#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 :)

[piracytheorist]

In Life, And in Death (1/11)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 4.1k for this chapter | 32.4k in total Rating: T Warnings: Temporary character death, graphic violence, horror imagery, body horror, mild gore, whump, language Cover art by @buf309

Summary: Anya is kidnapped, and Twilight is thrown into the horrors of a mysterious, deadly village. Forced and then choosing to survive its trials - physical and mental - he's brought to figure out who he truly is. (A Resident Evil Village fusion)

AO3

~

Author's Note: Probably my most insane fanfic project yet. After I successfully probed SOMEONE, aka @spencer-is-someone, into watching a Resident Evil Village gameplay, they fell in love with Ethan Winters but felt he went through too much in the game, prompting the idea "What if Loid went through all that stuff instead". And well, 32 thousand words later, here I am, inflicting this literal horror upon y'all.

I made a post about it, and the absolutely wonderful @buf309 went and made this amazing cover art, and I literally couldn't be more thankful for that. I was so amazed when I saw the first draft sketch that I went like I'M GONNA WAIT TILL IT'S READY TO POST THE FIC. Seriously, words cannot describe how grateful I am, I sincerely hope the fic feels satisfying enough for the work you've done <3

If you know how the Resident Evil Village story goes, this is pretty much the same... yes, in all of its "parts-in-jars" glory (if you know you know, if you don't you will soon), just with Twilight taking the place of Ethan Winters. There will be a few changes from the original story to fit Twilight's character, some to facilitate the adaptation from game narrative to fanfic narrative, some to fit my own tastes, and an actually hopeful ending because we were all left heartbroken after the ending of RE Village so might as well pour some healing juice to put our hearts back together same way Ethan puts his limbs back together and hope for the best.

Do take note of the warnings, please. There is one part of the story I actually had chills while writing (yes, that part for those of you who know, it will be slightly changed but the essence will be the same) and it is based on the story of a horror/survival game, so make sure you're okay to read something as intense as this.

The story is written in full, though I'm still doing small bits of editing here and there. I don't have a posting schedule, but I'm thinking of updating twice a week, or once if I see the editing is taking longer. Chapter titles are taken from track titles of the game's original soundtrack.

So yeah, long intro over, take not of the warnings, I hope you enjoy if you read on!

~

Chapter 1: Bloodthirsty

~

“Anya, don’t sit so close to the TV,” Loid said, not looking up from the counter.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He wouldn’t doubt that she hadn’t even heard him, let alone acknowledged his request.

He picked up a handful of minced meat to mould into a burger steak, deciding to give her another reminder in two minutes from now. Yor had just left to walk Bond, so it was only his direction she had to follow – and she was starting to make clear whose directions she preferred to follow nowadays.

He placed the burger on the pan as his body tensed. A split second later, the door burst open.

He jumped through the opening between the kitchen and the living room, but even that seemed a pointless blessing as thick smoke quickly covered the apartment.

He rushed through it to grab Anya, who trembled against him, but he didn’t have the time to move away from the shots.

Two silenced shots, piercing through his clothes and reaching into the skin of his back.

No blood. But they were pinching his skin, and he immediately felt groggy…

He dropped to his side, unable to move as figures approached him. One of them took Anya.

“PAPA!” she screamed at him.

He feebly raised his hand. “Wait,” was the only thing he could say, before his hand dropped.

More figures approached him, and then his vision went dark.

~

Focus, Twilight.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Don’t alert the enemy yet.

He held his breath for a moment.

He was somewhere cold, outside.

He could feel something soft but freezing underneath him. Snow?

His hair didn’t feel wet, so he mustn’t have been lying there long.

It was quiet. He could only hear distant sounds of wind and crows flying somewhere close.

He couldn’t feel anyone’s presence, so he decided to open one single eye to check.

But then both his eyes shot wide open.

In front of him stood a magnificent gothic mansion. It could be a mansion, or it could be a damn castle. It was surrounded by a thick wall, like a fortress.

He sat up. He was indeed lying on the snow, but it was the least of his concerns right now.

He had apparently been placed on the castle’s garden. Right in the middle of the winter, it was only decorated by a few naked trees as well as three scarecrows.

Those didn’t seem to do their job well enough, he thought, as crows still flew around, some even sitting on them.

He got up, checking himself for injuries. He couldn’t feel any pain or any indication of pierced skin. How had they drugged him?

It was then he realized he was now wearing his jacket.

Had they dressed him for the cold? While taking off his apron and the gloves he wore while preparing food?

What the hell?

Where even was this place?

Why was he brought here?

Where was Anya?

His attention was drawn back to the apparently useless scarecrows, and a chill ran down his spine – unrelated to the cold – when he noticed something eerie about them.

Carefully, he took a few steps towards them.

His breath caught in his throat when he was close enough to notice.

Those weren’t plain scarecrows.

Those were actual, human bodies hanging on wooden crosses.

His breath finally came out shaky, forming a cloud.

What the hell was this place?

Unable to quell his curiosity, he stepped closer, trying to notice for any details on the bodies, in case he recognized them.

All three seemed to be men, of ages between thirty and fifty, and they couldn’t have been dead for longer than a week or so. The cold might have preserved their bodies, but exposure to the outside would do as much more damage.

He couldn’t recognize any of their faces – or what was left of them.

Well, he didn’t even know where he was, how far away from Berlint or even in Ostania for that matter.

He clenched his hands into fists and turned around, looking around the walls surrounding the castle.

There was a huge metal door blocking the path outside. No climbing the wall; it was too smooth and covered in even more slippery ice. Climbing the trees wouldn’t give him enough height to swing himself out.

Which meant, his only way of getting answers was through the castle.

He must have been placed there for a reason, after all, and if they’d wanted to kill him they would have already done so.

He reached the entrance, and the door swung open easily.

The entrance hall was as luxuriously decorated as the outside hinted at. A lush burgundy carpet went up the few steps, leading to a wall where a painting of three young women hung.

The door closed behind him, and he didn’t miss the definitive clang as metal bars started descending right in front of it.

He turned, and for a few seconds he weighed his options.

He could break the door quickly enough before the bars descended too low, and slip outside.

But then again, they obviously wanted him in there, and again, it didn’t seem that killing him was their priority.

He faced forward, ignoring the sound of the bars trapping him in there.

He might as well play their game.

He walked to the painting. Underneath it was an inscription that wrote “Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra.”

Which one was which?

The women on the painting didn’t seem too different from each other. The painting itself didn’t seem all too enlightening, either; it looked like any common Romantic-style oil painting.

Well, it wasn’t going to give him any answers, would it?

He turned around, walking down a corridor and out into another, larger hall. He noticed how warm the whole building was, despite the freezing weather outside and the apparently old construction of the place.

This hall had hanging, lit candles all over the walls, though they couldn’t be the source of the heating. The lighting was low, but lucky for him, he’d been trained enough in low lighting for that not to be an issue.

He jerked back at the sound of a swarm of flies coming his way, then he sensed someone’s presence.

Flies, he could handle.

But then the flies started gathering together, and within seconds they morphed into three women, dressed in black hooded cloaks.

“Wha—?” he whispered.

“Looking for Anya?” a voice said, and he assumed it’d come from one of the women. Who had just formed from flies.

The absurdity of his situation almost made him forget that she had just mentioned Anya.

Which meant they probably knew where she was.

However, he was too shocked by the sight that he couldn’t move when one of the women, all of whom were cackling, approached him and pushed him backwards.

She swung the scythe she held in her hand, and he pulled his legs away just before she could bury it in his calf.

“Oh, he’s feisty!” the woman said with a wide smile.

Her arm then almost zapped through the air, and his left leg was exploding in pain before he could even register the movement.

He yelped in pain as she leaned closer to him and took a long sniff.

Her mouth and jaw were covered in blood, though her blond hair looked pristine clean.

“Mmm, man-blood,” she said.

She then leaned back and started dragging him, by the scythe embedded in his leg, as he still lay helplessly on the ground.

She was too fast. He flailed around, trying to grab at anything they passed by to make her stop, even though that would mean the scythe would rip his entire leg open, but then another woman reached his other side and buried her scythe in his right leg.

He threw his head back, biting down another yell of pain.

Could he just have one moment?!

The women dragged him down another corridor and into what he quickly realized was a bedroom. They removed their scythes, and he quickly reached to assess the damage, when he heard the blond woman say “Mother, I bring you fresh prey,” as she pointed at him with her hand.

“You are so kind to me, daughters,” came a voice of a woman who sounded older than them.

Older, and bigger.

She was sitting on a massive chair, holding an equally massive glass of red wine. She took a sip from it, then stood up and turned to him, saying, “Now, lets take a look at him.”

He raised his head to look at her.

And then raised it higher.

She had the build of a muscular woman, with curves proportionate to her height, which must have been about three meters tall. She wore a black wide-brimmed hat over her chin-length black hair, and a long white dress that reached down to her feet, though she moved comfortably in it.

“Well, well. Loid Forger,” she said. “Came looking for your daughter, I presume?”

He sat there, frozen.

They knew who he was – or at least pretended to be? And they knew Anya was also taken?

She walked closer to him, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. “For you to think you can waltz right in here—let’s see how special you are,” she nearly purred.

She threw her hands up in a sign for something, and two of the younger women said “Yes, mother,” as they grabbed his arms and pulled him up.

His first thought was that he was standing up surprisingly well for just having had two scythes ran through his legs.

His second thought was terror as one woman grabbed his hand, and the other produced a very sharp-looking knife.

Before he could jerk back, she sliced his palm open.

He bit back a grunt; it wasn’t a deep cut, but it would be annoying…

His last thought trailed off as the tall woman reached down, grabbed his hand, brought it to her lips… and started sucking.

Now he really was frozen in terror.

What the hell was this nightmare?

The woman pulled her head back, licking at her lips with a blood-soaked tongue.

She threw his hand away. “Hmm,” she said. “Still fresh, but only barely.”

He wrapped his hand into a fist, keeping it close to his chest.

“Then let’s devour his man-flesh quickly, mother!” one of the women said, handing a handkerchief to her.

“But I’m the one who captured him!” the blond woman protested.

“Now, now, daughters,” the tall woman said, patting at her lips with the handkerchief. “First, I must inform Mother Miranda. But later, well, there will be enough for everyone.” She threw the handkerchief aside, smiling down at him. “Put him up!”

The young women surrounded him, and though he struggled, they were too strong for him as they put heavy manacles on his wrists.

A thick build, but he could break out of them with little effort.

But then, they secured a chain to them, and the chain started going up. He was lifted off his feet, and started grunting as the full force of his weight fell on his wrists.

Don’t say anything. Don’t let them take a hold of any weaknesses.

He clenched his jaw, keeping his voice from making any sounds as they headed out of the room. The tall woman had to bend to get through that door, and one of the young women – the second one who had stabbed his leg – bent down and picked up the discarded handkerchief, smelling the blood on it and laughing, as she followed them.

Breathing hard, he looked up at the manacles.

The pain was intense but manageable, though he already felt the tingling of numbness in his fingers. By his calculations, he had about fifteen or so minutes before cut blood circulation would start causing permanent damage.

Escape, first. Then you can freak out.

He grabbed the chain and dragged his body up. Though his legs were still bleeding, he brought them up so he could hold the chain between his feet.

He was gasping by the time he managed that, but at least he had less pain on his hands and a better view of the manacles.

They were old and rusty, but seemed to have a fairly standard locking mechanism. Bringing his body closer, he fished the lockpick out from a hidden pocket of his jacket.

Biting his lip, he worked through the lock of the right manacle. Just as it opened, his feet slipped from the chain and dropped down, causing all of his weight to drop onto his injured left hand.

The pain knocked the air out of his lungs.

Think! Think! Pull yourself together!

Taking in a laboured breath, he looked back up.

The lockpick had slipped from his hand and was now too far down for him to get it. His right hand was free, but he didn’t have any other options left.

Reaching up, he wrapped his free hand around his left thumb, and with a sharp pull, he dislocated it.

As his other hand was coated in blood from the cut, his wrist slipped through the manacle as soon as his thumb wasn’t in the way.

He dropped to the ground clumsily, not managing to balance his landing.

Wheezing, he looked at his left hand.

Bleeding, and a dislocated thumb.

He gave himself ten seconds.

Ten seconds to wonder where the hell he had gotten himself into, what that tall woman even was, standing at three meters tall and drinking blood, and what her “daughters” were, emerging from flies and also participating in… blood drinking? Cannibalism?

Ten seconds, and he was back to himself.

Focus, Twilight.

He looked at his legs – they were still bleeding, but he felt confident he could stand on them. Though those scythes looked sharp, they must have split a tendon or two apart.

At the corner of the room stood a vanity table, and on top of it, along with various cosmetics, lay a small green bottle with a cross on the label.

He stood up carefully, glad that his legs weren’t trembling. He picked up the bottle, carefully reading the label.

Medical alcohol.

Not one to trust this place that much, he opened the lid, and sure enough, it smelled like ethyl alcohol.

He sat down with a grunt, pulling his right trouser up. He didn’t have any clean gauze, so his only option was to pour liquid right over the wound.

He braced himself for the sting of pain, but instead, the liquid brought a cool, numbing sensation.

And then, right in front of his eyes, his wound closed then disappeared completely.

He stared at it.

Ten more seconds.

What the hell.

He looked at the bottle again. Medical alcohol, it said. It smelled like it too.

He looked back at his leg, raising his other trouser where the other wound still stood.

What the hell?!

Uncertain, he poured a little less liquid over that wound.

The wound immediately stopped bleeding as new skin seemed to form, though it didn’t heal completely.

He let out a breath. If he were honest with himself, this wasn’t really the weirdest thing to happen in the last few minutes, was it?

He turned to his mangled hand. Just how much could that liquid heal?

He poured an equal dosage to it, and was still surprised to see his thumb painlessly slide into its place, as well as the cut close completely.

Well, at least it could be useful.

He didn’t have time to worry over the supernatural. He had to get out of there, and find out where Anya was.

He took the path of unlocked doors, as he didn’t want to waste time and noise trying to break the lock of every locked door he found. Breaking the windows wouldn’t lead him anywhere – each one was sealed shut, and though he wasn’t averse to turning into a hooligan for the sake of escaping, the entire castle seemed to be surrounded by that wall.

He needed to get to a higher floor, but the safest and most silent path led him to the basement, where he found himself walking along piles and piles of dead bodies.

He had to hold his breath as he passed them by; apparently the occupants of the castle had the habit of feasting on the blood of humans, and did it so often that the amount of bodies was too big to act as decoration for their garden.

It was all men, however. As young as twenty-three, from what he could gather with a quick look.

The fly-women seemed to be confident enough in their hunting that they didn’t take away the handgun from one of the more fresh bodies. Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a police officer, a soldier, or a man aware of what he’d been dealing with, but it didn’t matter to him. He undid the holster, as gently as he could out of respect of the deceased man, and he put it on under his jacket.

He checked the magazine. Ten bullets out of sixteen.

He looked at the man. Had he shot those first six bullets right before he was killed?

The man had a shoulder bag on him, and inside was a box of bullets, a total of forty. He slid that too over his own shoulder.

He kept the safety on the gun on, but held it in his hand. He picked up a hunting knife from one of the other bodies and walked on.

As the bodies thinned out, he found a lone skeletal figure draped in a plain canvas cloak. The limbs stood out, bare, emaciated, and rotting. While other bodies were in a similar state of decomposition, they were fully clothed, at most with a few rips in their clothes. This one was the only one so bare.

And it was holding a scythe in its hand, old and rusty in comparison to the women’s scythes, but still sharp enough to do harm.

He approached it carefully, keeping both hands on the gun.

He thanked his training for that, as the figure moved when he passed right by it.

He yelped in shock, moving away from it and raising his gun at it.

“Stop!” he said. “Don’t move!”

The creature, whatever that was, didn’t seem like it listened let alone register his words. It stood up, hunched over, then lunged at him with the scythe.

Not finding any alternatives, he shot right at its head.

The creature jerked back as a screech left its mouth.

Twilight held his breath.

His blood froze when he saw it still stand on its legs and try to swing at him again.

He shot again. He was perfectly certain the bullet got through its head.

Yet the creature moved again.

And he shot again.

Only now did the creature finally drop to its knees, but it was still screeching and growling.

Desperate, Twilight took the knife and drove it through the creature’s skull, three times, until he felt it stop moving.

It collapsed on the floor.

Hell knew if it would rise again. It was supposed to be dead already, wasn’t it?

He turned around and ran.

There were more creatures on the way. Some he slashed at with the knife, some he shot at, some he simply ran away from. A few managed to nick him with their scythes, and if he were honest, he was more worried about infections than the injuries themselves.

As he found a quiet corner, he pulled out the alcohol – or whatever that was. It seemed to work on the nicks too, making them close quickly and painlessly.

He supported himself on the wall, forcing his breath to calm down.

He had to get out. Now.

Holding the gun tight to his hand, he moved to leave, but then a buzzing and a voice sounded from behind him.

“Hmm. Warm, bright, red blood.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. He knew it was the blond woman.

He made a run for it as flies swarmed around him, until he found a staircase going up, reaching into what looked like a kitchen area.

“Where are you going, little one?”

The woman appeared right in front of him, cutting off his path. She was smiling at him, surrounded by flies, her face still stained with blood.

“I just want to find Anya,” he managed.

“Aw,” she said. She then pushed him back and he fell on the ground. She lay over him, reaching at his neck and biting.

Yelling, he took the gun and fired twice at her stomach.

She reached up, laughing as fresh blood ran from her lips.

He shot at her head.

“Your bullets cannot harm m—”

Her voice cut off when another of his shots passed through her and hit the window behind her.

The glass cracked, and it quickly shattered as a cold gust of wind blew into the room.

The gust threw the woman’s hood off her head. Twilight tightened his hold on the gun when he spotted a massive, fleshy scar on her temple, a bald spot from her long hair.

The woman shrieked, then growled. Her skin, already pale as it was, seemed to start cracking and turn grey. She looked at her hands, still gasping in pain, and then turned to him, yelling, “You stupid man-thing!”

His mind finally picked up the pace. The cold made her weak?

He stood up, raising his gun at her.

“How dare you bare your teeth at us!” she shouted, then lunged at him with her scythe.

He managed to block her attack, pushing her back, and he shot at her face.

She groaned, still standing, but she said, “What? My body—it’s breaking…”

He kept his gun up. “Just let me go,” he said.

A wild rumble came from her mouth as she turned to attack him again. She reached him, and he could only block her at the last moment, his arms taking the full blow of her scythe. “Give up!” she said, reaching back for another swing of her weapon.

He shot twice at her head, and she yelled again.

The flies seemed to drop in numbers, and her skin cracked more and more. He barely managed to avoid two more of her attacks, and then she fell on him, ready to bite his head off, he supposed in the split second it took him to kick her off of him.

He shot two more times.

“This can’t be,” she said, weakly now, her body swaying.

“Let me go!” he repeated, taking two steps back.

She screamed and reached back with her scythe, and he shot again.

And then a sizzling sound came from her body, as she started swinging wildly, not reaching anything. She groaned and groaned, and her body transformed.

It seemed to calcify into gravel, as she slowly stopped moving, her hand still up in a pose of attack.

And then it broke down.

Whatever it was, it cracked into small pieces, and what started as the form of a woman was now a pile of something on the ground.

Breathing hard, he leaned his back on the wall behind him and slid down to the floor.

His hands were trembling, his feet felt like water.

What the hell was all that?

Were was he?

Why was he brought here?

And where was Anya?

What were those creatures…?

He closed his eyes. Ten seconds. Just ten seconds to freak out.

He just had to get out. Find Anya and…

He opened his eyes, his throat tensing.

Did he really have to find her?

As far as he was concerned, right now she was a liability to him. He had to prioritize his safety first.

It wasn’t like there were piles of bodies of dead girls around, was it?

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood back up. The woman had managed to hurt him a little, but the healing liquid was in short supply and he could handle those injuries up to a point.

The woman. Who was now a pile of ash.

Calm down, Twilight. Get yourself in order and find a way out.

The castle proved massive, and he couldn’t find any viable exit paths even as he seemed to reach what looked like hallways reaching into bedrooms.

Then, a mournful scream sounded from a floor below.

“What have you done to my daughter?!”

His blood chilled. If the “daughter” had been that vicious, he didn’t want to face whatever her mother had in store for him.

[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

[tojiscrack]

there’s so many things i love about your fic but one thing i specifically love that doesn’t have much to do with your fic is probably the community. like every person that comes into your asks, including the funny anons, feels like family idk STOP I SOUND SO CORNY BUT YOU GET WHAT I MEANNNN. like 1l-ynn’s (i think that’s her username) hatred for anyone that comes in between megumi and y/n is so funny, THE MALAKAI SHIPPING PHASE, THE RANDOM ANON THAT STARTED RAPPING IN UR ASKS, stanheightis stressing out every now and then about the angst is so real, kickingcat’s beautiful artwork as well as azr3na’s, mercupinesspring’s tiktok page dedicated to liar,liar which i stalk with my private account haha. i’m trying to think of the others but yeah, like the community is so beautiful and i think i’m gonna miss that more than anything when the fic eventually ends 🥲

i love u guys i can’ttttt

liar, liar masterlist here:

tagging everyone you mentioned so they see this ‘cause they absolutely deserve to know how special and precious they are, not only to me, but apparently to you too. it’s so absolutely true, my fav thing about writing the series this past year is the growing community 😭🩵

@1l-ynn @stanheightis @kickingcat @azr3na @mercupinesspring

the malakai hate was so incredibly funny to me bc he was never gonna be a second love interest. like, ever 💀 that’d make this megumi/reader story just be crack upon crack, and ik i prioritise comedy over romance in this romcom, but there’s a limit, yk 😭 and it was just funny to be given a taster of how certain ppl feel about a second love interest being introduced at all before i’d even introduced the real one, might i add

with that, watching ppl stress about the angst tag before it had even arrived (it’s still not here, curtesy of my hiatus 😇) was also the funniest thing ever. i’d wake up every morning with a new ask in my inbox stressing about NOTHING. like a singular person even held enough stress for the entire community, and then some 😭

the artwork i’ve received over the last few months have been collected into a google doc that’s how obsessed with them i am, ready to be printed out bc i genuinely meant it when i said i’d do just that for my room 😋 we made it to a point where we can appoint ppl as LL’s co-illustrators, which 16 year old me, who was drafting the first chapter a year and a bit ago, wouldn’t have even predicted such a thing and i’m so grateful bc wdym they were able to make malakai look good? ☹️🩵

their versions of y/n are so beautiful too 😭

and LL content being cross-posted to tiktok? i felt like an old person when i first saw the page and went through the memes made about my story (it’s like old ppl laughing at their own joke) 😀 my fav is definitely malakai core, and the video with ‘how i want megumi to react whenever another guy speaks to y/n’ or smth like that (along those words) 🤭

honourable mentions too bc these guys could never be forgotten by me:

@shaigimo @princesssparklesprinkle @reinaswrld @cutesolecita @britishfailure @b4tm4nn @reocidal @jelly-fsh @miffysmittens @anonymity-222 @crisis-unaverted @sl1004 @watermelonlover905 @loffagirl @seoups @awriterinthenight @ist0leurc0ffee @biancaackerman @2ukika @julieannah @missunrise @briezy04764 @jvpit3rr @sfmegumi @nappingnai @evergumi @crimsonhallucinations @femtaktsfilosofi @manmuncher777

+ more ofc, i’m genuinely trying hard to remember everyone from the top of my head but it’s a little hard given how fast LL is growing.

this doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten any of you that i haven’t mentioned! just means i got lazy and needed to wrap this sappy response up, but i promiseeee i’m well aware of who’s here and who’s not 🤗 the people above have also had several interactions with me, so it’s easier to remember ppl who you speak to on a daily 🥲

i thank the silent readers for still being here anyway. the LL community wouldn’t be thriving without ur support too <3

also if i’ve tagged you and you wish to not be tagged even in sappy posts, just lmk, i’ll know not to do it in future haha 😧

but anyways… in conclusion, i agree. i can’t wait to return to all my children (you guys) in late june ☹️ the only reason why i’m simultaneously dreading it is ‘cause it means my exams would be here but oh well 😭

k gonna end it here ‘cause this is too sappy ew 🙄 (💕)

[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…

[wolfsbanesparks]

Not a specific fic, but I'm curious which is the longest you've had an idea for one before starting to do something with it. I know you've kept at least a few ideas around for a while!

Ooh I have so many ideas bouncing around in my head at all times. Keeping in mind that I only really started actively writing in 2020/2021 here we go:

Of my current WIPs Pretty Little Thing had been on my mind for years before I started writing it. Like literally I wrote a draft of the prologue before id even started writing Split or Baby Blues (2021 i think?) I remember thinking "this is gonna be good but im not ready, not yet" and setting it aside for like two or three years.

Another one is One Last Chance (where Lois Lane is Billy’s mentor) which i started brainstorming for like three years ago now and still haven't started posting yet because I have too many projects and that one is gonna be long. I've written a handful of scenes and chapters but I haven't actually dedicated a ton of time to it outside of my imagination. Unless the writing muses strike me over the head with a shiny new idea I want this to be my next long fic.

I have this list of longer fics in my head that I'm dying to write but I can only focus on one maybe two at a time so they're all just vying for attention as they evolve in my mind.

(I swear if my secret Pretty Woman AU doesn't stop growing and demanding attention im gonna have trouble. What do you mean the League of Assassins are there?)

[gioia-writes-and-others]

🦐🤔🦐 MIXED FRIED .....for REAL ?

(dump writer post / snippet / art in progress)

Thank you for the tag to @illarian-rambling HERE,

@the-golden-comet HERE , HERE and HERE,

@alinacapellabooks HERE , @tragedycoded HERE , and

@wyked-original-writing HERE

You're also tagged !! 💋💋

*****

This is more a general update as I reached a point in The Scarred Angel where I HAVE to tied up a few things before going further.... Truth of the last couple of months 🙄

The time for scenes and notes hapardazly written everywhere is OVER ! (Half joke and also LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL)

More seriously : I want to make sure I don't drop everything which will be a huge disappointment for several reasons.

ramble/snippet/art under the cut

Ashley would kick my ass / won't leave me alone if I do so (I know this for a fact)

I spent enough time already on TSA (summer 2023 since the first idea came up + about summer 2024 since actively working on it

The initial idea and characters still have reason to exist

Thing is :

It's the first time I work something this "complex" (?).... aka : I've done, I'm doing and I'll do again many "ERRORS" along the way. (Oh wait! Such goes life.....) I really need an OUTLINE at this point, even a gross one! I have an entire first arc of 6 zero draft chapters plus several others (the current wc is between 60000 and 70000 words) BUT most importantly : I feel the need of keep specific and steady angles to write MY story NOT someone's else. Those same angles that made me start in the first place. And apparently, rn, I have to dig and put them on my board to better keep an eye on it among the mass of infos, researches, things that need to happen, characters development, various other ideas .....+ all the interesting imputs I see around and along the way every day!

Additional note : my mother, that knows nothing about what I'm writing , just sent me a letter from Claudia Sheinbaum, actual mexican president, especially dedicated to "Mr DT" and "Mr EM" from "the rest of the world".

You can find the note on the internet and since a lot of TSA PLOT is about INFORMATION.....guess what? The letter slaps but we're not entirely sure she said so for real 😉

STILL .... it would be awesome if she did and since one of the main inspiration quotes for TSA is "everything happens for a reason", fuck yes, I'll take this as a sign too!

....To be continued.....

****

SNIPPET....

Back to the actual chp 1, draft zero, "Amy on the border"

....

My heart skips another beat.

Phil feared it was too soon yet, that I might not be ready to handle the new environment.

Probably me stopping the meds didn't help him accepting my initiative but it hasn't be  a problem for my chief editor who doesn't know anything about me.

Rather the opposite way around, no way I could have missed how much they were happy about someone volunteering for the assignment.

I'm a newbie in this line of work, just two months since I toke the job, and they accepted nonetheless to send me to cover about the challenging task the local police department must face every day in this powder keg that is THE border.

No kidding.

There is always something going on here, endless supply material for many and many articles.

'Same old, same old' is what I heard at the office among other casual comments and still, keeping an 'attentive eye' upon the border situation it's considered a must, so that when something significant seems to come up they do actually send a 'soldier on the battlefield' in order to get first hand information.

I'm nowhere near close to have my own opinion on the matter but I basically threw myself on the opportunity.

.........

ART

Amy doesn't know yet but Ashley's already out there ....

Tag NP and a drink 🍻☕🍷☕ 🍹🍻 let me see what you got

@kiennwrites @gaslightwestern @spottedleech

@bi0mass @legalownerofufoemoji @dragoninatrenchcoat

@bluefiredesire @aalinaaaaaa

@lunaeuphternal @zackprincebooks @wyked-rebellion

@vesanal @jev-urisk @badscientist

@peach-the-gospel @jacobwren @inadequatecowboy

@orphanheirs @riveriafalll @saturnine-saturneight

@cowboybrunch @words-after-midnight @the-letterbox-archives

@angofwords @topazadine @aintgonnatakethis

@deanwax @thecomfywriter @leahnardo-da-veggie

@lychhiker-writes @avaseofpeonies

@mapplesand @kaeru483 @lullabynorth

@theeccentricraven @willtheweaver @dnschmidt

@keeping-writing-frosty @ryns-ramblings @aspiring-dreamer

@rivenantiqnerd @pertweefan1970 @agirlandherquill

@innerthoughtsmonologue @noxxytocin @moltenwrites

+ OPEN

[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

[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.

[justsome-stars]

I’d Stay - Chapter 1

A Shadowpeach multi-chapter fic

Story below the cut!

Authors notes:

This is a band AU! So original of me, right? Ive been listening to MICO’s music and i can’t ignore the inspiration im getting to write, and this idea just came to me when listening to Homesick. The draft was a mess because i started writing without any concrete planned ideas, but thats okay. If this does well, I’ll post a detailed enough explanation of some of the background information.

Only things that really matter in this chapter is that Macaque is in a band, Destined Genesis, with “Lady” (LBD) and Mayorn (the Mayor). I did some fiddling with names and Aliases to make some names make more sense, which they aren’t so different but i wanted to clarify.

Unfortunately I didn’t have this beta-read, cause none of my friends are into LMK, so i guess I’ll have to look for someone to later on. Anyways love yall! Thanks for the support on my other fics <3

The neon lights on signs still bothered him. Be it too bright or in the way of the view, he just didn’t like them. Teal was blinding, but orange was just infuriating. And then there were the sounds of the city….

His ears ached. The cars were too loud outside, people were talking too loud, he needed an out. Even with his headphones on, as good at canceling noise as they were, he could still hear Lady’s shrill cackles from across the table loud and clear. Gritting his teeth, he tries to focus on the empty table in front of him. Bai’He sits to his left, arms crossed across her chest defensively. He can only feel worse, a heavy weight of worry, once he looks up, Lady throwing glares like knives at them both all while trying to carry conversation.

The people who had been so intent on interviewing them lost interest in him almost an hour ago now, and Macaque intended to keep it that way. Poor Bai’he seemed so tired, sitting next to him with heavy eyes, trying so hard to keep from nodding off. He didn’t blame her though, it was already late into the night, and she had school earlier that day. She must be exhausted..

His tail flicks beneath the table, tapping her foot lightly. She startles, looking over to him in a daze. Macaque frowns, looking to his shoulder and nodding to it, then back to her. It took a moment or so for her to process, but she gratefully took the offer, leaning over to rest her temple against his shoulder. At first, he had to keep his back straight as a board, worried he might disturb her if not, but eventually he let himself relax against the booth’s backboard.

The person who had been asking Lady questions was quick to take note, adjusting in her seat to look at him directly. “Macaque, who is this?” They glance at Bai’he with a smile that seemed too condescending for his liking.

“Oh, don’t mind her.” Lady cuts in, before Macaque could even open his mouth to speak. “Just my younger sister. Pay her no mind.” Macaque wants to scoff, scowl, something, watching Lady rest her chin on her folded hands across the table. Mayorn mutters something to her, which she turns her head to look at him, which he only shrugs when she whispers something in return.

“She’s never been mentioned before, has she?” The journalist looks down to their notes frantically, readying their pen. “How long has she been with the band?”

“She isn’t.” Macaque answers, snipped and direct. His phone buzzes against his leg, he has to push the urge to check it away. Not now. Not the time…

Adjusting their hand a few times, the journalist clears their throat and goes to ask another question.

“I believe we’ve concluded this interview.” Mayorn interrupts, offering them a pointed smile, standing from his seat to offer them a hand. They stand as well, giving him a rattled handshake with a flustered expression. Lady stands to offer them a hand as well, while Macaque makes no effort to move, too focused on his phone practically burning a hole in his pocket, only nodding to the Journalist.

They leave in a hurry, clearly confused by the abrupt end to the conversation. Lady recovers nigh instantly, turning to look at Macaque with a narrowed glare. “Tell me, just what is more important to you right now?”

“What?”

“Was your inability to focus on the task at hand purely accidental or was it a pointless act of rebellion?” Macaque tries to keep from shifting in his seat uncomfortably under Lady’s glare, lest he disturb Bai’he, who seemed to have drifted off to sleep the moment her head hit his shoulder. “You do understand your behavior, your petulance, is reflective of us as a whole, yes? If that interview ruins our debut, I will hold you solely responsible.”

Breathing through his nose, Macaque scoffs. “I told—” Bai’he shifts by his side, he stills. Too loud. “I told you I wanted nothing to do with the press. You know that, Mayorn knows that, my agent knows that and has reminded you repeatedly. This is on you.” Macaque spat, pointing a finger at her defensively.

“Need I remind you, the–”

“Our transportation is here.” Mayorn cuts in, raising his head from his phone to look between the two, well, three counting Bai’he. Right. Time to leave.

Shaking Bai’he awake, Macaque goes to stand. His phone buzzes again. Knowing just who it might be, it would only continue until he either looked at it or responded. The latter was unfortunately likely.

Stepping out of the restaurant finally was like a breath of fresh air, besides actually getting a breath of fresh air. The passing cars were still loud, but anything was better than hearing Lady prattle on about how he embarrassed her in too many ways for her to stand. The black cars wait outside, prepared to take them back home. Macaque piles into the back, finding Bai’he at his side again, groggily tugging at her seatbelt to click it in place before resting her head on the window and yawning.

There are two more buzzes, in quick succession, that come from his phone before he annoyedly fishes it from the pocket of his jeans. The screen lights up, illuminating his face and displaying 3 texts and 1 missed call, which had gone to voicemail since his notifications had been silenced almost all day.

Tuesday 10:49 PM

Home yet?

Mihouuuuuu

You hate meeee

Read 10:53 PM

He doesn’t have to wait for long before another text comes through.

Mihou :D

Biting back a groan, he types out a response before shutting his phone off for the rest of the drive home.

—

“It’s so bad. You’ve gotta believe me.”

“Oh trust me, I believe you. Your doomscrolling habit is catastrophic.”

The voice on the other end laughs, its soft and muffled, but it brings a smile to Macaque’s face.

“Wait, are you smiling? Mihou move the phone! I want to see!!”

Macaque’s brows furrowed. “Nuh uh.”

“Oh come on! Please? Cause I’m your favorite and you love me so so much?”

He did. He did love him, more than anything really, but admittance would get him nowhere. “No.” His phone stays at an angle, only showing half of his face.

“You hate me! You want me dead!”

“Oh quit whining. You’re fine.”

They settle into a gentle silence, Macaque can practically hear the pout through the phone and the eyes on him. He can’t help but chuckle. They call every night, the behavior is typical, but expected and a loved trait.

“When are you coming back?”

The question is welcome. “I was thinking of one of the weekends this month.”

[questinwitchface]

Anon, I deleted the ask, but here's your answer:

So a couple days ago, I got an anon ask which basically said something to the effect of, "I love your fic, but why don't you update more than once a week? I NEED more updates!" Again, I'm probably not getting the quote exactly right, but it was something very much like that. And I will admit, it upset me, so I deleted it and tried to move on.

But it bothered me. So here I am, answering it a few days after deleting it.

I do my best to update my fics once a week, and I'm generally very consistent about that, unless something comes up, which I do my best to be communicative about. The past couple weeks, my update schedule has looked like this:

Sunday: Sam's Delivery Service

Monday: The Cute Cat Groomer

Tuesday: There Is Something Beneath

Wednesday: Rotten Work

Thursday: Brood

No schedule because I'm still writing it: The Sequel to The Pirate Fic

Sam's Delivery Service went on hiatus a couple weeks ago because I decided I hated the ending and I need to rewrite it, but I've been busy with other things and haven't managed to finish it yet, and The Sequel to The Pirate Fic has no set update days because it, too, is unfinished, and I warned for that when I started posting it. However, that's still four fics that I'd been consistently updating each week. That's a lot, considering that all of them are multichapter fics that I don't get to be "done" with once I've posted for the week. Rotten Work just finished, and There Is Something Beneath is finishing tomorrow, so that'll be a bit of relief, but I'll still have four multichap fics I'm trying to post for the foreseeable future.

So part of the answer is that, while I am updating each fic once a week, I've been updating 4-5 times per week lately, and that's a lot.

But I know what people are going to say. "It's not a lot of work to update, you just fill in the boxes and it post." Well, sure. That's the final step before posting. But, with each chapter of each fic, I'm going through a minimum of one revision pass and one editing pass before posting because I care about quality. I want my fics to be readable, grammatically sound, and as free of errors as possible. This takes time and effort. This means it takes a long damn time for me to post a chapter, and, again, I've been doing this 4-5 times per week lately.

So part of the answer is that the process of updating fics takes me a long time.

And this is to say nothing of the fics I'm working on that I haven't even started posting yet. I have 26 fics in my WIP folder that are unfinished. I have another 8 that have a complete draft written but still require revision, beta reading, and more revision before I'm even ready to begin posting them.

And it says nothing about my original writing projects - a couple novels, a screenplay, a poetry collection, a cookbook.

In short: the reason I only update my fics once/week is because that's already a lot for me. The reason I won't push myself to update more frequently is because I like to have time to spend on other projects besides just the ones I'm posting, including my personal, original projects. Oh, yeah, and I have other obligations and hobbies besides writing all the time, too. So I'm sorry if one update/week on one specific story isn't enough for you, anon, but I'm not going to be changing my workflow to try to update more. I'm doing my best. That's good enough.

[thegingerwrites]

Thanks for the tag @treescape!

1.How many works on AO3? 50

2. Total AO3 Word Count? 607,341

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos: never too late to start again, short cycle, worry me

4. What fandoms do you write for? At the moment, just star wars! I kind of started out there when I first got my ao3 but I've bounced around a bit in the past

5. Do you respond to comments? I try my best to! (I say staring at the unanswered comments in my inbox, sweating) I get a bit overwhelmed and I have been trying to comment on the stuff that I read before I answer my own comments but it tends to pile up a bit

6. Angstiest Ending? I love angst, I really, really do, but I don't think I'm always the best at writing it? At the very least, I tend to write a happy ending or a mostly happy ending even if its ambiguous. There's hope there usually. My angstiest ending recently might be going all lovey dovey on me (the last scene is Obi-Wan immediately post-Mustafar so… but also right before that, Vader continues to insist that despite everything he still wants Obi-Wan dead). I'll throw never too late to start again into the mix too because I think that the fact that the two timelines stay separate and Leia never gets to know if her actions in the past had any effect is a bit angsty.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending? I feel like I've been writing some over the top happy endings lately. slowly, sweetly, then suddenly turned out way sweeter in the edit than I initially intended and I'm not mad about it. I also think Do The Same For Him ends particularly happy, as a treat for a lot of the angst it took to get there.

8. Do you get hate? Not in obikin! I had one fic in a different fandom where I wrote the relationship a little darker than I think people were used to and got some extremely mixed responses to it which definitely discouraged me from continuing (though I recently found that I had written most of the next chapter in a draft). I was coming at from a fandom/ship where darker themes were more common and I think there was a bit of a disconnect there. The story just gets to live in my brain now.

9. Do you write smut? I do!

10. Do you write crossovers? I was so ready to answer that no, I've never written a crossover before but I'm actually a huge liar. During the pandemic, I wrote a Killing Eve/Hannibal crossover Taste and Temptation. I had written some villaneve in the past but never any Hannigram. I really liked the idea of the two couples traveling through Europe in cognito and running into another couple that is just like them. It also gave me a way to vicariously travel through them in 2020. In the last chapter, Hannibal and Will invite Villanelle and Eve to dinner and I never managed to plot out what that dinner would look like. I might come back to it the next time I do a rewatch.

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of 😬

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? No, but I'm open to it

14. All time favourite ship? I'm with treescape on this one, I have to pick just one? Obikin is my otp of the moment and it is one that I returned to from my first bout of sw fandom around 2016 so despite the break from sw I had in the middle there it might be the one that has stuck with me the longest?

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I never really consider any of my fics abandoned. Even the fic I was discussing vaguely in question 8 is one I might return to thanks to my Smallville watch. I think being reminded of the right fic at the right time or getting the right comment has the potential to bring me back to just about any idea. No one ever knows exactly where inspiration is going to strike.

16. Writing strengths? I think I have a decent grasp of voice and dialogue when I write for characters. Thinking about how they speak and hearing their voice in my head is probably the first thing that happens before I start writing.

17. Writing Weaknesses? I'm always looking to improve my plotting and achieve some of the levels of angst I admire in others. When I started planning Do The Same For Him last year, I called it my causing problems on purpose era, basically that I needed to resist the impulse to resolve issues too easily for the characters and I think I'm still there.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? I don't have too many thoughts here! I think it has to make sense for the character and their voice. At the moment, I'm having thoughts about how it shows up in sw with Mandalorian and Huttese words and phrases being thrown around occasionally. Too much can be jarring, and the meaning should generally be clear to the reader without too many footnotes but it can add an extra layer of depth to a story and dialogue.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I used to post Alternate Endings to Nancy Drew PC games on the Her Interactive forums circa 2008-2012 and then around 2015ish I got up the nerve to make a fanfiction.net account where I only ever posted one fic. But yeah, I didn't even know that what I was writing on those forums was fanfic and I am super grateful that people there were kind to me even when I had no idea what I was doing (there were multiple colors and fonts, it was a bit of a mess)

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? never too late to start again I started writing it two years ago now (!!!) and it took me over for a bit. I haven't seen that kind of productivity since even though I've gotten more consistent. I took my time in the editing process and feel really good about what I was able to create with that fic. I still think of it as my like obikin magnum opus.

No pressure tagging: @teaandjumpers @usakostar @grapenehifics @sendpseuds @samstree