#i struggled with writers block the whole way through and when it was finally over I had to NAME IT?!??!

[cvnt4him]

Emergency request bc I’m literally struggling so bad and feeling neglected as shit rn

ofc if you’re up to it pooks ik ur alr stressing over stuff and I don’t want to make it worse :(

Maybe some iida or monoma x reader that try’s hard to do stuff but always gets neglected? Thanks pooks 💕

I hope I got to this in enough time for you, I'm sorry for whatever you're going through n trust you're not making my situation any worse, you're actually helping me get rid of writers block so ty for this n I hope this reaches you well and is what you hoped for🫶🏽🫶🏽

mha boys x reader.

Included; izuku midoriya, kirishima ejirou, bakugou katsuki, tenya iida, monoma neito, denki kaminari.

Not in order.

Genre: angst? comfort/feel-good/fluff.

Izuku midoriya is none other than a saint. He helps everyone around him and he strives to keep his good boy/golden boy title. You admire him for that and you know others do, you also know one day he'll not only be yours but belong to the world. It gets to you but you try so hard to not let it.

When you two started dating no one knew at first, but izuku couldn't just stand by and let people not know that you were his. That he finally had a girlfriend who thought he was worthy of love. You truly felt that he deserved to be loved and he felt so seen with you, more than anyone else had ever made him feel.

Sooner or later after people found out, people began giving you such disgusting looks. Mostly girls you noticed. They would whisper about you when you were alone and look at you with mean and disgusted looks and they would laugh at you while you walked. No matter what you did you always had eyes on you. People laughing at the way you ate or spoke or dressed, it was draining.

You knew why it was happening and you tried so hard not to let it get to you. But none of that could even begin to compare to once your friends found out the two of you were dating.

You walked into the girls locker room to see all of the girls standing in a circle, you had already heard through the door they were having a conversation however you didn't exactly try to make out what they were saying. They all turned to look at you before slowly looking away to continue dressing, the silence had gotten rather too loud for your liking. They were just having a conversation before, why stop now that you were there? It bugged you the wrong way but you didn't want to make a commotion.

"so you and midoriya?"

Mina questions looking you up and down with a pointed look. She was one of your best friends, why was she looking at you like you're being investigated in a murder?

"uh.. yeah! We're dating."

You confirmed turning away to finish undressing. She hummed sucking her teeth and crossing her arms.

"you're dating him.. whilst knowing ochako liked him the whole time?"

She instigates, trying to get you to admit something. What the hell? Why would she say this? It's not your fault ochako didn't confess to izuku in enough time. It's not your fault he agreed to date you. It's not your fault he wanted everyone to know, so why was she trying to grill you like it was?

"look. I don't know what you're trying to get out of me, but--"

"just that you're a backstabbing bitch."

Silence filled the room once more as you scoffed clearly offended. She and the other girls stared at you with such disgusted and disappointed looks. You look around the room to see everyone staring at you with hatred and spite.

"are you fucking kidding me?!"

You ask around looking at all of them, there was no way they all hated you this much because you liked a boy.

"I mean.. you did kind of steal him off from under her.."

"you knew she liked him. Kind of bitchy."

"what about girl code, dude"

All the girls began saying their own opinions ganging up on you and practically eating you alive. They all shared their own fair share of mean words and side eyes before you finished getting dressed and slammed your locker shut making them all quiet down.

"fuck all of you."

You spat out while flipping them all off and leaving the room. You couldn't believe they're trying to decapitate you because ochako didn't have the balls to do what you did. Why does that make you a bad person.

The week started getting harder and harder as everyone, even some of the boys who knew ochako liked deku, started distancing themselves from you, al because of what mina would whisper in their ears, feeding them whatever she could pin in her web. And like the idiot fools they were, they believed her.

You were being neglected by your friends, all because you liked a boy. It began to be too much for you. Putting up this front for everyone who didn't even bother to see it or even your side of the story. You can't be happy with someone who has all these people liking them and making you feel shitty for also liking them. Maybe you'd have to break up with izuku.

When you came to him with this information he was furious. But not even with ochako or mine. With everything. The fact you'd been feeling shitty and didn't tell him and the fact you didn't tell him these people were bothering you. Izuku loves you more than he does himself and he isn't afraid to show that. He also loves his friends but he isn't going to let these people sit here and make you feel like shit because you're together.

He held you close that night, assuring you he wouldn't let this stand any longer. He was going to confront everyone for whatever they said to you and he wouldn't give a single shit about it. You were his and he loves you.

"I'm sorry for the way you've been feeling, love. I'm sorry that people have been treating you shitty and neglecting you because of our relationship. But you don't need any of them as long as you have me."

Tenya iida, one of the most compassionate hard working and caring people anyone has ever been graced to know. He is strong resilient and brave. He cares so much about everyone and it's so admirable. Some people see him as a wack job robot who just yells and screams or dotes too hard but to you he's perfect. An angel sent from the heavens above.

You've been working hard on something for a really long time. You hadn't told anyone about it because when you planned on it you wanted to also tell them the good news that would come with it. However that good news nevwr came. What you were doing wasn't good enough and it effectsd you deeply. Your grades fell, you started getting rather sluggish with your movements and you jardlt had the energy for anhone kr anyrhing.

Not getting the good news for what you've done was draining. It drained you to the point you wanted to break down and cry, yet nothing would come out. When people told you what you worked hard on, for so long, wasn't enough. It broke you, scarred you deeper than you could even begin to imagine. But tenya seen, he seen how you began to act, how you began to look more and more dead, how you'd began neglecting yourself. It was all too much for him to bear or watch you go through alone. He couldn't sit by and watch the love of his life perish.

Tenya held you in your dorm and let you cry on his shoulder for as long as you needed, having tissues on standby and rubbing your head gently. Placing kisses on top of your forehead and shushing you lightly as you both cuddled, he would be patient with you. He would wait until you were ready to talk or open up about what you were going through, but for now he wanted you to know you were loved and that he was proud of you.

"I love you, y/n. So much more than you could possibly fathom. I see you, and I am so incredibly proud of you. You are worthy and deserve someone who would move heaven and earth for you, I hope I am adequate enough for you."

Dating bakugou katsuki was hard. Not because he was an angry fiery shit head, but because he had such a burning passion for what he did. He never stopped striving and fighting to get what he wanted. He knew what he wanted and grasped at it and held onto it tight. It was nothing less than admirable.

The fact he could come back to you and tell you he loves you was admirable. He loved you and that meant so much to you. You loved him just as much and tried so hard to show up and be there for him. Through thick and thin, lows and highs, you wanted to be by his side regardless. He loved you for that reason alone, but he'd give you so many other reasons why he loves you.

He seen how hard you were working, how hard you were trying, how no one dared to even glance at you. He seen a faller bird that had potential and was worthy. Bakugou katsuki seen you. He wanted you and promised you he'd love you.

But for fucks sake, it always angered him to watch you get in such moods. To watch you neglect yourself and struggle with bad things. To put yourself under so much pressure and stress for no reason. When you'd cry your eyes out alone because you were tired.

He wanted to do so many things to you in that moment, but all his body could do was rush to you and hold you. He held you tightly, his fingers digging into the side of your hip. He buried his face in your neck and inhaled your sweet scent that always made him go feral.

You were his and he wouldn't dare let you sit here and feel shitty over whatever it was that was making you feel this way. He pushed and poked at every corner he could to get you to talk. Once you did he told you to shut the fuck up. You wanted to cry even more but you were sure he had reason to it.

And boy did he, he had such caring words laced with such menas things that were all wrapped in the cutest bow. He was emotionally constipated and had a hard time making people feel better. But watching him slightly struggle to find nice words to make you feel better while holding you close in his arms makes you feel so much better. Giggling at how he stammered over his words and how he tried to uphold a gentle voice to match the gentle strokes of his fingers on your side.

"look.. just. sigh. You're great okay. I love you and I'm not gonna just sit here n' let you whine n' shit for nothin'. Don't let whatever stupid shit is bothering you get t'ya. Or I'll beat yer' fuckin' ass."

Being kirishima eijirou's girlfriend was nothing other than a pure utter blessing. To be blessed with such an amazing caring and helpful boyfriend like him was genuinely a gift from the god above. He treated you like a queen who deserved to be worshipped.

It didn't take long for him to notice how hard you were struggling with things. He made sure before you got back to his dorm that it was all cozy and comfortable for you. One of the most romantic gestures he could have ever done for you. The way he had his laptop on his bed with so many plushies and comfortable pillows, and the fluffy cover he has and all the snacks you could ever imagine. He was nothing more than a blessing.

He held you tight and let you watch whatever you wanted, kirishima doesn't care about weight or anything like that, [yes I had to add this bit, bite me.] He loves training and working out with you, sure but he would never force you to do those things. He wants you to be nothing but comfortable with him and your body, so he would never shame you for how much you are or how you are in front of him. He loves you, all of you and he made sure you knew that. He kissed you and told you he loved you so many times. You fell asleep in his arms while he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"I love you.. I hope this could make you feel better. I will always be here for you."

Denki kaminari. Where to even begin with him. He was such a funny guy that it was hard to tell when he was joking or being serious about committing arson. He always made sure you knew that he loved you. He always hung by you and stayed by your side. He wouldn't ever tell you but he was a bit insecure. There were some things about himself he wished he could change for you, some things he wished he could do for you. He never intended to bring himself down but sometimes he thought you were this super cool goddess who was worthy of something more than a tiny little pebble like him. He felt like he was gum beneath your shoe.

Denki knew he wasn't good at a lot of things, he knew he could be dumb or even useless at times but when he seen how short you were feeling and how you would start crying because of how stressed you were he couldn't just sit by and let you feel this way.

He let you vent to him like you laid in his arms. He let you out face masks on him and let you do his hair or paint his nails or draw on him and just let your rant to him about all of your worries and woes. He wanted you to feel the way you made him feel so he tried hard to keep his mouth shut and listen. Whenever he'd notice you quieting down because you thought he was getting tired of listening he'd ask you "why'd you stop?" It'd make you feel so happy to have someone like him.

Finally after you were finished he decided to carefully pick and close his words to make himself sound just a bit smarter and more cool for you.

"hey...I'm sorry that you're going through this.. I wish there was something a bit more that I could uhm.. do? I don't want you to feel like I'm a burden but I promise you I'm here for you, if you ever want to vent like this again or just have someone to talk to, or-- or even just sit in silence with someone.. I'm here."

Neito monoma, he's quite the distinguished fellow. He always hated class 1A and he seemed to make his whole personality about just that. Or so you thought. You two getting together was not on your 2024 bingo. But he knew how to make you feel things.

He gave you butterflies by just smiling. His laugh was loud and carefree. He wasn't afraid to boast and brag about anything you did, he even did it in front of you. It was hard to feel insecure with him around. He wanted the world to know you were better than them, especially class 1A.

He would give you flowers or cute bows or just things he felt you'd like. He learned you and your every move well. He'd even practice certain conversations before the two of you have them. He felt you were rather predictable in an exciting way. A way that could never make him unlove you.

You being in a bad mood angered him, he confronted you about it and was so ready to beat someone's ass. With his words. But once you assured him why you were feeling this way his gaze softened. He grabbed you by your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. One that felt like it could last an eternity. One that you hoped would.

He sighed and just held you for a while and took it to his bed which led to a cuddle sesh. He rubbed your shoulder while you buried your face in his chest, he felt the way your breath fanned all over him and it made a shiver go down his spine.

You listen to his heartbeat and breathe in as much of him as you could, you were afraid if you didn't take all of him in right now he might disappear. Every time he kissed your forehead lightly or peppered kisses over your ear snapped you back into reality and helped you realize this was real, that he was real and was with you. That he loved you and would do anything for you.

"I love you darling and I hope you know just how much I do. I'm rather angry that you hadn't told me how you were feeling but I suppose I can let it go for now.. get some rest, my love."

AN: so I decided to make it a to character thing n don't even mind that I basically made a whole story for izukus... We all know how I feel ab him..

Also off topic and not that anyone cares but I'm thinking ab updating my masterlist yk? Js make it more aesthetically pleasing to myself. Also I wrote this all in one go, this took ab maybe two hours?????

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (2)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The tension between you and Wanda becomes too much and you finally give into her alluring remarks and suggestions. She breaks you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mention of heavy dom/sub dynamic, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.

note: So this is the second instalment and I definitely have never put this much work into the build up of what's basically a shamelessly dirty smutty story, however I hope you enjoy. (the next instalment is where things get super interesting and it will be out soon)

The Art of Submission - Chapter 2

Your heart is still racing, the taste of Wanda’s lips lingering as you lean back, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, more dangerous. 

“I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of yours.” she teases, her finger still resting on her lips as if savouring the kiss, “what are you thinking.” 

You try to compose yourself, offering a playful smile in return. “I’m thinking you’re trouble,” you say, but the voice betrays the thrill surging through you. Wanda’s energy is magnetic and you’re already caught in the strength of her pull. 

She chuckles softly, leaning closer so that her arm brushes against yours again. The subtle contact makes your nerve endings tremble. “Oh, I think you like a little trouble.” She murmurs, her tone smooth as silk. She tilts her head slightly, eyes gleaming as they enter that same darling lock with yours once more. “It's not the writing, is it?” she asks, eyes glistening, “It’s what you’re writing about.”

You shift, unsure of how to answer, but Wanda presses on, her tone softer, coaxing you forward. “You know what you want to say,” She whispers, her fingers brushing a slow maddening path along your thigh. “It’s the feeling you’re struggling with. The way to express it… to make it real.”

Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away, too caught up in the way she’s watching you, her gaze predatory and knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s clear she’s not letting you off easily. 

“What is it that you’re really trying to explore?” Wanda’s voice is like velvet, low and intimate. “Sadomasochism, right? It’s more than just the physical, it's the headspace, the emotional surrender, pushing limits.” Her words stir something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. You nod meekly, almost on instinct, feeling the weight of her hand anchoring you in place. 

“You’re not struggling with the plot,” she continues, her voice soft but relentless, “You’re struggling with how far to take it. How far to go beyond ‘safe.’” Her thumb continues to stroke a slow deliberate circle just above your knee, and your breath catchers at the subtle increase in pressure. “You’ve written about control before, but this is different. This is about letting go completely.” 

With that your pulse is on fire, her words hitting home. It is different. It’s darker and dangerous and Wanda is pushing you toward that edge, darling you to step over it. 

Her lips curve into a slow and wicked smile. “Maybe” She pushes, her voice laced with heat, “you’re scared to write about what you actually want.” Your body tenses at the insinuation and Wanda picks up on it immediately. She doesn’t pull away though, if anything, she leans in closer, her breath brushing the side of your neck. “You want to write about power,” She whispers, her hand sliding higher, the pressure firm but tantalising, “About giving it up, about what it feels like when someone takes it from you.” She pauses, letting her words settle into the heavy air between you, “but the only way to write that truthfully is to understand it.”

Your throat feels tight, your body alive with the tension crackling between you. You can’t find any words, but Wanda doesn’t seem to need them. She reads every flicker of your expression. Every quickening breath makes that wicked smile deepen.

“You can’t fake that kind of intensity darling,” Her voice is almost hypnotic, “You need to feel it. You need to know what it’s like to hand over your control, to be at someone else's mercy.” You feel her fingers move higher up your thigh. She’s testing you, waiting to see how far she can push you before you break. 

“And maybe,” She adds, her hand reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You’re tired of always being the one in control.”

This was when you realised how close she had gotten to you, her hand still on your leg, firm and unyielding, grounding you in the moment as her breath fans across your neck. “It’s okay.” her voice soft but demanding, “to want something different, to want to feel different.”

The tension between you is palpable now, the air charged with the unspoken promise of what could come next. Wanda’s touch, so deliberate, so confident, feels like a silent dare - a challenge to take that next step, to let yourself go. “Tell me,” Her lips are almost brushing yours as she speaks, “What do you really want.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of her question sinks in. Your mind races, torn between the familiar safety of control and the intoxicating allure of surrender. But Wanda’s eyes hold you captive, drawing you deeper into her web and you know there’s no turning back now. 

Wanda’s hand remains a steady weight on your thigh, the heat from her palm seeping into your bare skin. The faint scent of her perfume surrounds you, the intensity of the smell pulling you in deeper. She tilts her head ever so slightly, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder as she studies you, “You’re thinking too much again,” she says, her voice a quiet murmur. Her thumb continues its slow, torturous circle against your thigh. 

“I’m not- I just-.” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. Your hands restless in your lap as you fidget under her unwavering stare, the one that is watching every tiny flicker of emotion that crosses your face. 

“You don’t need to be nervous,” She says slowly, “Not with me.” You can feel her body heat now, the way her knee is pressing against yours, her hand resting higher on your thigh, just enough to remind you of her control without pushing too far. “Look at me.” She demands, her tone firmer now, the authority in her voice making your pulse jump. You turn your head back to her, your eyes meeting hers and she holds your gaze, unrelenting. “You can’t write it if you can’t say it.”

The words feel impossibly heavy on your tongue, but the heat of Wanda’s body so close to yours makes it harder to resist. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself and finally the words come out, shaky and quiet. “I want to give up control.”

Wanda’s smile widens, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Her hand continues to slide higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your tiny black skirt. Her thumb tracing the line of your inner thigh now with an agonising slowness. “Good,” She purrs, her voice dripping with approval, “But that's only part of it, isn’t it?”

You can’t look away from her, your chest tight with anticipation. She’s close enough that you can see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way her lips curve into that teasing smile. Her fingers move again, deliberate, testing, and your body reacts instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Her eyes darken with amusement, “Tell me the rest,” she coaxes, her voice like velvet, “What do you want from me?”

The question hangs between you, and your breath catches itself. Your hands trembling slightly in your lap and you glance down, the words heavy and terrifying as they try to force their way out. Wanda’s touch on your leg is insistent, her presence so overwhelming that you can hardly think straight. 

“I- I want you to-” Your voice wavers, but Wanda’s gaze still doesn’t falter. 

“Go on,” Her fingers brushing just a little higher, dangerously close to where you feel the heat pooling beneath your skin, finally becoming aware of the arousal that had built between your legs, “Say it.”

The tension between you is unbearable, the pull of her command undeniable. You bite your lip, you’d never wanted anybody more than Wanda at this moment. “I want you to take control.” Now, everything feels suspended, the weight of your confession hanging in the charged air between you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She murmurs, her voice teasing your timid and shaky reactions. You shake your head in nervous response, her hand moves again, a millimetre higher, the pressure firmer and you feel your body shudder under her gentle but demanding touch. “Now that you’ve said it, we can explore what it really means.” 

Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar, testing glint dancing in their depths. She leaned back, her posture easy, as if she was weighing her next move carefully. “You know what you want,” Wanda murmured softly, her voice caressing your face, “But you haven’t said it out loud yet.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, “I- I don’t know if I can.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her body leaning towards yours, her fingertips now dancing lightly over her own wrist, an unspoken reminder of the power she held, a soft contrast to the hard edge in her voice. 

Your eyes flickered to the small motion, captivated by the simplicity of it. Her confidence was dizzying, making your chest tighten with a mix of excitement and intimidation. 

“I-” You started, you wanted to tell her, to finally give in to that pull she had over you, but the fear of laying yourself bare - of admitting the truth - made your heart race, “I’m not sure how to say it.”

Wanda’s hand slid from her wrist, gliding across the table between you until it stopped short of touching yours. She hovered there, the warmth from her skin so close you could almost feel it, yet she didn’t make contact. 

“Let me make it easier for you then,” She whispers, her voice laced with control, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you’re afraid to say?” This time she cocks her head, her eyes never leaving your face. Her lips parted slightly as she waited, giving you the space to answer but tightening the leash on the unspoken tension between you. 

Every part of you screamed yes, but your voice remained trapped so all you could do was nod. Wanda’s eyes were still flickering with satisfaction, as though she had expected this. She didn’t move right away, letting the silence build around you, drawing out the longing anticipation until it felt as if time had stopped completely. 

“I didn’t hear you,” She said, her fingers finally brushing the back of your hand, the lightest touch, almost too soft to feel. 

“I want you to touch me.” You could hardly believe you had said it, your voice barely audible, but the words were out now and there was no taking them back.

Wanda’s smirk deepened, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she was having on you. Her fingers shifted over the back of your hand before slipping up to your wrist. She was barely touching you, yet it felt like she had control of every nerve in your body. 

“You see,” she said quietly, her lips brushing the words against the air between you, “this is the kind of power you need to understand. Submission is about giving yourself over completely… even when it scares you.” Her fingers tightened around your wrist, a gentle hold, but there was no mistaking the control she was exerting over you.

Your breath quickened, and you felt your chest rise and fall faster with each passing second. She was pushing you—testing you—but in a way that made you feel safe, even as your body screamed with anticipation.

Wanda’s other hand came to rest on your knee, light at first, but her grip slowly tightened, her thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. It was all you could do to remain still, your muscles tense under her touch, your entire body hyper-aware of every inch of contact.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared back at her. The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe properly. She wasn’t just asking you about the book anymore. She was asking you what you wanted. What you were ready for. “Say it,” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for hesitation, sensing that you were holding back your words.

Your pulse quickened, your body aching with the tension of holding back. “I want to go further,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you even had time to think them through. “I want… to give up control.”

Wanda smiled, her satisfaction evident in the way her fingers flexed against your skin. “Good,” she murmured, her tone dripping with approval. “Then let’s start.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as her lips barely grazed your skin. “But remember... it’s my control now.”

Your body tensed, but not from fear. The tension was different—an anticipation, a feeling like you were about to step off the edge of something and you weren’t sure what lay below. And yet, with Wanda, you felt drawn to that edge, even if it terrified you. She leaned back just slightly, her lips no longer hovering near your ear, but her eyes never left yours, still piercing, still searching.

“Are you ready to surrender?” she asked, her voice low but commanding, her fingers curling just slightly tighter around your wrist. “To give me what I want?”

You couldn’t speak right away. The knot of nerves and excitement twisted inside your stomach, making it hard to find your voice. You swallowed, your lips parting as you struggled to answer.

“I—” you started, but her fingers tightened again, not painfully, but enough to remind you that she was in control now.

“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb stroking lightly across your skin, calming and demanding all at once. “Take a breath. You’re trembling.”

She was right. You hadn’t noticed how much your body was shaking, every nerve ending tingling from her touch, from the intensity of the moment. You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and her grip loosened just enough to give you space to catch your breath.

Wanda’s eyes softened, though the playful glint remained in them. She seemed to enjoy watching you wrestle with the tension between desire and fear. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent of control. “You don’t have to rush. Just tell me how you want this to feel.”

Her hand on your knee shifted slightly, her fingers sliding just a bit higher, making your breath catch again. She was so good at this—so practised, it seemed—like she knew exactly how to push you, how to keep you teetering on that edge.

You licked your lips, your pulse still racing, but your nerves slowly giving way to a sense of surrender. You didn’t want to hold back anymore. You didn’t want to be afraid of what you were feeling. “I want… I want to feel like I’m not in control,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission came out almost like a confession, like you were telling her something you’d barely admitted to yourself.

Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up with approval. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers shifting again, just slightly, but it was enough to send another wave of sensation through you. “And what else?”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to put the words together. “I want you to push me,” you said, your voice more confident now, even if your body still trembled under her touch. “I want to feel like I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Wanda’s smirk deepened, and her fingers slid higher still, her touch achingly slow, deliberate. “You want to be surprised,” she mused, her voice soft but filled with that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken. “You want to be on the edge, not knowing what I’ll do, but trusting that I won’t let you fall.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Wanda’s hand released your wrist, and for a moment you felt the loss of her touch like a sudden drop, your skin buzzing in the absence of her grip. But then, she moved closer, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers brushing the side of your neck. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight—so much promise.

“I can do that,” she whispered, her lips curving into that dangerous smile. “But first…” Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, making your breath hitch. “I want to hear you say it again. Say that you want to surrender.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body feeling heavy with the tension she was weaving around you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. “I want to surrender,” you whispered, your voice stronger, more certain. “To you.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her lips brushing yours for the briefest of moments, a featherlight touch that made your body yearn for more. “Good,” she breathed against your lips. “Then let me show you what it feels like to let go.”

She pulled back just enough to keep the tension hanging between you, her hands moving deliberately down your arms, her touch slow, intentional, as though savouring the moment. Your entire body was on edge, waiting for her next move, but she kept you there—suspended in that delicious tension, every touch, every breath drawn out.

Her fingers slid down your arms, stopping just at your wrists, holding them with a gentle but commanding grip. “Let me take over,” she whispered, her voice so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me guide you.”

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with that single movement, you felt the shift. Wanda was no longer waiting for permission—she was in control now, and you could feel the power dynamic shift, a current running between you that electrified the air. The question wasn’t whether you wanted to give in anymore. The question was how far you were willing to let her take you.

Wanda’s fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along the inside of your wrist, her touch sending a quiet hum of electricity up your arm. She holds your gaze, her eyes darkening, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air heavier.

"You don’t have to be afraid of saying what you want," Wanda whispers, her lips barely moving. Her voice is low, controlled, as if she already knows your answer, but she’s waiting—enjoying the power of making you say it aloud.

You swallow, your throat dry. Her proximity, the subtle scent of her skin, the way her fingers never stop moving—it’s all dizzying. Your mind spins, words getting tangled in the heat between you. "I—"

Wanda tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. She leans in closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Tell me."

It’s not a request—it’s a command, soft but insistent. Her hand slides up, teasingly grazing your collarbone, her fingertips feather-light but purposeful, waiting for you to open the door completely.

“I want...” Your voice falters, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The weight of what’s about to happen presses in from all sides, but there’s something intoxicating in it. Something you can’t pull away from. “I want you to show me.”

Wanda’s smirk deepens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “That’s my girl,” she murmurs, and in that instant, everything shifts.

You’re burning now, every inch of your body is desperate to feel the touch of her, even your mind is beginning to surrender itself to her. Wanda’s eyes finally broke the strong gaze that she had been holding, her glare now roaming down your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly flattering, just a plain white cropped jumper paired with a short black skirt, but Wanda’s eyes still sparkled in delight at the sight of you sitting trembling on the kitchen stool. 

Her grip around your wrist turns into a pull as she closes the gap between them, pushing her lips against yours, dragging her tongue across your bottom lip. You immediately give her the control, allowing her access, the kiss deepening as she slides her hand up the back of your neck, her nails grazing against your skin. You whine into her mouth and you can feel her lips curve into that same smile as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth, lightly tugging. 

As she pulls away, her hand trails from your neck down your back, just one finger tracing the line all the way down your spine. “Are you comfortable with this?” Wanda asks, her voice deeper, laced with lust. You nod, your hand roaming to the back of her neck, gesturing for her to come back. “No, you need to learn to use your words honey.”

“Yes I’m comfortable.” You say, your voice laden with confidence all of a sudden and the look that this earned you made you understand why you would do anything she asked of you. 

“Oh, sweet girl, that’s better.” Wanda praises and your cheeks flush scarlet in response. Her finger traces the outline of your jaw, her hand stopping against your chin, guiding you face upwards to meet her stare. With the length of your neck exposed, she leans in to make gentle kisses against your skin, the back of her hand keeping your neck rigid against her lips. You could feel your thighs squeezing together, the slow anticipation and sudden grazes of her teeth driving you crazy.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wanda warns, spreading your thighs back open just enough that she can stand between your legs. Her hands roam down the underneath of your thighs, her touches so gentle that you were surprised you were so desperate for her. Her fingers kept brushing closer towards where you needed her, your hips rolling towards her hand in a desperate attempt for any contact. “I need to establish a few things with you okay?” 

You nod and you can see her suck her tongue between her teeth, the tilt of her head and the dark disapproving look that emerged immediately made you feel shameful in yourself, “Sorry, Yes Wanda.” Her frown turned into a smile, one that made your entire core shake. 

This time as her hand edged closer to you, she didn’t stop, allowing her fingers to lightly brush your dampened underwear, an excited gasp eliciting from the redhead as your head hangs in prolonged anticipation. “Much better, you see when you do what I want, you get rewarded.” Wanda was laying down her expectations of you, but your brain was fuzzy as her fingers continued to explore the edges of your underwear that had become completely soaked in the process. 

You begin to grip the sides of your stool as you feel Wanda dip her finger underneath the drenched material, gently skimming the length of your sensitive skin, not giving you what you needed but enough to make you tremble. Her stance between your legs, your head leaning to rest against her chest as she felt her way through the wetness that she found between your legs. 

“When you do something against what I’ve told you, for whatever reason, you will get punished.” Wanda states, removing her fingers from you, leaving you without any contact. You whine at the loss, hips jutting against your will in an attempt to regain some friction. “Do you know what you like?”

You shake your head, brain foggy with desperation. Wanda pinches the skin between your thighs and you yelp in pain, “No Wanda.” You say, immediately correcting yourself

“That’s okay, we can talk about it and I can help you explore these things.” She demands and you swallow hard as she bites her lip feeling the thrill of your innocent vulnerability. “From now on you’ll be my good girl, and I’ll guide you through this, do you understand?”

“Yes Wanda.” With your immediate submission to her rules, her eyes darken with intensity as she replaces her hand back to where you needed her. You gasp at the immediate contact against your clit, her fingers skilfully finding your bundle of nerves beneath your underwear, gently tapping the pad of her finger against it. 

“I know you’re familiar with the traffic light system.” Wanda continues, referencing your latest novel, a blush forming in your already flushed cheeks at the reminder that this is what led her into your apartment. “But this is very important, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want to slow down, just say your colour.”

“I understand.” You pant through breathy gasps, Wanda’s taps had become circles against your bundle of nerves and you could feel your core burning as she sent jolts of electricity through your body with nothing but gentle touches. 

“That’s it, you’re getting the hang of it, pretty girl.” A soft moan erupted from your lips at her words and Wanda’s gaze dances over your face, warmth radiating from her eyes as she cherishes in their first moment. She lifts your chin once again so your eyes finally meet and she smiles at the lust and desperation hidden within the depth of your eyes.

You feel your orgasm nearing as Wanda speeds up her movements, her grip on your chin forcing you to look at her as she unravels you in your own kitchen. “Rule one, you don’t cum unless I give you the permission to do so.” Her voice was commanding and authoritative, her look fierce and unwavering, making it clear that she knows exactly what she wants. 

“Y-yes.” You manage to get out, your body shaking as Wanda increased the pressure on your swollen clit, the short breathy moans that escaped your lips driving her forward, not wanting to tease you now, just wanting to see what you look like when you’re brought to the very edge, longing to see your head throw back and whine her name as she takes you over the brink. 

“You’re close aren’t you princess.” Wanda exclaims, her smile not once leaving her lips as she tilts your head backwards slightly, forcing you to look up at her with a longing desperation that she couldn’t wait to draw out in the future. 

“Wanda, please let me cum, I’m so close.” Your body was itching you closer and closer towards your orgasm but you were determined to wait for her order, wanting to prove yourself to her. 

“Hold it for me, you can do it.” Wanda instructs and you whine against her grip on your chin, doing everything you can to hold it back, every nerve in your body on fire as she relentlessly works against your clit. 

“I can’t, I need-” You splutter, slamming your hand into the counter, doing everything you could. Your fingers are gripping the counter, so tightly that your knuckles turn white trying to fight for control. You tilt your head back further, lips parting in a silent plea, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation becomes almost too much to bear. Even with your eyes closed you can feel Wanda’s gaze on you, a silent command for you to wait, keeping you just on the edge, right where she wants you.

Wanda leans closer, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shudder, barely able to hold on, her voice a soft, commanding whisper, ‘Beg for it.’

“Wanda,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and longing. The way her name rolls off your tongue feels almost sacramental, a plea that resonates deep within you. You shift your weight, leaning slightly closer, as if the proximity could bridge the gap between your need and her control.“Please... I need—” You pause, swallowing hard, the heat pooling in your cheeks, shame and excitement mingling in a dizzying dance. “I need your permission.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with vulnerability. You can feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through your veins, your body alive with the struggle of restraint. You take a steadying breath, grounding yourself as your fingers twist into the fabric again, a subtle plea for her to grant you this one thing.

“Please let me...” The words falter for a moment, but you force them out, the urgency driving you forward. “I can’t hold back anymore. I want to let go... but I need you to say it.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, raw and real, and you can see the flicker of something in Wanda's eyes—a mixture of pride and hunger. You lean in slightly, tilting your head, your gaze unwavering as you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to make that connection, to pull you from the precipice you’re hanging on.

Wanda’s smile widens, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, teasing your senses. She leans in closer, her warm breath fanning across your skin, igniting every nerve ending in your body. “But you know what you have to do to earn that release, don’t you?” Her swift circles against your clit were becoming stronger, the continuous roll of her contact pushing you closer and closer to an edge that you thought you’d already reached.

Your heart pounds harder, each beat resonating with the anticipation of what’s to come. You nod, swallowing hard, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue, begging to escape. Wanda watches you, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of authority and desire, and in that moment, you know that she holds the power to grant you the freedom you crave.

“Say it,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. “Tell me what you want.” 

The air is thick with tension, and your body betrays you, trembling with the weight of your desire. You take a breath, feeling every fibre of your being attuned to her, your vulnerability laid bare. “I want... I want to come,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with desperation.

For a moment, she holds your gaze, the intensity of her stare igniting something primal within you. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “I want you to let go, to feel everything I’ve been promising you. When I give you permission, you can release all that pent-up desire.”

You feel the flood of relief and exhilaration coursing through you, a wave of warmth washing over your body at her words. “Yes... please,” you urge, each syllable laced with a sense of urgency. “I need it, Wanda.”

With a slow, deliberate smile, she nods, her expression shifting to one of wicked delight. “Then go ahead, my sweet girl. You have my permission, cum for me.”

The moment the words leave her lips, a rush of sensation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your body surrendering to the intoxicating pull of release. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for, and in that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure that Wanda has granted you. Wanda continues circling your clit, helping you ride out the orgasm that you’d so desperately waited for. 

Once the pleasure has washed over you, all you can do is sit with Wanda standing between your legs, her brazen eyes beating down at you, her fingers still massaging into your thighs, sensing the sensitivity from your subtle squirms in response to her touch. 

“My god Wanda.” You say in utter astonishment at the woman's talent and it was her turn for her cheeks to grow slightly blushed at the praise, “I’ve never felt like that before, you’re incredible.”

“So you want this?” Wanda blushes, that dominating persona slowly breaking down at a few compliments. You mentally noted that down, knowing that it would come in useful at a later date. 

“I want nothing more than to do whatever this is with you.” You state honestly, your body still burning. You reach up to tuck her auburn hair behind her ear, the one strand that had been sat directly in front of her eyeline the entire evening. 

With that you exchanged numbers and you found yourself eagerly sitting waiting for the first text.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Rhythms

124k, 17 chapters, E, complete and on Ao3.

TK swoons when he discovers a sentimental scrapbook full of notes he and Carlos have left for each other – but he also unearths a book of poems that closeted teen-Carlos wrote about his struggles, including a few dedicated to his high school crush. An adorably mortified Carlos recalls the stir he caused when he was published anonymously in the high school paper, and everything he went through to write his wedding vows for TK years later. With TK as a hype-man, maybe Carlos can embrace his creative side again.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 - Love Heart: The day after TK and Carlos’ first wedding anniversary, TK is sent home from work sick. Back at the loft unexpectedly, he makes a surprising discovery about Carlos.

Chapter 2 - Club Can't Handle Me: In 2011, sixteen-year-old Carlos is both in the closet and in his high school’s wrestling team – and it’s all a bit too much. Perhaps against his better judgment, he turns to poetry and makes a decision that will change his life.

Chapter 3 - Crossroads: Daydreaming about his wedding vows mid-drive, Carlos gets pulled over for a traffic violation – and Gabriel isn’t happy. Reunited with TK, Carlos might be lost for words, but he finds another way to express his love and desire.

Chapter 4 - The Wrestler: Carlos’ poems are published – and he quickly learns there’s no putting the genie back into the bottle.

Chapter 5 - A Gay Fantasia: In the aftermath of being abducted by a serial killer, Carlos reflects on recent events and resumes work on his wedding vows.

Chapter 6 - La Tormenta: Carlos is devastated when Scott gets a girlfriend, and he finds himself in another snowballing situation.

Chapter 7 - Soulmates: When TK has a Huntington’s disease scare, Carlos finds he knows exactly what to say. But will it help him with his writer’s block when it comes to his wedding vows?

Chapter 8 - Man of Mystery: It’s the day of the Lake View High School Talent Show – and will the real Shadow Poet please stand up?

Chapter 9 - Crush: In 2011, it’s make or break for sixteen year old Carlos at the talent show. In 2024, TK becomes the hype man Carlos had needed over a decade ago.

Chapter 10 - From Behind: A couple of weeks before the wedding, Carlos is still working on his vows when a deeper rift develops between him and his dad. In 2012, seventeen year-old Carlos is spiraling after coming out to his parents.

Chapter 11 - The Other Wrestler: TK decides to lift Carlos’ spirits by learning how to wrestle.

Chapter 12 - Carlos Reyes Will Be Okay: At Gabriel’s funeral, Carlos regrets saying no to reading a poem in tribute – but during the wake, he finds himself under a whole new pressure. Later that night, he realizes the vows he’s worked so hard on for TK cannot be spoken yet.

Chapter 13 - The Closet: Despite some good news, Carlos ends up in the doghouse with his mom and with TK.

Chapter 14 - Once in a Blue Moon: Reeling from his confrontation with Andrea, Carlos seeks advice and admits a secret.

Chapter 15 - Raining on Prom Night: In May 2012, chaos erupts at Carlos’ senior prom.

Chapter 16 - Tyler Kennedy Strand: The wedding day arrives, and Carlos finally gets to recite his vows to TK.

Chapter 17 - Shadow Poet: Carlos attends his poetry reading with TK by his side and some important people in the audience – but will he actually perform this time?

“I was just remembering–” Carlos says, “The first time you stayed for a while after one of our hookups. It was, like, the third time we hooked up, I think. I asked if you wanted tea and cookies and you looked at me like I’d said the weirdest thing ever.”

TK’s exhausted, puffy face breaks into a dazzling grin. “You were being such a Boy Scout.”

“But then you said yes and you ate half the cookie jar.”

“You called me the Cookie Monster.”

“That was the first time I really made you laugh.”

“Tea came out my nose.”

“It was beautiful,” Carlos says, pausing then to qualify: “Your laugh.”

TK gazes up at him, his clear green eyes large and shining. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“The first time you made me laugh was when we were dancing at the honky-tonk.”

“Hey!” TK swats his arm. “I was trying my best!”

“You were so goofy,” Carlos chides. “I just loved it. I loved you.”

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[annaraebananawriter]

(Request) I Bet You Were the Best Brother

It's been a while since I posted a oneshot, so I hope this 5k one manages to make up for that.

As I've mentioned before, been going through a bit of a writer's block that is finally going away. Some it still lingers, but it is infinitely better. Feels like I can breathe again. So, everyone reading this that struggles with writer's block at the moment--know that it will go away. You will be able to write again. It's not a matter of if, only when. You will be able to write again.

Anyway, I don't have any other major life updates for you, so I guess I'll let you start reading now. Happy reading! Let me know what you thought!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: Dream and Nightmare (Who belong to Joku)

Warnings: A character losing their memory and swearing and I think that’s it. Let me know!

Summary: Ilike_cringe (Fri 14 Oct 2022): "here is a request :>. Could you make it that nightmare might have hit dream tooo hard in a fight that (bear with me ) Dream lost his memory ( if you could could you add more spice \^o^/)"

Word Count: 5395

~oOo~

Nightmare wanted there to be a note that the fight started off normal.

His gang showed up, causing some ruckus. He hung out in the background observing, soaking in the new misery like a sponge, keeping an eye out for the tell-tale sign that the Star Sanses had shown up. In today’s case, that ended up being an arrow flying at one of his boys, which barely got dodged, the blue glow disappearing as it left eyesight. Grinning, he had taken it as his cue to join in, grabbing Dream by the ankles as he notched another one, and throwing him across the space.

Not too hard, of course. He didn’t want his brother out of commission quite yet. That was always the fun part about the fight, seeing him defeated. It needs to be drawn out a bit, though, for it to be really satisfying.

Dream recovered from the toss quickly, though he was soaked head to toe—he had unintentionally tossed him into the river. Whoops. The annoyed look on his brother’s face made his grin widen even more. They quickly fell into their routine after that, trading blows and insults, slowly moving away from the others. Another toss had them entering the woods, which resulted in a lot of fallen trees, a clear indicator of where they’d gone.

A cliff came into view, with Dream’s back to it. Nightmare didn’t take much note of it at the time, too preoccupied—his brother had just gotten a pretty bad hit to the back of his skull, making him stumble. Pausing for a minute, he gave him some time to get his bearings back before attacking again, pushing him closer to the cliff edge.

So…technically, this whole thing could be considered his fault, but how was he supposed to know what would happen?

The cliff seemed perfectly safe in the normal dangerous way!

This means the fight was going great until the cliff crumbled under Dream’s feet, making him shriek, eyes widening, his bow dispersing as he pinwheeled backward. Nightmare froze, staring at the now absent spot with eyes equally as wide, tentacles raised to strike.

Then it went silent.

 “…shit,” he hissed, automatically turning around in case his brother teleported at the last second to safety. It wouldn’t be the first time, so it shouldn’t be the last time.

No one was there.

He waited.

Still no one.

Maybe Dream was just in shock, still picking himself up. Turning back, Nightmare stepped closer to the cliff, small rocks tumbling after the larger ones from his movements. If he leaned over, he could probably tell…ah, no. Nope, that was just a bunch of trees. His brother was probably under those trees. Probably just picking himself up.

He’ll return in no time.

Nightmare just had to wait.

So, he did.

For one minute. Then two. Then…honestly, he lost track of the minutes after that, glancing back and forth around the clearing, looking over his shoulder at the cliff like Dream would just suddenly appear, having climbed up for some stupid reason. Any minute now, the fight will be back on, continuing as usual…any minute now…

…any minute…

…any—

Okay, so.

Something was wrong.

Turning back to the cliff, he glared at the edge. It was its fault this was happening. Why did it decide to crumble now? Particularly when Dream was on it? Why?

Now his brother was somewhere below, dazed as hell, without the clear thinking necessary to teleport, or injured badly enough to be unconscious—and as soon as that thought popped into existence, he shoved it away, then took time to quell the rising panic in his soul.

No, no, that’s not possible. Dream’s far more durable than that. Sure, it’s a cliff, and cliff’s cause damage, even to immortal beings, but still. His brother could heal, so shouldn’t that work on himself, make him more…invulnerable, or something? Unless…he couldn’t actually heal himself and he’s just been assuming that he could this entire time…no, that couldn’t be possible. Nightmare’s pretty sure he’d remember that if it were the case.

So…what happened?

Maybe…maybe Dream was just staying down there for a while.

He’ll probably join again in a bit.

Yeah, that’s probably it. So, he should really go back and help his boys. Hey, maybe Dream’s already there! Maybe he went to his friends instead. Makes sense, makes sense…

He should go help his boys now, he’s been standing here too long.

And…he wasn’t moving.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Dream’s fine. He’s back at the main fight. It’s something that’s happened before. It should be something that happened here. It’s fine. He can go back. So…what kept him here, staring around like his brother would magically appear, a tight feeling in his chest that threatened to steal the air away from his non-existent lungs?

Maybe…maybe he should just go down there, check on Dream—

That was another thought pushed away. No, hell no. If he gave in to that though, if he went down there to check, now, after too much time has already passed for that to be considered just moving the fight along, that’d be…that’s cause his brother to hope. Hope that things could go back to the way things were before the apples. He can’t go through the painstaking steps needed to crush that hope, put off the last stubborn spark that remained until he was sure it wouldn’t create another flame. Not again.

Besides, he didn’t even care. Not that much. Sure, yeah, he cared somewhat, always would—that’s just naturally part of being a brother. But the majority of how much he cared was in the past, before everything was plucked off a tree in the form of a black apple and devoured. That care no longer exists, taken over by the need to win all these fights, making the scales tip in his direction.

It just…didn’t exist. He didn’t care.

(Some days, it was harder to convince himself of this fact than others.

This was one of them.)

He didn’t care, so he should so rejoin his boys, and get out of this AU.

This time, he teleported.

It was an easy win. Dream never came back.

When it came time to go home, Nightmare couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering away from his boys, who were celebrating as usual, over to the trees. In the direction of the cliff, even if he couldn’t see it from here.

The tight feeling in his chest squeezed and squeezed. His tentacles flicked nervously behind him. For some reason, he kept thinking that now was the moment his brother would appear, now was the moment he could stop all this silly, stupid worry, go back to being angry. And the longer he looked, the more that thought wavered and shook, gathering speed as it transformed into a tornado that threatened to consume all of his other priorities until he made sure Dream was okay. But the only way to do that was to go and check, and leaving now would just make the boys confused and worried, which he could not handle right now.

Besides, he was sure it was fine.

He got them all home before he could convince himself otherwise, before the urge to make sure was too overpowering. To make sure he was really distracted, he holed himself up in his office, pulling out some paperwork—which wasn’t even real paperwork, just a bunch of sudoku and word searches and other puzzles printed out to make it look like he was working on important stuff.

For the most part, it worked. Kept his mind too busy to think about what happened.

Then he got to one particular word search that—and he is not joking or exaggerating this part—had three words at the bottom for him to find, all in a row, that read: ‘Dream’, ‘injury’, and ‘concussion’. Isn’t that just the strangest collection of words you’ve ever seen? The surreal coincidence of the words made Nightmare stare down at the page for a minute, completely gobsmacked. Who the hell was writing these word searches, and why the fuck did they include these three specific words on the same one?

It was like a sign or something…

Sneering, Nightmare tore the word search up into tiny pieces, sitting back in his chair, spinning around and around. Trying very hard not to think about the three words. And how his brother never came back. And how the yelp he let out when he fell just fell silent and how he never bothered to check and—

And now he was thinking about it.

“Fuck.”

Growling to himself, he stopped spinning in his chair. Then, he promptly stood and teleported back to the AU.

Leaning over the cliff again, he teleported down. His brother wasn’t anywhere in the immediate proximity—though, why would he be? This was all just a waste of time—so he started walking around, ducking under some tree branches. When he fell, Dream would’ve had to have landed somewhere around here…though he still wasn’t sure why he was searching.

His brother was probably gone by now. His friends probably came to collect him.

Why did he think he’d find him here, lying on the ground as if nothing happened? As if he just decided to take an impromptu nap, in the snow and in wet clothes and…

Oh. Oh, shit.

That was actually Dream lying there in front of him.

Fuck.

Almost tripping over himself, Nightmare hurried over, falling to his knees beside his brother. His hands hovered in the air around him, unsure what to do. “Dream?” he called, hoping to wake him up. Nothing happened.

Dream didn’t move.

For a soul-stopping moment, Nightmare actually thought he might be dead. Panic swirled in his chest, choking him, until he remembered that if they were dead, their body would turn to dust. Presumably, anyway, since they had no real way of knowing that until they…y’know…actually died, but still. The thought allowed him to gather himself enough to Check his brother, make sure of it. It said he was fine, if missing a chunk of health.

Nightmare breathed out, hating how shaky it was. “Idiot, making me worry for nothing…” he muttered to himself, looking down at his brother, frowning. Shaking his shoulder, he raised his voice a bit, eager to wake him up, make sure he left to wherever, hopefully back to his friends, and get home himself before his boys wondered where he went off to. “Dream. Wake up.”

No response. Dream was still. Breathing—he double-checked, just to be sure—but still.

Frowning, he shook him again, rougher. Still nothing.

Even unconscious, his brother insisted on being annoying. Scowling, he sat back on his heels. “If you don’t wake up, I’m going to kick you.”

Nothing.

Welp. His hand was forced.

Standing, Nightmare kicked Dream in the side—not too hard, of course, he’s not a complete monster. Just enough that he woke up.

Which he did.

Finally.

Nightmare rolled his eye to himself, crossing his arms as he watched his brother groan, coming to. A hand half-raised to his head before stopping, eyes blinking open and squinting against the light. His eyelights were paler than normal, just a hair bigger, too. He could see the exact moment they focused in, his brother clocking that there’s someone standing above him, but Dream didn’t panic, didn’t seem to be anything more than confused.

Dream blinked again. “Hi.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone. Seriously? That’s it? He fought the urge to roll his eye again. “What are you still doing here?”

His brother seemed to get more confused. “What?”

Wondering if the fall knocked loose some brain cells, Nightmare scowled. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You know what. What are you still doing here? This is, like, the most uncomfortable spot to have a nap.” Without waiting for him to answer, he continued, waving a hand around. He couldn’t let the opportunity to mock him go by. “And why didn’t you rejoin the fight? I thought you had a duty to protect the positivity in the multiverse.”

“Um…” Dream blinked for a third time, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He laughed, nervously, like a reflex, and when he opened his eyes again, they were fuzzy again. “Sorry, you went a bit fast for me there. Could you repeat that?”

Ugh. Now he was just being difficult.

“You’re so annoying.” Nightmare said, stepping away. “Just get up and get out of here.”

Looking up at him, the words seemed to take a few minutes to sink in. Then, nodding, Dream tried to stand, movements jerky, as if he was figuring out how to move them for the first time again. When he stood, he wobbled, tilting over a bit before righting himself.

Nightmare realized he had stepped forward, ready to catch him should he fall, and retreated, tucking his hands back into his arms.

Damnit. He was slipping. He had to get out here, fast.

“I’m alright.” Dream said, clearly noticing his misstep. He was smiling. Nightmare had to look away before the sight made him feel warm inside. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Whatever,” Nightmare said in return, leaving it at that.

Still smiling, his brother shifted on his feet, looking down at his hands and clenching them into fists a couple of times. His gaze wandered back up to him, and then away, looking around them with a curious, still confused, look. It was almost like he was trying to figure out where he was, as if he wasn’t just in a fight here earlier.

He couldn’t have forgotten that fast, could he? And what was he still doing here?

Shouldn’t he be opening a portal by now?

“What are you waiting for?”

Snapping back to look at him, Dream didn’t seem to understand the question. “Huh?”

Waving a hand again, tentacles flicking behind him, Nightmare’s scowl deepened. Why the fuck was he acting so weird? “Open a portal already and go home. Your friends are probably worried sick by now.”

(He ignored the voice in his head that said he was starting to get worried, too.)

���Right, right.” Dream nodded, trying and failing to look like he knew what he was talking about. “A portal…see, um, I would do that…but, uh…” Looking around again, shifting some more, his smile turned sheepish. “Well, I don’t remember, exactly, how to do that.”

Nightmare did not return the smile, unamused. He just stared.

What the fuck? What was he playing at? What was the point in drawing all this out? Nostalgia? What did he get out of acting so weird? What was going on here?

“Do you think this is a fucking game?” Nightmare asked, voice slipping off into a growl. His tentacles moved restlessly. He was getting agitated now. He just wanted to go home, get back to his puzzles, and maybe sleep for a week. But no, he was here, playing along with this stupidness, unable to get a grasp on what was happening.

Dream looked alarmed, holding his hands up and shaking them furiously. “No! No—”

“Then why the fuck are you wasting my time? I come out here, in the middle of the evening, to make sure you’re good, and you decide to, what, pull a joke on me?” Unable to curb his irritation, he shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “Stars, I hate you. I’m reminded now why I don’t bother doing this for you. You never take it seriously.” Turning he started to walk away, hearing Dream stutter excuses behind him.

He didn’t want to hear any excuses. He was done. He was going home.

“It’s not—I’m not joking,” Dream called after him, footsteps crunching on the snow as he chased after him.

“Of course, you are!” Nightmare sighed, in annoyance or anger or both of them combined. He didn’t care anymore. “You always are!” He didn’t bother stopping or turning around. Just continued on. And then he remembered he didn’t have to walk away at all, could just make a portal out. Turning his annoyance to himself, he raised a hand to do so—

“I don’t remember that.”

—and stopped.

The statement struck the right chord, making something inside him fall to the pit of his stomach, pricking him uncomfortably. Slowly, he turned to face Dream again, paying more attention. “…what?”

“I—I don’t remember that,” Dream said, tone so genuine, eyes so wide and confused and even scared that it seemed to create a physical attack on his soul. Raising a hand, his brother held it to his head. “I thought if I waited a bit, I might remember something, but I don’t. It’s all just…blank. I don’t know anything you’re talking about, like the fight or my friends. I place any faces to them or names or anything.” He let his hand fall, shaking his head as he turned his gaze down to his feet, speaking softly. “I just don’t remember.”

The words pushed Nightmare out of the present, sending him spiraling into the black hole opening in his ribs, right where his soul is. They pressed in on him, reverberating, turning into a high pitch that buzzed inside him, threatening to cut off his breath.

He didn’t want to believe the words. In fact, he was trying his absolute best not to. Excuses flew through, nitpicking through the explanation and finding words that betrayed the real truth. He told himself over and over that no matter what, no matter how injured he got, Dream would never allow this to happen. His brother would hold onto himself with an iron grip, too desperate to let go, and the Multiverse would allow him to hold on because it was just another being that favored him. They would not let their favorite Guardian lose his precious memories, not for all the stories it brought them.

No, it just wasn’t possible. He was lying—though the reason why was unclear, and nothing could really justify it, he had to be lying. It was a trick, a ploy, maybe even a trap. Yes, that’s it. Any minute now, the other Star Sanses would jump out, pull their weapons, and Dream would drop this façade and go back to pleading with him and when it didn’t work, when Nightmare lashed out in anger, he would pull out his bow and—and—

It just---it had to be a trick.

It had to.

It…

His eyes didn’t look like he was lying, though.

No matter how long he searched, how close he looked, it was a blank sheet of gold. He found confusion, yes, he found anxiety—nothing new there—but he did not find any recognition. Hope and helplessness, but no relief in having someone he knew find him. Even now, as his brother looked around the clearing, he only saw curiosity, as if he hadn’t seen this place before, as if he had just arrived, as if he had just woken up and was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. The eyes came back to his, smiled at him, and—

And they were still blank.

A ghost.

The black hole in his ribs widened, pulling him in faster. Digging his heels in, he resisted with everything he had, swimming back out. He had to confirm this, he told himself, had to make sure this was the truth. If there was any chance he did remember, whether that be his friends or his title or Night—

Well, Nightmare just had to find it. He had to.

He heard himself speak before he was fully back in his body. “Did you hit your skull?”

“Ah, maybe?” Dream tilted his head, reaching around to the base of it before retracting quickly, wincing. “Yes. Yeah, I did.”

“Turn around.”

Obedient, Dream did, and Nightmare stepped closer, observing the crack. It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting—certainly not as big—but it was still enough to make bile climb up the back of his throat. Swallowing it down, he darted his gaze around it, taking in the gaping black hole, about the size of a cherry, thinner cracks webbing out from around it. It had blood crusted on the edges, and he was sure that if he took the time to look around the cliff, he’d find matching spots.

Absently reaching out, he traced along the wound with his fingers. Stars, how he wished he knew how to heal. This would be so much easier.

Dream pulled away after his fingers made contact, and he let his hand fall as he turned back, already apologizing. “Sorry! Sorry, that just…really hurt.” He laughed again, but it petered out as he caught sight of Nightmare’s face. “Oh…that bad of a sight, huh?”

“You said…” Nightmare swallowed again, ignoring those words. “You said you don’t remember anything?” The feeling in the pit of his stomach clenched.

“No.” Oblivious, Dream shook his head. “The latest memory I have is of you standing over me. Before that…” Tilting his head again, his brother thought about it, ultimately coming up with nothing. No spark in his eyes. “Nothing.” He looked regretful, like he wished he could be of more help. “Sorry.”

There he went again, apologizing.

Nightmare was going to have to have a talk with him about that. He can’t keep saying sorry for things that he didn’t need to say sorry for in the first place.

First, however, was dealing with—this.

“So…” He didn’t want to ask the next question. It burned in his throat, made his tongue curl in preparation, the words too ugly to even think about. Why did it need to be said? He already knew the answer to it. Why did he insist on asking it when he knew what was going to be said? He would rather them stand like this forever than ask it.

That was a risk, though. And he would really like to get some sleep tonight—even if that might be impossible the longer this sank in. They should really wrap this up soon.

That meant asking uncomfortable questions.

Swallowing himself down, Nightmare let the question go. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway. “You don’t remember me?” The words lingered in the air, an odd hint of emotion to them, something fragile and vulnerable.

(He knew the answer to why he wanted to ask this.

Somehow, somewhere inside him, there was still a need that maybe something would be remembered. If the longer they talked, the greater the chance the memories would just snap back into place. That the hollow feeling of having someone you grew up with look at you like one would a stranger would disappear, replaced by joy or anger or tears, anything else.

Inside, if nothing else, he needed there to be a chance he’d be remembered.)

It felt like hope.

“No.” Dream answered, the shaking of his head feeling like salt poured into open wounds. He seemed disappointed in himself, upset he couldn’t help. For him, this was failing at giving someone what they wanted.

For Nightmare, this was confirmation.

(It felt like denial.)

(There was a stinging in his chest. Where did it come from?)

“Where you someone important?”

Nightmare automatically bristled. “I—” He stopped himself, glaring down at the ground while clenching his jaw.

His instinct was to say that, of course he was. He was Dream’s brother. They grew up together. They were, still are, two halves of the same coin, two halves to the same balance. Despite everything, that had to mean something.

But that wasn’t the truth, was it?

Not anymore.

Maybe one time, before The Incident, before the villagers came to them. It was just the two of them, after all. And Mother, but she couldn’t really say much, or do anything beyond existing. Maybe then they were each other’s most important person. And maybe it would’ve stayed that way had everything not gone to shit.

But the point was, that was in the past.

Whatever they had, it was gone. In more ways than one now…

Inhaling, Nightmare looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That…depends on your definition of important.”

They had other people in their lives now. He had his gang, his boys. Though he often complained about their foolishness and called them idiots, not once had he ever wished he hadn’t met them. Dream, he knew, felt much the same about Ink and Blue. Neither of them would trade their friends for the world.

Even for each other.

“I was—” Nightmare sighed, rolling back his shoulders. “I’m your brother. Nightmare.” He forced himself to look back at Dream, even if the eye contact burned his soul with something uncomfortable. “Your name is Dream, by the way. In case you forgot that, too.”

“Cool!” Dream paused and gasped, beaming as he made the connection. “Our names match!”

“Yeah.” Nightmare said, forcing himself to smile back. “Yeah, they do.” Of course they did, he thought to himself. That’s the reason why they chose the names.

Brow furrowing, Dream tilted his head. “Wait, if we’re brothers, wouldn’t I just live with you, then?”

“What?” Nightmare felt himself frown in return. “Why do you think we’d live together?”

Strange, considering Dream didn’t even remember him.

(There was that stinging again.)

“I-I don’t know, I just…I have this feeling that brothers should be living together. That they need to live together. I don’t know why, but it’s a very strong feeling.” Dream raised a hand to his chest, hovering over where his soul would be. “When I think about you, um, that feeling gets all…strange.”

This caught his attention. “Strange?”

“Yeah.” Nodding slowly, Dream worked through it, finding what to call it. “I think it…I think it turns jealous, somehow.”

Nightmare stared.

Jealous…?

That couldn’t be right. Dream had to be reading it wrong.

There was nothing to be jealous about. His brother always had the perfect life. What more could he want?

If anything, he should be the one jealous. He’s the only one who deserves to be jealous. Jealous of the way people were always drawn to his brother over himself, the way people thought everything of the sun and nothing of the moon, even though they both shared the same light. It was his right to be envious, his right to look upon the past and view it with bitterness. It was his right to look at the present, now, when Dream still has his friends and his standing and still has everyone revolving around him.

At least he can find relief, find arrogance, in the fact that he found his own friends, his own group of people who looked up to him. It took years, it took work, but he found them.

He didn’t need Dream anymore.

(So, what if sometimes he looked at his brother and his friends and felt a longing to join them?

So, what if he found the way they laughed, the way they treated each other, a reminder that he’s done too many things to be treated like that again?

So, what if he’s tired of fighting all the time and wants to go back to how things were, while knowing that could never happen, while looking across the battlefield into golden eyes that reflected the same kind of feelings and—and…oh.

Oh.

Oh, they would never escape being peas in a pod, would they?)

“Hey, you mentioned my friends, though.” Dream said, brightening up again, looking around like they might just pop up. Not that he would recognize them. “Maybe we could find them and they could help me get home. What do you think of that?”

Maybe, Nightmare thought, looking away as well. He couldn’t lie, it would be nice to leave this place, and dump the responsibility of an amnesiac onto someone else. Especially the Guardians of the Multiverse, the coveted Star Sanses.

But something twisting in his stomach stopped him from agreeing.

He thought, all too suddenly, about how he came back hours later to his brother still lying in relatively the same spot he fell. Meaning Ink and Blue never came back to look for him after they retreated. You’d think, for monsters that claimed to be his best friends, they’d be out here the minute the battle was over, bringing Dream back home to be checked on.

Why should he trust his brother with those two, when they didn’t even search for him? They probably don’t even know he’s missing. They certainly don’t know he’s injured. He can’t help but wonder what their reactions would’ve been to this memory loss.

Too bad he won’t find out.

“I think they’re busy, actually.” Nightmare decided, making a split decision that he hoped wasn’t wrong. “And going to be busy for the week yet.”

 “Oh…”

Dream looked disappointed. Hurt.

The look on his face only solidified Nightmare’s decision. His tentacles curled in satisfaction. “You can come home with me, though. Stay for a bit.”

“Really?” Starting to brighten yet again, Dream seemed to hesitate, searching to make sure he was telling the truth.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.” Dream’s smile lit up the forest, and Nightmare turned himself away before he found himself getting soft because of it. Raising a hand to open the portal, he heard Dream chuckle behind him. “I gotta say, even though I don’t remember it, I bet you were the best brother ever.”

The words were said so confidently, so…normally…it made Nightmare freeze. The portal wobbled in front of him, but stayed open, and he blinked at it a couple of times before he turned back to his brother.

His mouth was dry, for a reason he couldn’t yet understand.

“What?”

“Well, I mean…it’s like you said. You came all this way, in the middle of the night, to check on me. You were worried. And then, when you found me, you stayed to wake me up, even though you technically already completed your goal. You didn’t just leave. And you checked my injury without me asking you to, and told me my name, and now you’re offering to let me stay at your place.”

Dream’s smile turned smaller, more vulnerable. “It just seems like a very nice thing to do.”

Nightmare’s gaze was frozen, locked onto that genuine, soft smile. The last sentence played on a loop, ringing inside his skull.

A very nice thing to do.

In any other situation, the suggestion would be laughable.

But like this…

(There was that stinging. Again. Why won’t it just go away?)

He thought back to the fight that happened earlier. How he reveled in the pain he caused, how much fun he had taunting his brother. How often he attacked him, without worry or caution. How eager he was to throw him around into trees, back him up into a cliff. He hadn’t even thought about what might happen, too giddy, too smug. All he wanted to do was put him in his place…he hadn’t even cared that he was bleeding…hadn’t even reached out to try and save him when the cliff crumbled…

How long had Dream laid there, in the snow, still in wet clothes?

What did he think as he watched Nightmare watch him fall?

How can that be called nice?

How can what happened during The Incident be called nice? What kind of brother turned his twin into stone, and left him in a dead AU all alone, knowing full well that he would one day return? What kind of brother picked an apple he was supposed to protect in the first place? What kind of brother was he?

Certainly not the kind this Dream was talking about…

“Right.” Nightmare said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He understood why this time. He wanted to throw up. “Thanks.”

Dream didn’t notice anything wrong. Still smiling away. As always. Always. “No problem!” Rocking back on his heels, he started to look around as his attention span waned with no portal to go through.

Still, Nightmare did not move to open it.

Instead, he found himself changing tracks. Jumping train from thinking about how bad of a brother he was, to how good of a brother Dream was.

Is.

Was.

Stars, this was so confusing…

“You weren’t that bad of a brother yourself.” Nightmare said, and this time the words were better tasting. At least this way, something true would be said here.

Dream looked back at him, surprised, with a spark of confusion. Then, even if he didn’t know everything Nightmare was talking about, he smiled, taking it as the compliment it was. “Aw, thanks.”

Nodding, Nightmare finally managed to open the portal, letting Dream go through first. He hesitated to follow, looking around the AU again. For some reason, he felt like he would still find his brother, memories and all, waiting for him if he looked hard enough. But he wouldn’t. He knew that.

At least, he had to accept that.

That stinging again…

Showing it down once again, Nightmare turned and went home.

(It’s only after Dream is settled into one of the guest bedrooms—stocked with fresh bedsheets and a fresh pair of clothes for the next day borrowed from Nightmare’s own closet—and he’s back in the safety of his office that he lets his composure finally break. Choking, he slides down his door, hand clasped over his mouth to keep as quiet as possible.

It’s only then that he lets himself cry.

Cry about how he never reached out to catch his brother when he first fell.

Cry about what his brother thought before splitting his skull on a rock.

Cry about the stranger left in his brother’s body.

Cry about everything.)

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection Chapter Five

This one is short, I am sick of writing in this chapter and just want to get to the next part so I'm saving us all a several months long writers block and posting it "unfinished" instead. It's also unedited. This chapter is the definition of Started Making It, Had a Breakdown, Bon Appetite. Hope it's enjoyable anyway.

No tw besides medical settings.

Ao3

First | Previous | Next

---

Tim didn’t like being used as a prop to get Bruce into Ameliorate, he didn’t like being poked and prodded for over an hour by Percy Daelus while Bruce sweet talked the man, and he most definitely didn’t like the results from the analysis that he had just finished on the medication he’d been prescribed.

Most of the contents made sense but there was one chemical that wasn’t like anything in their system. And they had a lot of chemicals in their system.

“Tim?” He flipped around to see Duke trotting to him. “We got the stuff you asked for.”

Tim took the bag he offered with a short nod before turning back to the table and riffling through it. When he realized there was an unknown ingredient, he asked Duke and Damian to get him different medicines and cure-alls from the company, any they could get their hands on. If this strange chemical was in one of them, it very well could have been in more.

He tried to ignore Duke hovering as he prepared the machine for another round. Damian had taken perch on a chair to the side. “Tt, are you certain there is an unknown-?”

“Yes.” Tim snapped. “I tested it six times.”

“Maybe the machine is wrong?” Duke sounded hesitant to suggest it. Tim stopped what he was doing to turn to him with an unimpressed, flat expression. “Or…you know, maybe not.”

---

Daelus listened carefully to the child’s heart, struggling to hear it past the labored breathing. Thankfully it seemed healthy. When he pulled away and slid the stethoscope back around his neck the young boy’s mother was watching him closely.

He offered her a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, the cold is minor. It’s nothing we can’t handle for sure.” The relief that washed over her face was more rewarding than anything else in the world. “I’ll have the nurse prepare your first dose, and then you can pick up the rest of the medication at the front pharmacy, alright?”

“Thank you.” The mother slumped back in her chair. He understood why she would be so scared for her baby. Not even a year old and the poor thing was sick as a dog.

He left the room as quietly as possible while flagging down his current nurse. Once she had been filled in Daelus made his way to his personal office.

Normally on clinic days he would spend the whole ten or so hours seeing as many patients as possible but today was a special case; he had another meeting with Bruce Wayne. After meeting Tim (who was remarkably healthy for missing a spleen, if quite sleep deprived) Mr. Wayne seemed much more comfortable with Daelus.

That in and of itself was a massive relief. With one of the world’s favorite billionaires on its side, Amiliorite could finally start stage three of operations. Moving global would be hard without support from a well-liked celebrity, and Daelus much preferred when things ran smoothly.

There wasn’t much time to clean up before one of his front desk workers opened the door. Daelus went to greet Bruce with a smile. One that didn’t get returned.

“I have concerns.”

Daelus furrowed his brows. “Is there an issue with Tim’s medicine? I was certain we’d prescribed-“

Bruce, normally jovial and frankly ditzy, was looking far more serious than Daelus was familiar with. “I had my scientists look at your medications. There’s something in them that they can’t identify.”

In giving Bruce permission to test the medications Daelus knew there was a chance that subject P’s tears could be isolated. He simply hadn’t thought it would happen. Inwardly he cursed himself for not expecting the Wayne Enterprises scientists to be able to figure it out.

“Oh that,” Daelus tried another smile. “That’s nothing to worry about. My people did rigorous testing to ensure-“

“What is it?”

“What is the substance?” Daelus asked.

“Yes.” Bruce said, tone sharp and cold.

“Ah, well we refer to it as Healosol.” He pronounced the word like ‘heal us all’, slow and deliberate, hoping the name would ease some of Bruce’s worries. “My scientists synthesized it themselves. It took years to develop and years more to test. We’ve ensured that it is entirely safe for human consumption. Not just safe, actually, but wholly beneficial!”

Unfortunately Bruce didn’t seem quite as comforted as Daelus had hoped. His coldness was replaced with a thoughtful edge that made him more than a little nervous. If Bruce vocally opposed the company, it would be disastrous.

It had taken most of his adult life to get the company up off the ground and especially in Gotham the process was nowhere near easy.

Dealus had forgone personal relationships to further Ameliorate. His physical health would be tanked if it weren’t for the medicines that he made for his own use. He slept in one of his offices practically every night, barely entering his own apartment. Everything he had was thrown into making it work. If it didn’t work-

Anxiety tangled through his ribcage. They had helped so many people in Gotham and the neighboring cities already but he didn’t want to stop there. How many people in the world were sick, dying, wallowing?

They could save so much more. Subject P was producing enough to help entire countries! But no one would want their aid if one of the most influential men in the world scorned their product.

Before he could calm the storm of frantic thoughts Dealus blurted out, “What if I gave you a tour of the synthesizing facility?”

His heart jack knifed but he couldn’t take the words back. That facility was where Subject P was held! If the tour went in the wrong area-

“I would like that. Would I be able to speak with your scientists?” Bruce’s demeanor had softened significantly, even with the tension still in his shoulders.

Mr. Wayne was known to take in young children in dire situations. With subject P’s chosen form he would pull at anyone’s hearts who didn’t understand what was happening.

“Of course! I’ll have them prepare material for you to look over. So long as it doesn’t get spread everywhere, of course. I trust you not to steal our company secrets.” The last sentence sounded more hesitant. Daelus nearly flinched. It was supposed to have sounded like a jest.

Bruce finally smiled again. “Of course not. But if what I see is good, I hope a partnership might be on the table?”

A partnership? With Wayne Enterprises?! All of Dealus’s anxieties washed away. With THE Wayne Enterprises on their side they could take the world by storm, faster than just having Bruce endorse the product himself.

“That would be fantastic, Mr. Wayne! Shall we have the tour this Saturday? I can arrange transportation for you.”

After getting all the details hashed out, Daelus led Bruce back to the front desk. A warm goodbye later and he was back in his office making a call.

“Sir?”

“Carter, we need to make preparations. Mr. Wayne will be touring Facility Zero on Saturday.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir?”

“Of course I am.” Daelus grabbed a pen from his cup and started clicking it open and closed. “Think about the doors this will open!”

“But if he finds the subject this whole thing is going to get shut down.”

Daelus knew he should feel concerned about that, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to worry when the chance of a lifetime was sitting right in his lap. “He won’t find it, and you are going to help make sure of that.”

A tired sigh came through the speaker. “Yes sir. What do you need me to do?”

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Hey! This is extremely late but I feel like you'd adore this prompt.

Character study: Ed's beard caused sensory issues, required tedious upkeep, and was a source of performative masculinity. Finally, he's shaving it, and seeing "Ed" for the first time in decades. Super healing, cute, positive 💜

You're right, I absolutely adored this prompt!! This took a minute because I wound up going in a completely different direction at first, wasn't satisfied with it, and it sat in my drafts, and now I actually fuckin' love it. This one's set in a modern AU with a trans Ed, because that's a delicious little wrinkle. Bon appétit.

(Never too late to send me prompts for 1k word fics, by the way! I can't promise they'll all get done but if they inspire me, I'll do 'em eventually. These are great for writer's block)

--

No one could accuse Ed Teach of disliking hair care.

That was something his mama had instilled in him from a young age. His hair was also his pride in his heritage, in where he came from, and taking care of it was an important way Ed could take care of himself and stay true to himself. His worst argument with Stede, to date, was over which of them was taking up too much space on their shared bathroom counter with all the hair care products (they’d wound up putting up more shelving). The first time he’d let Stede help him wash his hair, after Stede had listened through Ed’s explanations of his hair care, was probably one of the most intimate moments he’d ever shared with another man.

His beard, though. That was a different story.

Ed didn’t hate the beard, most days. It had started out as a band-aid solution when he’d been struggling to be taken seriously with his baby face, and he’d wanted to prove he was as much a man as anyone.

Then he’d grown up, and he’d stopped looking like he’d just glued a few random hairs to his chin, and it became…him. It was big and striking and masculine.

“You know,” he’d confided in Stede a few nights ago, cuddled up under the covers together, one thigh and an arm thrown over Stede’s middle while Stede traced little patterns over Ed’s bare hip with a forefinger, “I don’t even like the beard.”

Stede blinked down at him. “You don’t…like your beard?”

“Honestly?” Ed ran his fingers through it. He liked how soft it was, liked putting little bows in it, liked how everyone saw him and knew without a doubt he was a man. “It’s itchy, and it’s easy for things to get stuck in it, and it makes my face all hot, and hair gets in my mouth, and -”

“Hm,” Stede said, shifting his hand up to scritch his fingers along Ed’s jaw, and Ed leaned into the touch. “You don’t have to keep it.”

It was Ed’s turn to pause in surprise.

“But I’m Blackbeard,” he said, a bit lamely.

“You can be whoever you want to be, beard or no,” Stede shrugged. “I’ll love you just the same, with or without it.”

Huh.

This morning, Ed woke up early, plugging in Stede’s electric razor and locking the bathroom door behind him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted Stede to be part of this moment, but…he hadn’t seen his whole face in literal decades.

He wanted his reaction to be his and his alone.

Ed hesitated before he could touch the razor to his face for the first time. What would everyone think? He’d literally named his entire brand after this thing.

He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought. It was about what Ed wanted. He could do what he wanted with his own body to help himself feel more himself and more comfortable.

At the very least, he told himself, it would save him time in the mornings. You don’t keep a beard that big looking that good without a very time-consuming beard care regimen. 

He used a hand mirror as he worked, looking at himself at too close an angle to be able to see his full face before he was ready for that. When he splashed water on his face, he shivered at the coolness of it against his sensitive skin.

He swept up all the clippings, taking care to avoid looking into the mirror over the sink. “Bye-bye, Blackbeard,” he whispered, tipping the clippings into the trash can.

Ed took a deep breath. Stede had said he’d love him, no matter what. He lifted his head, and he saw -

Oh.

His first reaction was that he looked a lot like his mother. He’d started trying to grow his beard out right after he’d first started taking T, and he hadn’t even realized how scared he was that he’d shave his beard off and see his dad under there until he got to see the opposite was true. He had a sharper jawline, but the rest was all her.

And he’d been scared he wouldn’t look enough like a man without it, too, but he looked…pretty, actually, and literally fine. He’d probably want to keep at least some stubble, because he really did just like how affirming facial hair was, but this was proof that he didn’t need the full beard to look like a man. He was a man, no matter what he looked like - the beard had just been his way of daring anyone to tell him otherwise.

“Hey, Ed,” he whispered, watching in the mirror as he brought his hands up to feel, tracing new wrinkles, soft skin, birthmarks and little freckles he’d long forgotten.

It shocked a quiet giggle out of him when he realized how nice it would be, to eat food without worrying about something getting into his beard. How nice it would be to feel soft things against his cheek, to -

There was an idea!

Ed darted out of the bathroom and practically launched himself back into bed, grabbing Stede’s hand to hold it against his face. He shivered in delight - Stede had touched his face before, of course, but he’d never felt it so clearly, his soft palms and warm fingers against his cheek.

“Mmf,” Stede mumbled, burying his face in the pillows in protest against being woken up.

“Babe!” Ed collapsed down onto his side so he could snuggle close and rub his clean-shaven cheek against Stede’s.

“Wh-aah!” Stede yelped as he opened his eyes to see Ed like three inches away. “Your beard fell off!”

“Shaved it,” Ed corrected, looking away. He hadn’t expected Stede to fucking scream at him -

Stede reached out, gently, cupping Ed’s chin to tilt his face for a better look. “Oh, Ed,” he whispered. “Aren’t you beautiful?”

Yeah, Ed thought with satisfaction. He sure fuckin’ was.

[wososage]

A Team Effort: USWNT x Reader

Request: autistic reader x team, where they help r when r has a meltdown during a game, and just protect her

Word Count: 940

Warnings: so basically this is based off of my struggles as an autistic person. Obviously everyone has different experiences so this is not a complete reflection on what it is like to be autistic. 

A/N: Besties I gift you another one. I can almost guarantee that I can’t keep up this pace, however, I shall maybe finally not have an intense combination of writers block and little to no interest in things that normally make me happy. please send requests if you have them. i cant promise that i will get to them timely, or like ever, but they help very much with the getting of my creative brain to function.

Y/n is fine until they aren’t. Which is pretty much how it always goes. When Y/n first joined the team it was pretty obvious that they were different, that they struggled in ways the other people on the team didn’t understand. Now that Y/n has been with the team for a while, everyone has found ways to help them and support them, but there are always things outside of the team’s control. Game days are always the least predictable days which means they are the hardest for Y/n to stay regulated.

This game has been particularly aggressive. People on both sides have been taken down countless times. There has been a lot of trash talking coming from both sides. For Y/n, the whole day has been bad. At breakfast, they struggled a lot more than usual with food textures. Then when they got onto the bus they realized they forgot to charge their headphones. And finally when they got into the locker room it was colder than usual.

Becky was the first to notice that Y/n was getting overwhelmed, which is typical since Becky plays right behind Y/n. It started with Y/n counting their fingers so Becky let it go because Y/n is usually able to handle themselves well enough to know when it is time to get subbed off. A few minutes later though, it starts raining and that is when Alyssa notices something is up.

“Check on Y/n!” Alyssa yells at no one in particular and after watching Y/n twitch their arm repeatedly, something that they do when they are starting to lose control. 

When the position of play allows Becky runs up to where Y/n is in midfield while calling to her fellow defenders to cover her.

“How are you doing kid?” Becky asks.

“I need off,” Y/n says. “Can’t be here any more.”

“Just wait a few minutes and we will get you subbed,” Becky says.

Becky runs back to her position on the back line and tries to signal to the bench that Y/n needs a sub. Unfortunately for Becky, no one is looking at the back line because all of the action is happening up at the net. Eventually, Alyssa is tired of waiting and screams the message towards the sidelines, which thankfully someone hears because Y/n is starting to obviously struggle more. They are struggling to focus on the ball. All of their reactions are slowed down. Every time someone yells out for a play Y/n flinches.

A few minutes later the ref allows the sub for Y/n to come on and immediately, a member of the training staff takes Y/n to the locker room, completely bypassing everyone on the bench. Not too long later, the team starts to quietly come into the locker room, where they find Y/N staring in the direction of the showers biting their lip and hitting their head over and over again.

“What do you need right now kid?” Alyssa asks quietly.

“Sticky. Shower.” Y/n grunts. “Can’t make myself”

“How about someone helps you with a quick bath,” Alyssa suggests. “Would it help to not have the water spraying at you?”

“Yes. Lights off.”

Once Alyssa and Y/n reappear into the locker room Becky takes over offering headphones that belong to various members of the team so Y/n can choose the ones that would be most helpful in the moment. Once Y/n finds the pair most like their own, soft rain noises are played through them. After a few minutes Y/n decides to ask what they need next, even though the team almost always fights about who gets to provide.

“Hug?” Y/n asks loud enough for everyone to hear.

After a quick roshambo tournament amongst the team, Y/n finds themselves in Kelley’s arms. Kelley on her part gently massages Y/n’s back to help further ground them and to just gently remind Y/n that no one is too far away if anything is needed. 

On the bus ride back to the hotel, everyone takes turns distracting Y/n from everything on the bus that is overwhelming. They keep Y/n from thinking too hard about the texture of the seats. They do everything they can to make sure that Y/n does not hear the windows and door of the bus squeak. And the bus driver may or may not have been bribed (and also threatened by a certain few members of the team) into avoid potholes and sudden movements at all costs.

Back at the hotel the team lets Y/n walk through all of their rooms to decide which one would be the least overstimulating to stay in for the night. Ultimately, after an extensive pros and cons list process, Y/n decides that they will be sleeping in Tierna’s room.

“But Tobin to read a book to me and I want everyone to be there,” Y/n requests, pretty much to no one’s surprise since Y/n has claimed many times in the past that Tobin has the most soothing voice they have ever heard. 

And so the team gets ready for a potential slumber party. Partly because they all are willing to do anything possible to make sure that Y/n is okay. But they also know that post meltdown Y/n is a very cuddly person and never wants anyone to feel left out.

“Thanks for always helping me,” Y/N says to the group. “And for always loving me. I love you guys a lot.”

[writersblockedx]

The End of What Could Have Been

Pairing - Jaskier x Fem!Reader Summary - Jaskier finally gives in at trying to flirt with his favourite barmaid - something that only makes her fall harder for him. Warnings - alcohol, mention of a brothel? Words - 2.1K

A/n - Hi, I’m back! I know I’ve been gone for a little while; writers block has been killing me. But I’m back at it again, hopefully back at posting regularly again.

Masterlist

It had become the cycle of the night. As the stragglers of the Inn began to make their way back to their own beds - or hay stacks for some of them - he would appear. Far too wide-eyed for this time in the night, lute strapped over his shoulder and a glistening smile most female bar keeps had never been able to resist. Well, most expect for yourself.

Jaskier was sweet, that was true, but he was equally greedy. And the whole town knew of it. The stories of his lewd behaviour with his several different partners were laced throughout his lyrics, right alongside the fantastical story of the Witcher and the many creatures the two fought off together. Though, with that very bard in front of you now, you struggled to believe he had the same strength of a Witcher.

"Same as always, Y/n." His elbows leaned against the wooden bar as he slid a couple of coins across for you. Always a couple extra for your own pocket.

You simply nodded your head in an act to show your acknowledgement of him before turning to gather a pint of beer for the bard. "Not in the mood for conversation tonight?" He questioned while you had your back turned.

You only said anything when the cup that was brimming with frothy ale was in your hand. "Not with you. Not tonight." Ever so bluntly, that snap in your tone slipped from your tongue as you placed the drink down in front of him with a thud.

He flashed his puppy eyes; he had gotten good at doing that. "And whys that?"

Your expression never faulted. You didn't dare. You had told yourself for almost a month while Jaskier had been playing at this pub that you wouldn't be one of the many to fall prey to his sweet smile and his even sweeter words. "Because the only conversation you want to have is one where it ends with you getting into my pants." You said it so sternly. So casual. Without a lick of embarrassment as if it were a passing comment, lacking any source of meaning.

But Jaskier's response had proved different. He stiffened and struggled to swallow the ale that lingered on his tongue. "Can't blame a man for trying." His response came a second too late - attempting to get over the initial shock that had stunned him too much to speak straight away.

"I can when, despite getting your answer, you're still trying." You didn't break. With every word, you lean slightly closer, till there were only inches between you.

"Well," He sighed lightly and leaned back, "I still haven't heard you tell me to stop."

You couldn't help but laugh, "I know you're a bard, but you're not stupid, surely."

"You didn't have to go there."  He quipped. "I personally don't think you want...this to stop." His words were as cautious as one in a sword fight. One wrong move and he was frightened you were about to stab him in the back.

For the first time, you became hesitant. You were uncertain. Of course, you could admit Jaskier did have that sweet smile and the charm to accompany such. He also was easy on the eyes, had a slick manner and was, as much as you hated to admit it, the type of bachelor you could see yourself spending the night with - or several. But he was infamous for such behaviour. He travelled from town to town, bed to bed, and you were not about to the 90th woman on his list. That of such, was what you refused.

So you shifted, and slipped back into your stern facade as if nothing had ever happened, like there had never been a blink of uncertainty. "This," You pointed between the two of you, "Never even started." Words so sharp they cut through Jaskier's heart like a knife to butter. While the man was fine to break others' hearts, his was too just as fragile and sensitive. And to hear such from a woman he had grown to admire over the weeks shook his core. With the words written out in front of him, he knew he could no longer ignore them.

And so you straightened your back and stared at the boy you were forced to resist. "You finish your ale, I'll close up." You announced, without any input from him. Normally, he would last at least another three drinks. But tonight, neither of you wanted the company of the other. The air between you had become tense and rigid. Air of which you were not in the mood to breathe.

So you took it upon yourself to make that decision. You started stacking the chairs around the pub, cleaning the sticky tables and making sure everything was as it should be. The only thing left was Jaskier. He took his final sip. He placed the cup back on the bar and let out a deep breath; he knew this was the end. This was the point in which you had drawn the line, you had told him no once and for all. And you had given him no choice but to listen.

There as he stood, he turned to you. At first, he looked you up and down, taking in the last of what remained—this night marked the end of what could have been. He locked eyes with you. Neither of you moved. Neither of you said a word. After that moment of acceptance passed, he provided a nod. With that, he left the Inn without a trace. That night, in your lonely bed, you struggled to sleep, plagued by the ever-yawning question of if you just made a mistake.

By the next morning, you came to face the consequences of your own actions. You strolled in for your shift as you always did to find the Inn relatively empty. In fact, more empty than it ever had been in the past month. The only ones to occupy the Inn were the same stragglers which never seemed to leave. It didn't take you long to figure out why; the lack of strumming music in the Inn was likely the culprit. And, after that conclusion, you came to assume that it was partly the fault of yourself and a certain encounter from the night before.

"No bard today?" You queried your boss, the Innkeeper, as he stood cleaning the wooden bar.

"No bard anymore." He answered. A part of your brain was tugged with curiosity, the other knew that you shouldn't want to know. You cut the ties. You were at fault. You should leave things as they were. "Get used to how things used to be. Just the regulars again." That was one, if the only, good thing about Jaskier: the customers he brought. You could never deny his lyrical beauty and the lull of his lute. So brilliant, in fact, it almost brought you a pay rise.

Your head dropped in thought. No matter how much you wanted to accept this, a part of you wondered if this decision came from a reaction of the night prior. "Where is he staying?" You spat the words out before you could stop yourself. "The bard?" You added, suddenly aware of how strange that question may sound to your boss.

To be expected, the man raised a brow, "I'm not sure," He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "That cheap Inn up the road probably. Or a bench." With that, the grumpy old Inn keeper turned his back to you, going back to sort out the several types of ales.

For a moment, you stared. But the thought nagged you too much; Why not? He was leaving, what else was there to lose? He was sweet, admirable and you couldn't help yourself. You had only wished you had realised such fact the night before. Without thinking twice, you left. You took off without another word and headed to that cheap Inn your boss had pointed to.

By the time you arrived, you came to realise it was perfect timing. Jaskier was getting ready to depart. He had a couple of bags hung over his shoulder as he slung them over a horse. His expression was, until you came into his sights, set into a stern hold. And then, a glint of wonder reached his face, and the very corners of his lips twisted upright just slightly. He wouldn't admit it yet, but he was happy to see you had come back to him.

"And the barmaid returns." He gleamed, trying to not let that smile on his face grow any more than it already had done.

You tilted his head at him, "You didn't tell me you were leaving last night." You stated, choosing it best to ignore his greeting.

"You think that would have changed how things went?" There. You caught it right as it happened; that flirtatious speck in his pupils that never seemed to leave him - sometimes, no matter who he was talking to. When he received only a stern expression in return, he sighed and changed his tone as if he had never made that comment. "I didn't know I would be leaving until after I left." He answered, honestly.

A moment of silence passed as you settled in the realisation. You only needed confirmation: "Was it what I said?"

Another grin graced his face. But not flirtatious or cheeky, rather bittersweet. "I know you're just a bard maid,  but you're not stupid." He reiterated your own words from last night.

For that, you swallowed the lump which had suddenly grown in your throat. Then, with a breath, you replied, "You don't have to leave, the money's good here, no?" You knew your boss must have been paying him a decent paycheck.

He shifted on his feet, "I don't like staying in the same place for too long." The boy admitted.

"Then why did last night change your mind?"

He took a moment and fought himself so as not to repeat what he had said prior. "Most of the time, I can find anyone to entertain myself with, no matter where I am. But," He paused, thought on his words as if they were of utter importance, "But just the way when I walked into your Inn-"

You cut him off, "You mean when I told you to piss off because we didn't like silly lute music being played?" Saying that now was laughable.

And Jaskier had let out a chuckle, "Yes, then. I thought you were a shell I wanted to break and I found myself not bothered with anyone else. Not even with the mistresses at the Brothal. I wanted to get to know you and, I don't know, I looked forward to every night when I'd finish my set and it would be just the two of us in the bar." He explained, him too going off the idea of what else was there to lose now? "You didn't want me and it made it all the more enticing. To fight with the idea of hatred boarding on love was something intoxicating and it only made me want you more."

And, honestly, you were at a loss for words. It wasn't often many people spoke to you in such a poetic way, with such romance trickled into their words as it rolled right off the tongue like smooth butter. Most of the time, you were only met with drunk stragglers, boarding their words on sexual harassment. So this was only a breast of fresh air and you were indulging in it like it was some sort of drug.

When you looked back to Jaskier, you were at a loss for words. You weren't quite the lyricist he was. "I think-" You took a breath as if it were giving you the courage needed in that very moment. "I think I did want you. Oh, I know I did. But a bard who, as you said is always on the move, wasn't something I could get involved in." Like that, a weight slipped from your shoulders like melting ice.

Jaskier took a step forward, cautious in his action. When you showed no sign of disregard, he settled. "You've no idea what I would change just so you would get involved with me." There, his flirtatious smile return. And, this time, you couldn't resist it.

He started leaning in and rather than stopping it, so did you until your lips met in a soft embrace. It was long overdue and you could see how addicted you could get to that feeling if you weren't too careful. But a part of you had started to put trust into Jaskier - you just preyed the bard would never break it. As now, this was the start of something. Something neither of you wanted to ever end.

[bearbluebooks]

prompt! gwyn was excited about a new training technique and bursts into azriel’s room only to see him…

My FIRST PROMPT!! First of all thank you so much for this. I was struggling with writers block and this made me so excited to start writing again. I truly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

The Shadowsinger’s Secret(s) - Day 7 @sjmromanceweek

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4044

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

Snow slowly drifted from the night sky.

The icy cold created treacherous layers of ice on the stone floor of the training ring. Despite Cassian’s incessant pleas to “Respect the sacredness of the training ring”, several weapons were still scattered throughout the wide expanse. Before Gwyn picked up one of the discarded daggers, she rubbed her hands together in a desperate attempt to create warmth. Tonight’s temperatures were so low, that small white clouds escaped her already numb lips with every exhale.

Afternoon slowly made way for the darker colors of night. Gwyn always believed there was something calming about the obsidian cover of night. As if magic became more palpable when stars brightened the sky. Constellations, falling stars, and infinite mystery left unexplored- what could be more magical than that? Gwyn still pondered the question when a demanding voice pierced through the quarry, “Don’t stay out too late, and don’t you dare become better at dagger throwing than me.”

Nesta and Cassian had even more pressing plans. Tonight was Lupercalia, a human holiday that celebrated love. As soon as Elain casually dropped its existence during dinner last night, Cassian’s excitement was palpable, “Nes, I will finally take you to my favorite restaurant,” his puppy dog eyes the perfect show of his elation. Nesta’s gaze showed less excitement and more indifference, “Buy me a present and I’ll come.”

“Oh, come you will. I’ve been reading, too,” he countered, “And tonight, I will be your present, when I feast on you like Sherman Steelborn in a Dragon’s Tale.” Gwyn’s stomach churned at the vivid imagery Cassian’s statement evoked. They had just read that book in their weekly Smut Sisters book club. “Leave some mystery for the rest of us, Cas,” Gwyn begged before she rolled her eyes at the smug look on Cassian’s face. The whole scene made her almost happy she didn’t have a Lupercalia of her own tonight. Almost.

Gwyn shook the memory off when she averted her gaze from the sky to her friend, “We both know that ship has already sailed.”

“You should be the one to stay longer,” Gwyn challenged over her shoulder.

Her friend paused in the door with a hand on her hip, “Or maybe I should be getting private lessons from the Shadowsinger too,” Nesta exclaimed before the door closed with a heavy thud.

All smart retorts left her brain, only her mouth remained open.

Shit.

Gwyn’s cheeks flushed red. And this time it was not because of the icy cold.

Training sessions had become more frequent in the last couple of months. And she did find herself counting down the minutes until she could see those hazel eyes assessing her every move. Or when she could feel those strong hands demonstrate how to position her hands for the best trajectory- during which she (allegedly) feigned inexperience once or twice, just to feel those calloused hands on her bare skin. To feel those sparks of electricity erupt over her entire body.

One of those nights Gwyn fell into his strong arms after a particularly difficult combination of movements. When they were so close they shared a breath. The longing and vulnerability in his eyes was something Gwyn couldn’t stop thinking about.

At night, under the safety of her blankets, she replayed that moment often- the way his hand felt on her waist, or how his eyes darted between her eyes and her lips, when his mouth curved up slightly, and how his cedar smell ingrained itself in all of her senses.

All of which happened under the cover of night. When everybody was long gone- or so she thought.

Gwyn forced herself to move on. She could think about all of that later.

She would undoubtedly hear about it later too.

Busybodies.

Tonight was for training.

Tonight she would finally learn how to beat the Shadowsinger.

Tonight she would win the bet and rub that arrogant smile off his face.

Every training session ended in Azriel either hovering over her, strapping her hands to her back, or pinning her body beneath his. It had its advantages. Heat still rushed to her core at the memories. But Gwyn was nothing if not determined. And tonight she was determined to win.

Every trick he taught her, he could anticipate.

What he didn’t anticipate was her discovery of an ancient book with knowledge not even the Shadowsinger was privy to. Knowledge so secret not even Merril knew about it.

Earlier that day, Gwyn had ventured to the fifth floor in search of one of Merril’s books ‘The Multiverse and its Animals’, when Gwyn’s eye caught something even more interesting, ’50 ways to slay your opponent’. The urgency in Merril’s voice made Gwyn pause for a second before she reminded herself I only know 15 ways to slay an opponent and grabbed the book.

As soon as she finished her work for the day, curious eyes studied the book until she reached the page titled ‘Paranza Corta’. The section stated a fighting technique that focused on short thrusts. The trick was to let your opponent get close enough to let them think they had the upper hand before you would hit them from below with a multitude of targeted strikes.

She knew in her bones it would finally allow her to beat the Shadowsinger.

She could see the surprise in his beautiful hazel eyes become replaced by awe.

She could already see him become speechless- not because of his usual preference for silence, but because he couldn’t find the words to speak.

She could already taste the victory.

Those thoughts fueled her.

They set her body aflame despite the icy cold threatening to numb her fingers.

Still, all evening this particular technique proved difficult to master.

Impossible even.

She couldn’t figure out how to get close enough without getting killed in the process.

Every practice run stopped before she could even reach the target.

Irritation seeped into her bones. She couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working. It made her wonder if Azriel would have been able to figure it out. Of course he would have, she thought to herself with an eye roll and a smile.

He had centuries of knowledge and experience on her.

But she had determination.

Hours passed without any improvement.

Cold snowflakes slowly turned liquid on her overheated skin. Frustration threatened to burn all rationality until nothing but ashes of failed determination remained.

With one steady breath in, one pause and one exhale, she turned the anger into fuel when she focused on her strengths.

Before she started again, investigative eyes took in the scene unfolding in front of her. Muscle wasn’t the problem. Nor was speed.

Suddenly it clicked.

Without wasting time she took up her starting stance a few feet away from the target. Quick and careful steps brought her closer and closer to the wooden puppet taunting her. Just before she got close, she dropped low, putting all her weight on one foot as she slid towards the wooden monstrosity. Then she channeled all her weight into both legs, as she pulled herself upwards, and stabbed, stabbed, stabbed the puppet.

A laugh so maniacal any sane person would call question her sanity resounded in the wide open space.

Then the steadying pull of reality replaced the overwhelming sense of euphoria.

Azriel didn’t see it- he wasn’t there and neither were his shadows.

Suddenly it didn’t feel like a victory anymore.

The clunk on the floor signaled her exit before her mind clued her into her movements.

Gwyn still couldn’t completely wrap her mind around an omniscient house, yet she was very grateful for it now.

“Where is Azriel’s room?” she asked as she turned her gaze towards the ceiling, then the walls, and the empty space around her, before she accepted that omniscient probably meant omnipresent too and steadied her gaze in front of her.

A familiar miniature Pegasus suddenly appeared in front of her. A loud squeal was the only welcome she could muster before the little creature started walking into the corridor. Soft clicks of hooves filled the silence in the hallway, then down a pair of steps, until it finally stopped in front of a huge door.

When it reached its destination it disappeared into a pink cloud of smoke.

Gwyn was sad for its quick exit before she remembered her mission.

Without knocking she stormed into the room where she exclaimed “I DID IT” with her arms raised high into the air.

Shadows swarmed her vision in seconds.

A desperate plea in a familiar deep tone resounded “Gwyn what are you-“

When the shadows slowly cleared, no awe was to be seen in those hazel eyes she so longed to see. Instead, she saw shock, shame, and confusion staring back at her.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands mirrored the statement as she placed them in front of her eyes to offer him belated privacy.

She clearly interrupted some kind of private moment.

She was ready to turn around and leave as fast as she came, but curiosity was a hard trait to ignore. Especially when one found themselves in the same room as an enigmatic Spymaster with an apparent secret.

Slowly, she lowered her hands to reveal the dark-haired male who was lying in bed with his wings splayed widely on both sides. Soft candlelight made it difficult to see, but not impossible. The walls were as black as night, and the multiple knives covering the walls gleamed like silver stars. The bed was huge. Big enough to fit three Azriel’s and maybe one Gwyn.

 “A Pirates’ Search for Love?” She tried to say in her most serious voice. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from her small frame. The feeling was so unbridled and intense that she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like that.

“I thought you didn’t like smutty novels?”

He implied as much every time he intruded on their sleepovers, with his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against the doorframe in such a way he could be the main character in one of their novels.

“I don’t like Selyn Drake, I never said I didn’t like the genre,” he countered. “Males read them too. They can be useful,” he challenged with a smirk that confirmed every word of his previous statement. Cassian had proved as much yesterday, she had just never expected Azriel to be one of those males too.

When her eyes drifted lower to look at the author who apparently doubled as an instructor, her eyes caught the large hand covering an even larger body part.

Her eyes grew as wide as the hazel ones looking back at her.

 “Shit. Shit shit shit I didn’t mean to-“ Azriel stammered as he jumped out of the bed with hurried movements, unsuccessfully trying to close his pants in the process.

Suddenly, another melodic laugh just as heartfelt filled the room. “Were you practicing immediately?” she asked in between laughs.

Azriel’s eyes looked equally hesitant and intrigued.

“I was,” he answered honestly. His eyes remained determinately focused on hers. As if her next words would decide his actions- not his own desire, not his own hopes and expectations, but her.

Life was dynamic. Gwyn knew growth was equal parts bravery and devotion. Just like her time spent in the training ring, learning the Paranza Corta. Where one day frustration fueled her veins at her inability to wield a seemingly straightforward concept. When- even though she felt the desire to succeed in the deepest part of her soul- she failed. So she tried again. And failed, again. When doubt started to creep in and threatened to affect her self-worth. When she could see herself succeed, but something prevented her at every turn.

Until one day something clicked.

Her relationship with sex was much the same way. Only what clicked was reuniting with Azriel on that same roof, many years ago.

Bravery and devotion, she reminded herself once again.

“Can you show me?” Her feet already took her closer to where he was standing next to the bed. Two of her hands covered his previously occupied one, as she repeated “Show me.”

“Gwyn-“

“Show me.”

With a whisper, she added “Please.”

His eyes remained determinately focused on hers. She knew what he would find. Nothing but equal resolution and confidence, just like he saw in the training ring every night.

There was not a male in the world she trusted more. Not a male her body craved more. Not a male who made her feel as safe as the one standing right in front of her- who looked at her with the trepidation and vulnerability he expected to see reflected in her eyes.

One of her hands moved to cup his cheek, she knew it was not her who needed reassurance at that moment.

“I trust you.”

His eyes turned contemplative. As if he was finally considering her request.

“I want you.”

That last sentence seemed to thaw some of the icy walls he had built around himself. As if her words were the fire that allowed some of the coldness to disappear.

Her other hand moved to the part she knew he was trying to hide.

“Show me.”

When she slowly moved her hand up and down the bulge in his pants, his breath caught in his throat.

His gaze roved over her body- to the tightness of her Illyrian leathers, emphasizing all of her curves. To her chest, which she slightly uncovered in the training ring when heat threatened to overtake her concentration.

The intensity with which his hazel eyes observed her, made her dare to move closer to the point where they were standing so close they shared a breath. “Show me,” she whispered before she placed a soft kiss on his neck.

He tilted his head slightly to match her height. His gaze slipped to her lips.

She would only have to reach up to do what she dreamt about more times than she cared to admit- the way his lips would feel against hers (rough) the way their lips would fit together (like puzzle pieces) the way he would take her breath away (literally and metaphorically).

What she didn’t expect was the satisfied sigh that escaped her mouth when she finally returned to earth.

When she looked into his eyes to assess if she ruined the moment, she saw nothing but surprise and awe.

Before she could fill the silence he placed a large hand behind her neck and pulled her closer. Another searing kiss turned the world to black in a way his shadows never could. A world filled with wonder and perfection.

Nothing else existed except for his lips and that moment. Where eternity seemed to exist, whilst no time passed at all.

It started chaste and delicate. Before it turned more hungry and desperate. She pushed him to the bed with one determinate hand. The moment it took to land on the bed was much too long, and she already missed his lips.

When she looked into his eyes, intrigue and lust stared back. Which made a heat she’d never felt before spread through her body- like a flame and he held the match.

Nothing else existed in the world except for him and her instincts.

With confident strides she walked over to where he hungrily observed her from the bed, his eyes grew so big, that his pupils overtook the hazel she loved so much. His back was firmly pushed into the mattress. Gwyn moved to the bed where she placed two of her legs next to his hips. She felt powerful. And with the way his eyes took her in, she felt desired too.

She took one of his fingers in hers and allowed him to trace a path from the opening of her Illyrian leathers up, to her mouth. His eyes tracked every movement. When she put his thick finger in her mouth, she made sure to suck on it lightly, before she let it go with a loud pop.

Azriel was speechless, save for the heady groan that sent electricity up Gwyn’s spine.

There was something else she wanted to do tonight. Something else she wanted to see, to touch, to feel.

In one swift movement, she took up the space next to him where she sat on her knees, assessing the gorgeous male before her.

His pants were still unbuttoned. She allowed her hand to roam freely. “Gwyn.” Her name was a pledge and a prayer on his lips. “Azriel” she answered in equal devotion. She allowed her fingers to trace the patch of obsidian hair down towards the edge of his underwear.

His hands forcefully fisted the sheets next to his hips in a way that made them turn white. It was as if he didn’t allow his body to act on the same instincts that guided Gwyn in all her movements. Her hands slightly shook, as she removed the iron grip on his sheets, and took his much larger hands in hers. She could feel the grooves that graced his hands. One of her fingers softly traced them when shame colored his eyes.

It made her wonder if he was ashamed of his hands. It seemed impossible because she loved his hands.

Defiance and adoration made her lift his hands to her mouth and place soft kisses on every groove. Every mark of shame. Whilst she wished she could do the same for his heart, his soul. She wished she could soothe every horrible thing that ever happened to him, and pray to the altar of his past whilst she made a promise to always be there for him in the future by choosing him every day.

His eyes slowly shifted from shame to a calmness she rarely saw reflected in his eyes.

Before she continued she placed another kiss on his lips.

His hands moved to cup her cheeks- to keep her steady.

When his tongue darted over her lower lip, she happily complied. The kiss was deeper. More ravenous than before. As if he finally allowed himself to have her just like he wanted to.

Without breaking the kiss, she moved her hand lower. She felt his body slightly shiver with the suddenness of the touch before he leaned into it. She traced a path from his abdomen to the edge of his underwear.

“Is this okay?” she asked before she continued her path down.

“Y-es,” he stammered as his hips bucked into her touch.

Her heart leaped in her chest. She could feel her excitement resound in the increased beats of her heart. With uneven breaths, but steady hands, she moved her hand to slide into the softness of his underpants where a less soft cock greeted her.

Her eyes widened in surprise and admiration. His cock was huge. She could barely fit it in her hand.

“It must have been a good book,” she smiled as she looked up at him.

His voice was low when he finally found the words to answer her, “That’s all you.” A corner of his mouth lifted when he ended the sentence with a wink. She didn’t need a mirror to know a red flush grazed her cheeks at the way his words made her feel. Or the warmth it spread throughout her body.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” she teased.

“My cock says otherwise.”

Intrigue and fascination made her wonder what else she could do to his cock. She tightened her grip around his cock, as she lowered her head to rest next to his ear as she whispered “What is it saying now?”

He moved his head to look into her eyes, his voice was even lower as he forced out in between hurried breaths, “That you know me well.”

Her movements were restricted by his pants.

Even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she removed her hand from his hardening cock when something akin to a whine followed her abrupt exit.

“Was that a whine?” she said in between laughs.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he answered without any hint of shame, “Me and my cock love having you close.”

With a playful roll of her eyes, she signaled to his pants.

“Oh.” Skillful hands removed his sweatpants in less time than it took for him to utter the single syllable.

Only his underpants and t-shirt prevented her from seeing his entire naked glory. Her hands moved on their own accord when they took hold of the underside of his shirt and swiftly lifted it up.

Many nights she wondered what hid under the carefully constructed armor. Some days, when it was especially hot, hints of swirling tattoos were uncovered. Maps of obsidian art she memorized as if they were Merrill’s research. Then there were his tight Illyrian leathers which hinted at muscular arms, ones she often fantasized about.

She allowed her eyes to rove over his body- to take in every muscle. Every swirling tattoo. Every patch of obsidian hair. Wherever her eyes roamed her finger followed. His body slightly shivered under her touch. “Beautiful” she whispered.

His eyes lit up and the resulting smile made him even more beautiful. Gwyn’s heart grew to a size she didn’t hold possible. It made her want to give him every last piece of her.

There was only one last barrier between them. One she uncovered with shaky hands. Larger ones found hers in an instant. Although his hands had a slight shiver too, they provided a steadiness Gwyn hadn’t realized she needed at that moment.

Slowly, so slowly, they pulled his underpants off, and within seconds his half-hard cock sprang free.

Azriel’s gaze didn’t wander towards his large member as Gwyn’s eyes did, instead, they remained determinedly focused on her.

Words escaped her. So she took his hand in hers and guided him towards his cock too. “Show me,” she repeated her earlier words.

His grip tightened, as he moved Gwyn’s hand up and down his cock in rough strokes. His breath hitched at the movement.

When she had as good a grip on his preferences as she on his cock, she lowered down to whisper in his ear, “Let go Az.” She didn’t know if she meant his grip or his restraint either. Maybe she meant both.

His eyes remained focused on her before his hands moved to cup her ass. Her lip darted out to lick her bottom lip. His eyes tracked the movement with such hunger it made her bend down and kiss him again.

When he used his strong grip to knead her ass, and said “I have been wanting to do this for a long time”, she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. He swallowed the sound with another searing kiss that sent electricity to her core.

A desire to give him equal pleasure overtook her body. In equal curiosity and wonder, she lightly used her fingernails with her next stroke up and down his shaft. “Fuck,” Azriel groaned into her shoulder. It made his cock twitch in her hand.

Interesting.

It made her wonder what else she could do.

She closed her hand around his cock fully and made sure to pump him with as much force as she thought he could handle. “Fuck, I’m close, let me-“

“Let me,” she repeated as she seductively bit her lower lip.

His eyes widened with a desire so overwhelming it made the ache between her legs grow to an almost painful degree.

He was so close too- his breaths turned panting, more desperate.

With her other hand, she slowly lowered her zipper, revealing more and more naked skin until her breasts were freed from the constraints of the Illyrian leathers. His eyes caught the movement. His gaze turned ravenous, desperate, euphoric.

His hips bucked into her hand but her movement never slowed, as his head fell into her shoulder, and his hair tickled her in the process.

“FUCK,” Azriel groaned so loudly Gwyn was sure there was no room for any secrets tonight. But that didn’t matter.

Tonight was for victories.

And this victory, Azriel did see.

[warabidakihime]

Intimate Ink

Characters: Nanami Kento x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, a struggling writer, finds herself in the clutches of a frustrating writer's block. In search of inspiration, she seeks the help of her boyfriend, Nanami. Hence his debut as the author's Muse.

Content warning: smut and profanities. Minors DNI.

A/N: this is just me giving myself a pep talk by indulging into my deepest desires loljk ha enjoy.

-

"Fuck."

You grumbled as you turned away from your laptop, which you had been looking at for the last five minutes, hoping that an idea would finally come to you so you could begin writing the next sequence in the new chapter of your novel.

Everything was in place, but you couldn't manage to translate the scenarios in your imagination into actual words.

Just like your current mental state, the storm outside continued to wreak havoc. You swore you saw a chunk of someone's roof fly by. For a brief while, your heartbeat rate increased as you worried that the piece of metal would crash through your window and then slit your throat.

Crossing your arms as you leaned back on your chair, all the while closing your eyes to ground yourself, if there was one thing you had learned throughout your whole career as an author, it was that you shouldn't write when your head was clouded; otherwise, it would affect your output.

As you sat in silence in your office, you heard the front door open, indicating that your boyfriend, Nanami, was finally home from his errand run to the mall. He went shopping today for a new laptop charger after their golden retriever, Pepper, chewed on his old one. He couldn't bring himself to yell at the poor puppy since the relief he felt when Pepper didn't get electrocuted outweighed his displeasure.

Even though it was still early in the morning, your sleep-deprived boyfriend willed himself to go out and buy a replacement for his broken charger. His own deadline was nearing, so he didn't really have the time to procrastinate.

"I'm home," Nanami called out.

Deciding to take a break from writing, you finally stood up from your office chair and made your way downstairs to greet Nanami.

As soon as your eyes landed on him, a big smile appeared on your face. You had been dating for five years, but the feelings he gave you were very much the same as when you first started seeing each other.

"Were you able to buy what you need?" you asked.

Nanami nodded as he showed you the shopping bag in his hand as well as the milk tea you had requested him to buy on his way home. Maybe the sweet drink could help you get back on track.

You skipped over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, saying, "You're the best. Thank you, Nanamin."

Your ever stoic boyfriend gave you a boyish smile and said, "You're welcome. Have you eaten? I also bought food. You looked like you've been cooped up in your office all day."

"Yeah, I've been having a hard time with my novel. I can't seem to move forward."

"Your deadlines are not until next month, right?"

"Well, yeah, but... I don't like it when I'm in a stump." You chuckled humorlessly, clearly bummed about not being able to write at will.

"What part are you stuck at? Maybe I can help," Nanami said after settling down on the sofa.

"Huh? We-" Nanami immediately looked your way when you stopped abruptly, but before he could ask you what's wrong, you beat him to it and spoke first, "Yes, you can."

"I'm glad. So, which part of the chapter did you need help with?" Nanami asked again while tapping the space beside him, implying that you sit down with him.

So you did walk towards him, but instead of sitting beside him, you settled yourself on his lap. That caught him off guard, but he quickly adjusted and welcomed you quite eagerly; his eyes focused on you while he waited for your next move.

"Actually, I do know what to write next; I just don't know how to word it correctly. More specifically, I can't quite picture the scene in my head as accurately as I could."

"What do you mean?"

"I suck at describing positions, you see. But I might nail it down if I try to act them myself," you explained as you straddled your boyfriend, who was completely chill about everything so far.

"Hmm... is that so?" Nanami said coyly as he wrapped one arm around your waist to prevent you from falling backward, but apparently there was no need for that because as he was leaning backward to make himself more comfortable, you were already leaning forward towards him until you were chest to chest.

It was such a completely harmless gesture, but the tension in the room grew significantly stronger. It was so potent that they both felt their skin tingle with excitement. Nanami's intent stares and slightly wet hair caused by the rain weren't helping either. In all honesty, you felt your insides churn when you saw him by the foyer when he just got back from his errands. He looked so sexy and enticing, you almost jumped on him.

You cupped one side of his face, your thumb caressing his chiseled, gorgeous face. "Will you help me?"

After what seemed like forever, your heart started to race as you felt Nanami's arm wrap around your waist, keeping you steady on his lap. Your closeness started a spark of anticipation between you, and you exchanged a meaningful gaze. You could see the desire flickering in his eyes, mirroring your own.

Nanami's voice dropped to a low, husky tone as he played along with your unconventional request. "Alright, let's bring your imagination to life," he said, his voice laced with a mix of confidence and seduction.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Nanami took the lead, his hands gently guiding your movements. With each gesture, he narrated the scenes from your novel, his voice resonating with a blend of authority and desire.

"The horny couple finds themselves in a secluded room," Nanami began, his voice captivating and commanding. Though his narrations were captivating, you were unable to refrain from laughing at the way he colored the characters in your story. But he was right on the money.

"Then the ever-needy bastard gently undresses her, savoring the sight of her exposed skin, inch by inch."

A soft moan slipped through your lips when you felt it brush against your crotch.

Nanami's hands moved with purpose, caressing your sides, his touch igniting a fire within you. Your breath hitched as you felt the brush of his fingertips against your skin, fueling your imagination and heightening your senses. Even more so when you felt his arousal grow firmer from the confines of his khaki shorts.

"Once she's bare before him, he explores every contour of her body," Nanami continued, his voice a sensual melody. He trailed his fingers along your arms, leaving a trail of tantalizing sensations in their wake. "His touch is electric, awakening every nerve and every hidden desire within her."

Your heart pounded in your chest as Nanami's hands moved further, tracing delicate patterns along your back and then the curves of your ass. You could feel the heat building between you two; the room continued to be filled with an undeniable magnetism.

You were so entranced that you didn't notice how quickly both of your clothes were coming undone.

"Their lips meet, hungry and eager, as your bodies intertwine," Nanami whispered, his voice a breathy caress against your ear. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your skin, igniting a cascade of tingles down your spine.

Your mind swirled with a whirlwind of emotions, lost in the sensations Nanami created. You surrendered yourself to the experience, allowing your imagination to meld with reality.

"They lose themselves in the rhythm of their desires, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion," Nanami narrated, his voice filled with raw emotion. His hands explored your curves, leaving no inch untouched, matching the intensity of his words.

You and Nanami were enveloped in a world where your shared fantasies became tangible. The boundaries between fiction and reality blurred as Nanami brought your novel to life, painting a vivid picture with his touch and voice.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in sync with Nanami's steady rhythm. A surge of inspiration washed over you, breaking through the walls of your writer's block, but at this very moment, curing your inability to write was the least of your worries.

You wanted Nanami, and you wanted him now.

After your productive brainstorming session, you and Nanami found yourselves breathless. The air crackled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, and a mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you looked into Nanami's gaze.

Your lips curled into a seductive smile. "Well, well, Kento. I must say, you have quite the creative way to help me overcome my writer's block," you purred, your voice dripping with playful innuendo.

Nanami smirked, his fingertips tracing light patterns on your thigh. "I'm a man of many talents," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of confidence and desire. "But I must admit, it's not every day I get to bring a story to life in such a hands-on manner."

You leaned closer, your breath tickling his earlobe. "Oh, but you're so good with your hands, Kento. It's as if they have a mind of their own," you teased, your voice laced with undeniable allure.

Nanami's fingers trailed higher, causing you to shiver with anticipation. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Tell me, Y/N, what else do you enjoy about my hands?"

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned back slightly, your gaze meeting his. "I enjoy how they explore every inch of my body," you whispered, your voice dripping with desire. "How they leave trails of fire in their wake, igniting a hunger that only you can satisfy."

A flicker of challenge danced in Nanami's eyes as he grasped your chin, his touch gentle yet commanding. "Is that a challenge, Y/N?" he asked, a hint of playful arrogance in his voice. "Because I assure you, I'm more than capable."

Your lips curled into a wicked grin as you leaned in, your voice a sultry whisper. "Prove it," you challenged, your eyes smoldering with desire. "Show me just how skilled those hands of yours can be."

The room was filled with a tantalizing mix of laughter and moans as Nanami and you surrendered to your desires. Your banter continued, punctuated by passionate kisses and gasps of pleasure. The two of you explored each other with eager anticipation.

Your fingers traced the contours of Nanami's chiseled chest, reveling in the power that radiated from his body. "You feel so good," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of breathless awe and desire.

Nanami's lips found their way to your neck, peppering it with gentle kisses and igniting a trail of shivers along your spine. "You taste even better," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

The needy bastard’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he complied, intensifying his advances. "You make the most beautiful sounds," he growled, the raw desire evident in his voice. "I love how you react to me."

Your hands explored with purpose, mapping out every curve and crevice of your intertwined forms. You arched your back, giving Nanami better access to your sensitive spots. "Right there," you gasped, your voice thick with need. "Don't stop."

Your bodies became a playground of sensations, with each touch and stroke driving you closer to the edge.

Your fingertips traced the contours of Nanami's sculpted chest, particularly his perky nipples, eliciting delicious sounds from his sinister lips.

Nanami's hands caressed your curves, his touch firm yet gentle. He reveled in the softness of your skin, savoring the sensation as his fingers glided along your body.

Your mouths met once again, tongues entwining in a fervent dance. It was a language of pining, expressing what words couldn't convey. As you kissed, your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

Your hands traced the lines of Nanami's muscled back, her touch both gentle and demanding. "You make me feel so fucking good," you whimpered.

Nanami's lips curled into a wicked smile as he locked eyes with you, his movements steady and deliberate. "And you, my love, are a vision of pure ecstasy," he replied, his voice husky with desire.

Your nails dug into Nanami's skin, the room filled with the sounds of your union—moans, gasps, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. It was driving you both incredibly insane.

As your pleasure intensified, your words grew more audacious.

"Fuck me harder," You moaned, your voice laced with a desperate need, to which Nanami happily obliged.

What his Queen wants, his Queen gets.

"Holy shit–you feel, so! so good!" You gasped, your voice filled with raw desire. "I need more of you, Kento."

Nanami returned your stare with a boyish smirk, his own yearning reflecting in his eyes. "You're insatiable, Y/N. But I'm more than happy to give you what you crave."

"Oh, fuck yes," You cried out, your voice filled with unbridled pleasure. "I'm so close, Nanami. Make me come; make me lose control."

Nanami's voice was a low, seductive growl as he replied, "Hold on a little longer, Y/N. I want to savor every second of this intoxicating pleasure."

Your bodies moved with a desperate urgency, their movements fueled by the primal need to find release. 

Your voice trembled with a mix of anticipation and longing. "Nanami... I can't hold back anymore. I need to come. Please..."

Nanami's eyes smoldered with desire and a hint of adoration as he adhered to your request. "Let go, Y/N. Give in to the pleasure. Come for me."

At that very moment your bodies convulsed with bliss, their shared climax washing over you like a tidal wave.

As your breathing slowed and your bodies basked in the afterglow, feeling absolutely well-spent. After what seemed like a total bang fest, the two of them remained silent as you tried to come down from their high with Nanami leaned all the way back on the sofa and you were plastered on his chest wearing a smile that practically spells, "Just had the best fuck of my life."

The two of you spent the next several minutes catching your breath, the room enveloped in a comfortable silence as you basked in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy. Eventually, Nanami broke the quietude with his sultry voice, "Well, I hope I was able to help you gather enough inspiration and references for your novel."

In response, you released a weary chuckle, your voice carrying a hint of contentment, "You have no idea; in all honesty, I could write a whole trilogy at this point."

"Don't forget to mention me in your 'thank you' message, and I'd like to receive a portion of the revenue should your novel become a box office hit."

You rested an elbow on Nanami's chest, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief as you beamed at him, "Am I not enough? My readers only get an autograph and maybe a picture from me, but you get the whole package."

"Well, if that's the case, how about a bonus?"

"I'll think about it. Till then, keep your lines open," you replied with a teasing smile, and right after that, a yawn slipped through your lips, eliciting a fond chuckle from your boyfriend.

Your conversation seamlessly transitioned into a cozy stillness. As you drifted off to sleep, your bodies remained intertwined, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. When you awoke well past midday, the rest of the day was dedicated to unwinding and enjoying each other's company.

And as if Nanami possesses the voice of an angel, figuratively and literally, your novel did indeed reach box office success. True to your playful agreement, he received his well-deserved bonus.

[ohmeadows]

with the experience you have now, what is something you usually do when you feel the creative block so bad that it makes you want to drop all your writing during an indeterminate period of time? (Not considering talking to someone because i don't have friends with the same interests as me)

Lately i have been writing consistently but now i am in a point between the overwhelming need to keep creating and the suffocating need to just stop. the last time this happened not a single word was written in over a year xd

oh and im so in love with your writing btw <3

thank you and i'm sorry to hear you're struggling with a creative block, i know the feeling all too well. (there's a span of years between 2013 and 2016 where i didn't write at all.)

while a little break does do good, i know the threshold to getting back to it becomes so high it feels insurmountable. but it sounds like you need to replenish the well, as i like to call it. think of your writing as a well you draw from, and it needs a steady supply of water to be able to sustain you dipping into it for the power and inspiration to keep going. feeding it involves engaging in texts in a different way. for me, that's reading, and a lot. i sometimes feel so parched i have to steamroll thru ten books before i feel like i have it balanced again.

i've made some posts beforehand on how to approach reading as a writer (wish i'd tagged them better), but it boils down to:

make lists of beautiful words and sentences that you like; could you emulate them? could you write them in your style?

how do the writers pull off the tricks you struggle with? for me this is knowing when to just move the scene along, or how to showcase that time has passed. (i did a whole study on this from my fave books and it boiled down to just writing "A day later/Weeks down the line/Three months passed before she/It didn't take more than forty-five minutes to get across town but it felt like moving backwards through time" which was fun to learn)

just reading for fun. cannot be understated. sometimes you just need to be pulled into a story and feel too dazzled to stop and think to be reminded of how delicious writing feels

and yes, this goes for mangas, comics, scripts, movies, tv shows, even game writing imo (visual novels are great fun for how they do dialogue and emotional appeal).

another thing to not lose touch with the writing as a practice but maybe take a little breather from the project is to start a journal. i like this one a lot personally, there's the concept of morning pages where you get up in the morning and write three pages without stopping or overthinking.

this leads into automatic writing, which is about setting a timer (25 mins is a good one i feel, but even 15-10-5 does wonders) and while it ticks, you have to keep writing. yes, even if all you write is the same word over and over, or your thoughts as they come to you. this is a key component exercise at all writing schools i've ever gone to. personally i like to "guide it" so to speak with a prompt, be it a word (Lust, Rose, Name, Echo) or a full sentence ("She didn't like where this was going.") or an image. what this exercise teaches you is to shorten the distance between hand putting the words down and your thoughts as they process and come to you, as well as embracing writing messy and ugly and shitty because you can always come back and fix a half-assed page, but you can't do anything with a blank one.

third and final thing: movement. go outside. look around. if you can, get moving, take in the surroundings. there's no expectation on you to write anything from this, just let the movement and your thoughts be it. whenever i hit creative rut, i go for a walk. the first half hour my brain is quiet and annoyed. then things start moving in there as well. i'll walk all the way down to the sea and look at the waves and back home and process an idea from it. (i do keep the notes app on my phone readily available for this, but a notebook or receipt or post-it notes also work fine.)

like all art, writing is a practice and the actual act of writing is maybe 20-30% of what it is. nourish the well and it will nourish you back.

+ for what it's worth, i also often try to edge in rest days where i don't write. at least two a week. be gentle and forgiving on yourself.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Band of Sisters, Band of Thieves (Medieval! Powerwolf x Fem! Princess! Reader) - Part VI

(A/N): Hey everyone! Sorry I went MIA for a bit, writers block can be a real bitch sometimes 😭😭 hopefully updates will go back to being more frequent now that I've worked through my block, I hope you enjoy the new updates! This chapter I've decided to try and introduce nicknames for all the sisters, hopefully it'll make it easier to keep everyone straight. Let me know what you think!

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, brief descriptions of sword fighting, knife wounds, and bodily injury. Swearing. Princess and Attila have to fight off bandits.

Part V - Part VII (TBA)

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was all supposed to be so simple. Your whole life had been mapped out for you, you simply had to follow the steps. You were set up to marry a man for his favorable politics, something you couldn't care less about despite the fact you would soon be in charge of those decisions yourself. You had done your duties to the letter, so why were you running through the woods to try and escape with your life? Attila grabbed your arm, pulling you in the direction of a small alcove under the roots of a nearby tree. He slips a large knife into your grasp, wrapping his hand around yours to silently command you to hold it tight. "They're going to find you." Your eyes grew wide, you pushed forward as you prepared to protest but Attila was quick to clamp his hand over your mouth. "When they do, I need you to yell out how many there are. Once you do that I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them." He sees the bewildered expression on your face. "I don't want a young woman of your status seeing what I do to those men." You found your breathing beginning to steady as you remained locked under his confident gaze. Despite how quickly he had put together this plan, one thing was clear from the way he was speaking to you. He was going to get you out of here safely. "Nod if you understand."

You quickly responded, causing him to drop his hand from your mouth. His eyes scan over your face, giving you a firm nod before disappearing from your sight. You gripped the knife tightly in your hands, tucking yourself as far back into the tree roots as you could and prepared yourself. You could hear them approaching, branches snapping under their feet along with their hushed conversations. You had to focus, you had to have faith in Attila. You yelped as one of them jumped down in front of you, a smirk instantly spreading across his face at the sight of your trembling form. "Well, well, well. If it isn't one of that monarch bastard's prized daughters." He growls. "I'm sure we could get a pretty penny for your head." He grabs you, dragging you out of your hiding spot. You slash at him, managing to cut his eye. He cries out, pushing you away from him, causing you to fall on your ass. "I'll make you pay for that, you bitch!" You look up at the ledge above you, two other bodies loomed at the top.

"Three!" You yell as loud as you can, trying to scramble away from the group as you squeezed your eyes shut. The thugs paused briefly, confused by what they thought was a random outburst. You hear Attila's footsteps thunder through the brush, he roared as he emerged into the clearing. You curled into yourself on the ground, covering your head with your hands as the fighting rang to life in your ears. You heard a loud thwack as the blade of his broadsword chopped into one of the assailants. The thud of his opponent's lifeless body thudding to the forest floor. The two other men charged forward with a yell, metal clanged against metal as they battled in the small clearing. With one final swing you heard the two remaining assailants fall to the ground in tandem. Your breathing was heavy and uneven, you sat there clutching yourself as you struggled to remain calm. Just when you felt like you were going to burst into a full blown panic you were met with the warmth of Attila's jacket being laid over your shoulders. You clutched to the worn leather, letting your body relax into its shelter. You slowly lifted your gaze to Attila's concerned face.

"They must be heavy." He states firmly.

"What must be?" You rebuttal, confused as to what he could mean.

"The weight of your brass balls." You can't help but laugh at his crass statement. "You faced off against three thugs and barely flinched, color me impressed." He sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Princess, if it's alright with you, I'd like to try and get you home."

"That sounds wonderful. But, I regret to inform you that my legs won't let me stand at the moment." You tried to force out a laugh as you felt tears well up in your eyes as your adrenaline wore off. Your whole body shook, your legs too weak with fear to walk. Seeing your distressed state Attila did the only thing he could think of. He scooped you up in his arms, held you close to his chest, and began to make his way back the way you had come.

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing, Your Highness. I promised to keep you safe, I think I've done alright so far, hm?" He tries to joke around and lighten the mood. Despite how often you managed to get on his nerves he never wanted to see you so afraid. You looked so small and afraid. Your face buried against him as you sobbed against his chest, he held the jacket tightly around you. The best case scenario, the horses would be somewhere nearby the carriage, he could hold you easily enough and get you both back to the castle. Attila let out a sigh of relief as luck appeared to be on his side tonight. One of the castle's best horses grazed at the side of the road. He set you gently inside the carriage, allowing you to watch him as he got the horse saddled up before making his way back to you. "Think you can sit on his back on your own for a moment?" You nodded, allowing him to help you into the saddle where you sat unsteadily. He hiked himself up behind you, his arms resting comfortably on either side of you as he took the reins. You sped off down the trail, knowing you had a long ride of you.

"Attila," you say his name softly. He hums in response, alerting you that he was listening. "I'm sorry you got dragged into a mess like this because of me."

"Eh, my job would be a lot less exciting if you hadn't." He smiles playfully down at you. "Your Highness, you don't have to apologize. This is the type of work I expected to have." You struggled to suppress a yawn, leaning back into Attila's shoulder. "Rest as much as you can, we have a long journey ahead of us." You nodded, sparing a glance up at him. If you were this tired you could only imagine how exhausted he must be, yet he didn't waver for a moment. You were riding for almost a full day when you finally arrived back at the castle. Your horses galloping slowed as you reached the front gate, Attila carrying you inside.

"(Y/N)?" You hear your father's voice exclaim from the other end of a hallway. He rushed over to you and Attila.

"Your Majesty, the carriage was attacked by bandits-" you hear him start to explain as everything slowly faded away. When you awoke you groaned as you tried to move your heavy, aching limbs. The room was filled with golden sunlight, a vase full of vibrant wildflowers sat in the open window.

"Good morning." You turned to find your sister's physician, organizing his shelves of herbs.

"Mr. Hunt? What happened?" You struggled to sit up, your entire body was sore. You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days." He answers bluntly. "You fainted when you arrived back at the castle, you're down in my office so I can ensure that you were alright during your prolonged rest."

"And, Sir Attila? Is he alright?" You ask with a hint of nervousness in your voice. Mr. Hunt chuckles at your concern.

"He's just fine, Your Highness, no need to worry." He glances out the window. "I believe right now he's watching Sir Falk and your sister train?"

"My sister? Training?" You attempted to stand only to instantly collapse back into the cot. You remembered your younger sister jokingly saying she was going to learn how to wield a sword. "Mr. Hunt, would you be able to help me over to where she is?"

"Of course, Your Highness." Mr. Hunt takes your arm, helping you stand and slowly walk down the castle's endless hallways. You eventually came to the windows overlooking a clearing at the back of the castle grounds. You looked down to see your sister standing in a sword fighting stance, holding an incredibly long stick.

"Oi, Mimi!" Both of them jump, their eyes darting up to see you waving in the window. "What are you two doing?" You watch Falk suddenly step forward, catching your sister off guard, the force of his stick colliding with hers sending her tumbling onto the ground. Falk lets out a bellowing laugh, heading over to help her up, only for her to sweep his leg out from underneath him, causing him to fall to the ground at her side. You can't held but smile as you watch the two of them giggling the courtyard. Falk stumbled into a standing position, lugging your sister up after him.

"You stay right there! I have a bone to pick with you!" You laugh as you watch her hurry inside. She stomps down the hallway in your direction, Sir Falk jogging out behind her a few moments later. "Do you understand how worried you made us?" She crushes you in a hug, her voice cracking slightly as she holds back tears. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close.

"You can't get rid of your annoying older sister that easily." You joke. "Sir Falk." You greeted him with a knowing, inquisitive look. "I hear you're teaching my sister to fight? How has she been doing?"

He seemed to be a bit surprised that you weren't berating him for teaching her something so dangerous. "She's doing great even if she says otherwise." He nudges her slightly as she returns to his side, softly smiling down at her. "I'm glad you're alright, Your Highness." You nod your thanks to him.

"Where's everyone else?" You ask Mimi.

"Ducky is sitting with Roel in the garden, he got injured pretty badly on his last expedition. She's been keeping him company while he recovers. I'm sure the rest of them are scattered around the palace." She chuckles. "Attila was here a little while ago to… well he was about to come visit you." She smirks at you. Your eyes widened slightly, figuring now that you were returned safely to the castle walls Sir Attila would go back to wanting nothing to do with you.

"I, um, I think I'm going to go look for him. He'll probably be worried if he finds the bed empty." You chuckle nervously, Mr. Hunt assisting you once more. You watched as your sister and Sir Falk exchanged a glance.

"Sona?" You hum, looking back at her. "He seemed really worried about you." You struggled to keep the small smile off your face. Maybe the brute didn't hate you after all? Returning to the infirmary you found Sir Attila anxiously pacing in front of the door. You watched relief wash over him as he saw you up and walking.

"Your Highness." He takes a few hurried steps forward before he realizes how over excited he seemed. He slowed himself, gesturing delicately in your direction. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore, a bit tired, but overall not too bad." You manage a small laugh. "I can't thank you enough-"

"There's no need to thank me, I was simply doing what was expected of me." He states bluntly. You froze, a dull ache resonating in your chest as you realized this was really just work for him. "I was just checking to see whether or not you had woken up."

"Right, did you get a chance to speak with my father?" Your usual icy tone settled back into your words. Whatever friendliness he had displayed to you in the woods was long gone by now. He nods in response.

"I'm sure he'll want to hear things from your perspective." You nod.

"Of course." You force a tight smile onto your lips. "Well, I guess you can finally be dismissed." You thank Mr. Hunt before continuing through the halls the best you could on your own. You pushed open the door to your father's study, sitting there with his quill in hand as he steadily sorted through a stack of documents. The papers fluttered to his desk as he realized you were now standing in front of him.

"Thank heavens you're alright." He pulls you into a tight hug. "Attila told me everything, you don't have to discuss it if you don't want to." He pulls out one of the seats at his grand desk, motioning for you to sit before doing so on his own side. "I've already sent word to the Duke about what happened, you don't need to worry about a thing on that end."

"Father, is it really necessary to go through with this marriage with the Duke?" You ask him, propping your chin in the palm of your hand.

He sighs, "My darling girl, we've already discussed this. Your marriage to the Duke isn't for something trivial like an heir or wealth. Marrying him means we gain access to all of his lands resources-"

"Which raises the economy and brings forth the means for societal growth." You recite in a bored tone, unable to recount how many times you have had this conversation with your father.

"Exactly. I know you're not happy about it, but it's how things have to be done." He explains calmly.

"Father, I don't love him." You were being honest. Your usual mantra about the Duke immediately coming to mind 'a smart match, but so incredibly boring'. He was the furthest thing from what you wanted in a partner.

"You will learn to love him, sweetheart. Your mother and I weren't too fond of each other when we first got married either, if I'm being honest I don't think the woman could stand me." He chuckles. "But she became someone I knew I could rely on, she's my best friend."

"I don't want just a best friend, I want to be able to find my soul mate." Your voice soft and frail as you recounted the dreams of your future from when you were a child. "I want to marry someone that I can't stand to be away from for even a second, someone who challenges me to be the best version of myself, but is still gentle and kind enough to help me pick up the pieces if I fail."

"Trust me, my dear. I wish that was something I could give to you." He offers you a sad smile. "You going through with this marriage proves your resilience and your dedication to running this kingdom properly, and I'm so proud of you for doing so." You repressed a sigh, this conversation only cemented what you knew to be fact, you couldn't get through to him even if you tried. "Now, I'm sure you're still tired but you should go get properly dressed. I don't want my daughter walking around in front of the servants in a nightgown like some strumpet." You silently nodded as you dismissed yourself. You felt the strength in your legs slowly coming back. Your body still wrapped in a constant dull ache from your taste of battle. You headed back into your quarters, your handmaids immediately rushing to you.

"Good afternoon ladies, would one of you be kind enough to help me get dressed so I can go visit my sister's?" They all immediately got to work, pleasantly chatting with you and amongst themselves. You told them everything that had happened, the group of women hanging in your every word.

"I'm surprised he went out of his way to take such good care of you, that Attila can be such a brute." One of your handmaid's remarks as she works on the ties of your corset. There was a murmur of agreement amongst the group.

"Trust me, I was just as shocked as you were." You chuckle before letting out a soft sigh. "I don't know, part of me thinks I just imagined the whole thing. When I saw him earlier today he was just as cold and distant as ever."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Your Highness. Sir Attila has never been the most congenial of the Wolfborne Company. Besides, you went through a terrifying experience. It would only be natural to try and find some form of bond between you and your sole companion." You finish getting into your garments, all of them making sure everything was placed just the way you liked it. You dismiss all of them for the rest of the day, assuring them if you needed any assistance you would let them know. 

You made your way down to the garden, spotting your sister propped up against a tree next to Roel. The two of them would occasionally point at the sky. "They must be cloud watching." You mutter under your breath. Ducky perks up when she notices you.

"Sona!" She yells, scrambling from the ground. You continue slowly in her direction, internally grimacing at how weak your body still felt. You pulled her into a tight hug. "I was so worried."

"I know, I'm sorry." You hold her tight. Ducky looked up to you as almost a mother figure. Where the Queen would be harsh and unforgiving you were understanding and gentle with your youngest sibling. You were someone she could look up to; strong, independent, not afraid to speak your mind despite the fact it could have repercussions.

"Your Highness, Attila told me everything, I'm glad both of you made it out unscathed." Roel's towering form throws the two of you into shadow.

"Roel, I'm glad to hear you're also alright. I heard you were hurt pretty badly." He shakes his head.

"It was just a scratch." At his remark Ducky winds up and punches him in the shoulder. "Hey, that wasn't nice." He says through his pretend hurt, rubbing his arm. She hissed softly as she shook out her hand.

"You almost died, stop trying to play it off." She argues. "He's lucky I found him and brought him to Mr. Hunt." He groans, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"She's never going to let me live this down." His annoyed expression quickly faded away to a smile. You chuckle at their antics. You were so happy to be home, to be able to see your sisters once more. Yet, you still couldn't shake the heavy feeling that had settled into your chest. You were becoming increasingly sure of one thing. Despite how much you had tried to convince yourself that you wanted nothing to do with Sir Attila, it was becoming impossible to ignore your hidden feelings for him. You almost laughed at the thought. Seeing Ducky and Roel act so friendly with each other, you wished you could have that type of relationship with Attila. However, you knew that was something that could never happen.

No matter your feelings you had a duty to uphold. Your life has already been perfectly mapped out for your success, you shouldn't stray from the course. Even if you did decide to indulge yourself in your little fantasy it's not as if Attila would ever possibly return your feelings, would he? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List! @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @spookyghostjelly @mustluvecho @jennmakesitweird @angellayercake

[jaskierx]

Honestly, I really admire (and am thankful for) the way you manage and handle those back and forth with some Izzy stans, I don't think I have the mental strength to entertain them myself.

I wasn't part of the fandom after season 1 aired, I watched it without engaging much and then kind of waited for season 2 to come out, so I had no idea such a divide had happened between Izzy stans and the rest of the fandom (glad I was oblivious to it ngl). All I know is that I hated Izzy’s guts and wanted him to get his just desert.

So yeah, I wasn’t a fan and I struggled forgiving him when season 2 started because the show was trying so hard to make him sympathetic (which I honestly couldn’t give two shits about at first, I wanted revenge), plus you’re right, Izzy got way too much screen time (which gave Izzy stans ammunitions to say “SEE!! Main character!!!”), but I did end up warming up to him by the time he died. I can even say I genuinely liked him.

BUT the journey to that point was sooo conflicting because some Izzy stans were also doing the absolute most in the main tag, painting Izzy as this angel who never did anything wrong and was terrorized by the monster Ed, and I was like????? Did season 1 happen??? Did I dream the whole season??? Did I watch a version from an alternate universe??? I was BAFFLED. I don't know who is that Izzy they're talking about, but it's not the one on my screen, that's for sure.

Then, Izzy died and the hardcore stans lost their shit (you know what I'm talking about) and they have seriously soured me to Izzy again. I want to like the character we had on screen, and I want to like his redemption arc. He was a great antagonist even if I hated him, and we owed him so much for all the shit he pulled in season 1, but the OTT takes and behaviors from stans I’ve seen have made me give up on him, which sucks. Maybe I’ll feel better about him in a few months, but right now, I can’t stand him, and I’ve blocked his tag everywhere (ao3 included, because, truly, fuck fanon Izzy, fuck him).

Hope it’s not too draining for you though, just writing this felt like screaming into the void, so I can’t imagine dealing with this on the daily. Take care!

hi anon i'm so glad you sent this bc i felt very similarly about izzy in s2. i didn't find him sympathetic at all. i didn't give a single shit that he was suffering from ed being in his kraken era bc he's the entire reason ed ended up like that in the first place. izzy was reaping what he sowed. seeing ed feeling so miserable broke my fucking heart and i can't stand any bullshit takes about 'izzy was protecting the crew from ed's abuse' or 'edizzy invented love confirmed' or whatever other nonsense his stans chose to take away from episodes 1-3.

i truly do not see izzy as a victim. i truly do not see ed as an abuser. sometimes i will start reading a post in the ofmd tag that refers to an 'abuser' and a 'victim' and i get halfway through the post and realise that the op has a completely opposite view of who is who than i do.

and as s2 progressed i just felt worse and worse about it like he was getting so much screentime and popping up all over the place and he'd absorbed a load of traits (from other characters that i'd have rather seen more of) bc the writers had to speedrun making him semi-likeable. i still haven't done a proper rewatch since the finale aired and i'm pretty sure i'll feel different watching it knowing he dies in ep8, but when eps 6-7 dropped i fucking hated every scene he was in and felt like he ruined some otherwise really lovely ed/stede moments like their breakfast in bed. izzy being cheered on for wearing drag and singing - the exact acts that caused him to threaten ed - feels exactly like the very common queer experience of seeing the homophobic kid who bullied you for being queer getting loads of support when they come out themselves.

and the takes that were coming out of the canyon at this time were absolutely wild, especially in relation to ed. people absolutely baying for blood, wanting to see him suffer, wanting his relationship with stede to suffer, wanting him to have to crawl across broken glass to repair his relationship with the crew, all while treating izzy as a protagonist who never did anything wrong.

so ngl i was delighted when he died. but mostly i was relieved that it was going to be over. i walked out of my circus tent with my clown makeup on believing that the canyon would yell for a bit and then slowly quiet down as people who claimed they'd be leaving the fandom if izzy died made good on their promise and fucked off.

and if anything they've got louder and more unhinged and are out here reinventing tjlc and harassing the writers and churning out the most rancid racist posts and writing obituaries that caused multiple people on twt to mistakenly think Actual Human Person con o'neill had died.

and on one hand i'm kind of glad that more people know what they're like now but god i really do feel for any izzy fans who have had their enjoyment of him ruined by the canyon. i really do think it's not the character that's polarising, it's the fandom response, in that most people who come in liking izzy end up either aligning with the canyon or getting so fucking fed up of the canyon that they don't like him anymore. and both of those are a shame tbh because he is very well acted and well written, especially in s1, and i wish i could've enjoyed his scenes and felt the emotional payoff of his death

anyway. sorry for writing you 1 billion words. ily ❤️

[idv-ask-the-showman]

Unexpected Guest - Part 3 The Final Part

TW: there would be mention of harm/injurise/ fire burns and more, you have been warned!

Note from The Mun// The writing may seem somewhat fast paced and may not be that good but tbh I struggle with writer block so bad but I still wanna write the event so hope ya guys forgive me! I also wanna say that I know I made some of the characters a bit OOC and there could had many way the story could go but again, writing block and also I needed to make the plot happen one way or another despite everything.

The fight was mostly one sided between Rue and Hugo with Rue being the one on top unsurprisingly giving her background as a skilled fighter. Even Hugo knows that trying to win against that woman would only waste his time when he could have already finished what he came here for long ago.

He concluded that the best action to take now was to distract her and make an escape opinion for himself to take… but DAME! This woman is locked in and would not take her eyes off him like a hawk!

Thankfully… he has a plan~

“As much as I enjoy our little dance, I am afraid I must excuse myself~”

Rue grabbed to her katana tightly, ready for any attacks the hunter about to use on her.

Yet, he didn’t even make an attempt to attack her. If anything, he just smirked before setting his body aflame. It's worth noting that they were in a wooden building on the map, and with Hugo’s control over the fire, he quickly set the wooden floor on fire, causing the fire to spread much faster than normal.

A lot of thick smoke and fire covered Rue’s vision, only for a minute though. With a strong swing of her sword, she send a strong wind slash that cleared the smock and some of the fire in front of her and can finally see clearly again… yet he is no where to be seen.

“Dame it….” Rue mumbled to herself before getting moving to try and find him while informing the other through the communication device “Beware, the hunter has changed target.”

{Meanwhile with Angel and Flynn}

“Got it.”

Angel sigh and looked at Flynn, he wanted to ask him why that Hunter is so obsessed to get him yet he knows this is not the right time to ask nor dose he believe Flynn would even tell him anyway… besides he feel like he already knows the reason for it.

“We better be careful, he for sure would be looking for you.”

Flynn was silent for a bit and a look of guilt was on his face.

“I am sorry you guys have to get involved with all of this I-”

“No need for apologies Flynn, I already told you that, There was no way you could have known.”

Flynn smiled a bit to that, feeling a little better.

“Now come, we need to keep at it a little bit longer and we would be done with this chaotic match and Miss Nightingale for sure gonna deal with that problematic hunter after!”

yeah… YEAH! Angel is right, Flynn is worrying about this way more than he should, it wouldn’t take long before the final machine is done and they can end this whole thing!

Alas they should stop talking for now because it seem the hunter is getting near them. Angle immediately pulled Flynn near him and used his Camouflage trait by using a fabric that makes them invisible in front of the hunter for a short while.

When the hunter finally arrived to where the two were and started looking around. The two made sure to crouch down, walking as slow and quiet as possible, It was hard to giving how dangerously close he is to them now.

Hugo in the other hand can tell someone is here, he just know it! But no matter how he looked around he couldn’t find them, it seem he have to look somewhere else but where?

The whole thing flustered him, how is it so hard to get his hand on that child?! And why in hell do those bastards try to protect him??? If only they knew what he did… Keep thinking about it making the flames on him grow stronger and wilder.

“UGHHHHHHH THIS IS BULLSHIT!!!”

With his sudden outburst, the flame that was on him exploded in all different directions including the direction that Angel and Flynn were at. Leading to the fabric that Angel is using to catch aflame and forcing him to immediately throw it away before it harms them… unfortunately, that means Hugo can see them now.

He was shocked but a pleasant one because soon he burst out laughing at how the situation seemed to now work in his favor!

“COME HERE!”

The hunter dashes at them so fast that Flynn doesn't have a chance to react. Thankfully, Angel immediately grabs Flynn and dodges the hunter, not wasting a second to look back. Angel stands up, still holding onto Flynn's hand, and runs away.

Needless to say, now the two find themselves kitting the hunter, they need to just kite him a bit longer just a little bit more until the machine is primed and they can get out!… but much easier said then done because despite how good they kite, The hunter managed to get Angel down and it didn’t take him long before he managed to catch Flynn!

“GAH!”

“FLYNN!!”

He grabbed him harshly by the neck and lift him up high from the ground. Flynn was struggling to break free from Hugo’s tied grip let along breath, he tried to scratch Hugo’s hand to the point he scars them, kicking his legs at him but he wouldn’t let him go!

Angel on the other hand was trying as fast as he could to get up, forcing himself despite his wounds so he could go and safe Flynn.

“Time to pay for your crimes, you little shit!”

“W-What are you going to do? Let me go- LET ME GO!!!”

Hugo only smirked and his free hand was covered with fire now, reaching it dangerously near Flynn’s face… wait he isn’t-

“No no n… NO NO NO!!! STOP IT STOP IT NOW!!

Genuine fear was consuming Flynn, he is panicking so bad that many voices in his head are now being a pure mess, h-he doesn’t know what to do… the only thing he can actually clearly think of is calling for help only, calling for his-

Alas the hand finally landed on the right side of his face, burning it so bad that a bloody painful scream come out from Flynn and all the while he screamed for only one person to help him.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA- B-BROTHERRRRRR!!!!”

the scream was so loud that Sam and Rue could hear it, they immediately went to where the scream was coming from.

It didn’t take long for Rue to arrive and immediately kick the hunter away and letting go of Flynn, who had been caught by Angel who finally got up and also Sam who just arrived soon after.

“I-Is he gonna be okay?” Sam asked Angel who was using his ice powers to cool down the burn on Flynn’s face. “H-He is still alive but he passed out, he is in a really bad state!”

Hugo slowly get up from the ground, if he still alive he for sure would had died because of that strong kick. Alas he is not~ seeing how Flynn is now on the ground, pass out and all badly burned just made him smile like crazy and laughing like a maniac! Oh~ he can not wait to actually burn his whole body now and kill him-… “wait… what is this”

Thick Blue fogs suddenly covers the area, Hugo seemed so confused but the three survivors seemed to know what’s going on.

“W-WHAT YOU THREE LOOKING AT ME FOR, WTF GOUNG ON!!”

No answer…

“How dare you…”

“Huh?…”

Where did this voice come from? None of the survivors even move their mouths to say anything and… it seem as it came from behind. He immediately looked behind him and he saw him…

Phineas was standing behind him… but he looked drastically different from the friendly looking showman the survivors are used to, the best you could describe his appearance is simply HORRIFYING just like an actual ghost should look like.

Before Hugo can even door say anything, Phineas grabs him by the neck so strongly you can almost hear a crack coming from it.

“You coming with me.”

.

.

.

The Hunter had surrendered.

All survivors gonna return to the manor.

Fin.

[dashrgpx]

Adriana’s POV (pure and none of that other stuff just true care for each-other)

I sat outside of Ashley’s backyard just getting some air she was having a get together all our friends and their partners were over I don’t really have a partner but I am the girls friend So. Lately I’ve been having writers block and can’t quite seem to come up with anything for our new up coming album after also suffering a vocal hemorrhage and going into surgery not knowing if I would be able to ever sing the same again all while fans have waited through the recovery and recording process and I can’t seem to deliver and it’s really starting to frustrate me.

Pablo’s POV

I was at Ashley’s house with Pedri’s who’s dating Natalia I came because most of the guys from the team are also here . After a while I realized Adriana had slowly disappeared from the group I wondered what was going on she’s been extra quiet lately and I mean she’s usually quite but she zones out more on us I mean I made fun of her hair and boots today and although she usually has a salty comeback today she didn’t have one I decided I was thirsty so I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water when I see Adriana outside in Ashley’s backyard “hola que haces “ I said to her she just turned and saw it was me and turn back to where she was looking at before “hey Pablo “ she replied “what’s going on Adriana” I said to her to which she chuckled and said “huh never thought you would ever actually ask me if I was okay considering you hate me and all” to which I said “cmon Adriana I like to mess with you see you mad but I don’t wish miserable on you “ to which she chuckled again “I can’t write for my life Pablo I mean I’ve tried everything to get me back in that studio in hopes I’ll sing the same “ I said practically almost letting a sob out “I don’t understand Adriana your an amazing writer I’ve never ever seen struggle in all of the two years I’ve known you but what’s all this of not singing the same “ he said and that’s when it hit me the girls never told anyone of my vocal recovery surgery “Pablo there reason our tour has been on hold as well as our album is because I suffered a vocal hemorrhage and had to get surgery then recovery but see I haven’t even attempted to sing in fear it just won’t be the same “ I said finally letting out the sob I didn’t even know I was holding in

Pablo’s POV

man it broke me to see her cry and so vulnerable all of the years that I’ve known Adriana she’s never ever showed such hard emotions she’s a hard shell to crack to see her just break down in front of me made my heart take over rather then my senses and I reached to embrace her and she just cried into my chest “you’ll sing again you just have to believe it Adriana trust me if I continue this whole painful process of trying to heal my knee knowing that even if I do heal it’s not guaranteed that I’ll play the same ever again just to give up i would be disappointing everyone in my life but most importantly myself and my younger self that all it took for me to give up was one little injury not you Adriana you have a stronger mindset then that you’ll do it because of those girls in there they are your friends and your fans you wish to bring everyone pride but you have to bring yourself pride as well “ I said my hand on the back of her head and I kiss the top her head and she took her head out of my chest to look up at me “ Pablo your so talented please don’t ever give up on football it’s your dream I’ve never meet someone so in love with the game I mean the way you take about it shows just how fascinated and mesmerized you are by it “ we just stared at eachother “yk those girls will inspire you always they are your family” Pablo said smiling “and now so are you” she said giggling and he did as well “thanks gavi that all really meant a lot truly “ to which he relied “just so you know I don’t hate you “ she said and they both walked back inside.

The next week

We had just won against Madrid and I was walking back to the lockers when I hear “Gavii!” And I turn around “hola Adriana” I said “yk that talk we had the other night Gavi your like my muse now I went home and just started writing and made what would become Spotify’s top song “ she said laughing so excited “god adriana you did the damn thing “ I said also laughing “I know I did it we did it “ she said laughing and hugs me “yea I guess we did” and hugged her back .

I have an idea of how to continue this story but should I ?

[snek-panini]

At long last, I've finally finished a new book! And it's actually not a fanfic this time! This is a bind of Jules Verne's Around the World in Eighty Days. This was supposed to be my fourth book for Binderary, but I didn't finish it in time. Procrastination's a bitch. Fun fact: the first thing I ever bound was a public domain short story called The Machine Stops, but since it was the first it is...not a good skill showcase. This one is so much better. More pics and process talk under the cut!

Close-up of the cover, and a pic of the spine. The blue bits are cardstock, and brown ones are faux leather left over from when I bound Pray for Us, Icarus. The images and author's name are in black embossing ink. Something weird happened with the texture on these--the author's name came out nice and smooth and solid like always, but the stamped images have a bumpy texture to them and some leather visible through the powder. They were done with rubber stamps on an ink pad and the text was done with an embossing pen, so I think it's a difference in the ink. It's a nice texture though, so I don't mind. I had originally thought to put the title on the front, but I really liked both stamps and I like how it came out.

Top view and endpaper. I'm really pleased with how the case fits; that's been something I struggle with on a lot of projects and I think I'm finally getting it down. The endpapers are a floretine print that I bought from Hollander's and cut to size. They got a little wrinkled when I cased in, especially in the back. It's my first time working with this kind of paper and I used too much glue. I also tried stitching them to the text block this time, but I don't think I'll bother with that again. I didn't like how flimsy the single-sheet signature felt next to the thicker ones in the text block. Fun fact for those who've seen an adaptation of this story but not actually read it: there is actually no hot air balloon in the book, even though it's in all the adaptations. There was a movie made in the 1950s which added the balloon and it's been in every version since then.

Title page and chapter header. I've been saying for a while that I wanted to up my title page game, and I really love how this looks. The image here is a free vector pulled from Seekpng.com. It's the same image on both pages, the one on the chapter header is just smaller and in gray instead of black. I've also chosen a name for my bindery, largely because other people had names for theirs and I thought it was cool and wanted my own. It's Paper Snake Press, you can see it at the bottom of the text. I want a logo too but haven't gotten around to making one yet. 2d art is, uh. Still not a strength for me.

The text I used was pulled from Project Gutenberg. Typesetting it was and interesting experience, surprisingly different from typesetting fic. When I do fic I keep the editing very light, just really obvious things like misspelled characters' names and quotation marks that are flipped the wrong way, but it always needs something. This one didn't need any of that, which was nice. It also has way longer sentences and paragraphs than fic, and I thought that might be a product of its age, that writers just wrote longer sentences and were more verbose in 1873 than they are now. But then this week I started working on another fic that has the same features, from someone I've suspected for a while is a published author, so I wonder if it's actually a professional author thing instead of a shift in reading tastes over time. I'm not really going anywhere with this speculation, I just thought it was interesting.

I have two more works-in-progress printed and waiting. One is an author copy and just needs casing in, the other's in a halfway stage and has a lot to be done, so it might be a bit before I have more books to post. But there's a whole stack of things I've typeset that I'm waiting to print, so there are good things coming.