you say to him?”

Ah, so they were officially onto the topic of the evening. It was better that Thorin brought it up first. He doubted it would have been well received if he started this particular conversation.

“I urged him to march upon Erebor,” Gandalf declared. “To rally the seven armies of the Dwarves. To destroy the dragon and take back the Lonely Mountain.”

Thorin stared wide-eyed at him, his mouth slightly parted in shock.

“And I would say the same to you,” he said boldly. “Take back your homeland.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed, then his lips quirked up into a smirk as he reached for his own mug of ale.

“This is no chance meeting, is it Gandalf?” he asked darkly, lifting the mug to his lips.

Gandalf met his pointed look stoically.

“No, it is not,” he admitted. “The Lonely Mountain troubles me Thorin, as well as another I know. That dragon has sat there long enough. Sooner or later, darker minds will turn towards Erebor.”

“Darker minds that long ago should have been vanquished,” he thought darkly.

But lately, darkness had been stirred in the north in forces and numbers that he couldn’t understand. Numbers that, given the increased frequency of messages he kept receiving from the north, he could no longer ignore.

Thorin stared at him, his eyes shifting as he mulled over the wizard’s words.

“I ran into some…unsavory characters whilst travelling on the Greenway. They mistook me for a vagabond,” Gandalf said with a smirk, reaching inside his robe.

“I imagine they regretted that,” Thorin said, grinning at him before tipping his ale back for another drink.

The wizard unrolled a tattered piece of cloth with strange markings on it.

“One of them was carrying a message.”

Thorin set his mug down and leaned closer. His brow furrowed, clearly confused by the strange slashes.

“It is Black Speech,” he clarified.

Thorin’s eyes met his before glancing back down at the dirty cloth.

“A promise of payment,” Gandalf said nodding down at the writing.

“For what?” Thorin whispered, his eyes flitting over the parchment.

“Your head,” he stated bluntly.

The dwarf’s head snapped up, staring at him.

“Someone wants you dead…Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the throne of Durin. Unite the armies of the dwarves! Together you have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting of the seven dwarf families. Demand they stand by their oaths,” he insisted.

Thorin leaned towards him, his voice hushed. “The seven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the king’s jewel. The Arkenstone.”

Gandalf nodded, knowing this fact to be true.

“It is the only thing that will unite them and, in case you have forgotten, that jewel was stolen by Smaug!” Thorin hissed, before his heated glare suddenly shifted behind him.

The wizard followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of the two hostile men from before slinking their way out of the tavern, glaring at the dwarf and himself.

“Good,” he thought. “One less thing to worry about.”

He turned back around to face Thorin and asked, “What if I were to help you reclaim it?”

Thorin’s eyes widened, his mouth parted slightly in disbelief.

“How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away…buried beneath the feet of a fire-breathing dragon,” he declared, his baritone voice booming rather finally around them.

“Yes, it does.” Gandalf smiled. “Which is why we’re going to need a burglar and a fire mage.”

Thorin stared at him, his eyes flaring wide and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. No words came out of his gaping mouth for a long moment before he finally managed to find his tongue.

“Fire mage? Fire mages are not real! They’re nothing more than the stuff of myth and legend. Old tales for mothers to tell their children. If they ever existed, they have long since died off.”

“Oh, I assure you. They were and are very much real, but unfortunate circumstances forced them into hiding,” Gandalf explained. A few tense moments of silence passed before Thorin spoke again.

“Alright wizard. Say I believe you. Say fire mages do exist. Where do you suggest we find your proposed fire mage and burglar?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to glare at him.

Gandalf breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much of an agreement, and it certainly wasn’t an enthusiastic one at that, but it was an agreement, nonetheless.

“Gather your kin, Thorin. Those you can trust and meet in Hobbiton in precisely one month’s time. I will leave you instructions to follow once you are there. Our burglar lives in the Shire amongst the hobbits. His name is Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.”

Thorin nodded, tilting his head. “And the mage?”

Gandalf reached into his robe and grabbed the letter he had received not long ago.

“The mage has already agreed to join us,” Gandalf said, unfolding the letter and sliding it over for the dwarf to read.

“RVN?” Thorin’s brow furrowed at the strange signature.

“Yes. Our mage is known as Raven, and they will meet us on the Ford of Bruinen as we approach the Misty Mountains. They reside in the northern Coldfells. Too far to join us for our meeting in Hobbiton on time, so we are to send them word by raven when we reach the Last Bridge on the East Road so they can meet us for the crossing of the Ford.”

“By raven? They were rare even before the dragon came. Then after the dragon destroyed Ravenhill, most of them fled and hid themselves in the north. How will we find a raven this far south?” Thorin asked tightly, quirking a brow at him.

“As stated in the letter, the sorcerer will be sending one to accompany us on the first leg of our journey and the raven will leave us at the bridge to bring word back to their master,” Gandalf said, waving a hand at the parchment on the table.  

Thorin looked down again, his eyes flitting over the paper, reading through the letter. After a long moment, his brow furrowed, glancing back up at him.

“What does this sorcerer want in return? There is no mention of payment. What does he get out of our journey?”

Gandalf huffed and shook his head. “They want nothing from you, Thorin Oakenshield. Raven wants the same thing I do: to see the Lonely Mountain restored to the rightful rule of the dwarves and to free the land of the terrors of Smaug.”

He pushed back from the table and rose to his feet, reaching for the letter. Thorin snatched it away from his hand, his eyes glinting darkly.

“You keep saying ‘they’, Gandalf. Is there more than one mage joining us?”

The wizard blinked down at Thorin. He had hoped the man hadn’t picked up on his vague language, but it seemed the Dwarf King was more perceptive than he appeared.

“No, Raven is not many persons. Though I do suppose there will be at least two individuals joining us. The mage rides atop a magnificent creature. Doesn’t travel without the beast. We’ll meet them both on the golden Ford.”

Gandalf tugged his letter from Thorin’s hand, folded it neatly and tucked it back inside his robe.

“What do the markings on the bottom of the letter mean?” Thorin asked, his eyes narrowing.

Blast dwarves and their keen eye for details! Though it shouldn’t have surprised him. Dwarves loved making contracts and deals, so it made sense for Thorin to see the small print at the bottom of the page.

“It’s a warning to be wary of orcs on the roads. They’re wandering farther south than usual,” Gandalf said quickly, grabbing his staff in his wrinkled hand. Rustling inside his robe quickly, he left some coin next to his untouched dinner and nodded down to the dwarf.

“Prepare yourself, Thorin. This will be a long and difficult journey, but I know you can do it. You are destined to reclaim your grandfather’s throne and rule the dwarves of Erebor, united once more within the Halls Under the Mountain.”

With that declaration, Gandalf turned and strode from the tavern into the rain outside. Donning his hat and tugging it lower on his head, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for lying to the dwarf. However, it couldn’t be helped. He wanted to honor the sorcerer’s instructions to the letter. Or should he say sorceress.

For as long as he’d known her, the young Raven had always been a bit mysterious and shrouded herself in secrecy. Even more so than himself sometimes, though that was the nature of fire mages after all. The Black Speech request penned at the bottom of her letter was a curious choice, but he would oblige her.

“Don’t tell Thorin I’m a woman…or an elf.”

And so he didn’t.

---

A/N: And so it has begun! Again, feel free to let me know what you thought and I hope you all enjoy the ride!

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Behind the Seams: Part III

Welcome to the first instalment of Behind the Seams! Thank you everyone who has responded so positively to this slightly self-indulgent idea I had. I know I take so long in between chapters, this seems like a fun way to keep you guys in the loop, and also to keep myself motivated and productive while I work by sharing my thoughts as I go.

This time, I'll be rambling about focusing on the characters as I'm still in the thick of developing personalities and interpretations in the Seams universe, and I'd love to put all the thoughts that have been rattling around my brain into words to help me process it.

I will be tagging these posts as 'behind the seams' together with the chapter number 'seams iii' so you can filter this out if you don't want to see them! For those who are interested, let's dive in below the cut!

Current status: 3.2k written, fully outlined rough draft with most of the dialogue drafted.

Initial thoughts: This chapter wrote far more easily than I expected to so far. Each story is different, but I tend to find the 3rd to 5th chapters hardest to write, when you're building up the shape of the arc of the whole series.

I'm still keeping my options open with regards to what Seams is or can be, but I'm still thinking 'loose fit series' i.e. there won't be a solid, overarching story arc or ending to the series since it's not a plot-driven story. It will be interesting to see if my approach changes after a couple more chapters!

The challenge: The first two instalments were so hyper-zoomed in on Joel and Pin, I knew that the challenge for this chapter is pulling back the camera and seeing how they interact with each other outside the safety of the Outfitters, and how they fit into the wider community.

Joel and Pin: I was re-reading Threads in preparation for writing Part III, and what strikes me is that these two really don't know a lot about one another. They've barely had a fully formed conversation despite the forced proximity and some very charged moments in the last two chapters. I've tentatively written most of their dialogue in this chapter, and it's interesting that a couple of times, I've stopped myself and thought - is this too playful for a shy person like Pin? Is it too familiar with two people who are practically strangers, despite their chemistry? It's a balance that I'll have to find as I edit, and I'm excited to see how it turns out.

Tommy: For some reason, Tommy comes fairly easily to me, a testament to Pedro and Gabriel’s chemistry on screen. Without giving too much away, I'm really happy with the angle I found for Joel and Tommy in this chapter. There's a lot to unpack between the two brothers, but the happy occasion means that I can focus on the good part of their relationship for now. However, I am keeping the tensions in their history in my back pocket because I don't want to gloss over the very real and three-dimensional relationship we saw in the series.

Ellie: I've talked about how I'm nervous about writing Ellie. My Pedro boys are all lone wolves - sure they have their best friends (Teak to Palomino!Jack, Santi to Grays!Frankie, Pete/Rebecca to Consent!Dieter), but Ellie is Joel's kid, and she's part of his life more than any BFF is to my other Pedro boys. Luckily, I have found an in with Ellie that I think works well with the story in Part III, and also fits in with the broader direction of the fic. It's going to be nerve-wrecking, but I'm ready to write her into Seams!

Tess: I'm not in a place to say too much yet about Tess, but it's so important to me that she isn't erased from the Seams universe despite her not being there. I've been thinking a lot about Tess lately, about how she will fit into the story, how Joel will fit Pin into his and in relation to Tess. There are no easy answers, and it will be something to mull over in the next few chapters.

Something fun: Ok, all this character stuff is pretty heavy, so I want to end on a light-hearted note - Joel's tummy makes a cameo in a white undervest 😌

And that's it for Behind the Seams: Part III! I feel a lot lighter having found a space for all the things I have been thinking about while drafting the chapter. I hope this was a fun deep dive for you guys as well, I'll be hitting Google Docs hard this weekend to try to get all of the writing done for Part III so that I can start editing next week. My askbox is always open if anyone wants to chat 🥰

[donnieisonfire]

Dan from Law,

Phil from Media & Editing

hello ! this is my first dan & phil fic, so enjoy. sorry followers if yall dont fw this.. NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER, WILL BE IN CHAP 2.

AO3 LINK

this is NOT a oneshot & will be updated frequently (i actually have chapt 2 quarterly finished as i post this!), i will update this post with links to next chapters at the end as the fic continues.

update : chap 2

Tags ;

office AU, Dan & Phil are NOT YouTubers!, Dan being a coffee SLUTTTTT, Dan getting a lil crush

THE SONG I LISTENED WHILE WRITING THIS :3

Dan woke up, starting his daily rituals. He had been trying to improve himself, half because he wanted to feel less shit, half because he wanted to be appealing enough that someone else would help him feel less shit.

He hadn’t had a relationship since 2019, which was brief and uneventful.

He opened his curtains (of which were basically falling off the shitty rod his landlord wouldn’t fix), hoping to open it to some sun. He knew that was unrealistic. He peered over London from his stupid-expensive apartment’s stupidly-shit window. His view was nothing interesting, at all. It was just buildings, cars. Very corporate, very regular.

He had a brisk shower, long enough to be sanitary but not long enough to the point he has to take out a mortgage to pay his water bill in 3 days.

He got himself ready for work, ready to get in his barely-working car and drive to his barely-paying-the-bills job. And he done so.

He drove, parked and trudged into the building. He looks at the mini Costa Coffee in the lobby lovingly, but decides not to treat himself as he didnt get paid for another 6 days and was living off of off-brand pot noodles. Instead, he steps into one of the 4 elevators in the lobby.

Theres a few people in the elevator with him. He gives a small nod at them as he enters. He presses the ‘7’ button, there was many other buttons already lit up.

His eyes surveyed the small group alongside him in the elevator, trying to see if there was anyone off of his floor - but he couldn’t recognise anyone.

There was an overweight short woman with greying hair, she was 5’4 maybe, a tall blonde man who was staring down at his phone, hm, and a man in a business suit who looked like an outsider here for a meeting possibly.

After around a minute, he gets to his floor and steps out. He wasnt the last, he had been stranded alone with the suit man for a floor or two now. Dan gives him a small, straight-lined smile as he steps out.

He walks towards the kitchen that was shared between floors 6 to 9 and begins to grab for his favourite mug - a faded mug with some star-wars quote on it.

When he couldnt feel it where he put it the day previous, he furrows his eyebrows. He focuses more on finding his mug, digging through the cupboard, getting at least 3 weird stares from others.

Whatever, someone could’ve just…not known it was his…although it did have his name scribbled on the bottom in sharpie. They might not of looked, it’s whatever. He’ll get it back eventually. Even if he’d prefer to get it back now.

He grabs a napkin and a nearly ran out BIC pen from a pocket in his trousers. He scribbles ‘If star-wars mug found, please return to Dan Howell from law, office 324’ on the napkin, ripping it in multiple places, and leaves it in the mug-cupboard.

He grabs some plain one, one he knew was unclaimed (because he checks, like a normal human being…) and made his coffee.

He takes a sip, burning his lip in the process, but, hey, he was caffeinated, could he complain? Yes, he could, he wants his Star Wars mug back. Twat.

He walks to his cubicle and gets to work once his cup is secured on his desk. He was a bit ticked off about his star-wars mug, but he puts it to the back of his mind as he begins to draft up an email for his client he was helping currently.

About 2.5 hours later, theres a knock at his ajar cubicle door. He looks up, “Come in.” he says, his voice a bit too posh for his liking (it always got like that if he was surprised with the dreaded human interaction.)

He recognises the man who steps into his cubicle, and he recognises the mug he’s holding even more. It was the tall blonde man from the elevator, and it was his beloved mug.

“Hi, sorry, uhm..” The man starts, Dan’s eyes are focused up at him, locking onto the man’s own. “I didn’t know there were claimed mugs, I only started last week. Here’s your mug.” He says, putting out his hand with the mug. Dan could see his passive-aggressive napkin/note in-between the blonde’s fingers. “Ah, or would you rather I put it in the sink in the kitchen?” He interrupts himself and pulls his arm back.

Dan just looks up at him dotingly, before he extends his arm and taking his mug back into his safe confines (his hands). “It’s fine here, Yoda has had more than enough travel for today.” Dan slaps himself mentally once he says that, that seemed twat-ish. He clears his throat.

The blonde man nods softly, “I’m Phil. From Media and Editing. Sorry, uhm...” He splutters his sentence off, continuing it once he glances at the napkin again. “Sorry, Dan from Law, office 324.” Phil adds, finishing off his sentence as he begins to turn to leave Daniel’s cubicle.

“Nice to meet you, Phil from media and editing.” Dan says before Phil leaves earshot.

Phil. Simple name. Although, Dan had a feeling Phil maybe wasnt too simple.

[shiny-jr]

HOW DO YOU WRITE SO GOOD?? (tutorial/tips pls)

your writing is IMMACULATE AND SOOOOO, words can't even convey the feelings I get whenever I read your works

Lol, uh, brain makes things.

I got a similar message about characterization, so I'm going to try to include as many tips and personal tricks that I can in this post. I'll bolden the words that summarize each part, that way it's not too much of a mess and people can quickly find what they're looking for.

I'll mention CHARACTERIZATION first, just to check it off the list. So, the only characters I write for besides my own personal ocs, are the cast from twst. Compared to other series, the cast isn't that big, but it's still a pretty sizable cast. You got a mysterious and ominous fae prince with a penchant for speaking in a refined manner that at times sounds menacing, with a model/actor/singer beauty that also speaks more on the elegant side of things, but on the opposite spectrum you have a beastman who's arrogant and has bouts of laziness but is in no way incompetent, oh and don't forget the gloomy shut-in that weirdly enough has strange boosts of confidence and is snarky in his replies at times despite being very introverted and lacking in confidence. There's so many different characters, but I see them get mischaracterized very often. Here are some of the things I do to try and avoid making this mistake...

Look at references. This one may seem obvious, but I feel like people may not do this and just write what they want in the moment without much consideration. Often times if I find myself stuck and wondering what a character might do in response to something, I'll put a pause on my work and look up references to look at. By references, I mean things such as real dialogue from whatever media they may be in. In the case of twst, I'll go back to chapters the character appears in, or even listen to their voice lines. If I'm really stuck, I'll resort to looking at other posts like fanfics or fanart, and by then I usually get an idea. (I take a lot of liberties as a yandere writer)

Similar characters. There are times when I see one character, and think that they act very similarly to another character from somewhere else. In that case, thinking of the other character may help as well, but you have to be a little careful here since there will be obvious differences that could lead to mischaracterization.

Compare. In this one, I think it's important that I highlight that I do not mean to compare your entire work to someone else's. What I mean here is, if you have a writer who you like and you think they write the characters very well, then look at their work. What exactly about their work makes it seem like the character is well written? Maybe they use certain words, or describe certain things? Try and take a note of that. Unfortunately there is a lot of mischaracterization, so if you see some, it might actually be worth taking a note of so you know what you want to avoid when you're writing.

Take a step back. When I'm done writing, I read over the entire thing. I actually do multiple rereads, sometimes in the middle of writing, but I think the most important one is when everything is completed. When you think the draft is finished and you're almost ready to share, just read over it. Try to imagine that you're someone else, a reader who just found the post and began to read it. If you were another reader looking over this, would you be content with the way the characters are written or would you think that it needs improvement?

WORDS AND GRAMMAR. Ah, yes, I still make mistakes here often, I won't lie. I don't use too many sites to help with this. Just two that I can think of off the top of my head.

WordHippo. My savior. I use this site for everything, from writing silly little posts to writing important essays for college. It helps with everything from synonyms, antonyms, definitions, rhymes, etc. But I mainly use it for synonyms. For example, when I write for a character that speaks more meticulously or elegantly, you know, like the type of character that uses bigger/uncommon words, I'll use this site. Like, I know what I want the character to say or do, but I only know a simple word that might be boring or repetitive after a while, right? So using this site, I just find synonyms that fit way better and match the tone I'm trying to use.

Autocorrect. So, usually I'll mainly write on google docs, but this feature is on most sites by now. The system will automatically correct a mistake or highlight it if it thinks a mistake was made, which has caught some errors I've made on multiple occasions. But it's not entirely reliable, because sometimes something you wrote might actually be right but it changes it to something else. So just be aware if you do use autocorrect and read over for mistakes anyways.

And now, for MUSIC. I always listen to music when I write, it's like a necessity now. But it's a bit of a double-edged sword for two reasons. One: songs with lyrics tend to distract me. This may not be the case for everyone, but most of the time if I play a song with lyrics, chances are that I'll end up focusing on the lyrics instead of writing. Not all the time, but most of the time. Two: just trying to search for good music to listen to can lead you falling down a rabbit hole, because then you're just there scrolling and deciding what you want to listen to.

Here's a sorta long list of some songs I've been listening to in the past few weeks that keep me focused. Yes, it's a mess of different songs. You can totally tell what I've been watching/like just by the songs alone. The two at the top when I heard them at full blast in an IMAX theater for the first time literally had me like–– (WHEN I TELL YOU LUDWIG G. MAKES THE BEST MUSIC THAT INSPIRES ME)

Can You Hear The Music - Ludwig Göransson

Quantum Mechanics - Ludwig Göransson

Destroyer of Worlds - Ludwig Göransson

American Prometheus - Ludwig Göransson

Teacher's Pet - Ludwig Göransson, Joseph Shirley

Mando Is Back - Ludwig Göransson

A Walk in the Skies - Joe Hisaishi

Sophie in Exile - Joe Hisaishi

The Boy Who Swallowed a Star - Joe Hisaishi

Deep Sea Pastures - Joe Hisaishi

Mother Sea - Joe Hisaishi

Town by A Cove - Joe Hisaishi

Fujimoto - Joe Hisaishi

Ponyo Flies - Joe Hisaishi

Across the Spider-Verse (Intro) - Daniel Pemberton

Spider-Woman (Gwen Stacy) - Daniel Pemberton

Vulture Meets Culture - Daniel Pemberton

Guggenheim Assemble - Daniel Pemberton