#i know the month at least lol - its as much as he remembers about my bday as well

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝙱𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜:  @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly. 

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile. 

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground. 

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.” 

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?” 

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?” 

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence. 

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on. 

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.” 

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother. 

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it. 

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?” 

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it. 

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return. 

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed. 

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy. 

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.” 

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?” 

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth. 

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil. 

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.” 

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation. 

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.” 

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all. 

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape. 

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. 

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job. 

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back. 

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched. 

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?” 

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.” 

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…” 

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…” 

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy. 

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now. 

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously. 

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly. 

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted. 

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.” 

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious. 

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces. 

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion. 

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm. 

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.   

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…” 

And isn’t that quaint. 

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled. 

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!” 

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!” 

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck. 

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!” 

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach. 

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge. 

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach. 

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to. 

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves. 

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking. 

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!” 

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement. 

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother. 

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted. 

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said. 

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?” 

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down. 

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed. 

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently. 

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!” 

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.” 

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!” 

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut. 

“…And you know what, Lee~?” 

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!” 

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale. 

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!” 

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress. 

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?” 

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise. 

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head. 

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see. 

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly. 

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed. 

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?” 

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face. 

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly. 

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture. 

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily. 

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[arolesbianism]

I have obtained a new oc and in the process I've already signed myself up for needing to make at least 3 new ocs for his story which he now has despite me initially Intending for him to be a side character for a different side character to hang out with. My townhouse has over 200 characters on it.

[thesixthstar]

me: i only got like 3.5 hours sleep last night, i'm gonna sleep early today!

also me: stays up until 1:30 AM making a spreadsheet of my friends & family so I have a central place with things like food preferences & birthdays

[81folklore]

robin - LECLERC

pairings charles leclerc x fem!singer!reader (fc: gigi hadid + pinterest)

summary fans get a look at charles’ family

warnings a baby + pregnancy (the baby is the entire plot point and one pregnancy mention) poorly translated french, some taylor swift songs are used as readers songs. HUGE TIMESKIPS (sorry lol)

notes we are BACK!! for the time being at least,, sorry for being gone again😣 also im using gigi again because i had this one specific photo in mind of her pregnant!!

notes 2 kind of short but i want to try and gain some more motivation buuuut in my absence from writing ive created a rec blog so i can show you all my favorite works by all the incredible writers on here! @81folklore-library

masterlist

yourusername • may 2020

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 1,283,693 others

(im)patiently waiting to meet you tiger 🐯🩵

view comments

charles_leclerc you are glowing mama🌟

yourusername charlie🥹

lewishamilton cant wait to meet the little one, you’re doing amazing yn!

yourusername thank you lewis💜

user44 you are gorgeous omg

user23 i can’t believe charles is going to be a dad soon

user2 it feels like its flown by

user17 i love that they call their baby tiger☹️

user6 me too!! i hope it sticks as a nickname

arthur_leclerc lunch again soon?

yourusername of course art! let me know when🤍

yourusername • january 2021

liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl and 3,930,519 others

our little tiger blessed our lives a few months ago and we couldnt feel more overjoyed to have her. we want to thank those around us for their continued support during our first months of parenthood

tiger, we cant wait you grow into a beautiful young girl and we are already so proud of you🐯🩵

tagged charles_leclerc

view comments

charles_leclerc so happy i get to be a dad with you🩵

charles_leclerc i love you so much im so proud of you

yourusername i love you charlie, thank you for everything

lorenzotl toi et charlie êtes de merveilleux parents 🩷🩷 (translation you and charlie are wonderful parents)

yourusername merci! revenez bientôt, vous êtes toujours le bienvenu! (translation thank you! come back soon, you are always welcome!

user55 theyre parents🥹🥹

user80 oh im sobbing this is so lovely😭😭

user17 they still call her tiger☹️☹️

user49 im confused is that the babies name?

user17 no they just call her tiger in public, we dont know her name! they started calling her tiger when they found out they were going to be parents and it seems to have stuck!!

liked by yourusername

user32 i was listening to never grow up when i saw this post🥹🥹

user47 congratulations guys!!

yourusername • september 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, olliebearman and 5,291,649 others

happy birthday little tiger, it has been a joy to watch you grow into the wonderful girl that you are (please stop mama cant handle you getting bigger🥹)

you are so incredibly loved and i hope you feel that every day, i hope you have a wonderful day today and everyday baby!

happy birthday love mama and papa🐯🩵

view comments

charles_leclerc happy birthday angel, we love you🐯

olliebearman happy birthday tiger!!

yourusername see you soon darling🩷

lewishamilton i can’t believe she is already four🥹💜

yourusername time really flies by🥹

user67 SHES SO BIG NOW😭

user5 right?! i remember when yn posted her on charles back☹️

user52 these pictures are so cute oh my god😭😭☹️☹️

user60 actually my favorite family ever🥹

user21 i feel so emotional knowing ive watched this family grow

user19 is anyone else sad charles hasnt posted the annual story?

user37 theres no way he just stops,, she has so many more songs☹️

user66 wait im new what are we talking about?

user37 because charles and yn write the birthday captions together, charles started posting a picture of tiger with a song yn has written about children or babies etc (example: last year it was never grow up!) and she has so many more songs that would fit but he hasnt made one this year :(

yourusername & charles_leclerc • september 2024

liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 6,280,740 others

tiger its your birthday surprise; Robin out now🐯

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername📌 ps robin is not tigers name🩵

charles_leclerc thank you for letting me on a song🫶

yourusername always baby

charles_leclerc we love you tiger🐯

charles_leclerc added to their story

[song used: Robin by yn text: way to go tiger🐯🩵]

seen by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,279,940 others

replies are turned off

twitter

[megwritesriddles]

Heavenly Torture ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 11 - Teasing & Degradation. After Hogwarts, Reader and Neville end up working together at Noltie's Botanical Novelties. Reader soon discovers she holds an unexpected power over Neville, one she'll have fun exerting over him at her whim.

Tags: Teasing, Degradation, Oral sex (m receiving), Neediness, Begging, Virgin!Neville, Sub!Neville, Dom!Reader, Slytherin!Reader, Set post Battle of Hogwarts, Coworkers to lovers (??).

Word count: 4.8k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I know I'm running a day behind right now, I'll try my best to catch up when I can (hopefully monday)!! Another day, another submissive pathetic man... lol!! Also why did this end up so long... all this backstory for what?? Why do I keep doing this?? Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Getting the job at Noltie’s Botanical Novelties, the garden shop on Diagon Alley, had been one of the most relieving moments of your life. Not only did you have an income secured, but they’d hired you despite you having been in Slytherin. It seems silly for you to have been worried about this, given that people are starting to heavily advocate against stereotyping based on houses, but that didn’t mean it had actually stopped happening. At the moment, Slytherins were quite radioactive. Less than a year out from the war, all Slytherins near your age were assumed to be Death Eaters who just escaped consequence based on their age. This, of course, was not true for most of you, and certainly not for you. You’d been on the right side from… well, perhaps not the start, it takes time to shake your upbringing, but probably from some time in the fifth year. However, most people only remembered you as a Slytherin, and that was a decidedly bad thing to be currently. You knew you should have made more appearances at Dumbledore’s Army meetings, but back then you were facing the same issue, avoiding the meetings because when you did go, people would be distrusting of you because of the colour of your tie. Now people barely remembered that you’d been a member at all. It was frustrating beyond belief, but you just had to keep going. 

The job at Noltie’s was an undoubted blessing, just a few years ago it would have been a no-brainer for you to get the job, given your expertise, but this year it had truly felt like it wouldn’t happen for you. When you’d gone in to pick up your uniform about a week before starting, Edward Noltie himself had confessed to having been a Slytherin himself in his school days. You wouldn’t have guessed it, the kookie old man certainly reminded you more of the types that come out of Hufflepuff, but you told yourself to stop stereotyping, you had learned its inaccuracies over and over by now. It amused you slightly how much he tried to separate himself from the Slytherin label, only claiming the identity in the past tense, while most Gryffindors were likely to wear their Gryffindor scarves until at least their 200s. You thanked him anyway for his understanding, emphasising once again that you’d had no ties to the Death Eaters. As you were leaving with the bag containing your uniform, he stopped you.

“We actually have another employee with us from your year group at Hogwarts, a very talented young man, instrumental in winning the war, we’re lucky to have him, really. Joined a few months ago,” Noltie chuckled. You smiled and nodded awkwardly over your shoulder. You knew exactly who he was referring to. 

There’d never really been any doubt in your mind that Noltie had been talking about Neville Longbottom, but the suspicion is confirmed immediately on your first day. You walked in, hair neatly up as was required (less for aesthetic reasons and more for safety against the various plants stocked that had a tendency to thrash), your uniform tailored to fit you perfectly, and saw him behind the counter. You had been dreading this moment since you realised you’d be working with him. You knew what he’d say to you, how he would call you brave for going against your house, how much he appreciated your efforts during the war, things like that, and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to it. You just wanted to stop thinking about the war, and all the things you’d had to do to survive, but it seemed too much to ask. You took a deep breath and approached him and he did just that. With a serious and sympathetic expression, he began to thank you and commend you. He stared quite intensely at you as he spoke, which made you admittedly uncomfortable, your eyes flickered around the store as he spoke. 

“We barely had any Slytherins in the D.A. and I know some people gave you a hard time about it, so I think it’s–” he continued in his solemn voice. You squirmed in discomfort and decided to cut him off. 

“Look, Longbottom, all the same to you, yeah? You’re a war hero and all that, so… that’s great, congratulations! Can you show me how the till works now?” you huffed. He blinked in surprise at your little outburst, before flushing slightly, clearly having realised he’d made you uncomfortable in some way, even if he’d only been trying to compliment you. 

“Sorry, err… yeah…” he cleared his throat, showing you over to the till on the counter at the back of the store. You walked in front of him toward it and when you turned back to face him, you saw his eyes flick up and his flush deepen a little. You realise with a start that he’d been looking at your ass as you walked. These uniform trousers really were tailored perfectly, so you were sure he’d gotten a good view. You just smiled to yourself and filed the information away for later as he started to explain the machine to you. 

The next few weeks go surprisingly well. Sure, you’re only working the till and shop floor rather than actually doing any research or fieldwork, but at least you’re in your desired field, and the work is quite easy. The shop is never terribly busy, and the people who do come in like to spend a while browsing and contemplating, meaning you get to tell them all you know about the plants they’re deciding between, which you find quite fun. Neville works mainly in the backroom, counting stock, moving boxes, and maintaining the plants that can’t be kept on the shop floor because they’re too dangerous or require certain temperature conditions. You help with inventory, letting him know what’s running low on the shelves and making notes of what needs to be ordered for Mr Noltie. Mostly, you’re out of each other’s ways, but that doesn’t mean you’re not highly aware of each other. 

You knew Neville had changed over the years, every girl who’d been at Hogwarts was aware of it. You remembered quiet nights while the D.A. had been hiding out in the Room of Requirement, when a bunch of the girls would get together for some girl talk, trying hard to feel a sense of normalcy. Lavender Brown’s idea, which initially seemed silly, actually raised spirits quite a lot. You joined in, even though people were still rather wary of you, being one of only two Slytherins in the room, you mainly listened because of this. The girls huddled together in one corner of the room, while the boys chatted about who knows what in the other, and gossiped about the boys. There was hardly time for romance in the conditions you were in, which is perhaps why so much of it was happening, forced to stay together in one big room and fearing for your lives, you had overheard a lot you wish you never had. Neville ended up being the subject of a few of these conversations. He had changed a lot, becoming taller, broader and more handsome. He had also taken the role of the leader of the D.A., and many of the girls admitted that they quite liked the authoritative voice he used, which made everyone tease and giggle. He was nothing like the timid little boy he’d been for the first few years at Hogwarts, he was a man now, a strong, handsome man. However, no one ever reported any sort of action with him like they did with the other boys. At the time, he became sort of untouchable, which was odd considering he was Neville Longbottom.

These days, he was looking even better. His face was no longer so marred by the constant scrunch of stress as it had been during the war. He’d grown out his hair a little, rather than keeping it quite as short as he had during the war. He overall looked healthier, and even more muscular now that he was able to eat properly, his skin looking less pale and dull. Days of moving and stacking boxes in the backroom gave you plenty of time to subtly watch his muscles. He really was handsome now, though he didn’t seem to even realise this himself. Occasionally, when he’d be bringing stock out front for you to shelve, there’d be a woman in the store who would begin to flirt with him. He always seemed baffled and out of his depth, never flirting back and just trying to escape.

“What was that all about?” he asks you once, poking his head out of the backroom when she leaves. This woman had come onto him particularly strong, trying to touch his arm and invite him to the Leaky Cauldron. 

“She was flirting with you,” you chuckle, sorting the coins into the till. He scoffs.

“No, she wasn’t,”

“Yes, she was,” you laugh in disbelief. He chews his lip.

“Only because of what I did during the war,” he dismisses, fiddling with his wand in his apron pocket. It amuses you how insecure he is. But he is partially right, he’s become a bit of a celebrity in the wizarding world, thanks to Harry Potter’s insistence on mentioning Neville’s contributions every time he’s interviewed about the war. Sometimes you think it’s selfishly motivated, wanting the world to focus on someone other than him so he can be left alone, and dumping it on poor shy Neville.

“That could be true I suppose, but I bet she’d still let you shag her,” you grin at him. Neville splutters.

“I… I don’t…” he runs his finger through the collar of his shirt. You chuckle at his reaction, enjoying teasing him like this. “That’s not… I wouldn’t do that…” he swallows thickly. 

You’d discovered quickly that you had a certain power over Neville. At first, it was catching him occasionally staring. You’d be leaning on the counter, your ass jutting out slightly as you scribble down inventory notes and you’d glance at the door to the backroom, spotting him peering through the glass door. He’d immediately blush beet red and look away, clearly ashamed to have been caught staring at you. It was sweet, in a way, because most guys didn’t seem to have any shame in ogling at you, at least Neville seemed to know he shouldn’t be doing it, even if he couldn’t stop himself. Slowly, you start leaving more and more of your shirt buttons undone, revealing glimpses of your cleavage. You revel in the way his eyes constantly stray to you as he brings you boxes, taking shaky breaths as you bend over to pick up the little plant pots from the box and organise them onto the shelves. Whenever you talk, you take to standing just a little too close. His height gives you a perfect view down your top, and although he tries his best not to, he takes advantage of this fact often, his eyes flicking down and then his face going red. You like to innocently ask him if he’s feeling warm, which makes him stammer. It’s a bit of fun to fill your days, and quite an ego boost too. Every quiet moment in the shop you take to showing yourself off somehow, or even just chatting to him, which seems to fluster him too.

“You wouldn’t shag her? I thought she was cute…” you tease. He goes a deeper shade of red.

“She’s… it’s not… uh…” he stumbles. You smile, leaning yourself onto the counter in a way you know shows off your ass. His eyes flick immediately down your body and he goes redder, success. “I don’t… shag…” he coughs, looking mortified. 

“What? Never? But you’re the saviour of the wizarding world!” you taunt, pretending to be shocked, when really it had become abundantly clear not long into working with him that despite how much his looks had changed, and his confidence in every other area, women still made him unbearably anxious, especially you. 

“I- I mean I…” he stutters and then straightens up. “This is none of your business,” he asserts shakily. You shrug.

“Just curious about you,” you smile flirtatiously, watching as he blushes once more and avoids your eyes. “Do you never want to shag? Some people are like that and it’s perfectly fine–” 

“No! I… uh… I do want… oh Merlin!” he groans, burying his face in his hands. You press on, pretending not to realise how uneasy he is, delighting in his discomfort. 

“Well, then what was wrong with that girl? She was cute… more than willing…” you taunt, taking a few slow steps toward him now. 

“She just… it’s not… I can’t just…” he stammers, eyes following you until you’re right in front of him. You catch his eyes flicking down to your cleavage. You smile. 

“Are you a virgin, Neville?” you ask bluntly. He twitches anxiously.

“I’m not answering that,” he squeaks, but you both know that it’s answer enough. He sighs, seeing the smug way you’re smiling at him. “It’s just… the only girl I’ve ever liked enough to do that with didn’t feel the same, she… never wanted to do that sort of thing with anyone… like you were just talking about,” he mumbles, avoiding your eye.

“Luna?” you hum. He just nods. You’d heard about that through friends, his wartime confession and her confession that she did not experience romantic or sexual feelings for anyone. To many people, it had seemed a completely foreign concept. You imagined that, even though he’d been understanding, it had probably felt like another blow to his confidence. 

“It’s… that’s over now… she’s my friend and I respect her… I don’t feel that way about her anymore…” he rambles. His eyes flicker over your face. You believe him, you touch his arm, making him tense. 

“You poor thing,” you coo gently, rubbing your thumb over the bare skin of his arm, feeling the muscle underneath. “You must feel pathetic, saviour of the wizarding world, women lining up, and yet you’re still a virgin,” he jolts slightly, not expecting your words. He feels confused, your tone is sweet and soothing, but your words are insulting. 

“I- I don’t, I’m fine,” he stammers, his cheeks red as he looks at you cautiously. What are you playing at? You pout and tilt your head. 

“Poor baby,” you coo again, making him nervous. 

“Why are you–?” he cut off when the bell above the door jingles, signalling a customer entering. You pull your hand away with a teasing smile, he just stares a little dumbly at you as you return to the till and greet the customer. He can’t help his eyes from straying to your ass, perfectly hugged by your uniform trousers. He’s never felt this crazy before, this overtaken by lust. He wants you and something about your faux-pity has made it worse. He hadn’t felt this way about Luna, he’d liked her first and foremost, he never ogled her like this, never felt this maddened by her simple presence. He forces himself to return to his work in the backroom. 

You torture him the rest of the day. He knows you’re playing at something, but he’s not quite sure what. You keep flashing him mockingly sympathetic glances, showing off your body more than usual, touching him. You’re making excuses to come into the backroom, you’ve never been in here so many times in one shift before, perhaps even ever. Leaning over his shoulders, touching his back, stretching up to the top shelves in front of him. He’s oblivious, but he’s not completely blind and while he’s suspected before that you might have taken to teasing him, now he’s sure. After trying fruitlessly to avoid you most of the day, he gives in toward the end, letting himself admire your body and enjoy your closeness. He’s had a few relentless flirts at his neck since graduating from Hogwarts, but you feel different. Most girls flirt with him because they think he’s something special, something big that will help them earn fame and get them in the Daily Prophet. You flirt like you think he’s a pathetic little puppy dog, and perhaps he should take offence from it, but instead, it makes him need you even more. Because it’s what he is, he’s not big and strong when it comes to this, he feels small and he needs someone who understands that, which you seem to, in your own roundabout way.

He helps you close up the shop, at your request, which is something he only usually does on particularly busy days, yet he knows the question is coming. You pout at him sweetly and ask for help and he comes running. As a thank you, you lean over as you count up the day's purchases, emphasising your chest and not commenting when he stares and blushes. He wouldn’t mind being compensated like this more often. He sweeps up the soil that’s accumulated on the floor from the various pots being moved around. Technically it’s your job, but how can he say no when you look at him like that and push your tits together just so?

You’re still double-checking the accounts when he goes into the back room again. He checks on all the special plants, making sure nothing is wrong, before moving toward the little cupboards in the corner of the room. He washes his hands and unties his apron slowly. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he sighs. You’ve been driving him crazy today. The subtle way you mocked him made him so needy for you even though he should hate you for it, he didn’t want to psychoanalyse that. He hears you enter but does his best to ignore you, you never usually talk at the end of your shifts, usually too tired and eager to get home to bother small talking. You wash your hands and remove your apron too, hanging it up by the door, your name tag facing forward. You feel his eyes on your ass again, which makes you smile to yourself. 

“Is that why you stare at me so much?” you taunt, being purposefully vague. You glance over your shoulder at him. He’s bright red and chewing his lip. 

“What?” he croaks. 

“Because you’re a virgin? Is that why you stare so much? My ass in these trousers is the best view you’ve been allowed?” you mock, cooing as if you’re being sympathetic. He hates that you know, but he knows he hasn’t at all been subtle enough for it to be a shock. He just takes a shaky breath.

“I’m so-sorry, really… I don’t—“ he pulls nervously at his shirt. Godric it’s hot in here. You stalk closer.

“Poor thing, can’t control yourself around me, can you, hm?” you ridicule him, stalking closer with those dark seductive eyes. He realises you’re backing him into a wall as he takes a clumsy step back, moments away from hitting the hard surface. He swallows hard and you come closer, pressing your chest to his, emphasising the curve of your breasts. He can’t help but look, even if only for a split second. “Can you?” you prompt again, your voice lower. 

“No,” he chokes. You laugh, low and mocking. 

“No… you can’t control yourself around me… you pathetic little thing,” you finally backed him against the wall. He looks nervous, but you can feel his hardening arousal against your stomach. You shift yourself slightly, making him gasp and harden even more. You look up at him, smirking, the irony of belittling him in this way doesn't even matter, because you feel powerful and he feels small in this moment. You reach up and trace his cheek, making him shiver and his eyes flutter. “Poor little loser,” he whines loudly at that, and you watch carefully to see if you’ve actually hurt his feelings or not. When his eyes flicker open again, his pupils are wildly dilated and he looks desperate. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I am,” he whimpers. You’re surprised to hear him talk, but you let him, caressing his cheek in a mocking gesture. “I don’t want to be pathetic but I am, I can’t— do this sort of stuff,” he laments. “What kind of freak am I? Getting off to you calling me a loser?” you giggle at him and he laughs slightly too, looking down at the ground, not before glancing once more at your tits. 

“You just want someone to see you for who you are and want you anyway, not put you on some pedestal,” you hum. He blinks at you. That actually… made sense. He glances up at you. “Isn’t that pathetic of you?” you tease with a smile and you both laugh a little. 

“Yeah, Godric… I really am pathetic,” he chuckles quietly, watching you. 

“A complete loser,” you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him. He squeaks, taken completely off guard by your lips on his. You fist your hands into the material of his shirt, forcing him to lean down to your level to kiss you. He kisses back, desperate and shaky. He pants into the kiss, already feeling a little dizzy. Your hand is reaching down and brushing feather-light against the bulge in his trousers before he can register what’s going on. His hips stutter and he whines against your lips. “So pitiful, barely even touching you and you’re whining,” you mock, brushing your fingers up and down the bulge, slow and teasing. His hands come to grip at your waist, exhaling shakily against you. “So needy,” you chuckle, pulling back and pouting at him. 

“Y-yeah,” his eyes flit all over your face. You smirk up at him, trailing your hands down his body as you move to kneel in front of him. He gasps, his hands falling to his sides, chest heaving. He stares down at you, wide-eyed. He mumbles your name in question, wondering if this is really happening. You reach up, still smirking and pop to the button of his trousers. “Ah… oh Merlin…” he exhales, his eyes closing. You gently tug his trousers down and then lean forward, nuzzling your nose against the bulge in his boxers. You watch as his face twists in pleasure, a strangled gasp on his lips. He leans his head back against the wall as you press barely there kisses along his twitching length through the fabric. “This can’t be happening right now,” he pants, pushing his hips towards your face. 

“Don’t you want it to?” you tease, gently licking the wet spot on the fabric, making him gasp. 

“I— yes I want it but—this doesn’t happen… to me…” he groans as you slip down his boxers, springing him free. He stares down nervously now, no one has seen him like this before. You just smirk up at him, gently massaging his thighs. 

“You want it?” you taunt, gently blowing on his length, making him twitch and buck. 

“Nngh— yes,”

“Then beg me,” you grin. “Show me how pathetic you are for me,” he stares down at you, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard you can watch his pulse. He should feel humiliated, but the pre-cum dripping from his tip tells the both of you the reality. You lean up, placing soft open-mouthed kisses against his length, making him inhale sharply. “Beg me,” you sing-song between kisses. 

“P-please,” he gasps. “Please, I’m pathetic, I need this so bad… I’ve never– ah–!” you cut him off by licking a stripe up his length. He dissolves into a string of shaky moans as you wrap your lips around his tip, softly suckling. He’s never felt this amazing before. He fights to open his eyes and look down at you, needing the visual of you doing this committed to his memory desperately, even though he knows it will likely haunt his every waking thought from today onwards. You look smug, even on your knees in front of him, and he knows you have him wrapped around your finger. He tries uselessly to dig his nails into the wall for purchase, watching as you slowly envelop more and more of him into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Your head bobs slowly, torturously slow, up and down the length of him. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you take a gentle hold of with your hand. Your tongue swirls and laves against him within your mouth, making his hips buck toward you. You immediately withdraw, making him sob. 

“You just can’t control yourself, can you?” you chastise harshly. “Needy and brainless,” he nods along because he really can’t help but think you’re right.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll control myself, I will, please… I need you,” he wails. You look unimpressed, slowly teasing your hand up and down his shaft. He whines, melting against the wall. “Please…” he whispers. His voice is entirely wrecked and he already looks thoroughly debauched by you, you find the image exciting. When he glances down at you with those pleading wide eyes, you can’t deny him any longer. As a final teasing act, you lean in and gently kitten lick at his slit for a moment, tasting the salty sweetness accumulating there. You feel him trying to twitch in your hand, his head falling back again and desperate groans leaving his throat. You take him as deep down into your throat as he will go, gagging just a little, and start to bob your head again. His fingers curl, and you can tell he wants to grab your hair, but he’s being good, you keep in mind to tell him he was good later. Your lips slide up and down his length, using your tongue to swirl and add an extra layer of stimulation. He’s very vocal, whining, whimpering, groaning, completely ruined. You stare up at him as you gently swallow around him. His eyes squeeze further shut and his hips cant forward, making you gag a little, but you do it again. He gasps loudly and his hands start to flail, smacking against the wall. You only realise he was trying to warn you between strangled moans when you feel the warm spurt of his release in your mouth. You swallow it down as he frantically withdraws himself from you, crying as he rides out the feeling of his orgasm, his legs shaking. He feels like he’s left his body and ascended to heaven, this was why all his friends were so crazy about sex. He got it now. Once he’s returned to himself a little, he falls to his knees in front of you. “I’m so sorry, I tried to warn you but I felt so good, I-” he fusses. “I’m so sorry, th-thank you,” he whimpers, wiping a tiny bit of cum from the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,”

“It’s fine,” you dismiss him as he holds your face and thanks you over and over. It amuses you how wrecked he is. “It’s alright, Neville,” you chuckle in disbelief, leaning forward and pecking his lips. He can vaguely taste himself on your lips, even without you opening your mouth, and it makes him groan. He chases your lips as you pull away, opening his eyes to give you a puppy-dog look. 

“Merlin … I really am pathetic,” he swallows and then laughs nervously, leaning back against the wall, smiling sheepishly as you tuck him back into his boxers. You sit on your knees in front of him and he stares at you, half in awe, half in apprehension. “Are you going to tell people about this?” he questions, slightly anxious, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“No, I can’t lose my job, we’ve just broken a bunch of rules, you realise?” you tease and he smiles slightly. 

“Are we going to do this again? Or you know… something else?” he glances at your body, feeling a little bad he couldn’t do anything to make you feel like he just did.

“Maybe, maybe not, you’ll just have to wait and see,” you taunt, pecking his cheek and rising to your feet. He cranes his neck to watch as you fetch your bag and coat. You glance at him over your shoulder, seeing him sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking dazed and ruined. You can’t help but giggle, the sound stirring his stomach again. “See you soon, Longbottom,” you blow a mocking kiss and leave. He stares after you, both glad you’re gone so he can process what just happened, and also wishing you were never away from him again.

Tomorrow at work was either going to be heaven or hell on earth, and he found himself eager to find out. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[ruris-world]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ My sweet oblivion. ｡･ﾟﾟ･

➳ pairing: yandere!charlotte katakuri x fem!reader

➳ summary: you adapt to your new life, and your husband shows you his biggest insecurity, your reaction surprises him.

➳ content warnings: mention of previous non-con, male mastrubation, inappropriate use of devil fruit, uhh..voyeurism? dubcon,fluff, insecurity, kinda of dom!reader/ sub!katakuri, uhh, emotional breakdown [?? idk, lol ] ooc katakuri, err marriage kink?? [ i seriously don't know ], oh! a bit of a breeding kink, a smidge of a size kink [ i mean come on, he a big boii ], emotionally vulnerable katakuri doesn’t know how how to deal with feelings, a smidge of food play, I guess implied virgin!katakuri, reader is shy yet shameless, handjob, blowjob, pussyjob, no mention of aftercare, kind of rushed ending, also first time writing actual smut

➳ word count: 8.7 k [ 8,751 ]

➳ author note: i have katakuri brainrot, and he needs some love, so it's a win-win situation. also unedited and kind of a rushed ending. Please mention any warnings I missed. Inspired by this ask. English isn’t my first language, and I accept constructive criticism and any advice :)

»»———- ♡̩͙ ———-««

It has been a while.

7 months since the wedding, maybe.

you aren’t allowed out often, the few times that you are out you are attached to him, your husband, quite literally by his mochi.

you find it ridiculous, a power that is so powerful due to its user, you saw him fight once and it wasn’t a fair fight, if you could even call it a fight.

whatever…

days tend to blend in each other, especially if its spend in just one room, sure it’s a huge room even while not compared to your ‘normal’ sized body, but there isn’t one to really keep you company.

sure, servants come and go to bring you food, clean and organize, but they don’t speak

well, not to you at least

which you also find ridiculous, you find a lot of things are quite ridiculous.

the first month was spent crying, thrashing, and escaping, trying to at least, he would always find you, or one of his siblings would.

you stopped trying to escape when he emerged from a literal mirror

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the second month was just spent…existing?

you were, are scared of him, you just spent it in a haze, you guess, you don’t remember much but you do remember the time you almost caught him with his scarf off.

It was by accident really, but before you could even glimpse at what was hidden you passed out, and woke up with an aching head, and flowers with a bunch of donuts on your side of the bed.

you didn’t really care what was under the scarf to be honest, but after that incident you went out of your way to avoid him if you even thought his scarf was off.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the third month…, was when he ‘forced pleasure’ on you.

you guess he is a man after all….

he never did anything other than use his fingers, but even that was too much for you, if you would compare it, its like using a human cock.

well, that’s a lie…

he did use his cock once, just not his real one.

can you even consider a mochi finger shaped as one, a real cock?

you don’t want to think about it.

he never force himself at you, at least not in that sense, even when the budge in his leather pants looks so tight it may just burst.

he makes sure you are cleaned on clean sheets, then he gets off in the bathroom, and sometimes he doesn’t.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the fourth month, is when you got invited to his mother’s tea-party, it was…nice, to go outside that is, the party itself was chaos.

believe it or not, you tend to fall into routine once you are kidnapped and aren’t allowed to get out of the room being held captive in.

so it was a breath of fresh air when you were let out of your room, and into the tea-party, and yes his siblings are a handful, and you are scared half to death from half of them , but it’s nice.

nothing much happened during the month, you don’t expect much.

…except that one instance.

he makes sure to come back at night, no matter how late the time is, he is always back, and he always gets up early, his side of the bed messy and the distant smell of him still present in the morning.

most of the time you are asleep when he gets back, sometimes you are not.

it was in the latter end that it occurred.

it was late at night, can borderline be considered a morning, no one is supposed to be awake, but you are

you were on your side, glimpses of a well-rested sleep taunt you as the door to the room opens, you don’t get up, you already know who it is, and you’re too tired to entertain his bullshit.

when you hear him call out to you, you don’t respond.

you would’ve called yourself foolish, if not for the fact that he doesn’t use his future-something-haki when he’s with you.

evident by the time, someone walked in when he was pleasuring you, and you never saw that servant again.

there is a rustling present, and it almost lures you back to sleep, except that he calls out to you again

you are annoyed, and very much on the verge of snapping at him, but you ignore it since you aren’t stupid, that is until you hear it

“darling, fuck—j-just like that”

is he…?

he wouldn’t…

“ah—you’re s-so—shit—so good”

would he?

“mmhm, you’re—hah—so sweet f’ me”

what are you supposed to do? do you turn around? talk? pretend to be asleep? ignore?

his pants continue mixed in with a couple of curses and groans, most of them are stifled and you hate that his voice alone sends blood rushing to your face and awaken a second rhythm within you.

you shift to test the waters, he doesn’t make an attempt to stop based on his noises, maybe you shouldn’t…

you ignore that part of you that says you shouldn’t, as the ‘squelnch, squelench, squelench’ drowns your thoughts.

you just wanna see, peek at his tip, see what the obscure sound is, surely his hands and cock aren’t the only thing that can produce such sounds, and bring him such pleasure, right?

it should be fine, right?

you’re his wife, it’s ok, right?

right?

right.

you slowly shift your body, trying not to make such ruckus that you do stop him, and his pleasure from escalating any further.

‘fuck it’ you think as you lay on your other side, eyes closed and make a sleepy sound, you hope it won’t deteriorate him or the situation.

his grunts don’t last another second, as everything around you stills, and silence fill the air, the sound of your deep breaths, and his harsh ones are the only thing present, seconds pass by and then-

hands are on your head, they trail to you cheek, and you feel one of his fingers trace lines on your cheek, and then they let go.

you don’t feel or hear anything after that, and you worry that you caused him to stop, and not reach his end.

not that you should care if he does cum or not.

that thought is interrupted by the noisy sound of slapping of his skin against something that continues, only this time faster and louder.

you are afraid to open your eyes, but that fear disappears when you hear his next words

“i’m going—fuck going to b-breed, you, be -hah- be a good w-wife and take it” accompanied by a loud moan.

all caution is out the window, as your eyes fly open, and what you see leaves you breathless and dripping.

there he is, charlotte katakuri, sweet commander, cold, merciless, the perfect brother, the man who brought you here, your captor and husband, fucking his fist.

his mochi fist, that looks like a cushion and is suspiciously moving along with his hips.

you don’t dare look up, eyes transfixed on his hips moving in and out of the cushion, his cock looks so big and you can even see its imprint —despite the dim lighting— from inside the makeshift cushion, his other hand is gripping the mochi with a death-grip, and you can only imagine what his face looks like.

you hate what the image does to you.

you hate the fact that you can feel your slick drench your panties, even more and then it occurs.

“f-fu—ck!”

holy shit.

you think you can cum from the image of him cumming alone, his hips stall in their movement as he cums, his thighs tense, yet shakes, and his cum spills into and out of the makeshift cushion or fleshlight or whatever; no other thoughts enter your mind other than that you want that thing to be you.

you almost scold yourself for the thought, but then he starts moving again and he do so with a whine you can’t watch it, you wish you could but you honestly think you would cum if you would do, so you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

that night you sleep to the sounds of him panting, and wake up to the same messy sheets with no evidence of the night prior other than the drench in your pants and an almost un-noticeable tear in his pillow.

it’s also the month when he starts to become least present.

sure he sleeps at your chambers with you, but he doesn’t visit or stay or talk, not like he used to, and you find it ridiculous.

you find it ridiculous that he makes you crave his presence, you find it ridiculous that he makes you miss him, you find it ridiculous that you cry yourself to sleep twice a week because of him.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the fifth month, you snap.

he comes in one day, it's midday if you would assume, there are no clocks in your shared room so you have no way of telling, you are reading a stupid romance that can’t catch your attention, when the door open and the ‘clink, clink, clink’ of his steps appear.

you look up at him, as he shrugs off his jacket, and wanders to your shared closet.

you would have admired his back, if you weren’t so blinded with rage, you look at the mirror, think twice, shake your head then get up from your place.

you stalk towards the closet doors in the big room, and come face-to-face with his leg, oh what did you even expect?

you look up at him, as does he look down on you, he speaks first “darling? do you require anything?”

you stare, and stare and stare, a million thoughts rush into your head, a million more you want to scream at him, in the end just tears fill your eyes.

you sniff, gather all your strength and hit his leg, he may punish you but you don’t care, you are hurt.

“why did you leave?” another hit

“who do you think you are?” another hit

“you can’t j-just—just leave me like this!” another

“what? you can’t even spend time with me?” and another

“you’re so so…selfish!” another, and another and another, and then he bends down, and you break.

your eyes are closed, sobs recks your body and fills the air, your tears fall to the ground, and you probably look like a mess right now, but you don’t care.

your breath escapes in gasps, and you feel yourself being picked up, you’re so tired you can’t even yelp.

he brings you up to him, and when you open your eyes, blurry vision can barely see past his scarf, sobs, snot, tears, and even a bit of drool are falling all over his gloved hand.

god, you are so pathetic.

before you can wallow in more self pity, his other hand come to wipe at your face, and trying to save yourself from more humiliation, you go to help him, he doesn’t let you, and you don’t have the power to fight him.

your face is flushed, and you try to calm your harsh breathing that is broken by a few sobs.

once you have calmed down enough, he speaks, voice filled with an unknown emotion “I apologize darling, I hadn’t quite thought of how my actions may affect you”

you look up at him and hold his stare, after a few moments he pats your head.

you stare off at his scarf and decide to just spit it out before you chicken out “w-will you stay with me?”

his eyes soften, and you feel your heart flutter as the words “of course, my dear” are whispered into the air.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the sixth month is…messy.

your relationship is improving somewhat, there are still awkward moments, not that you are the one to blame; after all it's not like you asked to be kidnapped.

it’s the month he lets you out the most, he takes you on walks, and strolls, he combs your hair once, well at least he tried, he makes you sleep on his chest that month, you refused at first, but he didn’t care and either way you both know that you can’t do anything about it.

you think that his chest is warm and smells like mochi, and you had asked him to take you with him when he went to do his work, surprisingly he did.

he makes you a mochi bed thingy, which you quite enjoy as it is very comfortable and bouncy. You stopped asking for it though, since he would become red in the face almost every time you did ask for one, and would sometimes leave you alone in the room.

you find being left alone ridiculous.

you find the fact that you miss him, more so.

you find yourself catching feelings, the most ridiculous fact of all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the seven month, this month is…

you are in your room, getting ready for bed, he isn’t here, however you find comfort that he would be in the morning, after all tomorrow is your anniversary, and he had made sure that he got the day off, well half-a-day but it’s better than nothing.

you are in your nightgown, about to get under the covers when he enters the room, and locks the door, which he doesn’t normally do, unless he leaves you alone in his office.

something is wrong

the air around him is tense, you can tell from the frown present on his face, and the slight rigidity of his movement confirms your suspicion that something is wrong.

you are debating whether or not to ask him when he sit on the bed, you blink and tilt your head, the question lingers in the air, you ask nonetheless “is something bothering you?”

he looks at you, you hold his stare, your frown mirrors his, it deepens when he sighs, he looks to the side.

this is new, he is usually…well, straightforward, blunt.

you sit upright when he mumble a “it’s nothing”

“katakuri…, what is it?”

he looks at you, off to the side again, back at you, closes his eyes, then sighs.

“kata—”

“I may be a monster, but I will always protect you, you may find it unpleasant, many before you have, however that won’t deter my affection for you…”

you are confused as fuck.

his eyes are on you, watching you as if you’re the only one that matters, and in that instant you feel like you are.

“it’s an unsightly matter, I will not put the blame on you, if you may wish not to view.”

what the hell does he mean?

he stops, and makes his way into the bed adjusting himself so that his face is near yours, and then he continues.

“this mark of shame that is constantly on me, i will not be saddened if you may not require to view it, again…”

you can see the intensity of emotions in his eyes, and despite all the words spewing out of his mouth, you think that you can get lost in the pretty amber.

“after all it is the reminder of my failure, a-as a brother, my imperfection…”

his hands go up into his face, you feel obliged not to look away, as if you owe him this, grips his scarf with one large hand, stays there, waits.

his breathing is hard, like he has been waiting for this moment, knows how it will end.

…and in one swift movement the barrier between the both of you is broken.

his eyes scan your face, as you do the same.

you want to laugh, honestly.

scoff at his face, and laugh at him.

for thinking all of that, and making a speech over some fangs.

it’s laughable, but you don’t.

laugh that is.

what you do is scan his face, his lips are kissable, his fangs are nice, gives him a charm about him, you wonder how they feel, are they pointy? or soft? could a nip penetrate the skin? you want to touch them, no you want them to touch you.

you want to feel them, really feel them, want to kiss them, want to feel them running down your body, want them to go up and down, want to feel them between your legs, nipping at your—

his scar stretches all the way up to his ears, and you never thought a scar could looks so attractive before, you want to kiss it, every inch of it, you want to run your hand through it, you wonder if the skin feels different there? would the texture feel different than his skin, his lips? how far is he willing to let you explore him?

you intake a sharp breath, his eyes flicker to you, right now though, right now, with his heated cheeks, laboured breath and flickering eyes, he looks so, so…

“cute.”

he blinks, you do too.

a blush.

“you’re so cute, katakuri”

your hand goes to his cheek, his eyes follows.

your thumb runs over his scar, it does feel different.

not bad…, just different.

he blinks at you, you can feel the heat rising to his cheek, when you look at him, he holds your stare for no more than a second then immediately invades it, you swore you saw a glimmer of tears there.

a few more beats and breaths, his hand stops you from touching his fangs, his eyes still haven’t caught yours.

“s-stop, it’s not—you may hurt yourse—”

his words are cut off by your hum, you can almost feel his doubt, guilt, he’s nervous, anxious, and you never wanted him more.

you slip your hands out of his, you take a large hand into your tiny ones and begin pulling it towards you as your words fill the air between you both

“you don’t believe me, hm? well, you can use your whatever haki, or…”

your eyes goes up, up, up, as the hand that you captured goes down, down, down.

“you can check for yourself…”

until it reaches below your nightgown and presses his enormous fingers into the damp spot, leaves them there.

you take a deep breath, consider your choices, this man is the one who took you, forced himself on you, you feared him for the longest time, he left you alone multiple times, felt like you were abandoned, but…

his eyes speaks volumes, there are tears and disbelief present, and that speech that left his mouth still makes it so that he is open, vulnerable

you want to take care of him, eventhough….

ah, fuck it, you think and then speak.

one.

two.

three.

“…my dear husband”

he intake a sharp breath, and stills, you swear you could see his eyes darken, his fingers push where you left them, which makes a surprised moan leave your lips.

and then you pull yourself up into him, your hands are on his cheek, a few beats then he looks at you, a frown on his face.

you pay it no mind as your lips crash into his.

a beat, then another, and another, then he responds, and oh, does he respond.

its inexperienced, messy, your lips don’t mold together, but god is it satisfying.

you don’t think you have been kissed like this before, you don’t think you will ever be kissed like this again, and in that moment you don’t think you mind it so much.

at first it's slow, then escalates and escalates, and then there is tongue, and spit, and drool, and teeth, and fangs.

you find out that the fangs do break skin, well at least the ones on your lips.

a beat, and a second, then a third, your heart throbs against your ribcage, and escalates until you are almost sure that he can hear it, you want to stay there forever, trapped into an infinite kiss but alas you are a human and you need oxygen.

you pull back, he chases after you, trapping you again against him, you smile, pull back, want to tease him yet his hand pushes your head pressing into him, he wants more and more and more.

he is greedy.

he is insatiable.

he is selfish.

but only with you.

only for you.

you put your hand on his jaw, he jolts, you break free, with only a string of spit trapping you to him.

pants escapes you, making you breathe harder, and harder, he isn’t in a better state than you, in fact you would say he is in a worse state.

drool escaping from the side of his open mouth, face flushed till his neck, you can swear there are hearts in his eyes, along with unshed tears—your heart clenches at the sight.

your lips brush against his, and he almost captures you again, if not for the grip you have on his hair, one tangled in his now messy hair, another grabbing at the nape of his neck, he groans as the grip you have on him causes you to pull on his hair. 

he presses his fingers into you, both of you are playing a dangerous game.

none of you mind.

“wait, kata…lay on your back.”

his eyes that were previously glazed with a haze clear a bit, yet there is a confused frown on his face.

“huh? b-but you—”

“shh, kata, let your wife take care of you for a split second, and relax.”

“come on, katakuri…” a peck on his lips, “be a good husband and lay on your back” another peck, this time near his fangs, “let me make you feel good” another peck, this time on his nose, his eyes flutter close at the contact.

with a groan he gets off you, and lays on his back on the bed, you follow after him, straddling his heaving chest.

your hands slowly travel along his abdomen, towards his pecks, slowly trace over each nipple, lingering there and then escalate towards his neck, to his jaw which is slack open for you, his eyes continue to follow each movement as your hands stay at his jaw a bit further.

you dully note that a past you would call you ridiculous, what you are doing is ridiculous, would probably shout at you, tell you that you shouldn’t do this with your kidnapper, the man who strike so much fear inside you, the man who hurt you for far too much, that you should hurt him just as much, and even if it was a lie call him ugly, disgusting, a monster.

you leave that part behind you whenever you press your lips to his jaw, trailing pecks over there, he jerks in your hands, you guess he is pretty sensitive there.

you hum, with a smile, and whisper in his ear “what’s wrong kata? did i hit a spot?” he shudders in response, and you get more wet at the thought that a man so big, powerful, and beefy is reduced to a shuddering and blushing mess with just a few touches.

Katakuri has no idea how to feel, or process the situation before him.

He didn’t expect your response in a million years, and the mere thought that you not only said those words but continued to mark him with your wet kisses and wandering hands makes his head spin.

and while surprise and bashfulness full him and heat his cheeks at the way you called him your husband—the tone, the hidden emotion, and the way you looked at him—he can’t deny that it turned him on, immensely.

perhaps he should feel more grateful for you and your reaction, however he can’t help feeling that maybe you do deserve to feel some level of disgust at viewing his face, that maybe you should have screamed, or that maybe you should have—oh

“Fuck”

“Hmm? now tell me dear husband of mine—” he almost whines “—where have i lost you”

he flushes more under your gaze that captures him feels like it will swallow him whole, it's lustful and full of want, he duly notes the effect you have on him, and that a past him wouldn’t be so appreciative that he is allowing himself to be weak and vulnerable.

but that’s ok.

because the past him doesn’t have you around.

because the past him doesn’t have you kissing down his tattoos.

because the past him doesn’t have you whispering hushed praises about him.

because the past him doesn’t have your lips kissing and licking down his body.

because the past him doesn’t have you willingly blushing and fumbling as you ascend his body.

because the past him doesn’t have you, just you, so tiny, and exposed to him.

his hands flex at his sides as you kiss down his happy trail, leading you to his prominent bulge that's straining against his leather pants.

you hum and look at him through your lashes, his breath catches in his throat, god he’s so weak for you, its almost pathetic.

Almost.

your tiny fingers go to his belt, trying to free him, yet as you fumble with the skull on his belt, his hands come to join you, he’s hesitant, you note “can you help me?” you encourage him and the blush is consistently increasing down his neck as he whispers a “yes”

you let go and watch in fascination the way his hands quickly and masterfully unbuckle his belt, then proceeds to remove his pants, your hands flies to his, “take those off too” you motion to his gloves.

he nodes then does as he is told, and you inspect them, you know how they feel, but seeing every little detail in them? appreciating how his hands are much bigger than yours? how are his fingers longer? knowing they could reach spots you never dreamed of experiencing?

god, they were pretty, looked calloused and rough, like they have texture, and the veins that ran down them, you could drool.

your thighs unconsciously rub against each other to gain some friction, but you remind yourself that this isn’t about you, it's about him.

“kata, kata, you’re so pretty..”

his closes his palms at that, and flexes them open, you can’t help it, your hands go to grab his fingers and bring them to your lips “can i?”

“yeah.” he says the word breathless, and you don’t wait a second before you put two fingers into your mouth, both of you groan at the contacts. Your hands goes to hold his hand and guide more of his fingers into your wet cavern, you suck on them and run your tongue under them, as response he presses on your tongue, weighing it down, you moan at the feeling, dragging his fingers backwards and forth, a few more times until you feel harsh breaths blowing into your face, you open your eyes that you haven’t even realised you closed, to meet amber ones.

Katakuri’s eyes were wide blown, watching the way your mouth sucks his fingers off like its a cock, and the way you seem like the simple act of having his fingers in your mouth has brought you pleasure, he couldn’t help it, he normally has enough self-restraint, but it was like his fingers had a mind of their own.

you are taken aback by the taste of a mochi-like substance that suddenly erupts in your mouth, and you stare at him yet find his gaze distracted at the way his fingers escape your mouth to make the liquid dribble down your chin and into his leather pants.

You swallow what you could of the liquid, and he watches with eyes of a predator as it gobbles down your throat, you lose yourself for a moment in his face, and once again you are captured by the beauty of the man infront of you.

Katakuri can feel the heat of your cunt on him, and the realization that he is the one who got you all hot and bothered turn him on more than he cares to admit, he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, and when his eyes flicker to you, he is stunned by you for a second, and just when he is about to be captured in your spell again its broken by your small “hi”, and he thinks you never looked more adorable than this, so flustered and tiny, cute little gasps escaping you, and the way you keep fidgeting around.

“Hey” his voice rumbles, a rare smile crossing his face, and the giggle that you let escape warms his heart a bit more.

The wholesome moment is yet again interrupted, by the gasp he lets out as you adjust yourself directly into his bulge, and the shocked expression, followed on by the smirk on your face lets him know that he’s in for real.

You continue your previous actions, and pull down your kata’s pants, he helps you by raising his hips and then continuing to pull them down further down, and yet again you are infatuated with the man below you. The way his thighs are flexing and twitching, they looked so muscular and you find yourself wanting to bite them, kiss them, and worship them, yet the only thing that you find more delicious is the way the now much larger bulge is wet, you’re not even sure if a man can spare that much pre, without cuming.

You wont lie, you are intimidated by his size, that isn’t fully revealed, yet you find yourself strangely aroused, you’re not even sure why, thus before you can back out, you pull down his boxers, and your jaw drops.

The way he almost slaps your face as he springs up, only to be hung down by the sheer weight of him, the way he has veins running up and down his shaft, the way he is continuously twitching and the way he throbs, the angry red tip that is all but leaking delicious pre, all that and more makes a second rapidly fast heartbeat in you awaken, and all you can think is that you want him i– no.

you need him inside you.

“Darling, y-you don’t have to do this if you–oh fuck” he is cut off by your mouth leaching on his tip, and sucking on him, you can’t fit him inside you, yet you hollow your cheeks and push more of him into you.

Katakuri is convinced he has died and ascended to a heaven-like place for monsters like him, not only is he feeling toe-curling pleasure, he is receiving it all from you, and katakuri has never felt more loved as he does now.

Laying on his back, with you pleasuring him, and both of you having such a vulnerable yet intimate moment, he would have never imagined this the day that you came into his life, not by the way you reacted at first, screaming and thrashing all around.

No, he was fully prepared to live all his life loving you while you hated him and despised him, you are his everything, and as he gasps at the way you littered him with kisses, all wet and sloppy, he can swear that he has never felt more loved and in love than in this moment.

You lick up the pre from the underside of his cock all the the way to his tip, where you kiss it, before smearing some on your lips, you lick your lips as you watch the way your hands continue to pump him, he’s so big, both your hands can’t even fit around him.

“You taste so good kata, like mochi” you giggle at the sound that escapes him at that statement, before going back to licking and sucking him, one hand goes to his balls, while the other sneaks its way to rub at your embarrassingly wet panties.

You close your eyes shut, as you hear the few groans that he lets out, his mouth otherwise covered by his hand, you would have told him to let you hear him, if you couldn’t feel that he was close.

You try your best to relax your throat, its painful you won’t deny but you know you will be rewarded with the sight of him cumming, so you push through, you force your muscles to relax, to fight the discomfort, you bring both hands to stroke his twitching length, you try what you know, your drool and his previous pre helps serve as lube.

Your eyes snap to him, intent on watching him climax, katakuri’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his mouth is covered by one hand, drool escaping the side of it, his other hand gripping the pillow beside his head so hard that you worry about it for a moment, yet the best treat of all is his eyes, rolled to the back, and if the light focused just right you could see the tears mark down his flushed cheeks.

it’s all too much for you, and yet it proves the same for him as his hips suddenly jolts, with a keen moan–more like a whimper of your name–and then he cums, it’s sweet, yet thick and is too much, your eyes water trying to swallow as much as you possibly can, however it proves futile as after a few seconds you’re getting off him, choking and gasping for air, you try to get your breathing under control, and when you do, it’s when he just finished cumming.

Katakuri does not recall what happened the moment his orgasm has him, all he know is that the pleasure was too much, and then he was seeing stars, he barely registers the sound of choking, nothing but pleasure that he never has felt before registers in his veins, it’s as if every fibre of his being is experiencing it, and he thinks he passed out for a few moments, he cannot recall.

All katakuri knows is that by the time his eyes are opened again, he feels at easy yet so ridiculously sensitive for the first time in his life he doesn’t have the words to describe how he feels, only that he was feeling an after-glow of pleasure he can’t comprehend however that was contracting the look on your face, your eyebrows are crossed in a frown, and you had your hands holding the side of his face.

your thumb rubbing his cheek, which was a weird sensation, not unpleasant…just different; he feels exposed, like he is showing something meant to be a secret to everyone and everything around him, yet he never more close to you than at that moment, and he quite liked that, he liked having you and him alone, intimate, vulnerable together, to be able to indulge in each other like this has to be a blessing, or divine intervention to have an angel like you gifted to him.

“You’re drooling, kata”

He didn’t think he had the energy to blush even more, nevertheless you prove him wrong once again in the same night, yet the sound of your laughter makes it worth the temporary embarrassment, without him noticing a smile stretch into his face, he feels safe and content with you.

But then he remembers, “darling?”

“Kata” he can hear the smile in your voice, he takes both hands in his, and your smile flatters a bit, “what’s wrong? Did you not like it?”

He shakes his head, before pressing his lips to your palms, he’s careful not to graze you with his fangs. “No, i did, i enjoyed it quite a lot, frankly”

“Then what's wrong, do you-”

“Darling, rest, i just…”

“Hm?”

“Well, i–you, i want to return the favour…i need to make you feel good” he feels like a fool, stumbling over his words like that.

“...you don’t have to do that”

“No, I want to, I need to bring you pleasure, as the one you have brought upon me, only if you are comfortable with that too. darling , do you want this?”

“Yeah” it's breathless, the way you say it, just like he previously did and the way your lips are, it’s like every movement you make is to tempt him, tease him, it feels like a trap, and even if it was, he would gladly fall into one, if it's for you but now, now he wants to kiss you.

So he does.

You’re surprised for a moment, and he thinks that he did something wrong, before you respond back, with the same intensity. It's passionate, full of electricity and emotion, it's like two lovers have met after a long time. It's pleasant, but then it’s not. It quickly escalates, until it’s all drool, teeth and tongues clashing with each other, it’s like taking a bite out of a forbidden fruit, something that you know is wrong yet feels good, too good, both of you want more, so more you take of each other, until the moment you can’t go longer with oxygen is reached.

God, this must be the millionth time you kissed him tonight, yet you can’t get enough; you want to makeout with him forever, his lips are addicting, and the way his fangs feed that addiction is unmeasurable.

Somehow during that process katakuri managed to get rid of your nightgown, you don’t even notice until you feel one of his hands creeping up your back, and that sends signals down your spine.

The way his fingers are delicately running up and down your back, and fiddling with the strap of your bra leaves goosebumps down their path that you are sure he can feel, you would be too occupied with the thought of that if it weren’t for his lips that are moulding against yours.

You let out a gasp that is swallowed by his tongue, as he manages to get you out of your bra, he keeps a hand on your hips, holding you still with one and the other one goes to your cheek pulling you away but not before ending it with a peck on your lips, you try to deepen it drunk off the taste of him but he doesn’t let you, instead he chuckles at the whine you let out and the sound goes straight to your core.

“patience, pretty…” his voice is sharp, deep, and sends tingles all over your body, the ability of his voice and the entirety of him that has a hold on you can’t be denied any longer, no matter what you try it always catches up to you.

katakuri ‘s thumb rub over your bottom lip, teasing you, everything stalls for a moment, it's like there’s only you and him, he looks majestic like this, almost heavenly, the way his amber eyes are gazing at you, almost devouring you, and then the cold air hits you, and you realize your bra has abandoned you, almost instantaneously his eyes widen with an emotion your brain cannot decipher.

Your hands go to cover yourself, suddenly feeling shy and bashful under his intense gaze, he doesn’t say anything for what felt like forever, until he grasps both of your wrists in one broad hand, and rubs circles into the back of your hand.

The other hand still trapping you against him, almost like he needs you two to be close, intertwined with each other, desiring you, becoming selfish and indulging himself for once, and yet he will be selfish, if it's with you, never once daring to think of a warm embrace, a chance to rest, to be vulnerable with no judgement, he needs you, and you need him. It’s a simple fact, yet one that seems as a sin, and yet, yet…if a monster like him is to be able to serve you, bring you pleasure, will it be less of a sin?

“Darling, don’t hide from me..” he sounds almost hurt, as if the mere thought of you thinking you’re undesirable brings him pain, as if you’re anything less than perfect, the mere thought of you not seeing yourself as he sees you, not being treated like you deserve to be makes a flame lit inside of him, he needs to show what he sees through his eyes when he dares lay his gaze on you, and he starts by pulling your hands away.

The hand on your hips brings you further into his chest while the other lets go of your hands, not before placing a kiss on each of them, your hands land uselessly into his pecs, as his mouth graze the tender flesh on your breast, hesitantly he begins placing kisses there before taking a nipple into his mouth, the euphoria you feel from such a simple act causes your hands to press down on him, and such a simple act makes you feel a heartbeat raising under your touch.

He gains courage the longer he keeps nursing on you, one hand is already playing with your other nipple, teasing you as he rolls it in-between his fingers, he’s good at this, almost too good. A choked moan escapes you at a particularly hard twist accompanied by sharp fangs scraping your skin, it’s too much and yet not enough, your hands somehow found their way into his hair, pulling at him, and you feel rather than hear the growl that follows your actions.

“katakuri, please” your voice comes out more pathetic than you would like, yet you don’t have time to dwell on it, as he releases the bud from his mouth with a ‘pop’.

He leaves a wet kiss into your other nub before whispering against it “no one else likes seeing me like this” Your hands grips his hair harder, pulling him away from your chest, his eyes unhoded and hazed with lust takes a moment to adjust to yours, ignoring the way his saliva and cool air makes your nipples stand hard you took in a shaky breath to arrange your thoughts.

“…stop” you don’t know what else to say, this is the same man who kidnapped you, and took you by force, and yeah sure your feelings for him developed into something, but it’s complicated.

it’s within your right to be upset at him, you should curse him and after all the things he had done to you, be ingratiated to be within his vacenitg yet you can’t bring yourself to do it, you look at him and his eyes stare back at you.

There it is again, that look in his eyes, it makes you want to scream, why? why? why?

You can feel tears brim near your eyes, he blinks at that once, twice, “stop, just stop!” it comes out more than a sob than you would like, yet you can’t do anything about it, you don’t want this, you don’t—

Katakuri’s lips are on yours, his knuckles brushing against your cheeks, other hand on your back, pushing you more into him, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle, connected, pulling away just to whisper sweet nothings against your lips, apologizes spill from him, and continue doing so as his kisses trail down your jaw and into your neck, his fangs scraping along them, neither painful nor pleasurable, just applying pleasure.

You gasp as wet kisses are being planted into your collarbone and descending further downwards, yet not fast enough, large large hands busy themselves by pushing you into him, other hand hovering on your thighs, hesitant, before grabbing a handful of them.

“kata, please…” It's amazing how a couple of words can make your husband snap, as soon as these words are let out into the air, his grip on you tightens where it can almost be considered painful.

He drags you closer to him, and the feeling of countless hard years of training runs deliciously against your clothed cunt. Your moan is wet and full of sound as the first real friction of the night is received by you. Familiar fingers push your ruined panties to the side before proding against your entrance, they move slowly coating themselves in your juices before plunging into you.

The wanted touch of his makes your back arch, and suddenly your back hits the mattress, and his mouth is on your nipples again, it’s all too much stimulation, the way his fingers is constantly moving in and out of you, the way his tongue leaves marks and kisses everywhere, the hold he has on your hip bone preventing you from running away from his ministrations.

Too much.

Too much pleasure, it's almost painful.

And yet.

Yet you want more.

Need more.

Your thoughts are in a jumbled mess, and it takes way more effort than you would care to admit to speak, still you do; because as his desire for you is insatiable, so is yours for him.

“W-wait, wait, please stop!” his hands stall almost immediately, he detaches his lips from your body, and his hand is again in your cheek rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, which you lean into, before meeting his gaze.

It’s full of worry, his brows furrowed, a pout on his flushed lips—really all of him is— before asking in a whisper, as to not startle you “are you alright, darling? have I gone too much? Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

You feel bashful under his gaze, and the way he is so concerned for you, you try to regulate your breath, but you want it so bad, need it in you. “Hah- god no…no, no, I-I wanna cum on your cock…”

“Darling.., I–We can’t…”

Katakuri feels bad for the frown on your face, he doesn’t want to deny you it saddens him and as he watches a frown settles on your face, your lower lips wobbles, it pains him to see you like this and he is ready to apologize again, offer you another option to bring you pleasure as the one you brought him, yet his thoughts are interrupted again by you.

“We– you don't have to put it in…” your voice is small, mumbled but he is sure that he had heard you, he is confused for a moment before you say again, your voice wavering “you.., I can just rub it against me..” your hands immediately goes to your face.

He doesn't say anything, too stunned to say anything, his mind is running around trying to figure out how that will be possible.”We–we don’t have to do it…it’s ok, just forget I said anything” God, he really is terrible at this whole thing, however he won’t let his inability to express himself to you get in his way.

“Yes.” you sniffle and peek between your fingers to look at him “Whatever you want, just show me how to please you and I will.” The way he says those words makes your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You whine as he pulls your hands away from your face, he kisses them as an apology, before his breath hits your face, “whatever you want…” he whispers, so genuine and full of emotion that you almost burst out crying, but you don’t, and the only thing that manages to slip out of you is a tiny “uh-huh”

He pecks your lips, and looks at you expectantly “lay back” he does as he is told, slowly manoeuvring his way so he is sitting with his back to the headboard. His cock is semi hard, laying on his stomach twitching every other second.

Katakuri watches you intently as you fix yourself on top of him, keeping a hand near your hips to support you whenever you need it.

Your hands go to grab his cock, coaxing a bead of pre from him, his groan makes you clench, impatiently wanting to have him against you.

“Hah, you can touch katakuri, help g-guide me” you say breathing harshly, it’s not like you can go around his whole length by yourself, you need some form of assistance.

His hands grab your hips, thighs spreading widely to accompany his size, helping you align yourself with his cock. Your clit is swollen and twitching, desperate for some sort of stimulation, his precum serves as lube mixing in with both of your juices.

Your hands are on his abdomen searching for stability before you make contact with him, an embarrassingly large moan a result of that

The drag of him feels heavenly, your eyes don’t tear away from the sight of where the both of you are mixed, your lips are spread open, you can feel every vein on his shaft, every throb of him, the entirely of him, you slid easily against him, the pre of him helping you in accomplishing that.

Your breathing is harsh, biting your lips to conceal your moans before wet lips press against yours, you gasp unsuspecting of your husband's actions, before reciprocating trying to shove and mold your tongue against him

He pulls away just just for you to chase after him missing the familiar warmth, he doesn’t let you, capturing your jaw in his hands, cupping them before breathing into them, you’re practically breathing each into each other and sharing the same breath.

“Please…” you’re not above begging and thus you find yourself with a thumb in your mouth and his dark voice whispers into your ear “don’t hide, darling, speak to me, let me hear you…” you don’t think, you just nod, desperate to have him against you again “i need to hear you say it darling…”

“I-I won’t hide…just please” He can never deny you, your head is thrown back yet you can feel his gaze on you, moans escape both of you—an indicator and reassurance of the pure bliss and ecstasy you both are feeling.

He guides your hips making you feel the drag of your clit, so puffy and desperate against his cock, feels like paradise to you, the only thing that would feel better is having him inside of you—but that’s for another time.

You’re enthralled to have him like this, countless nights you have been spending thinking of a moment like this, with him, charlotte katakuri.

Your husband.

You can feel the coil in your stomach reappearing, you won’t last long—that you know, yet as you look down on your panting husband you feel the need to hold off your orgasm a bit longer, in hopes of seeing him cum.

His face is concentrated, and all scrunched up, the warmth of your cunt against his frustrated cock is nothing like he had imagined, and he distinctly notes that he can’t go back to a mochi cushion after feeling you since he can never replicate the feel of your pussy, something so divine.

Any sense of rationality katakuri has disperse as he hears your voice, high pitched, whiny and desperate—so heavenly to him “I’m gonna cum, please, wan’a cum, fe—ah!—feels good”

Your hands dig into his skin, and his speeds up, frustrated desire accompanies him, intent on watching you unfold before his eyes, he can feel his end too, never imagining something like this could feel so good.

“Go ahead and let go” and just like that with a broken moan the coil in your stomach snaps, it feels beyond heavenly to be rewarded after such a long time, and katakuri keeps you upright with a hand while the other still stimulates you, makes you ride off your orgasm and he keeps going even your orgasm washes over you in waves, it���s too much stimulation for your brain and body, no coherent thoughts are present in your body “too much, ‘s moree pleaseee….”

“Fuck.” with a curse word that seems too improper for your husband, he manages to cum for the second time of the night, semen splattering all over his stomach, his grip on your is the only thing keeping you stable from falling into his heaving chest.

The afterglow of your orgasm basks you into sleep, you’re sure when you wake up in the morning your body will be filled with bruises and an ache in your muscles, but you can’t seem to focus on that with the way your husband’s voice lures you to sleep, baking you and consuming you whole.

“Darling, you did so good, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Was I too rough? Do you require a—“

“Mhmm, want you..please, don’t leaveee…”

“Never.”

“Mhmm”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

current status: unedited

©ruris-world 2022 — do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate my works to any platform! reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

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“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

[poppy-metal]

haunted by beyonce is so creep au. i was about it because i love my little freaks and listening to that song. would making a spotify playlist for it be too far lol? little sneak peek...

he spends the rest of his time at college a near recluse. re-reading your old letters. he crumbles them in his hand and feels a need to punch or stab at something but every time he finds himself smoothing them out gently. he tries to channel his anger into other ways. tries not to let this fester in him and make him even worse but it's too late for him to decide. how is he meant to move on when he can't hear a bird chirp without all his thoughts turning to you? 

-☕

AURRRRRRRR

he graduates stanford. its all hazy. he went kind of comatose after your last letter. he sat in his room for days just..... staring at the ceiling. numb. he gets precariously close to failing all of his classes and only slightly comes out of it when he's confronted by patrick and his grandmother calls him worrying about him. he manages to pull himself enough together to push through his last semester. worst of all - he stops playing tennis for awhile. anything that used to make him happy just pisses him off. he moves states with patrick when he offers because the thought of being alone is too daunting. he doesn't trust himself.

patrick and art buy an apartment together - patrick goes pro - art...... stays home. the reality of your absence hits him months later and he comes out of his numb state of shock and its bad. he's self destructive and meaner and he cries more often than he ever used to. he burns half your letters - almost burns the apartment down doing it - but stops halfway through and saves the last remaining ones. he rereads them religiously. he wonders how all of it could be fake. he wonders why he didn't just throw them away when they first started coming. why did he have to engage? he thinks the worst of himself - what kind of pathetic deranged freak he must be to have found these words appealing? to be touched? to fall for someone he doesn't even know? patrick worries about him. they fight alot. patrick isn't used to this kind of art. this miserable, sad, snappish art. he tries to get him back into tennis - but everytime art holds a racket he feels sick. he remembers how much you wrote about it - his tennis. how beautiful you thought he was when he played. how you'd always been watching him. he thinks about you seeing him on TV and not even recognizing him because of how little he meant to you.

he tells patrick he's taking a hiatus from tennis thats all. the media goes crazy about it. but he deactivates all of his accounts.

its been a few years now and people are getting antsy. they want art donaldson back. patrick is niggling him again. he says art looks alot better than he did before. that it'd be good for him. art doesn't know what he wants. being famous again doesn't feel as thrilling as it used to. he wants to be normal again, though. he's gotten good at pretending, at least. he has a job at his local bookstore and he can smile at people and he's having sex and he goes out with patrick sometimes. there's no reason he shouldn't be back out there.

but he's not okay. he's a viper wrapped in the body of a man. he's filled with poison and he wants to inject it into the world around him every day. he still writes to you - he texts your old number - senseless things. the rambles of a mad man. he wants you to turn on the TV and see him step out onto a court as art donaldson again and he wants you to feel him through the screen. he wants you to be watching when he wins and he wants you watching when an interviewer asks him what its like to be back so he can look at the camera and pretend its your eyes he's meeting through the screen when he says, "I've never felt more motivated."

"and what's motivating you, mr. donaldson?"

a smile. "reconnecting with an old friend."

the good thing about being back into tennis, art has found - is the money. money he can use to find you. money he already plans on using to find you.

[youreyeson1y]

01. and every time you breathe his air, just know i was already there

ⓘ now playing: track 01. taste ▷▷ 0:24 ─●──────── 2:37

pairing: student council president!yang jungwon x reader(f) cw: controlling relationship (context, (mostly) in the background), lots of swearing (y/n's love language is cursing basically lol), lmk if i missed anything !

synopsis: it has been months since you and jungwon broke up, so it shouldn't bother you if he's dating your bitchy nemesis, but you still can't help but get into catfights with her because you love to get a reaction out of little miss perfect. definitely not because you still have feelings for jungwon, right?

tags: high school au, exes to lovers(?), lowercase intended

author's note: not my best fic as a writer (since i literally wrote most of this in language class) but its become one of my favourites as i've come to love this fic so much because of all the feels and the character personalities, so i hope someway you'll find yourself here <3 ngl won's character is heavily inspired by en-drama because i'm obsessed. my first try at writing for my fav enha boy so i hope i did well !

word count: 2.8k

“bitch, are you actually crazy,’ with bright orange soda dripping down your shirt, you let out a slow chuckle, “or are you just mad that you taste me when he’s kissing you?” 

“fucking whor—,”

“that’s enough for today, girls, leave some energy for the rest of the day,” mrs. kang, the only teacher in the cafeteria, finally stood up from her seat and walked towards the commotion. 

“you just earned an hour in detention, you lady.” you couldn’t help but smirk when the teacher shot miss. ‘perfect’ a disapproving glare. “stay back tomorrow and maybe help out the volunteers, make yourself useful for once.” 

“but, uh, mrs. kang, she provoked me! she should be the one getting detention!” it was funny how she thought crushing the soda-can in her hands would deem her as innocent. 

“ma’am,” you knew you were a trouble-maker, but the only reason teachers trusted you was because you were sincere— or at least good at pretending you were. “i was only here to have a conversation, but she was the one who assaulted me out of nowhere,” 

one of the reasons you maintained a friendly relationship with the teachers was for situations like this. 

“and you know what ma’am, i’m not even mad that she attacked me, but wastage of food? oh, to think a thirsty kid could’ve been drinking that soda, but for it to get wasted on me like that?”

“that’s enough, y/n; don’t think i don't know your antics.” mrs. kang looked at you through her glasses. “another sentence and you’ll be enjoying detention with your best friend here.”

you flashed her a guilty but thankful smile. "of course ma’am, i understand.”

“and what are you all looking at? the bell’s about to ring, get back to your classes!” the teacher cursed under her breath, the crowd around you disappearing in an instant. 

mrs. kang looked around the cafeteria, and her face instantly lit up when she saw bitch #2. “ah, yang jungwon! thank god at least someone responsible is here.” 

you didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but you sensed him stand taller and simultaneously become smaller at the acknowledgement. 

“son, please take this menace to the nurse’s room, i don’t trust her enough to send her alone— god knows what more she’ll end up causing.” you flash mrs. kang a guilty smile. “meanwhile, you, young lady, come with me to the staff room.”

as you saw miss perfect follow mrs. kang with her tail between her legs, you couldn’t help but crack a triumphant smile. 

“thank you, ma’am, i’ll remember your kindness for the rest of my life!” you leave the cafeteria, seeing mrs. kang roll her eyes and say something along the lines of ‘i don’t get paid enough for this.’ 

not waiting for what's-his-face, you make your way towards the nurse’s room to find a spare shirt. 

“y/n! wait up,” your pace quickens as naturally as possible when you hear his voice, but jungwon easily catches up to you. “are you okay?”

“what do you want, yang jungwon?” it takes all effort in you to not look at him.

“here, take this,” you turned towards him when he offered his coat to you, his fingers slightly gripping your pocket, keeping you in place. with a glare, you take a step back.  “you're drenched, y/n. you’ll catch a cold like this.” 

“i don't need your charity,” maybe you did feel a chill go through your body, but you'd rather be dead than take help from jungwon. “you don’t have to help me just because a teacher asked you to, mr. president, i’m fine.” 

“y/n,” his tone was pleading but assertive. “don’t be like this,, i’m here as your friend—” 

“don’t even,” you scoffed, an annoyed expression adorning your face. 

“i thought you were my friend, but the way you have been acting lately tells me anything but. i know things are awkward because we broke up, but is human decency too much to ask for? 

"i’m not asking you to take sides, but you could've— nevermind now. i guess years of friendship goes down the drain just because your pretty little girlfriend can’t stand me.”

there goes your shot at being cool and nonchalant.

you didn’t mean to say that all, but words came spilling out of your mouth once you made eye-contact with him. 

jungwon looked shocked, speechless at your unexpected outburst. he took a step back. “i… i’m sorry, y/n.” 

you felt betrayed at yourself when you felt a pang of disappointment when he walked away. 

maybe you had expected him to say something? finally clear out all the misunderstandings and go back to how things were before? 

nonetheless, you also knew you could never go back to being just friends with him, yet you were starting to miss his company, and your aching heart was making it clear that you weren’t even a step closer to getting over him. 

but it didn't even matter now.

you sighed, resuming your journey towards the nurse’s room, your heart growing heavier when you find a bunch of napkins in your pocket where jungwon had touched you.  

“i mean it was kind of stupid to think mrs. kang would let you off the hook for causing a scene like that,” your best friend smirked, clearly enjoying this. 

“hey, whose side are you on?” you half-heartedly throw your eraser at her, slumping into your seat. “oh man, i was so excited to go back home and watch the new episode of the drama with you. guess that'll have to wait because apparently dusting books that people will never even read is way more important, i guess." 

"calm your dramatic ass down," your best friend chuckled, patting your head as you groaned and playfully banged your head on the table. "at least there will be no record of detention on your report." 

"i guess you're right... but i'll miss you," you blow kisses at her, making her laugh. 

"whatever weirdo, love you too," she stood up, giving you a smile. "i'll get going then. you better start your work soon if you don't wanna stay back for another hour." 

"see you soon!" after you wave at her, you stretch out in your chair, giving yourself a pep talk to survive the extra hour of work that was given to you by mrs. kang as "not a punishment, but something that will make you think twice before causing trouble again." 

although you weren't happy about this, you couldn't help but feel a sense of calm as you entered the library and walked through the many bookshelves, finally situating yourself amidst the very last shelves. 

life had gotten pretty hectic lately, so having some time in the library, when not a single soul was there, felt like pressing pause and breathing for a moment. you put on your mask, and some music as you half-heartedly start dusting the old books on the shelves. 

the quiet and solitude was something you longed for, but with nothing better to do, your mind couldn't help but go back to thinking about yang jungwon. 

maybe you were being irrational with him today, because of course, which guy would choose a friend over his girlfriend? you felt guilty, because you realised it was your selfish feelings that made you act that way. 

while you were accusing jungwon of not giving efforts to sustain your friendship, what had you been doing? 

weren't you the one picking the longer route to avoid running into him, or helping random people with their errands whenever he came into the room just to avoid a conversation? 

but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him; not because of the awkwardness, but because you couldn’t see him being with his girlfriend.

jealousy was another thing, but you couldn’t tolerate the way miss perfect treated him— it shouldn’t matter to you that she didn’t understand his niche habits, or that she didn’t let him finish his sentences, so you chose to stay quiet instead of making a scene, because you knew it was of no use anyway. 

“well, so much for not making a scene,” you groaned, glancing at the too-tight shirt you’d borrowed from the nurse’s office. 

finally pulled out of your thoughts by the alarm you’d set on your phone, you looked up at the giant clock at the library, and let out a quiet squeal when you noticed an hour was up. 

as you packed up your phone and belongings and walked towards the front of the library, you were stopped in your tracks as you heard a familiar voice in the otherwise silent room. as you slowly crept towards the front desk, the voice became clearer.

“yes sir, of course. no, i understand. i’ll make sure there’s no— yes sir, sure. right. thank you, sir, thank— oof.” yang jungwon slumped into the chair, his voice immediately losing its energy and him looking more tired than ever as he gently placed his phone on a cluttered table. 

as he closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his face, it gave you the perfect opportunity to walk by, unnoticed, and— 

“won— hey, jungwon,” a small, comforting smile crept up on your face, as you slowly made your way towards him. “what are you doing here so late.” 

your heart fluttered in an act of betrayal when you saw his face instantly light up when he noticed you. 

“y/n! hey, hi. have a seat,” jungwon smiled, quickly trying to push the various open notebooks and leaflets towards himself to make space for you. “i uh, i just had to stay back for some work for next week’s event. what about you, why’re you here so late? everything okay?”

“haha, yes, mrs. kang just made me do some extra work to make up for today,” you took a seat beside him, both of you facing each other. “but wait, don’t tell me you’re doing work here so late? can’t you do it at home?”

“well, yes and no? the teachers are counting on me to look after everything because, you know…” he looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck, forever uncomfortable about his position as the president of the student council.

“and since most of the things require me to double check with the faculty and the campus, it’s easier to do these things at school. plus, i’ll have to take the measurements for the posters and all too, so i was planning to get it over by today itself instead of weighing down someone else with the work,” 

“goddamn, i didn’t know you had so much work to do. I could never handle such responsibility,” you let out a slow whistle, but then turned to him with concerned eyes. “it must be hard managing everything. are you okay, though? you can distribute the work between the members, you know? you don’t have to shoulder everything.” you gently put your hand on him, making sure he listens. 

jungwon was the type of person who always took on more work than it was healthy for them to carry out, but he always made sure he completed each and every task with perfection. 

you knew the boy struggled with being a people pleaser and a perfectionist, so you made sure to remind him to relax and take a breath every once in a while whenever you got the chance. 

“giving the work to other people doesn’t make you a bad leader, won, it is literally their job to help you. so, chill out a bit okay? and make sure you take breaks in between and not—”

you were interrupted by the soft hum of jungwon’s ringtone, and as you looked down on it, it was almost as if a bucket of cold water was splashed on you as you saw his girlfriend’s name flash on the screen. 

in an instant, you let go of his hand, your hands reaching up  to play with your hair and hopefully hide the red creeping up on your face. “you… you should probably pick that up.” you hoped your smile did not look lopsided. 

to your surprise, you saw jungwon silence his phone, and place it inside his pocket. “you were saying?” he gave you a small smile, acting as if nothing had happened. 

“um, dude, wasn’t that your girlfriend?” you sounded confused. “you should’ve picked up, i’m okay with it.”

“uh, ex… girlfriend.” 

“what the fuck?” you shrieked in surprise, your face red, both of you looking around to see if anybody heard you. you lowered your voice once again. “bitch what? didn’t we just argue like hours ago? because of you? wait, oh my god, don’t tell me she broke up with you because of me? oh god, i’m so sorry jungwon, i swear, i never meant to—”

your ramble was cut short when jungwon gently placed his hand over your mouth, chuckling at your wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“y/n, calm down, i’d broken up with her weeks ago,” this dude literally had the audacity to smile after giving you a mini heart attack. “actually… it's a pretty long story.” he cringed. 

“well i would very much like to know why the fuck i’m wearing some random girl’s shirt if you guys broke up weeks ago?” you huffed; but when you saw his quiet expression, you blushed. “wait, i mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. it’s okay, i was just kidding.” 

“No, y/n, its okay.” jungwon had a weird expression on his face. “it’s just that… do you have any idea how much i’ve wanted to talk about this, or just talk like this, with you? i missed us.” 

“won,” you were sure your face was permanently red now. “i’m always here, you know that.” 

“thanks,” he said. “the truth is, i wasn’t really in a happy relationship with her. i don’t know, maybe i didn’t want to admit it to myself too, but at some point it just got too suffocating; it was like being with a tyrant.” 

though jungwon was trying to play it off with a casual demeanour, you could hear the pain still eminent in his voice. the reason he was so closed off, always so busied by his books or duties, it all made sense now. 

“i know it sounds weird, but being in a relationship with her felt like i was constantly being criticised and forced to be someone i’m not. i can’t always be this perfect, responsible, ideal boy friend, and i felt guilty for trying to put on this fake act of being perfect and i…” 

you genuinely ached for him, your heart reaching out to the boy who was finally opening his jar of bottled emotions. 

you wrapped jungwon in a gentle but warm hug, hoping it helps ease him, who was on the verge of breaking down.”

“shh, its okay, won. you’re out of that relationship now, and it takes alot of courage to do that; i’m proud of you, yang jungwon.”

“you know what the funniest part is, she wasn’t willing to break up with me so she acted as if we were still together and telling me that she’ll stop and change and what not, and me being dumb enough, probably did believe her. but it was this morning, when she threw the soda at you, it was almost as if she’d done it to me. 

“it was different when it was just me, but when she’s hurting people i care about?  i know where to draw the line then.” jungwon finally cracked a small smile. “and you know what? i finally understood that i made the right decision when you came here and told me that i don’t have to take on everything on my own. it made me realise that there are people who look out for me, so i’m not worried anymore.”

“of course, you dumb fuck,” you flicked his forehead, laughing to stop yourself from actually tearing up. you felt guilty knowing that he was going through so much on his own, but you also felt beyond ecstatic that he trusted you enough to share all that with you. “too bad you have such a stick up your ass that you didn’t realise that sooner. and its not just me, but all our friends are here for you too. So don’t you ever dare feel alone or suffer through all that by yourself.” 

“I know that now…” jungwon chuckled, his flushed face mirroring yours as he rested his head on the table, looking at you with the softest eyes. “thank you, y/n. You have no idea how grateful i am to you.” 

“shut up up with your cheesy lines, jungwon you slut, or i might just fall in love with you.” you rolled your eyes, playfully covering his face to hide your blush, because you both knew the truth anyway. 

‘i already have,” he smiled. 

author's note: if you see my personal feelings etched into this fic, no you don't :D also did y'all notice the way i didn't even name the ex because like i was so afraid of it breaking the fourth wall like, what if its the name of your best friend or cousin or literally just your name 😭

please leave comments and reblogs because i could really use some motivation, thank you ! 🤍

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[woncherie]

hello <33 finally posting part 3. i hope you guys like it!! small reminder that im not a native english speaker i hope i didnt do too many mistakes..

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: afab!reader, no pronouns used, bully!scara, bullying, sub!scara, reader makes him a sub lol, nsfw, mentions of alcohol and drugs, finger sucking, spit play, thigh riding, degradation, blackmail, rimming, pegging, pictures are taken, usage of ma'am a few times, he sucks our dick!! light spanking (please tell me if I missed something)

wc: 4.9k

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

lab reports were handed in in time, protocols werent your problem anymore and you got good grades on papers that you didnt even take a look at. things really changed after the party a few months ago.

you didnt get thrown at with food anymore, no one was there to trip you, your property wasnt destroyed anymore. its as if he completely forgot about your existence. at this point you dont even know if he remembers your face anymore, you havent seen your favourite bully in weeks other than on hallways, but even there he was very quick to choose another path to not see your face.

its been a month since the incidence in the library, and nothing else happened between you. how could anything have happened? he doesnt even look at you anymore.

at first you enjoyed your peace. people started talking to you more, you went to more partys and hangouts and met new people, but after two weeks of silence from scaramouche, you started getting a bit tense too.

you didnt expect him to actually leave you alone. you thought he would be putting up more of a fight than just puss out like a small kid, and no matter how hard it was to admit.. you kinda missed him.

at one point you got so annoyed with his behaviour that you even tried to meet him yourself, bumping into him in the hallway to start a conversation, but all he did was apologize half-assed and then go back on his way, not even taking a glimpse of your face or outfit (which he used to love to make fun of).

you were fed up with him. you cannot believe that after everything that happened between the two of you he can just act like nothing happened, going on with his life without even thinking about you. him ignoring you made you even more mad than when he gave you too much attention.

it was hard to admit, but the indigo haired man never left your thoughts. it wasnt like you two actively talked before, but now all you did was wonder. about him, about how his day was, what he did, how he is feeling.

the irritation was written all over your face, and all that albedo could do was watch from the sidelines. you still didnt tell him what happened, at this point you were so far into this shit you dont even know how to explain anything.

"is everything alright?" he said after a few days, laying on his tummy on the floor of your apartment, your organic chemistry book in front of him, but instead of studying he just put his head on it, using it as a pillow.

"what should be wrong?" you mumbled, scrolling through instagram right next to him on your carpet. your head was at his feet and his at yours, taking a look over to him when he spoke up.

you two ordered some take out and waited impatiently on the delivery before going back to studying. exams were getting closer again.

"you seem to be lost in thoughts the past few three weeks. is everything right between scaramouche and you?" he asked while checking the time on his watch.

"yeah, what should be wr- wait what." your heart dropped for a second and you threw your phone away, sitting up straight. "how did you-" you started.

"oh c'mon." he answered and rolled his eyes. "respect my intelligence. it doesnt take a genius to understand that at least something happened between the two of you."

you looked at him with wide eyes, shame and guilt being written all over your face. "how..??"

"just look at you two and how you act around each other. you two are practically undressing each other with your eyes during the lectures."

you hid your face in the palm of your hands, embarrassed at the whole situation. "i am so so sorry. i shouldve told you." you apologized. "i was just.. scared about your reaction?"

"you should be." he returned, sitting up slowly before looking at you. "i have a lot of things to say about that special relationship. but maybe you should explain what happened before." he gave you the opportunity to explain.

you threw yourself at albedo and hugged him tightly. "oh my god, i need to tell you so much that happened. ok so remember ittos party.."

☆

scaramouche was currently laying in bed, another random women naked next to him. he tried everything, he tried everything, to forget you.

your ugly face followed him in his darkest dreams, your annoying character was running around in his head all the time, and he even caught himself daydreaming about the two of you every once in a while. all the time.

but absolutely nothing was helping him. he thought maybe he just needed to get laid again, to have any random chick pleasure him for the night and he would get back to be his old self, that he was just thinking with his dick the past few weeks, but no. even after sleeping with multiple women who werent even good to begin with, he couldnt get you out of his head.

he was frustrated, so fucking annoyed, that he let it out on everyone who is somewhat close to him. his friends were trying to figure out what or who made him so miserable, but he doesnt talk to anyone of them.

instead of approaching you and talking it out he decided it would be the better idea to just party, smoke and drink his feelings away. after a few days he would forget you and what happened. but thats what he told himself for weeks now.

the women next to him came closer, trying to touch his chest, but he just hissed at her. "do me a favour and fuck off." he didnt even know her name. he didnt care enough to ask. he couldnt even describe what she looked like.

"h..huh?" he heard her gasp next to him, feeling a bit betrayed by his behaviour right now. "did i do someth-"

"fuck off i said." he groaned, using his arm to place it over his eyes. he just hoped that she would leave as quickly as she came, letting him pity himself in peace without anyone chewing his ear off or them expecting that he cares about them.

he didnt care about anyone of them, fuck, he doesnt even know their names, the only name in his head was yours. and he was sick of it.

the girl stood up and grabbed her clothes, leaving the room as she put them on again, and scaramouche let out a deep groan when he heard the front door closing. fucking finally.

he turned around in his bed, laying on his stomach and checking his phone. he was hoping that maybe you would text him again, but you didnt.

he took his pillow and threw it over his head, trying to burry himself in his bed, trying to burry these feelings.

what were you doing right now? were you together with your ugly blonde friend again?

just thinking about albedo makes him wanna throw a few punches around the room. he never cared about that nerd anyway, his victim always being you, but right now? he's exploding just thinking that you spend your precious time with albedo than rather messaging him, or talking to him.

what did you even see in him? he's fucking boring, head constantly hiding between a few books. he probably doesnt even have a personality to begin with.

were you sleeping with him?

after all the things you did to scaramouche, he wouldnt be doubting that you maybe also fucked around with your best friend. the thought of it made him jump out of his bed, throwing his pillow against a wall before heading to the shower.

he was so lovesick, he couldnt even admit how jealous he was. fuck, he misses you. he misses you so much that he set his mind to visit you after showering, even though he tried his best to ignore you. he couldnt do that anymore.

☆

you were laying on your bed, your books and tablet scattered around you. you tried to concentrate on your studies, on how you felt before you started to fuck around with scaramouche, but you only sighed frustratedly. albedo was right. this was all a big mistake.

albedo left some hours ago, giving you some space for yourself to think about the whole situation, but you instead chose to study and ignore the aching pain in your chest.

albedo gave you a whole lecture on how stupid you were, on how you're gonna get your feelings hurt and mind destroyed by scaramouche, and you knew he was right, you really did, but you couldnt help but feel the way you feel right now.

your train of thoughts got interrupted as someone started banging against your door furiously, and you stood up in surprise and hurried to the door, not checking who it was before opening it.

in front of you stood your favourite indigo eyed man, hair messy and very obviously annoyed and irritated. he didnt even ask or say anything, just pushed you away to enter your apartment.

you were surprised to see him here, after ignoring you for weeks and getting out of your way on purpose when it always used to be the other way around.

"i fucking hate you!" he shouted in your face, pacing around in your apartment, trying to find any words.

"chill out for a second, handsome, how did you find my address?" you asked him, closing the door behind him after scaramouche entered your comfy 25 m².

he just rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. "ask me something more difficult next time." he quoted his old text messages.

"the fuck you want here anyway?" you answered him annoyed but also somewhat adrenalized. this is the first time you talked again after like 2 weeks? 3 weeks? you couldnt even remember yourself.

"you! i fucking hate you." he yelled again, coming closer to you before using his arms to push you around a bit, getting physical with you. you stumbled a few steps back but caught yourself in time before landing on your ass.

"you just show up in my life and turn everything around without even thinking about me!" he cried out, his own hands finding its way in his hands and pulling on his own hair. "the past few weeks i tried everything to forget you, to forget the way you make me feel, but.. i just cant."

you raised your eyebrows in shock, not expecting a confession like this when he first entered your home furiously. "what do you mean?"

"FUCK. i mean that i cant stop thinking about you. i cant stop thinking about how you touch me. you ruined me for everyone else. no one compares to how you make me feel, and i hate you so much for this." he paced around your small room again, his eyes moving around from you to the floor and to you again, arms moving around everywhere.

he was stressed as hell, and he didnt know why he was here, in front of you, digging his own grave, but there he is, embarrassing himself to his bones.

and all you did was stand in front of him, looking at him with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a fish, trying to find fitting words. you couldnt explain how you were feeling right now, you just knew that you were incredibly happy and relieved.

"say something." scaramouche nearly begged, being frustrated with the whole situation.

he wanted things to go back to normal, to have you under him, doing anything he says without being told twice, to do all uni work and still humiliate you for funsies.

but thinking about going back to that time also hurt him, thinking about how you wouldnt talk to him more than you needed to is something he didnt want.

you slowly stepped up to him again, definitely getting closer to him and his personal space than anyone else dares to do, and you use your finger to lift his chin up, looking at him mockingly.

"now was that so hard to say?" you looked down in him. his face turned red again, trying to ignore your wandering eyes on his face, looking on the floor, eyelashes already a bit wet from shame and embarrassment.

"look at me when im talking to you." you demanded, squishing his cheeks between your fingers again and he looked up to you, breath stammering and gulping.

"is this what you want?" you raised one eyebrow mockingly, the grin on your face getting bigger and bigger.

scaramouche became frustrated with your behaviour again, too embarrassed to admit that yes, he needed this.

instead of answering, he pushed you back again, but followed you, shoving you on your own bed.

your back was pressed to the mattress and scaramouche sat down in your lap, leaning forwards before he pressed his lips on yours aggressively.

you were surprised at how eager he was, but no way would you let him lead and dominate you. this is your job.

you threw off all the books and your tablet from the bed with your arm in one swift motion, and then grabbing scaramouches waist as you change position, rolling on top of him while he is laying underneath you.

he didnt let go of the kiss, of you, his arms wrapped around your neck while your hands press down on the mattress beside each side of his head.

he let out some soft sighs and pants throughout the kiss, occasionally letting out a gasp or muffled moan.

you took the opportunity of you being on top, pressing your ass on his dick and making him moan more often now.

his hands wandered from your neck into your hair, pulling on them desperately as you suck on his tongue. god damn it, he felt fucking amazing.

you started undressing him slowly, breaking the kiss to remove his shirt, your lips on his right afterwards again before he could even take in a breath.

you didnt care though. you waited so long for him, you want to break him apart now.

you started kissing from his lips down to his jaw and neck, giving him bites and hickies all over that area. "you've been waiting for this for quite some time now, havent you?" you teased him, rocking your hips on his as you gave his collarbone special attention.

"fuck.. fuck yes." he groaned out, trying to grab your hips but you grabbed his hands immediately, pressing them down above his head.

"dont even think about this." you threaten him, and he looks at you with wide eyes. "i will not be touching you if you dont listen to me. understood?" scaramouches eyes widen in surprise, ready to whine out. he cant have you leaving him hanging once again, he needs you more than anyone else right now, so all he did was nod and look into your eyes.

"use your words." you demanded.

"y..yes."

"is that all?" you asked in a harsh tone, making him feel so much smaller than he actually is underneath you. his face got a soft pink blush around his nose and he looked away, everywhere else but in your face right now. "yes.. m..ma'am."

you could feel your pussy clench at the way he looked so embarrassed as he called you this name. you lived for embarrassing him.

"good boy." you answered and you could feel his dick twitch right through the shorts you were wearing.

you started kissing his body again, this time taking your time at his chest as you felt it heaving so cutely for you. "id love to fuck these tits." you grinned, looking up to him and seeing him hide his face inside the crook of his arm. "maybe next time."

his heart stopped beating for a second before it sped up in pace right afterwards. next time?

but before he could ask anything, you stood up from his lap, grabbing his waist once again before turning him around and pulling his pants down in one swift motion.

"H..HUH?" he asked surprised, looking back to you and seeing you eyeing his ass again. just thinking about what happened last time made his dick throb in his underwear, already being stained by precum anyway.

you were very happy with how things were right now, scaramouche underneath you and submissive, letting you use his body to your liking.

"ever got your ass pegged?" you looked up to him with a big grin, visibly ecstatic before pulling his boxers down too and touching his butt.

"n..no why the fuck should-?" but before he could finish his sentence you sinked your sharp teeth into his ass, biting him until there was evidence of your teeth on his butt.

he let out a small scream and let his head fall back into his neck, eyes closed in pleasure and pain. "i fucking hate you." he then said and you only giggled silently.

you stood up from his legs, grabbing into your nightstand to pull out your pretty pink dildo and scaramouches eyes widened in shock and lust, jumping up immediately.

"aint no way this gonna fit.." he mumbles.

"dont worry. ill make it fit." you returned, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer to your face again, pressing your lips on his harshly.

he opened his mouth instantly, welcoming your tongue in his mouth. fuck, he really cant resist your touch.

he leaned into the kiss and let out a small moan when your fingers graced his dick, playing with the tip and using his precum to make him wetter.

you let go off his lips and his dick and he let out a whine. he waited so long for this, dont stop now.

but instead of kissing him again, you leaned a bit back and pressed he colorful dildo on his lips, and he looked at you, slightly confused.

"what are you-?" he started, but you already pushed the tip of the sex toy into his mouth.

"sadly i didnt prepare any lube.. guess your spit has to make it wet now."

seeing scaramouche choke on the dildo made your heart swell in pride and joy, he really looked majestic like that. he grabbed your hand quickly, scared that you might shove it down his throat completely.

his heart was beating faster, scared of messing up. it was the first time of him sucking on a cock, he didnt want to look like a fool, he didnt want to disappoint you.

he tried to relax his throat to take the toy more in, sucking on it and looking at you through his lashes. inch for inch he took more in, putting on a small show for you.

you couldnt help but gasp a bit, pussy wet and aching for him. but you had to hold back, this was about him and his pleasure now.

"see, so you can be a good boy for me without throwing a tantrum. no need to be so bratty all the time.~" you teased him and he tried to look at you angrily, the toy in his mouth ruining it a bit for him.

you were still in your clothes which bothered both you and him, so you let go of the dildo in your hand, but scaramouche held it firmly anyway.

you quickly got rid of your shirt and shorts, sitting in front of him in your underwear while he was completely naked. when scaramouche saw your body in front of him, so close, he let go of the sex toy in his mouth and instead stared at you, biting his lip, trying to hide the faint blush on his face. he thought that you looked stunning.

you took the dildo out of his hand and kissed him again, pressing him onto his back while he leaned into the kiss, hands grabbing into your hair.

while kissing him you grabbed into your nightstand again, this time pulling out a bottle of lube.

scaramouche opened his eyes at the noise and let go of you when he saw the bottle. "wait what?? didnt you say you dont have any?" he bickered around and you laughed silently. "of course i have lube. i just wanted to see you suck on my dick." you teased him once again.

"you fucking bitch." he returned, visibly angry and embarrassed again, hiding half his face with his hand.

"oh c'mon, you looked really stunning. the show you put on made me nearly loose my control." you said as you kissed his jaw and neck downwards to his chest and tummy, getting dangerously close to his dick, which was still standing and throbbing regularly.

"cute. how can you satisfy anyone with this small cute dick?" you bullied him and he turned his face away in shame. "fuck off." was all he said, ready to shove his foot up your face but you only giggled and pressed a kiss on the inside of his tender thigh.

you heard him let out a small whimper, back finally relaxing against your pillows as he closed his eyes. you just smiled against his thigh and pressed down a few more kisses on them before taking the bottle of lube, opening it and using it on your fingers.

you grabbed the insides of scaramouches knees and pressed them up to his hands, signaling him to hold them.

it was embarrassing for him, but he didnt care anymore. he just wanted you on top of him, destroying him completely, so he held his legs and spread them, being completely naked and open for you. "good boy.." you mumbled as your fingers started rubbing on his anus, making him shudder at the cold feeling.

"we need a safeword." you said, looking up to his face and he opened his eyes in frustration. he thought you would finally fuck him properly.

"safeword?"

"yeah.. in case you dont like it anymore." you explained it.

"i know what a safeword is you dumb fuck." he said angrily, and you gave him a slap on his dick, making him moan out in pain and pleasure, arching his back and shoving his butt closer to you.

"dont get too comfy now." you said, and he looked at you apologetically.

"fuck just choose anything! i dont care."

you took his dick into your hand, stroking him a few times and watching him mewl in pleasure.

"coconut?" you asked.

"y..yeah yeah whatever" he said, enjoying the pleasure that you were giving him right now.

you took your lube smeared fingers and slowly inserted one inside of him while watching his face and facial features.

his eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip, grabbing the bedsheets as he tried to get used to the unknown feeling. you didnt move your finger yet, waiting for his consent.

he slowly opened his eyes and gave you a nod, signaling you to move your finger, so you did. you kissed him on the lips again, trying to make him ignore the initial pain in his butt.

he wrapped his arms around your body again, kissing you a bit sloppily as he moans into the kiss, moving back onto your fingers.

after a few minutes you heard him mumble against your lips. "m..more" he said before pressing his lips on yours again. you took the invitation to slowly insert a second finger into him and you felt him flinch and whimper against your lips. you let go off the kiss too look at him, but he pulled you back down again, not wanting to let go of the kiss.

you moved your fingers and he whimpered against your lips, biting down on your underlip. man, you really wanted to ravish him, but you had to hold yourself back a little more, for him.

you started scissoring your fingers and scaramouche started enjoying it a bit more, all kinds of moans and groans leaving his mouth. "f..fuck this feels so.." he started, but got lost in pleasure, losing his train of thought once again.

after a few more seconds you pulled out of him, making him shudder underneath you, opening his eyes slightly to look at you. "just do it now." he started bothering you again and you gave him a slap on his thigh. "shut up."

you grabbed underneath the bed and pulled out your strap on, making his face heat up slightly, but you only smiled at his reaction and put it on.

you’d never ever felt this way around anyone before - you could feel your panties growing more soaked by the second from anticipation. but it really wasnt about you right now, it was about him.

scaramouche really didnt expect to be fucked senseless when he made his way over to your home, and yet, his mouth was dry and his face was hot with embarrassment? fear? neediness? he didnt know. all he knew was that he wanted this feeling gone and your body on top of him.

scaramouche sighed happily when he felt the toy slowly, very slowly gliding into him, head falling back as he winced at the initial pain. you paused for a moment, letting him get used to the feeling.

after a few seconds he nodded again, signaling you to push in deeper. he groaned as you pushed in further, the size of you causing a burning sensation, even despite the lube and preparation earlier.

you pressed light kisses around his forehead, cheeks, jaw, neck, trying to calm him down.

he breathed heavily as you pushed in more, more, more, filling him up deliciously before bottoming out inside of him. scaramouche felt like his whole skin was burning hot, tears pricking in his eyes as he grabbed your arms, pulling you down to him and pressing your body on his as he wrapped his arms around your body.

you pushed your hips back towards his, rolling your hips in a slow pace as his body twitched underneath you.

"fu.. fuck i hate you so much." he reminded you again and you laughed in a low tone, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. "want me to stop?" you asked and he locked his legs behind your back, taking up your space to move away.

"no!!" he gasped as you continued to pound into him, head thrown back into the pillows as moans, grunts, your name and even a few ma'ams leave his lips continuously. a very visible bulge appearing on his stomach made him gasp out, tears leaving his eyes and smearing all over his face. "dont stop, fuck, please dont stop.." he moaned out loudly.

"i should stop." you continued to tease him. "after all these months of you destroying my life, it really should be fair if i leave you hanging." you grabbed the inside of his knees, pressing them to his chest and putting him into a mating press. "you deserve this."

scaramouches mouth was left open, tongue hanging out and drool leaving his mouth. he was completely gone, trying his hardest to concentrate on what to say. "s..so-sorry. im so sorry fuck im sorry" he slurred out, trying his hardest to not come too quickly.

"is this how your mother taught you to apologize?" you grunted, slapping his thigh and ass hard, making him mewl out.

"fuuck I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have put through you all tha-fuckk." he moaned out, looking down to where your and his body connected.

"I will stop I will stop I promise I won't bother you anymore just please..make me cum." hearing him choke on his own words made your chest fill with pride. you finally broke him.

his hands tried to hold anything of you, grabbing your bra that you still wore and opening it, throwing it away, his eyes all over your chest now, watching the way they bounce while you fuck him hard.

he was fucked out and you barely even started, using his body as a mere fleshlight for your toy, teeth gritting as he felt a familiar sensation build up in his stomach as the toy continuously pushed against his prostate, making him see stars through the tears in his eyes.

"cu- cumming. fuck im so closesoclosesoclose" he slurred out, completely drunk on pleasure.

"eyes on me." you demanded, and he looked up from your chest to your eyes. "want you to look at me as you come." you continued, and scaramouches heart skipped a beat. fuck. you really wrapped him around your finger.

you took your hand and grabbed his penis, playing and stroking him a bit to increase the pleasure, sending him off the edge as he came all over his body and your hand. you took a few seconds to fuck him through his orgasm before slowly standing still, only both of your heavy breathings heard in the apartment.

you smeared the cum that was left on your hand on his chest and stomach, painting him full with it as you teased him again, his body still shaking and spasming underneath you.

"fuck, i could do this all day." you said and he bit his lips at the thought of that.

"not gonna take any pictures this time?" he asked and you grabbed the polaroid camera on your nightstand.

"oh you bet i will."

☆☆☆

HELLOO <33 this is gonna be the last part i dont think i have much to add to the story anymore.. i hope you all enjoyed it and thank you so much for hyping me up the past 2 weeks <3 it really meant a lot, you guys made my days and nights.

[heartofwritiing]

home is wherever you are tonight

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

summary: its your birthday, a day you dread every year due to bad memories, and wilbur manages to change your mindset.

authors note: this has been sitting in my drafts since march and i forgot about it oops. this is completely self indulgent. Ive dreaded my birthday for the past five years because of personal reasons… i thought maybe writing a non-shitty fake birthday would make me feel better so, it did lol. enjoy!! :)

warnings: self indulgent, mentions of childhood trama, negative past events, mentions of toxic family, fluff, Wilbur being the cutest-best boyfriend, hurt-comfort, yes the title is a lyric from a lizzy mcalpine song.. unedited!

The day had come. the day you dreaded every year for as long as you could remember. it was your birthday.

Most people would be elated about turning another year older, to celebrate but not you. Instead, it filled you with utter disinterest and resentment. To you, it was just another day on the calendar.

Ever since you could remember you’ve just hated your birthday. Each year just felt like they got worse and worse with the number of times You had been let down. Whether it was by family drama or people just forgetting. It was the same every year. So when you finally moved away from your toxic relatives you pretty much forget about it. Only remembering when you'd get a text from your parents to wish you a happy birthday. At least they remembered now that you were gone...

You were relieved when no one at work had brought it up. you never really talked to your coworkers about your personal life, you weren't that type of person. Still, you were grateful the only attention you got today was from one of your peers Matt, asking about the printer in the office not working right.

When you walked into your flat, what you weren’t expecting was too see your boyfriend standing near the door waiting for you.

“why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” Wilbur asks in a slightly offended tone.

The front door hasn’t even shut yet and he’s caught you completely off guard with his question. Your heart drops in your stomach.

“hello to you too,” you snort, putting your bag down and sliding your jacket off. "And how'd you even know?" Avoiding the question. Cause that will make this better.

he sighs.

“Answer the question please, love,”

You’re toeing off the uncomfortable shoes you were required to wear at your job as you blankly bink back at him.

You can tell by the frowned expression on his face that he wasn’t just gonna let you drop this anytime soon. His arms are crossed over his sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his curls fall around his eyes.

“maybe because it's not a big deal,” you shrugged. Wilbur stops you with a hand on your shoulder before you can escape to your shared room. It wasn't forceful but gentle, his eyes asking you to stay, talk, anything. You just wanted to go to bed and sleep until your shift tomorrow and just forget about this whole day.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks. "I don't particularly like my birthday but still celebrate with friends, family, and loved ones."

There it was.

You wanted to avoid this.

"Look, I don't want to pressure you into talking about this, you can tell me when you're ready. I can tell how uncomfortable you got when I asked you outright why you didn't say anything about it being your birthday, I'm sorry..."

You could tell he was just confused and who could blame him. You had only been dating for about a year and finally moved in together last month. He didn't want to pressure you into anything you weren't ready for, which was one of the many things you adored about him. Always so patient and thoughtful about your feelings and well-being.

There was no avoiding it now as he asked the question. Your heart beating in your ears.

“Why don’t you like your birthday, love?”

“well…” you began, but you could feel the lump in your throat forming as you thought carefully how to put it. You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “I just, have a lot of trauma revolving around today,”

Wilbur has moved slowly towards you now, almost like you were a spooked animal and he was trying to calm you. He listened carefully as you spoke slowly.

“my parents fought a lot growing up, and even on my birthday they just didn’t seem to care, even for one day, so i mostly spent my birthdays alone.”

The look in his eyes says it all. He feels so heartbroken for you. You collapsed into his chest and he wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you firmly and you felt the weight in your chest fading.

"Well listen, I got you your favorite type of cake, a good bottle of wine, not that cheap shit, the really nice one we liked. we're gonna sit on the couch and eat, and you can tell me all about your day." he pauses only to bring your face out from his chest to look you in your eyes. "and then, we're gonna cuddle and I'm gonna tell you how much I love and appreciate you."

With that, he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and kisses your nose softly. You swear that press of his lips was what made you cave. You began to break down in front of him.

Wilbur's hands seem to be the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. If he wasn't holding you, you were sure you would have fallen to your knees by now. You sob silently as you take his wrists in your hands but don't remove them from your cheeks. The intensity of the long work day and all the recurring memories this day brought you every year, combined with Wilbur's sweet gestures and words made you break.

You felt everything come down on you all at once, yet there Wilbur was, always waiting for you at the end of the day. Always there to comfort you and support you. So these weren’t sad tears no, they were happy tears. Finally, you found someone who cherished you and cared for you enough.

-

@trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @highstonedcat

[angstics]

3.3k words summarizing queliot if you've never seen the magicians. or if youve seen it and you want to indulge in my insane criticisms. lord touch his mind

okay so the magicians was a tv show about a bunch of post grads learning magic in magic university then discovering that the fantasy world from a kids book series was actually real and the Beast of that world was out to get them. WHO GIVES A FUCK. the crazy people were focused on the relationship btwn main character quentin coldwater (depressed, heart on his sleeve, surprise sex maniac who is new to magic and loves those books) and gay best friend eliot waugh (substance addicted (big surprise!!), gay trauma, named after evelyn waugh oh you know…) they form a friendship and it’s weirdly touchy and close. eliot keeps trying to seduce quentin but it’s never serious. i dont even think quentin notices. anyone remember the “lets not talk” scene? he was about to fuck that sad man. anyway this tension was actually fulfilled by the end of the 1st season with a drunk threesome including the two and their best friend margo. they at least kiss and cuddle and MAYBE sucked dick if the ghost of his girlfriend who haunts him later is to be believed (which i do #cockinhismouthsunday).

at this time articles that were like “THIS SIFI SERIES IS PROUDLY BISEXUAL” were coming out which. lol. lmfao! quentin never had any sort of queer identity. not even a hint of it. the homophobia of the show started with the regurgitation of the “sad drunk lonely sex-crazed” gay man trope with eliot, then the “everyone is fluid but no one actually has same sex attraction” trope, THEN by sidelining and killing off almost every gay or trans character, THEN THE QUENTIN THING. and the quentin thing turned people insane. let’s see why.

so after the threesome, eliot and quentin continue having a good friendship. there is some tension that isnt present with margo which sure is a choice… but it is resolved by a heartfelt crowning ceremony nd hug. oh theyre kings of the magic land now btw. eliot and q are pretty much separate from this point on xcept for certain episodes/moments. it is strange they dont have any storylines together. but love finds a way. at some point a version of eliot sacrifies himself for quentin. if u look at the scene it is on instinct it is crazy. then they reunite at the end of s2 but it’s all business really. the show was really involved w its nonsense plot.

anyway season 3. hahaha. so like i said theyre separate most of the show past s1. this is true in this season xcept for episodes 305 and 313 (with some notable moments in between). the plot of this season is that they have to go on quests to collect keys. the creature that gives eliot this plot calls quentin his “brother of the heart”. ok! when they see each other for the first time in a while in 304, they hug in a very sweet way :) look at this photo from bts during that scene :) i have it framed

after a series of other quests, 305 turns out to be the Eliot and Quentin quest! finally a story with the two! the quest is for the “time key”, which is fabled to be given to whoever solves the mosaic puzzle in fillory (magic world). the puzzle? they have to arrange 100s of tiles in a way that depicts “the beauty of all life”. quentin is very excited about it. eliot is happy to hear him infodump. they eventually get pushed into fillory to solve the mosaic. turns out they were also sent DECADES in the past. there might have been a way out but they were dead-set on solving the mosaic and getting their key. so they get to work. they live in a cottage attached to the mosaic and they spend hours, days, months on it. just the two of them and the mosaic. this episode is called “a life in a day” which is so perfect you wonder why the writing couldnt be that good within the show.

at the 1 year anniversary, quentin kisses eliot. and eliot kisses him back. and you wonder woah what does this mean?! well keep wondering girl because this tv show does not care to explore any of that. it chugs on and eliot and q fight about “living their lives there” and quentin gets a Wife and has a child with her and then she DIES (leaving her as a narrative incubator rather than an actual character, which is very in line with the sexism of the show). and they grow up and decades pass and the child grows old enough to leave and it seems eliot co-parented him but (again) the tv show doesnt care to show you that. and this whole time theyre working on the mosaic. years and years. eventually they grow old. it’s just the two of them. until eliot dies. quentin goes to bury him in the mosaic plot and he finds a special little tile. he places it in the mosaic. he gets the key. the puzzle is solved. “the beauty of all life”. but quentin is alone. his life companion is gone. and that’s the last we see of him.

we go back in time til before they enter fillory. their friend stops them and she has the key through time shenanigans and they never live that timeline. UNTIL!!!!! they do. they remember it all. what does decades (50 yrs btw) of living happily together mean for them?!? FUCK ALL APPARENTLY!!!! because the next episode (306 if yr keep track) they mention it ONCE AND NEVER AGAIN. and there is so much beneath the surface with the looks and the line that mentions it (“go be life partners with someone else” eliot says jokingly in a manner that shouldve been the catalyst to quentin’s magic-induced suicide spiral later that episode).

ok quentin does mention it once more to his dying dad. but nothing about his Male Life Partner Of Fifty Years. Nothing. they dont even talk about it with their best friends, leading one to believe they just kept it a secret . which. okay.

okay. so theyre apart til the last episode of the season. and quentin decides to sacrifice himself by locking himself in a cage with a monster for all of eternity. he says the quest prepared him for it which is yikesss. eliot refuses. but quentin insists. they travel to the prison (he gets back together with his gf during this trip btw they had been apart that season after some shit. one of their worst writing decisions i hate this stupid ass cockroach relationship). quentin almost exchanges himself. then eliot shoots the monster. dooming them all.

so the monster doesnt die. instead he possesses eliot. and that becomes the story for season 4. at first quentin and co think eliot is dead. and it’s devastating lol. an interesting thing is that the monster was so. touchy with quentin. unbearably so. it’s such a perverse reflection of eliot’s touch. which is sorta pointed out by quentin in this quote (paraphrase) “i know it’s not eliot. but he has his face and his eyes…”

anyhow 405. hahahahahaha. so this episode it’s revealed eliot is alive but trapped in his own head. and to get out for a moment and tell his friends he’s alive, he needs to confront his most terrible most shameful memory. the whole episode is him trying to figure out what it is. meanwhile, quentin and co are setting up a plan to kill the monster. and quentin breaks up with his gf (lol). in a deleted scene that WAS shown in promo they argue about the monster. and quentin says “im team eliot”. lol

anyhow, eliot’s hit a dead end. he cant figure the worst thing that’s happened in his life. then his memory of quentin (theyve been hangin out) says he’ll “sacrifice” himself if he had to. eliot smiles and says “i know youre just a memory… but youre a very generous one.” and quentin says— (im reciting this from memory btw all of this has been from 4 years of NON STOP thinking about it) quentin says “well you sacrifice for the people you love” and he gives eliot a VERY pointed look. and then it dawns on eliot. and the guilt is instantly palpable.

hahahahha. hahaha. hahahahahaha. okay so eliot goes to the memory he knows is the worst thing he’s ever done. his most traumatic memory, after a lifetime of violent homophobia and bad choices. the person possessed before him described this memory as being “the day he left home”.

the memory? the day they remembered their past lives. did it happen? fifty years. it happened.

theyre sat under a wedding arch (that was the b plot of the episode lol). it’s beautiful. eliot watches the memory play out, standing in front of the seated figures. the guilt. the guilt.

outside, the tension is building. the plan to kill the monster is in motion. quentin has to coax him to a certain spot. he has to look at him as he kills his best friend.

eliot doesnt know this but he gets anxious watching it play out. there is a certainty that this is it. the first time viewer has no idea whats going on. we never saw the direct aftermath of them remembering. we always assumed there wasnt anything.

well a year after 305 aired, a yr after thinking THAT WAS IT, they recontextualize Everything.

it is worth saying here that in the promo interviews leading up to season 4, quentin’s and eliot’s actors were sussing it UP. quentin’s at some point talks on q’s queerness, saying it was the one aspect of his life he didnt feel anxious about.

well

what happens is that quentin asks eliot for a relationship. remember how it was quentin who first kissed eliot? it happens again. heart on his fucking sleeve. i can recite this scene pretty well so im going to fucking do it:

did it happen? fifty years. it happened. it was sort of beautiful. it really was. i know this is gonna sound dumb but … us. i mean we work. we know it cause we lived it. who gets that proof of concept? (eliot smiles uneasily) we just got injected with fifty years of memories so i get that youre not thinking clearly. no im just saying… what if we gave it a shot, would that be so crazy? (eliot looks down, worried and thoughtful. quentin smiles RADIANTLY it is BLINDING) why the fuck not?

editors opinion: quentin is such a beautiful person. to be so truthful about something so scary is unthinkable. especially in context of him being so hopelessly and quietly in love his childhood best friend, and his whirlwind romance with previously mentioned gf, and all the tragedy he endured with these two. but this is someone who loves with his whole heart. what was he supposed to do? contain it?

then eliot hardens.

i know you and you arent… whats the matter? dont be naive it matters. (pause) q i love you but… that isnt me and that definitely isnt you. not when we have a choice. (quentin looks away. he wipes his eye) oh. okay. sorry.

and silence. the real eliot, the eliot who isnt the memory, looks on. tired and angry, he speaks to himself:

what the hell is wrong with you? what the hell are you doing? someone Good and True… Loves you. yeah it was a little crazy but you knew. you knew this truly mattered. and you just SNUFFED IT OUT.

then he looks to the memory of quentin. soft as the clouds:

q. im sorry. i was afraid. and when im afraid i run away.

then he kisses him. and he hits you with the thesis of the episode:

if i ever get out of here q… know that when im braver it cause i learned it from you.

well

thats his most traumatic memory. he is granted passage to consciousness. what is the first thing he sees? quentin. the real quentin.

q? (smiles) q (laughs) it’s me. it’s eliot. ok come on no games. it’s eliot. i said no games. (eliot looks around, worried as all hell) fifty years (he walks towards q) who gets proof of concept like that? what? peaches and plums motherfucker (this is the symbol to their mosaic life) im alive in here. (eyes as wide as saucers, heart in his throat) eliot…

and he ruins their plans of killing the monster. “eliot’s alive.”

then the episodes keep rolling. “eliot eliot eliot. why do you care so much about him?” “because i do.” and “wow i love that plan. except the part where it doesnt save eliot.” quentin gets back with his gf for reasons only the devil knows. but fine ok whatever quentin and eliot will HAVE to talk post-saving. even if the writers ignore it once more they have some kind of relationship. and they do save eliot in the finale! you know who they dont save? lmfao

quentin dies. in a manner that many including myself found weird and unsatisfactory and suicidal. and he never gets to know how eliot feels. never. he’s just gone. their story means nothing 💯

editors note: this ending broke me. i was using the show as a depression crutch, so a fate so hopeless ruined me. cant blame the show for my mistake but being so technically bad certainly didnt help.

well when the show came back for its next (and final lol) season, they did attempt closure for eliot and quentin. for some reason this was all contained in 3 episodes, most of it in the third (503) but what the fuck ever. it has its moments.

the episode is basically about eliot and alice (q’s gf i dont think ive mentioned her name. sorry alice) going on a mini quest up a treacherous mountain for grievers to return a piece of quentin’s soul back to the underworld. their fights are soooo funny. toxic lover vs almost-lover.

alice at some point says “well he was MY boyfriend this is MY pilgrimage and you just TAGGED ALONG” and (blood obviously boiling) eliot goes “right, because he meant nothing to me”. and this highlights something so sneakily homophobic about this whole affair. quentin and eliot’s relationship never mattered to the narrative as much as all the other straight relationships, especially quentin and alice’s. like i said, they would separate for entire seasons. you will be happy to know that not 1 episode goes by without quentin and alice conflicting and making up conflicting and etc. i dont understand how quentin and eliot’s relationship wasnt important enough. they were best friends, they kissed multiple times and had sex AT LEAST once if the mosaic subtext isnt considered. and the mosaic… it isnt just that they lived together for 50 yrs and raised a child and were happy, something they couldnt quite grasp in their old lives… they achieved the beauty of all life. that is a monumental achievement that shouldve changed not only their lives, but their stories.

the thing about the confession is that it wasnt planted in s3. talking about 405, the writers said they came up with it while working on that episode. it was essentially a retcon. though its inclusion explains why they didnt talk about it literally, it doesnt excuse the narrative outright ignoring it. it DEFINITELY doesnt account for why it ignored the rest of the SAME SEASON it was ESTABLISHED IN. if this was quentin and alice, they would be talking about it nonstop. and guess the fuck what when they get back together it is *non stop*.

SO. 503. they are on their pilgrimage. tensions build. eliot hallucinates quentin’s voice (it’s a soundbite from the mosaic when eliot dies which is depressing). they meet another traveller who is grieving his long dead boyfriend.

the traveller asks who theyre grieving and alice goes My Boyfriend and eliot looks away and says he knew him as a friend and it’s so sad it makes me want to die. why did they invent new exciting ways for gay people to be ashamed of who they love. i hate this show.

anyway the traveller talks about his boyfriend and how he was a magician who died young and how his dreams were haunted by him. and eliot is listening so intensely you want to jump hale appleman for being so good at this acting thing. alice goes to sleep and leaves the two alone. then they really start talkin:

(the traveller asks) have you ever had love? (eliot smiles small, hesitant) love…? yeah love. (pause) the friend we’re putting to rest. (traveller is delightfully shock) wasnt just a friend.

truly truly truly cant describe to you how much it physically pains me that it took 2 seasons and for one of them to die and a conversation with a stranger to get to this point. why wasnt this always part of the narrative. why does this only matter now after 2 yrs of fans badgering you about why this isnt part of the fucking show despite BEING PART OF THE FUCKING SHOW! it is dead obvious this was never the intent so even with something that should feel right feels wrong because the show never wanted it. it never wanted quentin to be in love with eliot. but it doesnt make sense if he isnt. i hate this show.

the convo continues 🙄:

does she know? oh god no. a torrid secret affair. (eliot looks away) no, nothing like that.

and i wish eliot was given a proper story. i wish i knew what was going on in his head through all of this. i wish i wish.

so it is revealed that quentin and eliot “had love” and that eliot is keeping it a secret (a revelation considering they werent intimate on screen past the 1 yr anniversary, they were only ever referred to as best friends by cast and crew, AND even what they were was obscured in the confession scene. and their feelings didnt matter past 405 fuck this world). this is huge. it should be huge. eliot’s first arc is about how he cant fall in love until he does and gets his heart broken. quentin’s stories are so wrapped up in alice that having another love interest should complicate that entirely. it doesnt.

the climax of the episode is when eliot expresses difficulty of letting go of quentin and alice says “he was your friend” and eliot replies (quick as if not meaning to) “he wasnt just my friend.” and wowww. how cathartic. the first time in the history of the show they talk about it. 5 seasons btw.

and eliot tells her about the mosaic and how “we loved each other for a really really long time.” and how he told him to fuck off and how he died for him and how he was never able to talk to him again. he just died.

and that part is supposed to be cathartic too. it feels cathartic for eliot the character at least. but to me the Viewer. i was sick of how they were trying to appeal to MY thoughts of what he should be feeling. as if trying to placate me. cuz if it was soo important it wouldnt just been solved after this episode. he DGAF about quentin after this. i dont get it. why cant they write a proper story.

well one line that stuck with me and i truly felt was this:

alice: he was pretty in love with you eliot: i wouldnt say that alice: .. i would

and then eliot looks at her the most devastated a man can look.

thats it. that’s quentin and eliot. a heartfelt and final fuck this show. the fic goes crazy esp the 2019 shit.

[heyhay13]

Lightning Round QnA!

We had over 250 questions in the form and we focused on ones that were very open to anyone in the cast. So specific detail questions got left out :(

Here's a lightning round of questions to answer for y'all and my ask box is open if you have more!

Rae/Heyhay Questions

What happened to Icarus's birds?? We know Rae said he'd take care of them, but with the birds being wacked and Icarus whole memory type thing, what would happen with that.

Sherb and I talked about this a bit and landed on the birds seeking out Rae and he builds an aviary for the strange new little friends following him around. I might even write a fic for it!

Heyhay how long did the scrapbook (shown at the end) take to be made?

I worked on it for nearly a month and a half between organizing with the artists and making it myself!

How did you come up with Vaeh's Name?

It's from Fenris' sister Nevaeh!

Will you continue to cosplay the characters after this?

Absolutely!

To Rae/Hayhay: what was your favorite memory to make in the Always Remember Book?

I think probably all of the wedding details. I loved talking with my friends to plan out the details and outfits SO MUCH and a lot of the poses are based on my own wedding photos!

Are there any plot lines that you wish you could have done or explored more in depth, but couldn't due to time?

We initially had some ideas for finding a few more Telchin temples, including Project Protetus. I really like building the temple/facilities so that would have been fun!!

How did lore planning/pre stream work?

We usually plan out rough ideas for a stream in dms and then meet 30 minutes before a stream to go over everything, dry run some things like flight paths, and do sound checks!

Out of all the characters on fable smp, which one do you think you could win in a fight against?

Ven lol

Will we see other versions of the fable characters in other smp's like Bound?

You might >:3

If your character didn’t ascend, what would they be the god of? And if they did ascend, were there any other domains they could have been the god of other than the domain they got?

Rae's took FOREVER to actually land on. I was really stuck on wanting something that felt more correct than Knowledge and we tossed around a lot of ideas until landing on Wonder.

How much of the relationship constellation was planned?

Literally only Raax and Ocie's original partners (Rust, Jerry, Shawn) were planned! The others came about naturally as the lore progressed.

Did Rae ever get better at baking/cooking?

YES! At least slightly-

How old is Rae in the time period that Rye made in Rae’s epilogue

Not an exact age for Rae, but his epilogue takes place when Vaeh is roughly 4-5 years old.

The first two seasons have “names” (endstone reset and skulk reset) but what would be season three’s?

I like to think it'd be called the "Last Reset"

What is your favourite kind of fanfictions written about your character? (Tropes/themes/etc)

I'm a massive sucker for Hurt/Comfort fics-

Clarification Questions

What was that one gold aura building near the temple of creation in S1?

It was a build from Sherb's hardcore world at that time!

Why did Rae remember Icarus? I thought everyone was supposed to forget but I might’ve misunderstood

Rae remembers Icarus as a child up until when Icarus' first death would have been! Isla would also remember Icarusa as a child as well.

Was the release me book from season one written by fable?

Yes!

What is Haley? She came back from the dead but no body ever said if Midas made her come back or if she was a god.

Midas brought her back, switching her and Fable's places so he would go back into Purgatory

Why couldn’t Haley see quixis’ changes from purgatory?(and fable)

There is no record of Quixis in the Akashic Records. This is also why Icarus is missing from the records in Rae's epilogue!

General Questions

Are you guys gonna do another smp where its everyone as the same cast?

Nope, not with this exact cast at this time, but we all are on a bunch of other smps you can check out! Mer, Bound, Siege, and more!

Is there a reason behind all of the seeds you use in Minecraft? Or is it just the first biome that pops up is the new setting for the season?

We actually look really hard for a good world seed that we like. For season 3, we really wanted a good spot that the tree could be near the ocean and this seed worked out great for that!

Will we be able to have a world file of S3?

YES - it's coming soon!

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Zoro x Fem reader fluff! You know how Zoro has an unimaginable amount of debt towards Nami? Well, S/O has been paying Nami time after time to slowly repay Zoro’s debt because she loves him so much and she’s sweet enough to do that. Nami does decrease his debt to a point where even Zoro notices his debt decreased. When questioned, Nami confessed what S/O did for him and how she’s so sweet that she didn’t have to and Nami collected all the money to give to Zoro so he could make it up to S/O.

So cute omggggg. As you wish my lovely! I kept this as broad as possible, with an S/O who likes music, which I think is pretty broad, but if it isn't, don’t come at me pls I’m just a baby.

I think in One Piece, they have like CD players where you plug in headphones and you can carry it around, at least that's what was shown in the anime when people were lining up for Brook's concert after the time skip. I can't remember the name of it, but it used to be a popular thing. I made it a spring island because its (supposed) to be starting to be spring where I am, but we just started our second winter (as per usual with the midwest lol).

Warnings: paying off partner’s debt behind his back, cheating at GAME, Zoro being broke lol.

It's just fluff man idk what else to say.

“Witch.”

“Unsanitary marimo” Nami replied easily, keeping her focus on her magazine. Zoro’s eye twitched, but he held his tongue.

“Since we got loot at the last island, how much are you pulling out of my debt for my share?”

Nami’s ear perked at the word “loot”, and she did some quick mental calculations.

“Hmmm. All but your allowance. But I’ve been considering reducing that for you”

“Oi! Why would you cut my allowance?”

Nami shrugged.

“You only buy alcohol”

“So?”

“So you don’t need that much. Besides, after a couple months of a reduced allowance, you’d be down to at least an imaginable amount of debt.”

Zoro paused. Why was his debt going down? He wasn’t paying unless she demanded it. Had he paid that much? Or did they get that much loot at the last island?

“How much did we get at the last island?” He asked. Nami glanced up at him.

“It’s kinda creepy how you’re showing interest in money, but about 734,286 Beli” she said. Zoro only focused on the seven hundred thousand Beli. He wasn’t great at math, but knew when that was split between the crew, his share would hardly make a dent in his debt. So why?

“That doesn’t make sense” he muttered. Nami looked at him curious.

“No?”

“My debt was… I don’t even know how much. So why has it been going down?”

“Hmmm. Maybe I’m just generous!” She smiled sweetly at the swordsman, putting on her most innocent act. He narrowed his eyes at her. She knew something.

“What do you know.”

Nami glanced around, as if making sure anyone besides the swordsman was within earshot. Zoro furrowed his brow at the action.

“What is it?” He muttered, arms crossed. Nami sighed.

“Look. You should thank her by doing something nice for once. She’s so sweet and kind, and I have no idea how you ended up dating her but… I saved the money she’s been paying me for your debt. I thought maybe you knew, and I was going to smack some sense into you but she begged me to keep it quiet," Nami shrugged and picked at her nails before continuing, "Technically, it’s been going towards your debt but I figured I could be nice and generous for once, and ask you if you wanted to accept it. Once you found out, of course. But if you want, I can give it to you and you can spend it on her instead.”

Zoro’s jaw clenched, and he looked down. You had really been doing that? For him? He only mentioned being annoyed by that damn debt when Nami held it over his head when he had to do the dirty jobs for her. He could be mad at you for thinking he couldn’t handle it on his own, but honestly? He couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t be mad at you. He just ignored the debt, hoping it would eventually go away, and you were so kind to him. He hardly deserved you.

He scraped a hand through his hair, sighing as the other hand landed on his hip.

“I… I don’t know how to… I want to do something for her to pay her back. But what?”

Nami leaned back in her chair, gesturing for the swordsman to sit next to her. He slumped into the chair, brow furrowed as he thought.

“In a day or two, depending on the weather, we should make it to another island. Think about what she likes, not you. Go and enjoy it with her, together. Support her passions, and it’ll mean so much to her”

Zoro huffed.

“How much did that advice cost me?”

“Free for this time, only because of her. Not you. It would be 100 Beli otherwise”

“100?!!”

“I could make it 500.”

“You’re scamming me.”

“You’re the one who needs my help. Why should I give my help for free?”

Zoro sucked his teeth and stood to walk away but paused. The navigator looked up questioningly. He looked off into the distance, a stoic expression on his face.

“Thanks for the advice” he muttered. He obviously meant it, so Nami smiled in return, and he walked off to find you.

He found you playing a card game with Luffy and Usopp, laughing as you laid down your winning hand. The other two complained loudly, groaning and flopping back. Luffy accused you of cheating, and Usopp backed him up.

"Me? Cheating? Never" you teased, giggling. You looked around as you heard heavy footsteps behind you, eyes landing on your boyfriend. You turned back to the other two in front of you and stood, producing a card from its hiding place, tossing it on the pile of cards.

"You guys are pirates, think of this as training to learn when someone is cheating at a card game"

"Hey! You were cheating!"

"No fair!"

"Like I said- training, not cheating"

Zoro stood behind you arms crossed and a smirk on his face at your antics. You turned around, hands laced behind your back, trying to look innocent. You batted your lashes at him, smiling sweetly.

"Right, Zoro?"

He looked at you and grunted, seemingly unfazed by your act. Inside, his heart skipped a beat with how cute you looked.

"Don't tease them. They're idiots"

"Hey!" "We're not idiots!" Luffy and Usopp protested in tandem. You sighed, pouting at him. He blinked at you, keeping his face neutral despite his sudden desire to kiss the pout right off your face.

"C'mon. I wanna ask you something" Zoro said instead, turning on his heel and leading the way. You followed, but not before turning and tossing the last card you cheated with on the pile. Luffy pulled his eye and stuck his tongue out, and Usopp blew a raspberry at you. You stuck your tongue out in retaliation, and skipped off after your boyfriend.

You followed him, unsurprisingly, to the crows nest, scampering after him on the ropes. You were a little nervous. Zoro wanting to ask you something could range from giving your humble opinion on a sword technique, to if you loved him even though he was aggressive. You simply didn't know. You entered the crows nest with practiced movements, eyes falling on the swordsman sitting on a bench near an open window.

You approached him, slightly hesitant.

"What did you want to ask me?"

He hummed, acknowledging your question and indicating he was constructing his answer. You furrowed your brow. He hardly ever thought through his words. He spoke once you had sat next to him.

"What do you know about the next island?"

You cocked your head.

"Nothing really just that it's a spring island... should I know something?"

"Just curious. Is there something you've been wanting to do lately? Like something that can really only be done on an island?"

You thought. Nothing in particular came to mind. But maybe...

"I uh. I want to buy some music to listen to. I know we have Brook, and he's amazing but... I dunno. I miss my music player a lot, and hearing whole bands at once and different singers... I mean Brook is a great singer and he does different genre's, but sometimes you want to shake things up so you're not listening to the same artist all the time, ya know? But I usually end up buying some other things I need instead" you shrugged. You looked at Zoro. He wasn't looking at you, instead was looking out the window. He grunted.

"Show me"

"Show you what?"

"Show me what you listen to, and what you like. I'm not really familiar with music all that much, having not listened to it much growin up or... ever really."

Excitement grew with every word. He wanted you to introduce you to music? To the music you listened to and liked? What would he like? Would anything surprise you? Warmth spread from your chest, through your body, and you bounced in your seat, a grin curving your lips.

"Really?! Oh my goodness there's so much to show you! I can't tell if you'd like softer music like R&B or maybe you'd like hard rock... I'm not sure you'd like pop punk but you might! Maybe some pop songs, but you might be picky about that. French jazz might be meh for you, but it might remind you of Sanji so maybe we should stay away from that... Maybe some other jazz? Or probably something with a good beat. Like workout music?" You babbled on excitedly, pondering the possibilities. You continued talking, not completely sure if Zoro was listening, but you didn't mind.

A small smile formed on Zoro's lips as he listened. Nami had been right, frustratingly, but this way, he would get to see a side of you he hadn't yet. Even if he didn't like the music you did, experiencing it would be good for him, and more importantly, you'd be happy. He saw the little scrunch of your nose that you got when you were really happy and excited, and he huffed a laugh.

"and maybe- what are you laughing at?" you looked at him, smiling still as you interrupted your chatter. He finally faced you fully, leaning his head on his hand, his arm propped on the back of the bench.

"Just you. You're cute when you're all excited about something. You get a little scrunch in your nose when you smile when you're happy like this."

Your hand rose self-consciously to cover your nose. He gently smacked it away with one hand, swooping in to kiss the tip of your nose gently.

"Don't cover it. It's cute"

You blushed, flustered. A thought suddenly occurred to you.

"Why are you asking about what I want to do on the next island? Normally, we do what catches your interest, which don't get me wrong, is typically entertaining, but... why the change?"

"You."

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

"Me?"

"You've been paying my debt to Nami"

"Whaaa??? Psshh nooo~ I never. I mean. I would, but I haven't?"

Zoro raised a singular brow. You swallowed, eyes flicking to the side.

"That so?"

"Uhh. Yes?"

"You are really a terrible liar. How can you cheat so well at card games but you can't lie to save your life?" he teased, a rare soft smile curving his lips as he spoke.

"You're intimidate me and fluster me at the same time! I can't help it!" you whined, before shyly asking, "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at you for taking care of me?"

He ruffled your hair, and you squawked in indignation.

"Thank you, really" he said softly. You looked at him, smiling.

"You're welcome"

The two of you sat in easy silence, listening to the waves and distant chatter of Usopp and Luffy.

"So music, huh? What do you like?"

You wiggled excitedly, chattering away with Zoro asking the occasional question, even as he started training again.

~~~

"You're buying this?? Zoro, hon, I can get it" you pleaded, eyeing your pile of CD's and your brand new player.

"Nope"

"You can hardly afford alcohol! How could you afford this?"

Zoro ignored you, producing some other CD's you had reluctantly put back earlier, unable to afford them.

"These too" he muttered to the cashier. You repeatedly smacked your boyfriends arm, getting rougher with each one. He finally caught your hand.

"Stop hitting me, woman! Nami gave me the money you paid her for my debt, and now I'm spending it on you! Accept my love, damnit!"

You froze, looking at him in awe and surprise. You started as the cashier cleared his throat.

"Th-that'll be uh... the a-amount you s-see right there... s-sir" the poor teen stuttered, obviously intimidated by the swordsman. You would've snorted had you not been filled with love and awe for your boyfriend. Zoro paid the cashier and took hold of the bags. You followed closely, still aware of yourself enough to know he would get lost without you. Again.

"Thank you, Zoro" you finally said. He smirked at you.

"Of course."

[thebadgerclan]

Sister

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader 

Summary: No one knew that Kaz had a sister...

Idk why or how I came up with this, but I loved the idea too much not to write

Also third person just fit this one lol, I’m not the biggest fan, but let me know what you guys think

No one knew that Kaz Brekker had a sister, few people even knew about his older brother.  But he had: back when he was Kaz Rietveld, the only thing on his mind being whether he could convince Jordie to buy him a hot chocolate, there had been a third Rietveld.  Jordie, the eldest, entrusted with his father’s fortune, Kaz, the impressionable, joyful young boy, and Y/N, only a year Kaz’s junior.

When the firepox came, and Kaz succumbed to the fever, she had as well.  And when Kaz woke to find Jordie cold beneath his touch, her body had been nowhere in sight.  Was she dead, or had she somehow survived?  It was easier to assume the former, for Kaz to forge ahead alone in the world.  All three Rietveld siblings died then, but only Kaz was reborn, vengeance burning like an inferno in his heart.  For Jordie, for Y/N, he would bring Ketterdam to its knees.

Years later, Kaz would learn that she had indeed survived.  After the plague had passed, a pair of Ravkan nobles arrived in Ketterdam, offering to take in the orphans the firepox had created.  “It was a Ravkan ship that brought it,” they said.  “If our country can give these children a life, then we will take them.”  She’d been one of the first children taken, adopted by the Duke and Duchess themselves.  Y/N had been raised in Ravka: learned their language, their customs, their faith.  And when she came of age, she was presented to court, as all the children of nobility were, to make a good marriage.  

Y/N had been lucky.  She had not only made an advantageous match, but she’d found true love as well.  Her new husband doted on her night and day, granting her every wish.  And when she wished to discover whether her brothers had survived the Queen’s Lady Plague all those years ago, she discovered her husband had many connections in which to obtain that information.

It hadn’t been easy, but Y/N’s husband had found him.  Kaz wasn’t a common name, after all.  When he’d received the letter, he’d thought it a joke, but as he read on, he realized the letter contained details that no one but his sister could have known.  Kaz, it said.  If you’re reading this, then I want you to know that I’m alive.  I was adopted and taken to Ravka after the firepox passed.  If I’d have known you survived, I would have insisted they take you too.  But I had no clue where you were or if you and Jordie had made it.

I want you to know that I’m alive, that I’m safe.  Life in Ravka has been good to me; I’m married now!  Saints, I think you’d adore my husband, the two of you are exactly the same.  At least… how I remember you to be.  Please, Kaz, write back to me.  Let me know that you’re alive, that you’ve survived, that I haven’t been mourning you for no reason for 15 years.  I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my life in writing, but if you give a letter to a woman named Lila at the Ravkan embassy, she’ll ensure it gets to me.  I love you, brother, time has not changed that.  -Y/N.

There had been no last name affixed, no address, so naturally, Kaz’s interest was piqued.  For months, he corresponded with her through Lila, learning more about who she was,  her life in Ravka, and who she’d married.  It interested him not only because the information might be useful one day, but because Y/N was family, she was his sister.  Indeed, the information was useful, as Kaz and his Crows had been tasked with a nearly impossible job.

A Shu priest had hired Kaz to steal what she claimed was a relic of Sankt Kho, one that had been taken from the temples of Amhrat Jen decades ago.  But, as Nina so aptly pointed out, breaking into the Grand Palace’s religious archives would break at least a dozen Ravkan laws.  “We’d be arrested immediately and labeled as heretics as well as criminals.  The Apparat himself would try to oversee our executions.”

“I have a way around that,” Kaz had said, but Nina wasn’t convinced.  “Do you?  I know your tricks Kaz.  Those archives are guarded day and night, there’s one way in and one way out, no windows, no secondary escapes.  Do you think you can waltz right in and take Sankt Kho’s relic?”  “Not quite waltz, but yes.”  The Heartrender snarled.  “Short of a letter from the Queen of Ravka, there’s no possible way you can get in there alone.  Do you have that, Kaz?”

“Actually I do.”  Jesper, Inej, and Wylan looked on with disbelief.  “All Saints, you can admit defeat, you know?  We won’t judge you!”  Kaz pulled a letter from his coat and tossed it on the table.  It bore the Lantsov seal and the Queen’s signature, and Nina gaped.  “And how did you manage to get your hands on this?”  Kaz, if there’s ever anything you need, know that I will use the full extent of my powers to help you.  I couldn’t help you before, brother, so let me help you now.  Of course, if it’s blatant murder, then I’ll have to deny.  We can’t have the Queen of Ravka tied up in a homicide, now can we?  “Because,” Kaz said, hesitant to reveal this, the ace up his sleeve, his final secret.  “She’s my sister.”