#i really thought i'd for once be able to post on time for each day but i made the grave mistake of forgetting that i'm afflicted with

[emyn-arnens]

Angrod and Aegnor Headcanons

↳ for @arafinwean-week Day 3: Angrod and Aegnor

Angrod was intent on justice as a child, and as he grew older, he developed an affinity for debate.

He was given the epessë "Iron-handed" not only because of his strength of hands and his talent in sparring, but because he was known to rule with an iron fist and place justice above mercy. Aegnor tempered him, as did Edhellos.

Those who did not know them well thought that Aegnor was the angrier of the two, but his anger burned out quickly and he could be made to see reason even in the midst of his anger. Angrod was slower to rouse to anger, but fiercer and more terrible in his wrath, and his ire did not easily cool.

During their youth, it was often Aegnor who dragged Angrod away from fights with the sons of Fëanor, reminding him of the chastisement they would receive not only from their parents (Finarfin was loath to incur any new reason for discord with his brother's family), but from Finrod and Galadriel as well, who believed it was wisest to keep well away from Fëanor and his sons.

(But if Aegnor ever got into a fight with their cousins, Angrod would swiftly end it. This was when he began to be called "Iron-handed.")

Aegnor was a poet and writer in Aman, known for his verses on nature and his whimsical poetry about the lands that lay over the Sea, inspired his mother's cradle songs. It was said that he left the craft behind him after he travelled over the Ice. Andreth could rarely persuade him to share with her the verses he had written.

Angrod was one of very few who knew of Aegnor's relationship with Andreth and was in Aegnor's confidences well before Finrod ever learned of what had grown between Aegnor and Andreth.

After Aegnor left Andreth, it was said that a terrible anger began to build within him, fury against the Enemy who had long ago dealt to Men the injury of death, and he became single-minded in his purpose to deal out to Morgoth the same injury he had dealt to Men.

Aegnor grew wrathful with the complacency of the Noldor and how easily they placed their trust in the Siege. The greater part of his wrath was held for the sons of Fëanor and their disinclination to act, but he grew angry with Fingon for not heeding Fingolfin's counsel, and it was during the Siege of Angband that the friendship of their youth was at last ended.

It was said amongst the Eldar that after Aegnor's death it became common to name those inflamed with the lust of battle as "consumed with fell fire, like Aegnor of old" and to say that their eyes "gleamed with the same fell fire" that consumed Aegnor, lord of Dorthonion, at the hour of his death.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB characters meeting their Obey Me! counterparts pt.2

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Asmodeus is finally back in Hell and I'm finally able to make the second part to THIS post! I also included some more characters so it's not just the two leftover kings ^^

The scenario is still the same with OM!Solomon's spell going wrong and interconnecting the universes together

      ༺☆༻

Asmodeus

Okay, OM!Asmodeus has two reactions:

"Ooh? Such a brave outfit! And those thorns are so pretty!"

but then after a few seconds after he catches a whiff of the smell, he's about ready to die

If he manages to overcome this difficulty, they'd get along pretty well

WHB!Asmodeus doesn't really react... He does recognise OM!Asmodeus as another version of him and that's about it

Oh, but once they get to talking, you can rest assured that WHB!Asmodeus is pulling out the baby pics like the proud father of his little halfling army that he is

OM!Asmodeus' followers can also expect getting their timeline spammed with photos of these two because he just wants to commemorate this meeting as much as he can

      ༺☆༻

Belphegor

Depending on the time of day, both Belphies wouldn't even notice bc they're snoozin' the day away

But let's say they both happen to be awake at the same time

The first thing OM!Belphegor notices is the amount of piercings on WHB!Belphegor

Those must've been a pain to sleep with while they're healing

Also, once he finds out that WHB!Belphegor doesn't have to do anything and has people do everything for him, he's kinda jealous

WHB!Belphegor is kinda surprised to find out that another him is twins with Beelzebub

They're almost exact opposites, or not?

If their talk steers to the whole OM!Belphegor locked up in an attic thing, WHB!Belphegor will be kinda mad on his behalf, but secretly wish he was there so nobody'll bother him

A cute concept though: OM!Lucifer finally finds these two after dealing with the rest of brothers and sees them sleeping curled up together

OM!Belphegor curled up to WHB!Belphegor who's holding him like the bigger spoon

      ༺☆༻

Raphael

At a first glance, you'd think these couldn't be any further from each other, but don't let the look of OM!Raphael fool you

WHB!Raphael was quick to see through OM!Raphael's facade of cool and calm demeanor

OM!Raphael's critical eye immediately notices all the bandages on WHB!Raphael, but he chooses not to comment on it for now

...Somehow, he did not notice the blood splatters on WHB!Raphael's clothes, though?

Out of all the rooms with our guys seeing their counterparts, this is the one I'd like to be the least in

WHB!Raphael is a bit cuckoo and doesn't mind challenging his other self

And OM!Lucifer can't stop this from happening so, honestly, R.I.P.

There are no winners or losers

They fight until the whole thing is resolved and after that, the room is filled with OM!Raphael's spears and dead angels WHB!Raphael spawned in

      ༺☆༻

Michael

WHB!Michael at first thought he's just in a room with some other angel he didn't recognise

Until OM!Michael didn't speak up, that is

"I see, so this is me..."

"Wait, what tf do you mean me being you? You dare to think you're my equal?!"

WHB!Michael's short fuse is something that does surprise OM!Michael, but who doesn't have their quirks, right?

If OM!Michael manages to avoid triggering WHB!Michael, they could get along for the time being

Still, WHB!Michael doesn't want to believe there could be other version of him, so he suspects every action and word OM!Michael says

Afterwards, OM!Michael might even write a poem about their meeting

      ༺☆༻

Ppyong & Little D.

New besties for life alert!

These two little blob-demons instantly click and start sharing stories of their respective version of Hell

Don't tell Minhyeok, but Ppyong even forgets about him for a second

I'm not sure if Little D.s eat actual food, but I imagine that if Ppyong mentions how good sweets are, Little D. would tell other D.s about it and OM!Barbatos would get a heart-attack thinking rats got into his kitchen

But nope

Just a few curious mini demons, who heard that chocolate and other food is actually delicious

Oh, and if Ppyong is able to transform into Juno, I'm sure he'd do it just to flex on Little D.

Yes, Little D. gets jealous and once he's back, he's begging anyone and everyone to be able to do the same thing

Overall, these two are super adorable, and Ppyong is kinda like the older, cooler brother of Little D.

      ༺☆༻

Solomon

Two idiots trying to come up with a fix to the whole situation

(That was my initial note for how these two seeing each other would go and I'm keeping it :D)

Picture this: The room and everything is on fire, OM!Solomon's running around, trying to take the flames out and finish the spell that will undo his mesed up spell

WHB!Solomon is just louging on a sofa, unbothered by the whole commotion

Occasionally flirting with OM!Solomon

"Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?"

"There's fire everywhere."

"I've noticed"

"Are you gonna help me do something about this?"

"No~"

OM!Solomon knows OM!Lucifer will now hold this little mistake over his head for the next few centuries

There goes his chance to get a contract with him :/

      ༺☆༻

I also had an idea about writing the other demons meeting someone they have stuff in common with(Simeon&Gabriel, Cerberus&Naberius, Diavolo&All kings,...) but decided to not add it to this post, though if anyone wants that too, lmk ^^

[candypalace]

Translation: the GazettE/Decade Book (Reita&Uruha Interview Snippet)

Hello friends, long time no see. A while ago I translated a part of the Decade Book interview section where Reita and Uruha talk about their indie days for my friends and promised I'd do the whole thing one day.

Posting this piece ahead of the full interview to appreciate the bond the guys had with each other, and, in a way, thank them for not giving up.

scan credit: @rad-is-more

REITA : … I don't really think about the roles within the band, but each of us has a natural role, and I think that's why we've been able to exist for more than 10 years. Um, well, I kinda don't want to talk about this embarrassing stuff…

URUHA: You're embarrassed?! I really don't think it's embarrassing?

REITA: No-no, it’s not like that! I don't think I'm ashamed of what I'm saying, it’s more like when I say it out loud, it makes me feel a little awkward.

URUHA: Aah, so that's what you meant (laughs).

REITA : I think for all five of us the GazettE is very important. Even though me and Uruha first started a band as “a continuation of child's play”, we thought: “I want to take things seriously”, but still those bands didn't last long and always broke up after a few months.

URUHA: I guess that's true. Before we became the GazettE, we played with a band called Kar+te=zyAnose, where Ruki was also the vocalist. The drummer did not even show up for our breakup show, and when we announced “We’re disbanding today”, we heard a faint laugh from the audience. It was a real shock, wasn’t it? It was also the moment when my groundless confidence that made me think “We’re absolutely badass!” collapsed with a loud crash.

REITA: Indeed. It was TOUGH at the time. I guess it is precisely because of that experience that I am so happy to be able to celebrate 10 years with the current members of the band. It is also precisely why I cherish the relationship between the five of us now.

URUHA: That's so true. Before the GazettE settled down, me, Reita and Ruki also played together in bands called Ma’die Kusse and L’ie:Chris before Kar+te=zyAnose. It took us a long time to reach the GazettE.

— You never gave up, did you?

REITA: No, I gave up once! I thought there was nothing next for me. But honestly, I'm glad I didn't quit! (laughs)

URUHA: It’s because me and Ruki desperately tried to stop you, m?

REITA: Really, thank god you did. But back then, I couldn't see the future at all. Even my parents said “Giving up someday is also brave”. There were many times when I wondered “Is now the time?”. When I saw all my friends around me getting jobs and having families and stable lives, I thought maybe this was also a way to happiness. Still, I decided for myself “I’ll try to do my best for one more year”, and it was during that year that the GazettE was formed. I really think it was fate.

URUHA: But it was difficult, right? We didn't have many shows, and we couldn't tell if we saw the future.

REITA: Yeah. If the GazettE had not continued with the current members, I really would have quit.

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you finally get some 1:1 time together (thanks Janine!). You work to build new memories together, but hurt from the past needs to be addressed.

Warnings: None. Temporary, very light angst, but mostly sweet fluff.

A/N: Part two and one.

"What do you think? Should I go for it?" 

Jessie smirked as she saw the screenshot you sent her of her jersey in the Thorns' site shopping cart. 

"I don't know. I thought you said that was too big a commitment." 

"I did. But I was rather impressed at the last game. And we went for drinks after, I finally got to meet Janine – so you know, points for that. And if I think about it, I'm like an OG fan. But if you think I should get a different jersey..." 

Jessie laughed under her breath, her smirk now a full blown smile as she read your message while she ate lunch. The conversation she'd been on the periphery of carried on as she ate another bite before typing out a reply. 

"Oh yeah? Post-game drinks were a hit, huh? And you know, my stats are only getting better with each game 😉 And let's be honest, I'd be pretty offended if you got someone else's jersey. Except Sinc's. Because, you know, GOAT." 

"Oh, well, say no more. You had me at 'stats' lol. Done. I'll pick it up before next game." 

"Lol I figured. My plan all along – I know how much you love stats." 

"You know me so well. I have to say, I'm kind of tempted to modify the jersey. Add some sort of patch or stitching, 'Yay sports!'" 

Jessie laughed out loud, less discrete than before.  

"Don't you dare lol. I've taught you better than that. But hey, if you ask nicely, I could actually sign it for you 😎" 

"I'm sure I have an old group paper kicking around with your signature on it. I need to be able to wash this thing lol. What else can you offer though?" 

Jessie swallowed her food hard, the bite getting caught temporarily in her throat with a wince. Okay, no signature – how humbling. However, there was an opening. 

She stared at her phone temporarily before a loud clearing of someone's throat caught her attention. She lifted her gaze with a curious frown on her face to see Janine staring expectantly at her. Jessie instinctively tilted the phone inwards towards her body. 

"I don't even have to spy to know who you're texting," the blonde said rather self-satisfied. Jessie looked around, heat building in her face already as she hoped Janine was the only one focused on her.  

"Yeah?" Jessie retorted, attempting to appear as unfazed as possible. "You should be pleased. You keep pushing me to text her." She cracked a smirk. "Now that you don't think she's the devil incarnate for 'stringing me along' in university." 

"Oh I don't think you need to be pushed," Janine teased with a wicked grin. "And I never said she was the devil incarnate." She lifted a hand to her chest in exaggeration. "I merely questioned things. But you're right," she relented, "she's quite lovely. And she gives you butterflies, and she makes you blush - more than usual - and you try to act all nonchalant and it's just too adorable for words." 

"Uh huh," Jessie muttered with a flat look. Janine leaned in excitedly. 

"And I have to say, I got the sense that she and I could riff off of each other and just tease the heck out of you, so that really sealed the deal for me." 

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need in my life." She'd never admit that it actually excited her that her best friend and you could get along so well. If – and it was a huge 'if' - anything evolved between you two, it was key that you got along with her friends and family.  

She started thinking about how well you got on with her parents and sister – you'd met before during your days at UCLA and they loved you. She also remembered how disappointed they'd seemed when she eventually told them that you two didn't speak anymore.  

"Well, since you're so invested," Jessie went on, rolling her eyes facetiously once more as she opened her phone again and turned it to Janine, "what should I say?" 

Janine squinted as she leaned in to read and it only took a moment for her expression to light up. Before Janine could say anything, Jessie snatched the phone back and placed it on her lap with a frown.  

"I don't want to hear it," she pre-empted the girl. 

"What?" Janine said innocently with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I am totally supportive of the flirtation between you two." She ignored Jessie's look of complaint and cut off her protest. "Her shutting down your autograph is pretty hilarious, by the way," she said with a marginally apologetic look. "Not smooth on your part – you know she's not impressed by your elite football skills. Don't lean on your Jessie the Footballer identity." 

"I wasn't," Jessie nearly hissed, trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention. "I was joking. Half joking." 

"You were flirting, or at least attempting to. She left you an opening here though. So, you should ask her out." 

"I'm not asking her out," Jessie pouted, her shoulders rounding as she scooched closer to the table. She huffed upon seeing the scrutinizing look her friend gave her. "We're still getting to know each other again." 

"Fine. Don't define it as a date, then," Janine dismissed with a wave. She leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "Ask her to go for dinner." 

"Basic," Jessie remarked as she sat up and crossed her arms in disapproval. She frowned. "Plus that's too date-like." 

"Fine," Janine said curtly. "How about a hike?" 

Jessie hummed and hawed, unconvinced. "Maybe someday. Doesn't seem right at this point though." Janine rolled her eyes in exasperation.  

"Well, what did you two used to do back at UCLA?" 

Jessie shrugged. She saw the frustration Janine was telegraphing at how unhelpful she was being and jumped in. "We went to drop-in art classes sometimes." 

Janine held a hand up to the sky. "Thank you. Finally – something I can work with. Okay! Let's find a drop-in class for you two to go to then." She pulled out her phone and started browsing before shooting a look at Jessie as an aside. "Oh, and dinner's too date-llke, but an art class isn't? Okay." 

Jessie grunted and pulled out her phone as well to look.  

"Here," Jessie announced after a couple of minutes. "This'll work. She enjoyed painting." 

Without further consultation, Jessie began to type out a message to you. She bit back a laugh at how Janine's head was bobbing around periodically trying to peek at the message from across the table.  

"Don't send it yet! I want to see it," Janine pouted.  

"You are not writing my messages for me," Jessie told her pointedly, but gave a heavy sigh as she turned her phone for the blonde to see. An affronted look crossed Jessie face as Janine let out a guffaw and snatched the phone out of her hand.  

"No," Janine simply said with a wag of her finger before she started typing. Jessie reached out for the phone, but Janine turned her body away. Jessie clamored more, but stopped as soon as she noted some of their teammates glancing their way. She shrunk back into her seat, a hand rubbing the side of her face as she spoke in a harsh whisper.   "What are you doing." 

"Jeff. Relax. I would never lead you astray," Janine assured her. "And this is so very satisfying for me since I never got to help you with any of this during uni. Cause let me tell you, if I had been involved, you two definitely would've been living happily ever after." 

Jessie breathed in exasperation. "Please. Give me my phone back." 

"Okay, okay. Here," Janine said, all humour from her tone gone as she now offered Jessie a sincere smile. "Read it over, but I think this is good." 

Jessie gave her a lingering stare as she took back her phone and let out another withering sigh before reading.  

"Funny you should ask. I was thinking about how much I missed art classes together. How about I take you to one of the drop-in painting classes across town when I'm back from Houston?"  

Jessie lifted her gaze to meet Janine's and she studied the blonde for a few moments before relenting with an inaudible sigh. It was better than her original "I don't know. Paint class?" reply. She hit send and released another heavy breath as she tucked the phone away once more.  

"You're welcome," Janine said with a saccharine smile. Jessie gave her a fake smile in return, pulling a laugh out of the girl. "Hey, let's remember which one of us is engaged and which one of us is perpetually single." 

"Ouch," Jessie said with a light laugh.  

"I'm just teasing," Janine went on. "I genuinely hope this turns into something for you. Considering you've only come back into each other's lives, what, like a couple months ago? You two seem pretty solid already. And you seem happier." 

Jessie wanted to give a dry retort of some kind, but Janine was right. You two talked every day now and the chemistry you had in university was still very much present. And the depth you once had in your friendship was something that was quite easily and naturally being broached again. Even if you'd both grown and changed, the cores of who you were still aligned well and fit together. Too well. 

She'd more or less dismissed the spark of emotions that came up during your initial interactions as some sort of emotional muscle memory, but the feelings were proving to not be fleeting or diminishing.  

If anything, her feelings for you were growing. And this time they felt different, too. Heavier, deeper in some way. She was a more realized person now, as were you, and it made the connection between you more substantial. Less juvenile.  

Her phone buzzed. She opened her lock screen.  

"That sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it." 

————

By the time your paint date night came around, Jessie was nearly buzzing with anticipation. It wasn’t an official date, of course, but she hadn’t seen you since that night after the game, and truthfully, it felt like it had been too long.

She was early - as usual - but as she rounded the corner to the building, she bit back a smile upon seeing you waiting. You were always early too, which she appreciated.

“Hey.” Jessie greeted as she approached. Again, she had to tamp her smile when you beamed back at her.

“Hey, good to see you,” you said as you stepped in for a hug, which Jessie reciprocated. “I love your shirt,” you continued when you stepped back.

“Oh,” Jessie said with a slight frown and a mild laugh as she looked down at herself in question. “Thanks,” she said as she gave a shrug and fought off a blush. She looked you up and down, not entirely discretely. “I like your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and gave her a look. “You don’t need to reciprocate my compliment. But thank you.”

“I legitimately like your outfit,” Jessie retorted, her pitch rising and pulling a laugh out of you as you both walked towards the building. Jessie took a few quick steps and grabbed the door, holding it open. “After you.”

“Such service. Thank you,” you said, both teasing and appreciative. Jessie didn’t wink, but she did give a teasing lift of her eyebrows as you passed.

As the instructor gave their directions for the lesson, Jessie found herself distracted, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The whole lesson carried on like that, really. Jessie had to make a point to not fall behind as she’d uncharacteristically lose concentration. The worst, well, best, moments being when she'd lean over feigning critical assessment of your work when really she just wanted to be close.

By the end, she was decently satisfied with the forest landscape she’d painted. However, she felt it paled in comparison to the ocean sunset you’d crafted.

“I love your colours. And the little cabin you added is great,” you told her as you were both leaving, canvases in hand.

“Well good,” she said as she got to a clearing on the sidewalk and stopped to turn to you. “Consider it my gift to you,” she went on as she held it out to you.

“Jessie,” you said sweetly with a smile as you took it and looked it over more thoroughly. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. It’s beautiful. And bonus - I get my Jessie Fleming signature, but on a far rarer painting as opposed to a jersey,” you laughed. “And what a coincidence. I painted this for you.”

Jessie looked at you for a moment before a smile broke out across her face as she belatedly took the painting you held out.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she studied the image. She frowned in realization as she lifted her eyes to you. “Is this the same beach from our photo?”

You nodded. “It is. Nice eye.”

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Jessie teased.

“Apparently not you,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, but gave a small laugh. “Come on. It’s been a while, but you know me better than that.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment as she took you in. She eventually nodded. “I know.”

A small lull fell over you both before you asked. “So, what now? Do you have to leave?”

“No.” Jessie spoke quickly with a shake of her head. “I don’t have anywhere to be. How about you?”

You shook your head in return. “Same. Well, it’s beautiful out tonight. Want to just go for a walk? We can drop these off at my car first,” you proposed as you held up the painting.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

After a short detour, you both began your stroll along the quiet, tree-lined street.

“Thanks for suggesting that class,” you said. “I don’t really get to paint or pursue creative hobbies as much anymore. It was nice to make a point of it. I can’t imagine you have much of an opportunity to focus on things like that anymore, hm?”

Jessie sighed quietly in contemplation and gave a shrug.

“Not extensively, no. But we do lots of team building, so sometimes we’ll do artsy things. And I can do hobbies and such in my down time, whether during the week or between seasons.”

She looked over to see you giving her a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing really. Just kind of crazy how everything turned out. You’ve achieved so much and your life is so impressive.”

Jessie was about to interject with a compliment for you, but you carried on.

“Are you happy with how things turned out?” You asked with a slight cock of your head.

“I-um, yeah.” Jessie stammered slightly, caught off guard by your question. “I mean, yeah it’s been incredible. More amazing than I could’ve ever pictured. And I know I’m very lucky.”

“You’re not lucky, Jess. You’ve worked exceptionally hard.”

She huffed lightly. “Yes, but luck is involved too. Lots of people work hard and still don’t get half the opportunities I’ve had.”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But you’ve made the most of those opportunities and haven’t taken them for granted.”

“That’s true. But look at you. You’ve worked so hard. And I know what you’ve been up against, but you’ve risen above and built a great life for yourself,” Jessie emphasized.

“Thank you,” you accepted with a half smile. Jessie knew the ins and outs of your family dynamics - something few people truly knew. You smiled more fully at her. “And look at us now. We both left LA and then found ourselves in the same city again and got to reconnect,” you finished with a laugh. "It sounds strange, but it really feels like in some ways like no time has passed. Not really, anyway. Like you and I were able to pick up where we left off."

You let out a quick sigh, giving a deep shrug as you did so. Your eyes remained trained on the ground as you two walked. "I mean, we talked the other week about my family and it just felt so different. Like, I've told recent friends or girlfriends my history and everything, and they listen and they 'get it', but it's not the same. That conversation with you – via text, no less – had more depth and weight than any comparable conversation with my exes or current friends. You were there. You know it – and me, I guess - inside and out. And even if I retell things, it's just not the same." 

Jessie nodded, watching you. It did feel like yesterday when she was sitting next to you on your bed, sobs wracking your body after one confrontation too many with your family. Normally, Jessie was so analytical and tentative about her physical contact with you, but the second you started crying she put her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned in, resting your head on your shoulder as she held you. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.  

Looking back on it, maybe your girlfriends did have good reason to dislike her. 

"I know what you mean," she told you. "It's different. I mean, it's the same with you in a lot of ways. You were there for me during some critical points – big decisions in my life and you understood who I was and who I wanted to be." 

You smiled at her fondly. You looked ready to say something and Jessie waited. A moment passed and you exhaled, saying, "It really meant a lot – having you in my life and the support you gave me back then. I hope you know that." 

"I know," Jessie accepted with a smile of her own. "And likewise." 

Her mind drifted. She should probably just leave things be, but not speaking her mind is what held her back all those years before. She needed to share her thoughts and feelings if things were going to be different this time. She took a breath.  

"You know, I was really shocked when we saw each other here." She paused briefly. "I don't know. We hadn't talked in so long. I think I'd relegated myself to assuming we'd never see each other or ever talk again. Despite how important we were to one another at some point." 

Her statement seemed to give you pause, the mild surprise evident on your face. You eventually glanced down at the street as you two continued to walk. 

"Yeah. That's true, I guess," you conceded, your voice soft. 

Jessie studied you, unsatisfied with the response you gave. She pushed.  

"I knew we wouldn't be able to stay as close as we were. That was inevitable with us living so far away from one another, but I don't think I expected contact to fall apart as quickly as it did." You didn't reply right away and she went on with an ironic laugh. "We went from talking all day every day, to a few times a week with a video call scattered in there, to the odd message every couple of weeks, then just texts on birthdays and at Christmas, to nothing at all." 

She wasn't sure what she was anticipating, but she didn't expect you to turn to her with a perplexed frown.  

"Yeah. It did taper off pretty quickly."  

Despite the time that'd passed, Jessie still knew when you were telling half-truths. She gave a bit of an empty chuckle. "What else are you thinking?" 

You returned her laugh with a mild look. "I don’t know. I'm just kind of confused, I suppose." Jessie frowned.  

"About what?" She questioned. Faint alarm bells went off in her head when you stopped walking. She stilled her movements as well and you turned to one another on the sidewalk.  

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. You spoke with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

"I know it was me who stopped replying right away to messages – I don't deny that – but you weren't exactly giving me a lot to work with." You took a breath, dropping your shoulders before you spoke further. "Honestly? It was kind of feeling one-sided. Yeah, you replied, but a lot of your replies were brief and noncommittal. And when I asked if everything was okay you just told me you were busy. Which," you let out a slightly rueful laugh, "is absolutely fair. You were building this brand new, big life. Which is exactly what you were supposed to do. I don't begrudge you at all. I don’t know." You shrugged and averted your gaze momentarily. "I guess things just started to feel off." 

Jessie exhaled quietly as she processed your reply. What you were saying wasn't false. It had been so long it was easy for Jessie to just recall the end result – that you'd stopped replying altogether. That you'd given up on her; on the connection you'd both built for years. 

Standing here now though, if she was honest with herself, it was true that Jessie grew distant in her messages - purposefully so - knowing it would drive you away. What was she supposed to do? You two were never going to be together. And being friends was so incredibly hard sometimes because it was never just friendship for her. There was always this bittersweet feeling to everything and now that you were on completely different paths, there was an inevitable conclusion. Yet, she struggled to cut herself off cold. So instead, she took the coward's way out.  

Jessie scratched the back of her head. "I was busy," she repeated. She contemplated doubling down, but thought better of it. "And I guess I was finding it hard. We were building two very different lives." 

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't. What would be the point? Her chest panged when you gave her a sad smile.  

"I know," you accepted with a sadness in your eyes. "And I really wanted that for you. I just - it was hard to not feel like a nuisance. Like some obligation. So I just stopped writing."

Jessie's frown deepened. She knew all those years ago that she had to be hurting you, but she could lie to herself about it and focus selfishly on herself. Seeing you talk about it in front of her wasn't something she'd anticipated.

"I didn't mean for that," Jessie said. "And I never stopped caring about you," she compromised. 

"Yeah. I never stopped caring about you, either," you reciprocated in a subdued manner. Despite her role in everything, Jessie was still harbouring hurt from all those years prior and she felt compelled to push on. Sure, she'd pushed you away, but you'd let her. She erased you from her life little by little, day by day and you allowed it.

"Funny how quickly things change sometimes," Jessie went on. She didn't mean to scoff, but she did. "You didn't even tell me when you and [y/ex] broke up. You didn't even tell me you were having problems."  

In years past, Jessie was your sounding board for all your girl troubles. She remembered it well – it was painful. Having to hear you either swoon or – more often – complain about your girlfriends. Hearing how they disappointed or frustrated you when Jessie knew she could love you better. Just thinking back to it stoked a fire in Jessie's chest again. While she had genuinely loved you and cared about your well-being, she'd vowed to never get stuck in that dynamic again.  

You cracked a smirk. "It just seemed frivolous to bother you with something like that at that point." 

Another pang in Jessie's chest. "Well," she kicked idly at the concrete beneath her, "I would've been there for you if you ever needed me. I hope you knew that." 

You sighed and gave a hollow laugh as you pushed your hair back, causing Jessie to get momentarily distracted by the way the rays from the street light hit your face.  

"I know," you said quietly before meeting her gaze. "And I hope you knew the same about me. I know you're surrounded by people who love you, but," you shrugged listlessly, "I'd be there for you, too." 

Before Jessie could respond you gave her another smirk. 

"Besides. Though you never said anything explicit, I know you didn't like her. And by the end I could see why, too. No point wasting any of our limited conversation talking about her." 

Jessie bit back a smirk, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "Well, I guess that's poetic. Your girlfriends never liked me and I never liked them." 

Despite the mounting tension in your conversation, you laughed and gave her a nod. Jessie didn't return your laugh though. She gave you a solemn look. 

"You always deserved better than them. I know some of them were just fine, some of them even good, but they didn't seem earnest enough and they didn't love you enough." 

You were taken aback by her sudden proclamation. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.  

Jessie never understood how they didn't worship the ground you walked on. She practically did, even if she didn't show it. While those girls showed they cared through superficial acts like a generic bouquet of flowers, Jessie listened. In many ways. It was obvious to Jessie that they didn't really get you – not the way she did. And if they were so in tune with you, then why was it her you came to when things were hard or you were scared or even hopeful. If she'd been your girlfriend, she would've given you everything you needed and more. They clearly didn't. 

You eventually gave a soft huff and offered Jessie a quiet smile. 

"You've always been very observant. And very thoughtful. I get it now. There's a reason I'm single now. I don't want to settle anymore," you told her. 

Jessie was quiet before giving a nod of acceptance.  

"I'm glad to hear that." 

You both started walking again, though neither of you spoke right away. There was still a heaviness in the air, but it felt different now; hopeful.  

"I'm sorry for how things ended," you said as she glanced over at Jessie as you two strolled through the quiet street. "You've always been really important to me – regardless of whether we were in contact or not. I don't want to say that I wish things had been different, because I really don't see the point in regretting anything, but I will say I'm very grateful that we've had this chance to reconnect and rebuild." You paused. "I've really missed you. I didn't realize how much." 

"I'm really sorry, too," Jessie said, a smile spreading across her face. "And I agree – we can't change the past, but I also appreciate the chance to be friends again. I've missed you, too." 

She swallowed as she contemplated whether to add more. The lull that naturally formed told her to forge ahead.

"And you were never a nuisance or an obligation. I'm really sorry it came across that way."

"Awww, Jessie," you said in a teasing voice, lifting your conversation up again. You paused your steps and Jessie stopped and turned to you in question. "Come on," you beckoned as you waved her over and brought out your phone. "We need a new photo together." 

Jessie didn't fight it. Instead, she smiled at you and walked over to stand next to you. You leaned into her and Jessie found her hand naturally gravitated to your waist. It rest there before Jessie could even realize it, but before she could fret, you looked back at her with a smile before facing forward again. 

You took the photo and immediately opened up your messages with Jessie to send it to her. Jessie belatedly realized her hand was still on you and she pulled it back, holding her hands behind her. 

"There," you announced. "Now we can start rebuilding our collection. Portland memories – not just UCLA anymore." 

Jessie laughed and held up her phone, pointing the camera at you. 

"No, come on," you whined immediately and she laughed further.  

"Hey, this is part of the deal," she countered. You huffed, but eventually smiled for her. "Just remember. This goes both ways. I get new photos of you, too." 

She found herself giving you a wink. "I'll allow it."  

A/N: Part Four is available here.

[blueberri-blu]

Serious \|/

[rise] leo x reader (post movie)

Movie Spoilers!!

Angst to Fluff <3

Prompt 7: "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!" "And I'm trying to subtly avoid it!"

\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\

Emotions were running high, to say the least.

Everyone was coping anyway they could

Donnie was locked away in his lab, tinkering with his tech in hopes of making it safer

Raph was cooped up in his room, refusing to come out, practicing anger management

And Mikey kept practicing and practicing his mystic magic.

Leo on the other hand? He kept on going as of his usual self.

Albeit, he was a bit more serious, but he was acting as if nothing had ever happened.

You thought maybe he just didn't want to talk about it so soon. But days turned to weeks, turned to months. And now it had been 7 months after the invasion, and he had yet to talk about it.

You asked all of his brothers if had opened up and talked to them, not needing to know the details, just wanting to see if he had been able to speak to someone about the traumatizing event. Yet, everyone said no.

Leo had his lips sealed... Other than his typical one liners and puns, that is.

You were determined to get him to talk, to anyone, really, it didn't have to be you! You just wanted the best for him, and suppressing his feelings just wasn't the way to do so.

You were going to trap him. No way for him to escape, no way for him to avoid you, nothing.

You promised Leo a romantic night out. A rooftop with fairy lights, blankets and pillows, his favorite foods and snacks, the whole works.

"A surprise you say, and what brought this on Mi amor?" "oh nothing, just thought I'd do something nice for you, mi rey" (mi rey = my king) oh he was putty in your hands, especially after that nickname. And so you two continued on with your day as normal.

Once evening rolled around, you texted Leo the address, and started your trip there.

Surprisingly, you were the first to arrive, meaning you could double check everything, just in case.

Poor Leo arrived and practically melted, the scene was so romantic, with New Yorks city lights making a beautiful background for your two's night out.

You ate dinner, had a dessert, and then just laid together under the fairy lights.

"Oh, mi vida (my life) you have truly outdone yourself, really, you've swept me off my feet." "I'm glad Leo, really, I know these last few months have been... Rough" "haha, right ... Ahem, anyway, that dinner was impeccable, mi amor, this whole date has been delicious, yet I still have room for more... *Wink* because I could just eat you up!" His fingers went to your sides, tickling you to the point of you not being able to breathe. The only sounds you could make, were wheezing.

"LEOOOOOO STO- HAHAHAHA- STOOOOOP" He only stopped when he noticed your face was too close to a blue hue.

"ok, ok, ok, my hands *jazz hands* are up, officer"

You sighed, "Leo... Look, you... You're great, really, and... I want you to know that, I love you, so so much, ok? And, all I want is the best for you!"

"I'd sure hope so, we are dating y'know"

"Leo... You know what I mean Mi Rey"

"Of course I do! This romantic gesture, your loving words, are you going to propose to me mi amor?"

"Leo..."

"I mean, I do believe we are young, but, he'll! I'd say yes!"

"LEO!"

"Mi Vida!"

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!"

"And I'm trying to subtly avoid it!"

...

You stared at each other. And that's when you saw it. The fear. Leo was scared, you could see it in his eyes, it swirled around, grabbing him, choking him. He quickly looked away, feeling the lump in his throat grow bigger and bigger

"Leo... I know it's hard to talk about but... You can't keep it bottled up, it will only make things worse, mi rey" "... I know but..." He looked back up at you.

You could tell he was struggling, so you took hold of his hand, and started rubbing hearts in his palm. "It's ok, Leo, take your time" you said softly.

Your voice always calmed him. You were kind, and calm, a grand contrast to his... Grand and expressive personality. He loved it.

"y/n, I- my brother's, they're all- they're all struggling and I- I just wanted to-" he broke into a sob. You hugged him, tightly, allowing him to melt into you.

You took deep breaths, knowing Leo would mimic your breathing.

As he calmed down a bit, he continued "all go my brother's, they're all, they're all struggling so much, and I- all I want to do is- is cheer them up y'know? I- I wanna be their rock, I wanna be your rock too" you sighed, hugging him tighter "Leo, as much as we all appreciate the sense of normalcy you've given, that's, that's not the way to do so. What your brothers and I want is to bond over this big traumatic event we've all faced, together. You don't have to talk to me about it, it could be anyone, so long as you're not keeping it to yourself, mi vida"

It was Leo's turn to sigh. He turned, looking into your eyes, they were a bit red from his crying, and a bit puffy, but he seemed... Relieved.

He then buried his face in your chest, and continued

He talked and talked, about his fears, his regrets, how he wished he could've done more, how he was so scared, how he tried his best, and still almost failed

You and Leo were there all night. Until the sun came up, waking you both. He seemed... Lighter, as if a weight heavier than life itself had been lifted off his chest.

And all Leo could think about, walking hand in hand with you on his side, back to the lair, was how much he loved you, every part of you.

\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\|/\

[charbies]

linktober 31 - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I thought for the last day I'd write a little retrospective on what this whole thing was like and what I learned. I'm too tired to draw literally anything else I'm due for a break lol

So this was my second time ever attempting a linktober/october drawing challenge, but my first time managing to complete all the days and prompts. I feel super proud of myself and accomplished for pulling it off.

There were a number of things that were surprising and that were challenging for me that I wasn't expecting this month. If anything, I think this challenge really highlighted my flaws and mental blindspots with how I approach making art.

For one thing, I came away from this not liking everything I made. I think I only like about 9 or 10 of the 30 pieces I put out there. When I don't like my art, I tend to get stuck in this mental stalemate of refusing to finish a piece until I like it, but also refusing to retrace my steps and erase/rework what I have so far for fear of losing progress or not being able to replicate the line/angle/color/etc that I liked.

It was surprisingly hard to accept when I didn't like a piece but had to move on for the sake of time and post it anyway. But once I did it a few times, it got easier. I realized prioritizing my standards over my available energy is not gonna promote progress. If I kept sinking myself into one piece and not moving on until it was optimal, I never would have finished anything-- that was the pitfall that ultimately made me bail out 10 days in last year.

I also realized my sunk cost fallacy/"what if I erase this and can never redraw it good again" stems from some real lack of confidence in my knowledge and techniques with art. I'm self-taught, and I think I tend to believe that everything I make is a dumb happy accident, even though I have mental rules when I draw, use tons of references, and have a process lol. There are a few pieces I started over 2-3 times before I got them right, and that's starting to feel liberating instead of like failing to me now, which I never expected to come out of this experience so that's cool.

Another place I had to learn to let go of control in this was with allowing for style variation. I really wanted each and every piece to be coherent and painterly, like they all came from the same book or something. But then I couldn't decide whether I wanted to do all/no lineart, all/no detailed background, all/no heavy rendering, etc. At the end I settled on just keeping the same canvas dimensions and just prioritizing filling up the space. Glad I ended up doing this, because I really would benefit from continuing to chill out and scale back how much I default to making dramatic, high-render pieces. I gotta break out of my comfort zone and make more sketchy little guys!

Sometimes my attachment to the prompts fluctuated; some prompts I thought I would love and then just wanted to get them over with. Some prompts I thought I would hate and subsequently half-ass, then I ended up redoing them and putting more effort & time into and loved the end result!

It was funny to also see how some pieces that I loved straight up did not get a whole lot of notes or attention. Some pieces I was "meh" about did crazy numbers lol. I'm used to posting maybe 5-6 times a year on here, so I'm usually indifferent to getting notes (by which I mean, I'm super grateful for likes & reblogs and the super sweet & funny messages in y'alls tags, but I'm not butthurt when I don't get notes because whatever happens, happens). Churning out 30 pieces in 30 days made me sometimes get bewildered by what did and didn't get notes, but frankly in the end I think it helps reaffirm that I should continue putting whatever I want out there because it! is! not! graded!!!

So would I do Linktober again? Probably not, sorry! it was a lot of time & effort and took me away from fall festivities more than I would have liked. I kinda only managed to pull this off because I was transitioning between jobs this month and had a week off to just draw. But I also completely see the value in taking on a challenge like this and finishing what I started, I'm super glad I did this, I think my art improved from it. I would definitely do future drawing challenges/prompt things that are quicker or have less prompts!

My advice to prospective future linktoberers: pace yourself and be gentle; this is a great chance to do something exciting and new with your art, but above all it's about you having fun. There are no prizes at the end except for what you've learned and how you feel about it, and that's for the best!!

One thing's for sure, I am zelda'd out lmao so I'll be branching out towards some little projects I have lined up for personal art and other fandoms I'm into right now

So anyway thanks to all of you who read this or who gassed me up this whole month, I appreciate you!!!!!!!! ヾ(＾∇＾)

[marengogo]

UGH!-7: … Time To Pack It All Up, Y’all!

Be Mine (English Version) - by Jimin  [Be Mine (English Version)]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

⚠️TW⚠️: I’m usually vulgar, but in this post, I might have outdone myself .

My dearest Gurls, Bois and Enbys, 

How’s everyone been doing? Are you enjoying Muse? Are you looking forward to RUN JIN? Are you ready for Are You Sure?!? Oh, let 👏🏾 me 👏🏾 tell 👏🏾 you 👏🏾, the excitement is way too real and I can’t even that's literally all the words I can fathom for now, I’m terribly sorry! That being said my Darlings, I’m afraid today’s blog will have to address a point I’m now realising that I must address, and I quite frankly assumed I wouldn’t have to, given that I am part of The Community and all. You see, there seems to be many Gladiators that wander into my neck of the woods completely misguided.  

They seem to think that my blog exist just so I can be present if one day JM and JK have sex on national TV, so that I can gloat in the faces of the Capulet enemy as I slay them with my mighty, and metaphorical, sword and bathe in their “blood” while I celebrating with fellow Montagues. Well, it is with a heavy heart, and great sadness, that I must inform you that frankly my dear, I don’t give a fuck, about none o’dat. Statements such as “Clearly JM has been single” like this Gladiator over here →  [LINK] or “JK has been fucking pussy every hour, every minute, every second” as the rest of Twitter ARMY believes or “They’ve been living together and have 100% been a couple since 2015, if you'd believe they are definitely real, why are you here...” like others on this app can really miss me, cause;

I 👏🏾 DON’T 👏🏾 GIVE 👏🏾 A 👏🏾 FLYING 👏🏾 FUCK 👏🏾.

The reason why I built this little nest in these treacherous woods is because, upon a sudden realisation, while looking at JK & JM, after careful observation and educated guessing, it started to feel like “Oh, hold on a minute … There might be something there …”. The idea that within this band that I adore there might be someone who is part of the community, like me, literally had my head implode, and not only that. It would appear that two particular members who seem to bring out the best in each other, as well as within those whom they interact with, might in fact be in this possible queer relationship, would make it even better, since we all love a stunning and powerful couple.

So yes, I am indeed here for the representation of it all. I’m not sure how many can relate, but as a minority in so many aspects of life, race, gender, sexual orientation etc, the feeling of having a fellow minority out in society who has the means and the will to live there life openly because coming out isn’t a must, we have the right also to not come out if we don’t want to as a minority is very positive and encouraging for all the rest of us, regardless of whether or not we decide to eventually come out or not. 

Though there’s obviously been many others who’d come out before Matt Bomer, he is the one coming out I will never forget. I loved White Collar like borderline obsessed. I watched it when it came out and it was my favourite guilty pleasure show before Suits. What I loved the most was watching him and Tim DeKay interact behind the scenes or during bloopers with the rest of the cast too, goofy as hell! And then in 2012 (three years in) Matt finally came out and took me by a storm, the fact that he had been able to keep his husband and three children hidden for all that time was also 🤯🤯🤯.

Once again, many others had come out before him Ricky Martin, for example, in 2010 but because White Collar was such a big part of my life, I was so ecstatic, it felt like a friend came out. It was also so great to see how much everyone on set, and the fans, were supportive and how much freer and happier he’s been since then. When Mew and Tul confirmed their relationship last month just a couple of months after Thailand legalised gay marriage y’all should have seen my face, I couldn’t stop grinning. All the speculations, the pictures, the public trips, etc etc etc. Anyways, they’ve both gone through quite some drama in the previous years, Mew in particular, so I am indeed quite happy for them.

So if JM and JK are not dating, or there isn’t a single queer person in the whole of bangtan and all have girlfriends and wives, or there are queer tannies and they are dating other queer people, or whichever other possible combinations, as long as they are happy, so will I, because I am first and foremost an OT7 ARMY and all I will always want is their happiness. I am thus afraid that you will not see me shed any tears, nor hear any miserable barking, in this neck of the woods; so~rry.

Guess I’m not packing up after all next time I’m bringing out my luggage best be for my trip to Japan …! So, in conclusion, and just as a reminder for anyone passing by as well, this has been, still is, and will always be a Possibly Queer until proven Definitely Straight safe space, as well as a space where amongst plenty other things obviously all things queer can and will be gracoiusly discussed and analysed to my discretion; You di~g?

Always respectfully yours 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

[seventeenlovesthree]

@digimon02countdown Day 7 - What do you love about Digimon Adventure 02?

While my attachment to Digimon started and persisted due to my love to the original Adventure, there are still quite a few things about 02 that always kept me around. I have already hinted at it in previous posts; the relationships, similarities and support between the "older" and "new" Chosen Children, the concept of the multiverse, Jogress evolution (also the fact that my OTP are absolute dads to the kids)... But I'd say the most important aspect for me is the bonding between the characters. And nothing signifies this more for me, nothing is as outstanding, significant and vibrant - as the development of the relationship between Daisuke and Ken.

I would argue that, overall, no relationship gets that much focus, that much visible positive development than these two. And yes, upon getting asked, I will never deny that, in my opinion, there is a sense of romantic tension between them too, but in this post, I just want to write about how fascinating, soothing and beautiful their bond is to me in general.

Their initial set-up is, once again, that of rivals. That is a theme Digimon has always been playing with - but I'd say no other series threw that trope for a loop like this before. On one hand, there is the fact that they're both playing football, even ending up facing each other at a point in the series where Ken is still considered to be that perfect, untouchable genius, good at and with everything, while Daisuke is considered a thick-headed knucklehead, goodhearted, but brash and not really talented in many areas - and yet, he still admired Ken at this point. Then of course, there is the fact that they're on opposing ends, enemies in the Digital World, having brutal, cruel fights against one another as Chosen Child vs. Digimon Kaiser - until the spell breaks, with the Crest of Miracles breaking Ken's curse.

And from now on, the boy - who's responsible for his own Digimon partner's death and the suffering of so many others - will have to face the aftermath of what he's done, dealing with guilt and self-esteem issues, feeling unworthy and unlovable.

But then there is Daisuke - the only one who immediately wants to give him the chance to atone for what he's done. He is not forgiving him right away, but wants him to be able to make up for everything - and with kindness and the persistence to not let him sacrifice himself and die, they achieve the unthinkable: Their Digimon combine, their hearts pound in sync. They seem to be connected in ways that make Daisuke get excited - and scare the heck out of Ken. He thought he didn't have anything or anyone else but his reborn Digimon partner and family, and now there's this boy he used to fight, he used to be enemies with... Who simply wants to be his friend, who wants them to be "partners" and work together.

It's confusing, it's scary. While Daisuke is sure that they're meant to be and fight next to each other, it takes time for Ken to feel ready to take the steps towards him, the others, forming bonds, friendships. But Daisuke being Daisuke makes it so much easier for him to let his walls down, slowly but steadily enabling him to show his gentle and soft side, starting to trust and rely on him as much as he does in return.

And Daisuke? Daisuke is displaying a sense of confidence and comfort that we rarely saw before - he tended to be so focused on impressing others, covering up his own insecurities with cockiness. But his bond with Ken makes all his natural kindness and straightforwardness come through easily. He may appear more simple-minded at first glance, but his heart has the right priorities - and he'll do what it takes to save Ken, from himself, from darkness, helping him to be his true self.

Daisuke doesn't doubt their connection for a second - and that's why it's so important that Ken is still able to shake him. That he has an impact on him like no other. He will give Ken all the time he needs to face his demons, to do the things that are uncomfortable to him - and he'll be by his side all the way.

They are partners, they've got each other's backs. And as long as they don't lose sight of themselves and each other, it will always be this way.

[wings-of-ink]

Looking for your Input for IF Patreon

Hello my friends and neighbors! I hope you are all safe and well. I had some things to share with you and I am once again fishing for thoughts and opinions.

Like many of us who create these IFs, I am strongly considering a Patreon. I have no plans to go exclusively to Patreon, so don't fret. I want to make extra content to go along with any IF I work on, and I'd like to be able to put more things into these projects such as real art (including character portraits), and not just the stuff I flounder through on Canva. I'd like to pay my artist a fair wage and devote more of my time to this. Getting some support would help me allocate even more to these projects and extras. I'm testing the waters here to see if it's sustainable for both myself and subscribers as well. I do not know what timeframe I'm looking at to start this either.

I only want to do this if it's worth the while for everybody, so I'm putting out feelers and asking for your input.

Most of all - I want to know what you want in a Patreon sub. I also want to know what you feel to be a fair sub price for different tiers. Over the years, when I have been able, I have subbed to help support my favorite creators at all different levels. So, I have some ideas on what I am looking for in a subscription, what keeps me coming back, and what prices are both fair for the effort of the creator as well as for my pocket. But, what suits me may not be what you want, so that's why I need some feedback.

Below, I have compiled my ideas, so far, for possible tiers. None of these are set in stone, just a framework to build on to see if I'm on the right track. At the bottom is a poll (of course, it's like my favorite thing), and is probably the first of a few about this topic I will use. I welcome comments and suggestions on this topic. Tell me what you are looking for in a Patreon. What do you want from one each month? What keeps you subscribed? Please feel free to comment below or to send comments and suggestions via the Ask inbox, especially if you prefer to be anon (do let me know if you do not want your response posted - I may post some that either have questions or that I find relevant to the conversation).

I still do not know for certain what the ultimate future of God-Cursed will look like (meaning when it is all finished). I've played with the idea of eventually refining it to sell on itch and/or Steam. I have to admit that being able to do so would really feel like a huge accomplishment to me. I've always had dreams of being published and such, and it feels like a part of that dream. I, personally, prefer to buy IFs through either platform whenever I can. It supports my favorite authors, shows my appreciation, it compiles my favorite stories into an easy-to-find library, and I can relive my favorite stories over and over easily. So, needless to say, this is calling to me more and more.

Anyway, what I have come up with so far for possible offerings are these. Please let me know if something like this would work for you or if you have any suggestions for improvement:

An appreciation/tip jar - if the other tiers aren't for you or you just want to give a little love. Subscribers could get updates and public posts, and participation in polls.

A "Supporter" level - all the other stuff plus GC demo releases 1 month (30 days) in advance. I debated about the time, but I want to really make the early access feel worth it. This level would also be privy to some "insider" info (things cut, character development, the egregious typos, etc…). Of course there would be some sort of dev-log to go with this as well.

A "Plus" tier - all the above plus early release of demos for other IFs, more "behind the scenes" type things, and I'm thinking some POVs and other extra content (some interactive) such as short stories. These extras need not be exclusive to IFs either if anyone is interested in other things I write.

"SMUT" or "Spicy" tier - (being very honest, I'd be the most excited for this tier, lol) all the above including all things smut for each IF. This will include interactive extras, short stories, and any other horny content we want. Likely will run some polls and take suggestions for the spice you desire each month.

"Smut plus" (lol) - all the above, PLUS a patreon-only IF that I will have in the works (so, access to 3 projects in total). I have an idea for an IF that will focus on 1 RO at a time (each with their own complete and unique story within the same world), and I am itching to write it even if updates for it will be a bit slow. It will be more like a traditional dating sim type thing and may comprise all sorts of genres. This may be one that would be good for just subscribing on months that will have updates, and that's something I would probably post about publicly so if you're just interested in getting access, you don't have to worry about staying subbed.

And finally a sort of "Power Supporter" tier - this may be like a limited number sort of thing and be a bit pricey (not sure yet how much). You'd get a custom interactive story set in whatever world of mine you want that can be spicey or not. You'd give me all your MC's details (mostly cannon things but some liberties could be taken), physical traits and personality, and pick your RO and/or other desired characters. I'd take prompts or ideas from you as well concerning what you'd like in the story. You want a sexcapade - you can have that. You want to have tea with Oswin and his weird twin sisters - you got it. The main limitations are spoilers, of course, especially for any mystery ROs depending on when and if this all comes to pass. There may be some subject-matter that I will not write about, but I'd let you know what is out of bounds for me.

Naturally, I would also pop your name in the credits, I just don't know which tier that should go on.

So, there you have it. This has been on my mind for a while and I've gotten some questions and messages asking about if I will do something like this, so I'd like to give it a go at least.

Looking forward to hearing your ideas and desires! ^_^

~Lunan

[newtthetranswriter]

Surprise Flights - Toru Oikawa

Word Count: 2128

Paring: Toru Oikawa x Fem! Reader

Summary: Toru really just wants to make Christmas special for Y/n, luckily for him he gets the chance to give her the best present of all.

A/n: Hello everyone, this idea came to me while working on a different fic that will be out closer to Christmas. Anyways I thought it was a cute idea, and it definitely turned out better than i thought it would. Also I just want to say that I’m sorry for the random long break in posting, writer’s block kicked my ass, plus I just got a job after almost a year of searching and so I might not be posting as much but I will try to write something every now and then. Anyways enjoy, Happy holidays, and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

a/n 2: This is really my first time doing any kind of smau style stuff for a fic so please let me know what you think. I'd be willing to try out doing an smau series in between normal imagines to help keep the ideas flowing just let me know if that's something y'all would want.

   It had been almost a year since Toru left Japan to pursue his dream of being a pro Volleyball player. It had been almost a year since he wiped the tears off her face as he promised to call and visit as often as humanly possible. Toru was able to keep the promise of phone calls and text messages but his schedule didn’t allow for much off time.

  He had only been able to see her in person once since leaving for Argentina. For his birthday Y/n and Iwaizumi had managed to fly out to visit him. His two favorite people managed to surprise him by staying with him for a week, but he still had practice so it’s not like he could truly enjoy it. After they had returned to Japan, Toru had promised himself that he would be the one surprising her next.

   So when he found out in early November that the team would be getting the last two weeks of the year off, he began planning. Immediately he had told Iwa and made him swear not to let it slip that he would be coming home. Toru had it all planned out, he was going to make this the best Christmas she had ever had.

   The days leading up to his flight Toru had to fight the overwhelming urge to just come clean and tell Y/n he would be there soon. The only thing preventing him from spilling the beans was the thought of how happy she would look when they finally got to hold each other again. The image of her smiling and the sound of her laugh as they embraced for the first time in so long pushed him forward, promising that it was worth it to keep it a secret.

   On the morning of his flight, Toru made sure that he had everything ready. He double checked that he had his passport and ticket easy to grab as well as his charger and headphones. Looking over his entryway where he had his suitcase and carry-on placed and ready, he smiled to himself knowing that in less than two days he’d be holding his amazing girlfriend in his arms. Checking the time, he quickly ordered an uber before opening his messages.

  After sending his usual goodnight message to Y/n, knowing that Japan is 12 hours ahead, Toru looked over his apartment one last time before heading out to wait for his ride.

  By the time he reached the parking lot his uber was already waiting. Getting into the car he said a quick thank you to the driver, before turning his attention back to his phone as a new message came through.

   Toru smiled to himself as he read his friend's last message. As Toru sat quietly watching the scenery pass by, he kept thinking over his plan. Sure he had set his lock screen to a list of times he needed to text Y/n so she wouldn’t get suspicious, but he was anxious that she would notice something was up. 

   “Going home for the holidays?” The driver asked, breaking the silence that settled over the car. “Sorry, I know not a lot of people like to talk during these rides, I just can’t help but be curious. Of Course you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” He added on, sending the brunette a kind smile through the rear view mirror.

   Smiling Toru nodded, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts. “Yeah I am. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in about five months and I have seen my family in about a year so It will be nice to see them all again.” He briefly explained.

   The driver nodded. “Well they all must be excited to see you, if it’s been that long.” He said while keeping focused on his driving. “I know I’d be thrilled to see family if it had been a year since I last saw them.”

   “Actually they don’t know I’m coming.” Toru said with a laugh. “Well, my best friend knows, he’s helping me with the surprise. But I wanted it to be a fun Christmas present for everyone.” He explained after seeing the driver's confused expression.

   Laughing joyously, the driver nodded. “Sounds like an amazing gift. Well here we are. Have a safe flight and Happy Holidays to you.” The driver said pulling up at the passenger drop off door of the airport.

  Grabbing his stuff Toru nodded. “Thank you, Happy Holidays to you as well.” He said, closing the car door and turning to the airport.

   After making it through customs surprisingly quickly for the holiday season, Toru pulled out his phone while finding a seat near his gate. Seeing that it was about two hours until his flight was set to depart he decided it was a good time to start his plan.

   Pressing send on the final message he did his best to calm his nerves once again. He felt slightly bad for lying to Y/n, but he knew that if he didn’t and just never responded to her messages she would worry. Sighing he pulled out his headphones, listening to music in order to block out the sounds of the airport while he waited for his flight.

Time skip to landing in Italy

   After landing in Rome for his roughly eight hour layover, Toru decided to check his phone for any messages.

   He fought the urge to respond right away, but reminded himself that Y/n thinks he’s still in Argentina where it’s currently three in the morning, so a text message from him would be suspicious. Sighing to himself, Toru decided to stay in the airport while waiting for the second half of his flight. Grabbing an overpriced coffee and breakfast from the airport Starbucks, He made himself comfortable close to the gate of his next flight.

   About five hours into the layover, Toru decided it was a good time to finally respond to Y/n’s early texts. After all, nearly twenty hours of ‘sleeping’ was a lot even if he was ‘sick’.

 

 Toru smiled at Y/n’s worrying, happy that she was believing him and she hadn’t caught on to his schemes.

   The two continued to text back and forth for the next couple of hours. As they chatted about their days, Toru fibbing just well enough that Y/n didn’t catch on, Toru noticed that it was getting close to his departure time. He was enjoying talking with his girlfriend but he needed to come up with a way to end the conversation so it wouldn’t be suspicious if he just stopped responding. Luckily Y/n beat him to it.

   Not even ten minutes after hitting send on his final message, Toru was on his flight. Overjoyed to know that the next time he texted Y/n, he would be in the same country and one step closer to being reunited.

Time Skip to landing in Japan

   Stepping off his flight, Toru was surprised he didn’t feel extremely jet lagged after only sleeping for a handful of hours over the last thirty hours. He guessed it had to do with the fact that he was extremely excited about the events that would be happening over the next couple hours. Mainly the thought of holding Y/n in his arms once again.

   While making his way to the baggage claim, Toru decided to text Y/n again. It was even more difficult this time around to not tell her he was back in Japan, but he remembered that she was probably at work right now so he couldn’t distract her too much. So he settled on keeping the surprise.

    He frowned slightly hoping her day wasn’t going to bad, and put his phone back in his pocket. Turning his focus to looking for his suitcase as he tried not to worry too much. As he spotted his bag on the conveyor belt, Toru felt his phone go off again. Pulling out his phone again, he laughed at Iwa’s usual name calling before responding quickly.

    As he texted his best friend he made his way to the passenger pick up, looking for Iwa’s spiky brown hair. Quickly spotting the former spiker’s pointed glare, Toru couldn’t help but walk a little faster. “Iwa, I’m so glad to see you. Thanks again for agreeing to pick me up.” He said in greeting, opening his arms to ask the stoic male for a hug.

   Letting out a fake groan, Iwa embraced his childhood friend before pulling away. “Don’t mention it. Now didn’t you want to stop at the store before going over to Y/n’s?” He asked, no longer hiding the slight smile on his face from being reunited with Toru.

Time skip to Y/n’s apartment

   After buying a few things at the store, Iwa helped Toru get all of his things up to Y/n’s apartment, telling him that Y/n had left a spare key out for him when he made up an excuse about needing to drop something off there. Once the two friends had gotten Toru’s suitcase and bags from the store into the apartment, Iwa gave his friend one last hug before leaving.

  Now alone in his girlfriend's apartment, Toru couldn’t help but be nervous about waiting for her to finally return home and see the amazing surprise he had for her. He knew she would be happy, of course she would be, after all she was so sad when he said he couldn’t make it back for Christmas. He just had to wait another hour or so before she would get there.

Time skip to Y/n getting home & P.o.v switch

   While it had technically been a short day at work for her, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that the day had drug on. When she finally arrived at her apartment all she wanted to do was lay down and wait for Toru to wake up so she could call him during his morning run, like they did most days. Getting to her front door though she was shocked to find out that the spare key she had left out for Iwaizumi was no longer under the mat and the front door was still unlocked. Opening the door and seeing a pair of men’s shoes in the entry way she assumed Iwa had just gotten there so she just shrugged as she took off her shoes and headed for the living room.

  “Hey Iwa, what was it you needed to drop off …” Her sentence trailed off as she noticed the brunette standing in her living room, who was very clearly not Iwaizumi. “Toru? Am I dreaming?” She asked, pinching her arm, not fully believing that Toru Oikawa was really standing in her apartment holding a bouquet of flowers with a sheepish smile on his face.

   Toru chuckled as he slowly stepped closer to her. “You’re not dreaming I promise.” He said, handing her the flowers.

   Instead of taking the flowers to put them in water she just set them on the coffee table before nearly tackling Toru in an extremely tight hug. Toru quickly returned the hug, resting his head on top of her as she pressed her face into his neck. After a few minutes of silence, She pulled back cupping his face in her hands. 

   “You’re really here.” She stated as if reassuring herself that this was real. “I thought you weren’t able to get time off to come home? And what about you being sick?” She began questioning.

   Chuckling, Toru leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I wanted to surprise you, after you and Iwa surprised me for my birthday. As for being sick, I needed a believable reason to not text you for hours while I was on the plane.” He quickly explained.

   She nodded in understanding. “Well consider me surprised.” She said, before taking a moment to just enjoy being in the same space as him again. 

   “Wait, does this mean you told Iwaizumi about you coming home?” She asked, receiving only a nod. “No wonder he wanted me to leave out my spare key. I couldn’t figure out what he could possibly have wanted to leave here.” Y/n finished laughing slightly.

   After a few moments of just standing in the center of the room, the two moved to sit on the couch deciding to just cuddle as they talked. The conversation eventually faded and the two sat in a comfortable silence. “I’m so glad you’re home.” Y/n said as slowly drifted off to sleep laying on Toru’s chest.

  “I’m glad to be home.” Toru responded, quickly following Y/n into the realm of dreams.

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

[kitorin]

boyfriend headcanons ! itoshi rin

contents. how you met, how you got to know each other, when he realized he liked you, how you started dating, dates, all fluff

warning. rin backstory spoilers, i can't write kiss scenes either, written with all lowercase intended, it's word vomit bc school has screwed me up mentally and i can't think properly atp lmao

a/n. reo, rensuke and yoichi ver coming soon, was supposed to be all four of them but tumblr didn't save some stuff so i lost motivation and i probably wrote too much for rin anyways

how you met

you were invited to hang out with a group of friends, but ended up hating it since you were basically invisible, since everyone else were talking about a common interest you didn't have

you ended up walking away, finding somewhere actually interesting, and found a muji store (minimalist retailer that sells a lot of household items and more), and had your own fun, looking through stationary, skin care, nice clothes, and more.

you were having a great time until you heard someone from the hangout looking for you and calling

rin who notices your panic right next to him, questions what's wrong (not necessarily out of concern, honestly probably because he may have found it slightly irritating)

after you explain your situation briefly, he nods and finds you somewhere to hide, and goes to deal with your friend

he's got perfect control over his facial expressions, he'd easily lie and even if your friend was persistent, he'd still scare him away

"haven't seen them in here, they left a while ago and you better stop yelling,"

"are you sure-?"

"yes. now piss off and stop disturbing everyone here,"

once he's sure your friend's gone, he goes back to where he instructed you to hide, giving you the clear

"i hope that lukewarm asshole wasn't your ex."

you're slightly amused at the word 'lukewarm' it wasn't a typical description you'd hear often. "nope, i'd never date him. thank you so much though. i really appreciate it, please let me do a favor for you"

before he can object, you grab a sample pen, scrawling your number on his hand, "send me a text and i'll do my best to help you with anything okay?" you send him a smile as his eyes widen in shock, "bye kind stranger, have a great day," and before he could respond, you were gone, rushing out the store out of embarrassment for not being able to slip away from your friend uncaught.

how he got to know you

[unknown number] : i really don't need a favor you know?

i hated that idiot anyways, loud and annoying

[you] : don't careeee, i want to make it up to you somehow, please?

i'm y/n, you?

[unknown number] : rin, itoshi rin

after he gave in to your offer, you ended up tutoring him, he didn't care about grades but his high school had a rule of requiring a certain standard of grades to compete in tournaments

turns out he wasn't even a bad student, he's diligent and consistent, he only needed a little bit of guidance and advice, with math being the exception

in between sessions, during breaks and outside of your tuition you'd talk a lot, considering how rin has no friends ("neither do you, your toxic ass friends shouldn't count" he replies when you realize it) and you're patient enough to deal with his personality

even after he has his grades up you still hangout with each other, watching horror movies, playing horror games, reading horror novels / comics (you introduced him to junji ito), and he'd even teach you some soccer when you visit his training. he also tries out all your hobbies and favourite things to do and eat

you two spend so much time together, simply because one has no other friends and the other has no healthy friendships

how he knew he liked you

BRO WAS IN DENIAL. FOR. SO. FUCKING. LONG.

he thought he had a health problem or fever when he felt his face getting hot, or that odd sensation in his stomach, or his heart relentlessly pounding against his chest

he tries to research it, doesn't believe it when he sees all those love related posts, so he literally goes to a doctor

his doctor probably almost instantly realized, and had to deal with rin's denial

"you experience these 'symptoms' with a certain someone, don't you?" the doctor doesn't even bother with noting down anything, he's 100% sure and knows it's perfectly in character for rin to do something like this

"that's not possible- that doesn't make se-," he pauses, and recalls that he only felt that way when it came to you, "... yes," he's sort of bashful, slightly embarrassed but quickly composes himself again. 'i apologise for doubting you, please continue,"

"no worries," with a grin, his doctor prepared leave and meet his next patient, "i diagnose you with love sickness,"

when i tell you, this man fucking asked him what meds to take and what to do as self treatment

his poor doctor mentally face palmed himself, sat himself back down and had a (long) talk with this emotionally repressed boy

rin still insists it's something medically wrong, but he's soon shoo-ed out of the office, while hastily being told to make sure he's honest with his feelings, otherwise it never goes right

back at home, he's lying in bed, revising what his doctor said

"rin you need to learn how to acknowledge your emotions. i understand they're confusing and i'm not a therapist, but you can't keep denying it. it's just as unhealthy to neglect your emotions as it is to ignore an injury,"

...

denial huh?

he thinks of you and his heart once again can't calm down, his face burns and his stomach is doing somersaults. he buries his face in his palm, groaning. he hated anything unfamiliar, anything that he couldn't navigate with confidence, or fully comprehend.

"do you really despise it? or do you refuse to acknowledge your feelings because you've never experienced something like this,"

his doctor's advice comes back to him, and he thinks.

if he truly loathed how you made him feel, why is he still hanging out with you, why is he still investing his time into you, why do you make him so damn happy?

he passed out eventually completely lost in thought

how you ended up dating

some time passes and you finally have the courage to confess to him only to receive a cold "i don't feel the same way," a complete lie

accepting his emotions was one thing, accepting a relationship is another. he could immediately feel regret clawing at his stomach, he wanted to tell you. badly, how much he likes you, your patience, intelligence, your kindness, literally everything

yet nothing comes out. only his stoic and stupid facade's character

you walk away after mumbling out an apology for making things awkward, and rin's left there standing, finger nails digging crescents of frustration into his palm

he's overwhelmed with his thoughts, some insisting for him to give up and accept that he fucked up, others demanding him to move and fix things

what would be worse than losing you, anyways?

and that last thought was the final push, he's basically sprinting towards you, soon his arms are wrapped around you, releasing a gasp of surprise from you.

"ri-?"

"i lied," rin blurts, internally screaming at himself to just say it, "i lied, i know i shouldn't have and i'm sorry. but i like you too much, i can't express or understand my feelings, i don't know anything about relationships or love either, and i wanted to hide how i felt so i wouldn't get hurt,"

"rin-," he doesn't let you finish, ignoring your whisper.

"but i don't care, i like you so much that i'm willing to risk hurting myself, anything's worth it if i can be with you, spend time with you, and love you. if it's for you i'd overcome all my fears of love. i can't afford love, but if it's for you i don't care anymore,"

"you're perfect, you always have been," he concludes his speech, almost breathless from how rushed it was. scarlet was dusted all over his face, teal eyes wide open.

that fact rin, someone who's never been good at communication, went this far to express how he feels for you, warms your heart even more.

"rin?"

"yes?"

"may i kiss you?"

somehow, he blushes even more, and as he nods your lips press together.

dates + other headcanons

MOVIE NIGHTS !! not at cinemas though since he prefers the comfort and privacy of his room, and doesn't like how loud or dirty cinemas can get

doesn't want to force you into anything too scary, but he secretly enjoys it when you end up clinging onto him

since he struggles with articulating his emotions, he likes using playlists and songs to (die for you - weeknd, shinunoga iiwa - fujii kaze, love, maybe - melomance, sweet - cigarettes after sex, COME INSIDE OF MY HEART - IV SPADES SUITS HIM SO WELL)

he's not a fan of pda, yet he wants to show you off to everyone he knows

if you genuinely like soccer and have an interest in it (obviously doesn't want to force you to watch 90 minutes of a sport you don't like) he'd watch his favourite games with you, even books tickets for the both of you if there are any good teams competing nearby

also takes great interest in your sports !! reads a lot about them so he can discuss them with you, and if you also compete in sports he puts together a training routine for you and asks to go to the gym together (say yes dumbass)

SURFINGGGG !! since he grew up in kamakura, he loves the beach and went to swim and surf a lot as a kid and would love to do it again with you, even if he hasn't done it in ten years (same rin, same). same with hiking too (kamakura's also famous for it as well)

visits the store with you where he always bought ice blocks with sae, the same lady who worked there when sae and rin still got around is still there, congratulates him for getting a partner, is proud of him

he's a great listener too, he prefers it over speaking a lot and you can talk to him about anything, whether you're talking shit about someone (he'd join in and start swearing) and or you're hyperfixating on your interests

whenever he gets a question related to his love life he takes a moment to blush when he thinks of you, pauses to compose himself (keeps you a secret for your privacy from the media), then says with a straight face that soccer is a priority, but everyone knows he's lying

©kouyun : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath IV

Word count: 1500+

Warnings: mentions of eating disorder

Part III || Part V

This week was a real rollercoaster full of bad luck. But since this chapter is ready I can post it. I'm working on the next one and I'd love to cut it somewhere to make it into two chapters, but can't find good place so it may come out as one really long one.

I'm sorry for any mistakes. English isn't my first language 😅

Several days passed since you woke up in Azriel's bed. You hid the dress soaked in his scent to the bottom of the wardrobe, often sitting down and burying face into the fabric. His scent helped you calm down and scare away bad dreams.

Since that day quite a lot had changed.

At first you thought you were crazy. Things were moving around or suddenly appearing in front of you. Repeatedly you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned around, nobody was there. It took you some time to figure it out. But once you found out there were Azriel's shadows following you around, it didn't scare you anymore. They were quite handy especially when you needed to find something.

As it made you incredibly happy that he cared enough to keep an eye on you, it was also a reminder of the biggest mistake you'd ever done, making you feel down and your stomach twist at times.

The shadows followed you literally everywhere which was sometimes really uncomfortable. You were sure they informed him about everything you did on that particular day, but how much exactly did they tell him? It was nerve wrenching. You could only hope they would keep sensitive information to themselves.

Another big change was the shadowsinger himself. As soon as you entered the library he was there. No matter where you worked or how many times you had to move to another floor during the day, you always spotted him somewhere nearby reading book or doing some paperwork.

The first few days it made you nervous and you couldn't really concentrate on work. Even if you tried you wouldn't be able to count how many times you caught yourself staring at him, admiring his beautiful face, strong body, big hands.. and daydreaming. Then somehow you got used to his silent presence. It always made your day seeing him there, making you grin even while aligning and dusting the books.

And that wasn't everything. He often came to you to talk with you. At those moments your heart always started to beat much faster, mouth went dry and your palms started to sweat. It didn't give much sense because after the decades you could hardly call each other acquaintance, strangers more likely, but it was happening. You weren't in position to ask why suddenly he changed his mind so radically, nor you didn't even want to complain. You were happy for this change, giving you a faint hope that maybe.. someday.. you could be at least friends.

When it happened for the first time, you were so shocked you turned red like tomato to the roots of the hair and ran away. Next time you were mentally ready and managed to stutter few words. But you weren't the only one struggling. Azriel seemed to be just as nervous as you. Nevertheless he kept coming even several times a day for word or two. After few days both of you got used to it and were able to talk normally.

First, he would talk to you just about such ordinary things like weather or ask about your wellbeing, but soon enough he started to ask about your current life, past or likes and dislikes.

Lately you spent a lot of time discussing about the books you were reading. You were surprised to find out he read novels and often the ones you liked. He even gave you some recommendations for interesting ones.

You got up early as every morning and prepared for the day. Before leaving the room you checked out the weather and time. 'Should be okay now,' you thought to yourself and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast with few shadows at your heels.

Of course you could eat with other priestesses at dining hall the meal House served you, but there was something relaxing about making your own meal. That's why you always used inner circle's kitchen. But it wasn't the only reason. You didn't like people watching or commenting on how much you put on your plate. You even minded being watched while eating.

During the years living with Mor and Illyrian males here, you figured out their morning routines and knew when no one would be in the kitchen.

What a shock it was when you found out that the kitchen always empty at this time, was occupied. By Azriel!

He was standing behind the kitchen island putting scrambled eggs on the plate. There were already several other plates with toasts, bacon, cut fruits and vegetables set on the table.

He hadn't notice you yet, so there was still chance to get away and let him have his breakfast. You turned around, planing to try your luck later, but the shadows had an idea of their own. They slowly floated around you towards their master.

"Good morning," Azriel said while washing the pan in the sink, back turned to you. His voice was still raspy and that sound made your heart stutter and the heat spread in your lower belly.

"Good morning," you answered, taking a step into the kitchen from you hideaway. You frowned at traitorous shadows, but they just danced around calling you closer. "I'm sorry. I don't want to disturb you. I'll go." You wanted to leave quickly, but he stopped you.

"Would you join me for breakfast?" back still turned to you, he asked. Eyes widening you shifted nervously on your feet. It was too tempting, but it would be just the two of you. You really didn't want to have his full attention while eating. You bit your lower lip, fighting with yourself.

You looked at his strong form still washing already clean pan. You could read the tension in his posture, but you weren't sure what caused it. In the end the heart won the fight and you accepted the invitation. His tense shoulders visibly relaxed.

Azriel put the pan away and took two plates and glasses. As he turned to the table his lightly flushed cheeks came into view. With shiny eyes of hazel colour with golden flecks he smiled shyly at you which you returned. This side of him was new to you and you were more than eager to learn more. You'd never seen him behave like this with other females. A small flame of hope lit up in your chest.

Your heart was beating faster with each step you took towards the table. You halted before sitting down, examining food on plates. Suddenly you became nauseous. The food looked yummy and smelled amazing, but there was too much. Much more than two people could possibly eat.

"Is something wrong?" Azriel asked noticing your pale face. His eyes slightly narrowed.

"It looks amazing," you tried to smile. "Is Cassian coming too?"

"He's training with priestesses right now," Azriel tilted his head to the side with unreadable expression, few strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. "Do you want him to come?"

"No," you said quickly. "It's just.. there's so much food.." You felt the heat burning your cheeks.

"It should be enough for two of us," he said, a smirk tugged corners of his mouth upward. You had nothing to say to that, so you just swallowed hard and sat down. Azriel handed you plate and started filling his own. Following his example you took a piece of bacon and a bit of scrambled eggs.

"Would you like some freshly baked bread? It's from that new bakery on the bank of Sidra that opened last week," Azriel offered you. With nervous smirk you took small piece.

You started to eat. Taking the first bite of eggs you blinked in surprise, nervousness forgotten for awhile.

"It's so delicious. I didn't know you can cook so good,"you looked at him grinning. He blushed, but grinned too.

"I'm glad if you like it."

"I love it." You took another bite and then another. While you were eating Azriel kept offering you different goodies he'd prepared until you tried at least a piece of everything on the table. By the time you finished you were so full you thought you were going to burst. It was the most delicious food you'd ever eaten, but you were sure you won't be able to eat anything till next morning.

Azriel finished last bits and together you cleaned the table and washed dishes.

"Thank you for amazing meal," you said as you put last plate to its place.

"Thank you for keeping me company," he leaned against the counter putting his hands into the pockets of trousers. "Are you going to the library?"

"No, it's still too early. I thought I would return to my room and read for awhile."

"I see." His smile faded for a second, but it was back in a blink of eye. "So.. I guess I'll see you later."

With that you returned to your room thinking about his unusual behaviour and about the huge change that happened since he saved you. Even though it was still new to you and hard to believe, you liked it and hoped it's real. With every second you spent with him your heart swelled with love and you fell harder for him.

[17panicattacksinatrenchcoat]

max's writing tips 7: balancing your creations and mental health

heads up! this post is more serious than my other writing advice content and contains light discussions of burnout, anxiety and depression. hiding it behind the 'keep reading' button for those who may find it upsetting

please remember that this is my personal experience, and that the advice I give here is what helped me recover from a bad time, and avoid burnout in the future. I hope my advice can also help you, but if it doesn't, that's okay too! writing advice isn't one size fits all.

Do not push yourself to extremes for the sake of completing a challenge or meeting an arbitrary deadline- Challenging yourself and setting goals is great so long as they are feasible and you will not hurt yourself doing them. In January of this year, I felt like I hadn't been writing enough and forced myself to write every day until I completed the first draft of a novel I'd been putting off. This wasn't healthy because a) I write at a pretty slow pace --I have to let my projects marinate in my head for a good amount of time, and prefer to work multiple projects at once-- so the goal was pretty much the opposite of my preferred writing process and b) I did this with no planning other than writing upwards of 2k words each day for three months. This did not go as planned: I had to stop short of my goal. I did write 80k words (none of which were very good) at the cost of my physical and mental health. After finishing work and life stuff I would sit down at my computer for five hours and wrack out a few thousand words every day for all of January, February, and about half of March. I forgot to drink water and eat enough, lived off of caffeine, and did not sleep because I was planning the next day's work; obviously, this was terrible for me and I felt pretty ill most of the time. My anxiety also flared up during this time. I thought I was having some kind of health problem because I'd lost a bit of weight, was having bad headaches, and was constantly out of breath; I didn't realize until I took a break that I didn't have a medical condition, but that I'd been overworking myself to the breaking point.

Look after your health. I was lucky not to have wreaked any lasting effects on my body during those months, but I felt very bad at the time. Eat substantial meals. Drink enouh water. Sleep enough, for God's sake. Be sure to go outside, also, and keep up with your friends and family; I was a bit of a recluse during this time and was bad about meeting up with people face to face instead of texting them.

Pushing yourself to work quickly to a degree that you're harming yourself will probably not produce a good product. Even if it does end up being good, is it really worth it?

Learn how your writing process works and get better at understanding your mental health needs, and when you need to take breaks. I cannot give you so much advice for this because it's something you need to figure out by yourself. I recommend journaling; also, seeing a therapist if you're able to.

Writing is supposed to be fun (and, if not fun, fulfill you in some other way.) It's your hobby. When your hobby starts taking away more joy than it's giving, it stops being a hobby. It becomes a chore.

Take routine breaks. This doesn't mean that you have to stop writing altogether during those times if you don't want to; it might mean switching up the project you're working on. I also recommend having another creative hobby (cooking, playing an instrument, drawing or painting, scrapbooking/collaging etc) to work on during your breaks.

i hope you're doing well today, everyone. remember that it's okay to go at your own pace.

[sunny-lounge]

It was just a quick kiss on the cheek. (Ch. 1/3)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: General — Sami wants Jey, feelings and emotions, pinning, mutual pinning, very brief mention of Jimmy and Kevin, Sami and Jey talk, feelings realization, getting together, kissing, smut, hand jobs, happy ending

Summary: Sami has feelings for Jey, he's been holding it in for a while now. But, he's just kissed Jey on SmackDown, live on TV. It's not a big deal right? It was just a quick kiss on the cheek. Jey wants to know what the kiss was about, he wants answers. And, he gets some. They sort it out. Ch. 1 - Sami's perception of Jey. Ch. 2 - seeing each other after the kiss and figuring it out. Ch. 3 - short chapter that will have the tiniest bit of smut. (Chapter 2-3 will be posted in a few days under one post)

Word count: 1246

Ao3 link Ch. 1 / *Other Fics*

A/N: So I decided to try something different and take a grain of an actual kayfabe scenario that occurred (the SamiJey kiss on [01/03/25] SmackDown) and draw from it to write a bit of a Fic. There will be three chapters. This story will make sense when you've read all the chapters. I'll post the next one in a few days. Hope you enjoy it! 🌸🌺

[— I'm not a "writer" —SO...Comments/Feedback would genuinely be appreciated. Obviously I'd really like to know if you enjoyed it - and comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! And, please hit the like if you genuinely like it 😊 I'd love to know. Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami - thank you for the encouragement 🥰 - (if at all anyone wants to be tagged in my silly little fics let me know!)

——

Not that he’d ever deny it, but Sami is not immune to Jey Uso. No one is.

It’s a law of nature, a fact of life—Jey Uso is beautiful. His rough boyish charm only grows stronger and stronger with each encounter, crafting itself into something utterly irresistible to anyone within reach.

There was a time, at the very beginning when Sami thought maybe Jey had been playing it up for the cameras, the audience, throwing out to them those rare and high-priced grins of his, his rough-ish charms, the ones you could rarely afford yourself but he mercifully gave away every now and then, enough to think you're satisfied, but leaving you wanting more.

His hard intense stares that gripped your entire being, Sami has been on the receiving end of them as well, more times than he can count, piercing right through him breaking down his defenses every single time, more times than he can remember.

He thinks Jey has always known what he does, who he is, and what he wants, that just adding to his charm.

Everyone gravitates to Jey whether it's conscientious or not. On several occasions, in whichever situation, there's always someone next to him, like they'd really like to touch him, more than just touch him casually, friendly.

Especially these days, when Jey is a lot more relaxed and open, and friendlier than he used to be, Jey laughs it off, indulges even. He wouldn’t actually let it go too far, any further than just casual and fleeting. Would he? He hasn't so far, and Sami thanks his lucky stars because he's not sure he would be able to handle it if it went any further. It hurts enough not being able to touch him the way he wants to, with the intentions he wants to, but seeing Jey with someone else?— would completely tear  him apart.

Jey doesn't shy away from the touches anymore, doesn't avoid them, but he still occasionally stiffens, caught between recoiling pushing away and running, or reciprocating.

An instinctual reaction that still tries manifesting itself every now and then, the former he'd once easily give into...avoidance, but not as much anymore. Though sometimes...old habits die hard.

It's something  that Sami wants to be exempt from. He wants to be the exception. He wants to reach out for Jey and for him to always willingly stay. And, maybe even reach back.

He wants to be able to touch and be touched.

Everyone wants a piece of Jey, they want to reach for him because they can’t help it. He’s just so enigmatic, too enticing, unavoidably charming. Sami wholeheartedly one hundred percent agrees, but he's trying to act insouciant about it. It’s a harder sell when he’s the group’s, may be even locker room's biggest offender of physical affection and the lack of acknowledging personal space.

Kevin has been his foremost well-loved victim so far, his affection targeted human teddy bear for years now and no one bats an eye. Sami touches. Everyone knows it. He does it without thinking, without realizing.

He does it because it's second nature to him to have someone’s shoulder to grip, arm to grab, hand to grasp, face to touch or waist to squeeze, a chest to pat, a back to graze... He'll find a way to touch.

But something is different when it comes to Jey. It feels like Sami is playing a different game. It makes him feel guilty, because he wants to more than touch; he wants to feel, he wants to consume. So, he tries to be nonchalant. As nonchalant as he, Sami can be.

It's not like he doesn't touch Jey at all, but there are times now when Sami is starting to become too conscious of it.

It's like he's been skirting the edge this cliff for so long, unaware of how far the fall over the edge is or if he'll survive it. And, lately, he’s been dangerously curious about taking that final step off the edge. He wants to know how all-encompassing it will feel to plunge into the depths below were all his hidden wants and secret desires are lying in wait.

How freeing and liberating it will be to hear the wind rushing in his ears, the beating off his heart yelling at him that he's alive, as he falls and falls finally reaching his destination below, finally reaching its hidden depths, being consumed as he closes his eyes and willingly surrenders.

It's easier when there's an ally, maybe if someone else is in on it too. The closest he has is Jimmy, his unintentional ally.

If Jimmy is already engaged in some rough housing with Jey, then it would only be a kindness and requirement for Sami to put his arms around them to pull them apart or act as referee. And, if Jimmy is hugging Jey falling all over him pretending he can't do anything but, while Jey pretends to only half-heartedly push him off, because he secretly enjoys it. Sami is obliged to help. Whether it's Jey, or maybe it's Jimmy, or really himself  that he's helping...until they all come crashing down at their combined weight and Sami will feel Jey's body right against his like it's meant to be.

All this makes it easier— so that Sami doesn't think he'll spontaneously combust every time he reaches out to Jey.

Opposite to his beliefs—the deep recesses of his imagination— Jey doesn't look at him with disgust, or run away or punch him when Sami runs his palm against the back of his head or the front of his shirt. Or when he puts his arms around him and squeezes him in close. Or when he...well, Jey doesn't bat an eye, in fact he almost welcomes it. Leaning into the touch or mirroring it. Letting Sami have his way; his curly black hair getting patted into even unrulier patterns and the cloth of his shirts getting tugged about and ruffled into wrinkles, lean arms wrapping around his body heating him up too much, always accompanied by an easygoing grin directed at him. 

Jey Uso is beautiful. He is always beautiful. That is indisputable.

There are times, Jey will give him a look. It makes Sami's heart clench and his stomach tighten. He’ll be gripping one of Jey's shoulders, grabbing his arms, thoroughly enjoying the close proximity the shared space, the contact, when Jey will just…look at him. It could hardly be considered romantic. It still makes Sami's heart clench and stomach tighten.

It’s not overtly special, it's a look you give something once familiar that now seems out of place, like something has shifted, and you're looking, just noticing. Trying to figure it out.

Like your coffee maker in the kitchen has moved two inches to the right, it's familiar but out of place, you notice it's shifted and you're trying to figure out what you want to do about it. Are you going to let it be the way it is now? Or shift it back to the way it was?

But, maybe just maybe it's better here, now that it's shifted two inches to the right.

The looks are never obvious enough for Sami to call him out on it. Even if it were, what is he going to say? Isn't an acknowledgement just an admission of Sami's own guilt? What is he even guilty of?

This is all beginning to get to him.

And, it does.

SmackDown happens. 

——

Thank you for reading! Chapter 2-3 will be up soon. Hope you enjoyed it! 🩷