#my friend said he has eyebags

[haiquestrian]

Have at thee! For i have FINALLY drawn the silly horses >:3

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: You are blissfully unaware of how deep exactly Rook and Vil's affections run for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

Pairing: Yan!Vil x Reader x Yan!Rook

Genre: Yandere

TW: Yandere Vil and Rook, talk of killing someone, Reader is not Yuu/Prefect.

AN: Rook and Vil ily but why are you both so hard to write for ���� Like, yall are fun to think for but it was so hard to write down the concept in my mind ysgshskejd. I genuinely don't know if I was able to do them justice, please forgive me if they're a bit ooc in this. This started off as a joke thing because of a friend, but then it turned yandere for some reason that I don't know but we're vibing so it's okay ^^

You groaned as you flopped face first onto the couch in Vil's room, uncaring of the fact that you were still wearing your shoes. Vil glanced at you from the corner of his eyes as he sat at his vanity, narrowing his gaze at your unmoving form.

"(Name), remove your shoes."

" 'm too tired," you grumbled, and Rook chuckled from his place on Vil's bed. "My, my Chevalier de Beauté, how bold of you to reject Roi du Poison's order," he teased you, getting up from the bed to walk over to where you were.

" 'm tired," you whined once again, drawing out a chuckle from both of your boyfriends.

"Still, as Roi du Poison's devoted hunter, I cannot let you get away with such a grave crime," he hummed, his voice light and sweet to your ears. Kneeling on one leg, Rook carefully untied your shoelaces, gently placing your shoes on the floor by the couch. Each movement was smooth and reverent; one would think he was handling a priceless treasure with the way he made sure to not make a single noise as he rid you of your shoes.

He watched in amusement as your only reaction was to sigh and turn your head slightly to look at him. Ever watchful, he immediately zeroed in on the eyebags that you had tried to conceal under layers of makeup. Rook removed the glove from one of his hands, raising it to smooth back your hair into a somewhat presentable state.

"Pray tell, what has you so stressed?" He asked, and you could see Vil sit straighter (if that was even possible since his posture was always impeccable) at his words, no doubt listening to the two of you.

"Its nothing too bad, really. I'm just stuck with uncooperative assholes in Professor Crewel's class-"

"Language," Vill gently chided, but you could make out the concern in his voice. You continued speaking, eventually fully ranting to Rook and Vil about how absolutely bull-headed and uncooperative your group members were, and how you were practically the only one working on the project.

Both the boys stayed quiet as they heard you vent your frustrations out to them. Once you were done, Rook gave you a smile. His eyes held a dangerous light, sharp gaze befitting the hunter he prided himself in being.

"Would you like me to kill them for you?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his tone, the familiar smile on his face somehow turning malicious in front of your very eyes. Very slowly, like prey trying to not agitate the predator in their bid to escape, you silently sat up on the couch. Your eyes were trained on his, caution and hesitancy swirling in them (a very pretty mixture, if you asked Rook; what he wouldn't give to see that look of confusion and fear in your eyes more often-)

"No killing, Rook," Vil spoke from his seat in front of the mirror, turning completely to face the two of you. Immediately, Rook turned back into the playful boy you always knew, as he chuckled, "Ah, I jest, of course." He winked at you, and you wondered if your senses had played a trick on you as the heavy atmosphere that had been in the room mere moments ago dissipated instantly.

"Perhaps I could speak to these classmates of yours, hm?"

"O-oh, there's no need for that," you nervously chuckled. "I already informed Professor Crewel about it, and he said he'll give them a fitting punishment," you hurriedly explained. Your fingers fiddled with the cuffs of your blazer, a clear sign of your discomfort at the thought of Rook potentially talking to the people from your group. As irritating as they were, you didn't really want to get them on his (or for that matter, anyone's) bad side, especially with how... weird and quite frankly terrifying Rook had been earlier.

Your nervousness did not go unnoticed, as Vil chuckled, crossing his arms elegantly as he looked at the two of you. "Rook, you've scared them."

Vil stood up from his seat, making his way over to you. Carefully, he lifted your face to make you meet his eyes and smiled. "Rook was only joking, my dear. Don't worry." The gentle touch sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, and the soft smile complementing his words made your earlier worries go away.

Rook looked at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes as he took your hand in his own. "Ah, dear Chevalier de Beauté, you need not worry at all," he said as he placed a light kiss on the back of your hand.

"You are precious to me, so I cannot help but wish to take care of anything that may displease you. But, my apologies if I went too far with my joke."

His voice was sincere as he spoke, and you couldn't help but smile at him despite his... slightly concerning words. Rook was a weirdo most of the time. Maybe it was just a well-intended joke that you just overthought about?

You chuckled, missing the way Vil's shoulders seemed to relax and how Rook's smile became a little less forced.

"It's alright Rook."

"You nearly gave us away, Rook."

Vil's voice was uncharacteristically cold as he stared down at the hunter kneeling in front of him. You had gone back to your own dorm room some time ago, saying that you needed to finish one of Professor Trein's assignments, giving the two boys some much needed privacy to have this conversation.

"My sincere apologies Roi du Poison. I did not mean to, but to see their beautiful face contorted in such anger, such frustration... it caught me off guard. I was careless in my wish to take away some of their burden, and I shall accept any punishment you deem acceptable, my fair queen," Rook said, his voice repentant as he stared at the hem of Vil's dorm clothes.

Vil sighed after a long and tense silence. How could he remain cross with his beloved hunter any longer, when he was this remorseful? Besides, Vil had been quick enough to salvage the situation in time, and you were still blissfully unaware of how deep exactly their affections ran for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

"Get up," he ordered, and the hunter rose to his feet, finally daring to look his queen in the eyes. "Go, and find every little thing there is to find about those useless students. Every. Single. Thing. But do not, touch a hair on their heads. That will be your punishment."

Vil's voice was calm and collected, like a queen delivering a death sentence. Rook bowed reverently.

"As you wish, my dear queen."

[captain-hawks]

run the table

rintarou suna x f!reader

In which a night spent playing pool with Suna at a local dive threatens to broach the flimsy boundaries that exist between your professional morals and the chart-climbing musician's steady, loaded gaze.

wc: 2k

c: 18+ only, musician!suna, manager!reader, reader is in denial, semi-public sexual activities, thigh riding, fingering, handjob

a/n: suna's music is essentially = cigarettes after sex

(requested by @cheesypuffkins87)

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — PART V

[sunarin.x] tagged you in their story!

There’s a gentle vibration against your wrist, and you set the pool stick currently clutched in your hands upright as you tilt your arm to read the notification that lights up the screen. Furrowing your brow, you slide your phone out of your back pocket, navigating until you’re met with a photo of yourself from the game you just lost—bent forward over the table seconds before mistakenly sinking the eight ball.

Spinning around, you let your indignant gaze fall on the amateur photographer in question, who’s currently leaning against the wall nearby, face lit up by the glow of his own phone screen as a thumb adorned in black nail polish continuously swipes upward.

(You’ve been stalking around the table contemplating your first move in the current game for ten minutes.)

“Do you enjoy broadcasting my mediocrity to your devoted followers?” you ask flatly with a hand on your hip as you idly twirl the wooden cue, well aware that your presence in the musician’s post is bound to draw the ire of more than a few of his fans.

His eyes flick upward in your direction, and as always—unfortunately—being on the receiving end of his cool, assessing gaze proves to elicit something akin to a minor case of spontaneous combustion throughout your nervous system.

Suna’s music career has taken off over the course of the past year, his devastatingly attractive looks (the most recent words an interviewer used to describe him, not your own, for the record) and beautifully soft, raspy pitch (once again, courtesy of another thirsty interviewer) the perfect storm for a viral social media breakout after he shared one of his catchy ambient, dreamy, indie rock tunes (okay, you’ll own up to that comment). 

Thanks to a handful of mutual acquaintances, namely your close friend Semi—who introduced the two of you in the first place, you’re now Suna’s manager. 

Of sorts.

For all intents and purposes.

Also sort of a public relations liaison.

When he deigns to listen to any of the advice and guidance you dole out on a daily basis.

Mostly you just end up reaming him out for the nights he has too much to drink before shows or for taking risky liberties with his snarky attitude on the internet as his name continues to grow. 

When you’re not doing that, you’re inevitably using your spare key to drag his hungover body over the threshold of his apartment for whatever interview he’s late for. (You’re still seething about the time he shuffled in wearing an oversized hoodie with eyebags for days and still had the interviewer stumbling over her goddamn words.)

Okay, so Suna’s attractive.

Objectively.

When he’s somehow wriggled his way under your skin to now become one of your closest friends, it’s a factual observation you unfortunately can’t deny when you spend most nights of the week sprawled out on the other side of his couch with takeout food.

(The traitorous thought becomes a particularly sore spot when he deigns to stretch out across said couch and drop his head into your lap, eyes never leaving whatever bad movie is playing on the television screen while he does it.)

Suna thinks it’s funny—the amount of times you’ve been mistaken for his girlfriend at this point.

You hate him, just a little.

��You looked cute,” he grins, pushing off of the wall and striding toward you while his cue is left behind.

You valiantly ignore the eruption of warmth in your chest, fingers clenching tightly around your own stick. 

“The goal was to beat the girlfriend allegations. Let me manage your difficult ass in peace, Suna,” you huff, turning around to resume lining up your shot.

And suddenly he’s way too fucking close when his voice dances against the shell of your ear, “I liked it better when you were calling me Rin last night.”

Your arm jerks forward quicker than you were planning, and the white cue ball goes careening in the wrong direction, knocking into an entire cluster of Suna’s striped ones. Somehow, you still manage to sink one of your own balls in the process. When you turn to look at him, your noses nearly brush, and the clean scent of his body wash invades your senses. 

Eyes going wide, you slam your palm down on the edge of the table a little harder than necessary as you take a step back and retort, “You wouldn’t share the Skittles with me until I did!”

The entire situation was far less sexual than his low, rasping tone implies—you’d wrestled him to the floor in your kitchen over the pilfered bag you had bought, and he wouldn’t relent until the words, “Please share, Rin,” fell from your lips.

(Though you’d tried not to think too much on the expression that briefly flickered across his face when you said it at the time, now, the memory of it leaves your throat uncomfortably dry.)

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Then please stop distracting me so I can beat you this time, Rin,” you snark, lifting the pool cue once more and turning back to the table.

Without warning, a warm body presses up against yours from behind, and Suna’s hands come to rest atop your own on the stick. 

“You’re horrible at pool,” he murmurs into your ear, and you fail to suppress the shudder that runs through you.

At a loss for words, and somewhat afraid of what might come tumbling past your lips under the duress of this proximity, you let your body go pliant beneath his touch as he readjusts your stance, using his hips as well as he nudges and presses you into place.

It can’t be good for your health, the frantic rhythm your heart’s currently beating against your ribcage, fighting to claw its way out. (Fighting to beat out the level-headed logic of your brain that’s kept you from embarrassing yourself up until now.)

—because Suna’s a flirt.

He’s just a flirt.

And you’re not about to lose your fucking job and friend over—

“What if I want to prove them right?” he whispers.

The world tilts, just a little.

You’d drop the pool stick if not for the way his fingers are curled around your own, your body rocking back into his ever so slightly under the loss of support from your stupid, weak knees. He pushes you forward, your hips pressing into the side of the pool table, and it becomes abundantly obvious in that moment just how hard he is, the outline of his cock firmly pressed between your asscheeks through the fabric of your skirt.

You’re not sure who’s in control of the cue stick at this point when it moves, three of your balls cleanly finding pockets in the process.

And just like that, something inside of you snaps free, leaving a heady, unrelenting flood of heat in its wake.

In a perfect world, one free of the multitude of prying eyes mingling around this local dive, you might find yourself rocking back into the cradle of Suna’s hips, delighting in the rough, low groan the action drags out of him.

(Okay, so you do allow yourself that much.)

But then you’d find yourself bent over the pool table while Suna bunches your skirt up against the small of your back and spreads your legs for the stretch of his cock.

(You’ll die before you admit how many times you’ve imagined this exact scenario.)

It’s the four walls bathroom stall adorned with phone numbers scrawled in black sharpie and hastily scrawled graffiti that end up privy to the moment Suna’s lips finally come crashing into yours instead in some desperate, messy approximation of a kiss. His mouth is a searing, hungry, insistent brand against your own, and the relentless chase of his tongue into your mouth leaves you dizzy as he nudges your thighs apart with his own.

“We shouldn’t—” you gasp out.

The door to the bathroom swings open, creaking on its hinges, and he gently covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, gazing at you intently. Shoes shuffle across the tile floor into another stall, and Suna’s eyes crinkle with amusement, the only warning you get before he blatantly slots his firm thigh against the heat between your legs.

Pleasure flares in your gut as your hips unconsciously rock into him, your cunt aching with need from the tease of friction against your damp folds. 

You bite down on the flesh of his palm, which only further fuels him to press into you even harder. A moan nearly escapes past the boundary of his skin against your lips.

He tilts his head to the side, biting his lower hip before glancing down at where you’re—for all intents and purposes—straddling his thigh, and then back up at you again. 

Maybe it’s the way his brown hair falls messily across his face, courtesy of your fingers. Maybe it’s lust-blown pupils. Maybe it’s the unsteady rise and fall of his own heaving chest.

(Maybe it’s just the way all of these feelings you’ve tried so hard to ignore are now ruthlessly reaching a feverish, unapologetic crest.)

Whatever’s to blame, you can’t bring yourself to care under the thrall of the satisfying burst of pleasure that unfurls between your legs as you grind down against Suna’s thigh.

Suna looks just as drunk on the heady wave of pleasure you’re riding as you drag your slick heat up and down against his leg, his forehead falling against yours as he bunches up your skirt around your hips. A hot huff of air hangs in the space between your mouths as he catches sight of the mess your soaked panties now leave behind on his jeans with each thrust.

You’re both momentarily shaken from your silent, lust-addled haze when the sound of the sink running echoes throughout the room, followed by the door slamming shut once more. 

Hardly a beat passes before you’re scrambling for the button on Suna’s jeans, the movements of your fingers a mirror to the determination of his own as he hooks a digit in your panties and tugs them aside. Dragging his lips back against yours, Suna groans into your mouth when you wrap your hands around his cock, a sound that devolves into something even hungrier when his fingers make contact with the wet, dripping mess your folds have already become.

The walls of the bathroom stall groan in protest as Suna thrusts two fingers in and out of your tight hole, lips tangling with your own in a filthy kiss while you rapidly stroke his thick, throbbing shaft with a spit-soaked palm.

“You’re fired,” he pants into the kiss, voice rough.

“What the fuck, Rin,” you gasp, the coil of tension in your gut trembling as he strokes his thumb over your swollen clit.

Bucking into your grip, he fucks your fist, groaning as you pull hard on the hair at the back of his head with your free hand.

“Be my girlfriend,” he exhales, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your entire body arches forward into Suna’s touch, and you nearly stumble as you let out a keening whimper into his mouth, vision going white as pleasure explodes inside of you. 

Suna tips over the edge of his climax while you’re still trembling from your own, his open lips against the corner of your mouth as he groans your name while hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock and coat your fingers.

—

Later, when the sun’s just beginning to creep over the horizon and you awake tangled beneath his sheets while he softly snores against your shoulder, there’s a notification waiting on the lock screen of your phone as you lift it to check the time.

[sunarin.x] tagged you in a post!

It’s a picture he took of the two of you sitting on his couch a few days ago, a fondly exasperated look on your face as you’re glancing down at where his own face is pressed against your shoulder, his mouth curved upward in a grin.

There’s a single heart that fills the space where the caption should be.

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price

"Do you think the professor's hot?"

She stopped writing in her notebook, trying to process the question her friend asked. It was late at night, and everything was quiet around her. She was on a call with one of her friends from class, trying to do an assignment together since it was difficult doing it alone. They found out it was more efficient calling each other because they could share their notes and answers.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Who else? The professor from literature." She tensed, chest tightening with that familiar but obnoxious feeling at the seductive tone she used to say professor from literature.

She dropped her pen in the middle of her notebook to pay full attention to her friend's words. "The professor from literature?"

"Yes! Have you seen him?"

She cleared her throat. Of course she's seen him. In fact, she has seen every part of him.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my gosh!" Her friend said in an annoyance tone, feeling frustrated she wasn't getting the point. But, she was obviously getting the fucking point. She just can't admit it out of the blue. "He's so hot. I know he's a serious man inside and outside the classroom, but hey, his face and his body... oh my, my... I would totally fuck a man like that."

Her face frowned upon the last words, looking at her friend's name from her phone —since the call was on speaker— as if she's in front of her. That uncomfortable feeling rose throughout all her body like a fountain.

Her friend was looking at the professor with other eyes than the academic figure.

She's pretty sure her friend is not the only girl with her panties wet for the professor from literature. Professor Price is a man who has charisma. His big bulk of a body and his electrifying blue eyes possess an aura that can either intimidate you or make you flustered. The way he talks with people with his low and calm voice, as if he's going to sing the most romantic tune, ever existed. Also, the way he walks, the way he dresses, the way he styles his beard... Everything from Professor Price screams perfection.

It's not difficult for someone to get attracted to the professor.

But still.

She didn't like how other girls looked at him like he was the most expensive dish served on a silver plate, ready to be devoured. Even though his eyes only stayed on her, she was the only one who could look at him like that.

She was the only one who could actually devour that expensive dish.

She was jealous.

The phantom touch of rough hands around her ankles made her throw a little gasp while pushing the rolling chair backward. "Shh..." Her heart skipped a beat when she hears that low and rough voice beneath her. She looked down at her desk, just to find the protagonist of her conversation with her friend kneeling in front of her;

Professor Price.

He was wearing his usual attire for work. The only difference was his white long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned by the first few buttons, leaving a glimpse of his hairy chest and making him look like some sexy star magazine. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably by all the times he passed his fingers through it. His icy blue eyes were accompanied by some eyebags under it, revealing the tiredness he was accumulating within these days that had passed thanks to the amount of work and reunions he was receiving.

"What are you doing?!" She whispered-yelled taking a rebel strand of hair that went in front of her face when she moved her chair. His thumb caressed softly the skin of her ankles before pulling her to him again, earning a soft gasp from her parted lips. His face ended up resting on her right thigh, eyes closing to the warm feeling her skin radiates.

"'Missed you." He said, placing a soft kiss to her thigh, making her wriggle a bit at the sensation his lips left. "'Missed you so much." He started to leave a trail of soft kisses on her thigh as his hands worked its way to the back of her knees, opening her legs so he could have more room between them. His hands traveled to either side of her hips, taking the waistband of her shorts trying to pull them down.

Her eyebrows raised all the way up, almost comically, ignoring the burning feeling he was making inside of her and focusing on the panic when she realized what he was doing, quickly stopping him. "Wait, Price, we can't do that here." She said, placing her hands on either side of his head trying to separate his lips from her skin, but it was in vain. He was much stronger than her.

Price's hands grasped hers in a soft motion. His thumb caressed her delicate fingers. "Why not? We are in my home. Nobody's watching."

"I'm talking with someone, Price."

"Then be quiet, love." He said before continuing where he left, placing his hands on the waistband of her shorts, his fingers curling the fabric before tugging it down her legs.

Truth be told, Price doesn't give a fuck who is she talking to. He's too tired and consumed by all the work he had these past days, that he's left with nothing but the thought of her beautiful face bringing him the peace he needs.

They couldn't almost see each other within the university halls besides his classroom. His home too, where he'd often find her asleep on his couch or his bed because he was leaving late from the university's office. In the early mornings, he just kissed her a soft goodbye waking her up just for her to see his silhouette leaving the room to go and finish more paperwork he had left the day before.

A sigh could be heard from the other line of the call. "Too bad he isn't open enough to know his relationship status."

A little gasp escaped from her lips when she felt his hot lips put pressure on the wet patch that was starting to form in her soft underwear. A jolt of electricity passed through all her body when he placed another kiss in the same spot, making her jump slightly.

His lips turned into a smile. His hands started caressing the soft flesh of her thighs. "Answer her, love." he said before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the wet spot, passing his tongue through the fabric, feeling the rapid pulses of her pearl. She opened her mouth with a low moan as her hands found a way into his hair.

"Y-Yes... he doesn't... he doesn't let... anyone know."

She tried to calm her frenetic breathing from giving away what was happening on her side of the phone, but it was too difficult. Her back arched when his warm tongue put pressure on her sensitive bud, feeling the wet fabric caress it.

"P-Price, p-please." Her words were shaking in her throat along with a few moans. "What?" He asked, looking up at her beautiful face contorted in nothing but pleasure. Her hand puts a little bit more pressure on the crown of his head, as if inviting him to keep going. "T-Take it off."

"Your underwear?"

She nodded.

"No. I'll take it off when I want to."

He grasped her legs with both hands and threw them over his shoulder, now completely open to him. He rested his hands on her hips, looking at the —big—wet patch, now transparent where he could slightly see through her white underwear the outlines and the color of her folds and her pearl, pulsating against the fabric with desire. Price started at it as if he were a starved man with his last meal in front of him, waiting, inviting him to taste it.

That sent him goosebumps all over his body. His mind glowing with sinful thoughts made him almost blind from the desire.

"Keep talking with her, love. You don't want to let her know that the professor you guys are talking about is the same one between your legs." He said before diving his head again between her thighs.

His tongue made its way with her, taking big laps from her folds to her clothed bud, making her gasps now with full force on his short hair. "F-Fuck..."

"You know, sometimes I think he's married."

She opened her mouth to only let out a soft whimper. His tongue now moving easily with saliva and arousal pooled between her underwear.

"Y-You think so?" She threw her head back into the chair in a blinding pleasure. He was literally making out with her intimate area as if it was her mouth. Opened kisses and pressed his tongue all over her, caging her between his large hands like a lion with a bone between his paws.

He wanted to take her underwear off. Oh, he's been craving to see her bare since the second he stepped into his home. But he knows how loud they can be. He knows how loud the obscene sounds her sweet area makes. He knows the high-pitched moans she does when she's close. He knows everything from head to toe. And he can't risk the other person hearing those sweet sounds coming from her mouth and body.

Of course, he knows her very well.

She's his lover.

"Yeah! I mean, he doesn't look at the other female professors with other eyes than work." His tongue started to draw circles around her bud, sending shock waves through her stomach. Even with the underwear in the middle, she could feel his soft tongue in contrast with the hairs of his beard and mustache tickling her sensitive zone, along with the hairs of his cheeks grazing her inner thighs up and down everytime he licks her.

It was driving her crazy.

"But, there was a rumor."

She bit her lip, trying to stop a whimper rolling from her tongue before speaking; "R-Really? W-what rumor?"

"That him and the professor from marketing were dating." Before she even had the time to think those words and let that jealousy feeling rise up her chest, a chocked moan escaped her lips when she felt his tongue and underwear entering her entrance. Her hips buckled so fast to his face that the chair made a loud squealing sound.

"Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yes!" She said, sounding a little bit more high-pitched than normal. "I almost... fell from my ch-chair. D-Don't worry..."

"Oh, be careful... So, someone who's studying marketing told me that their professor was looking at him like..." Her friend really wanted to spill some kind of false tea, but unfortunately she lost the topic of the conversation the second his tongue was in her entrance, not even caring what was happening around her, only the man and the skillful tongue between her legs.

"Price..." She said when he returned to her now puffy bud giving circles around it. She opened her eyes to stare down just to find his blue ones already looking at her.

Beautiful, he thought. Her hair was in a few directions, while her forehead was glistening with a few droplets of sweat and a few strands plastered on her skin. Her cheeks were red, and her mouth was opened, letting out soft and low noises.

"J-Just fuck me."

"No. After you finish your call, I promise to fuck you like the goddess you are." He continued to circling her bud now putting a little bit more pressure.

She was starting to feel that familiar knot in her stomach. Unconsciously, her hips started to buckle from the chair and getting closer to his face continuously to make that release faster.

"I know you're close, love. Come on, give yourself to me."

He started going faster with his tongue as she started to go faster with her hips, almost making a rhythm to match each other. Her fingers were so secured in his hair, giving painful stings to his scalp, but he didn't mind.

Not when his lover is a mess and he's the cause of it.

She felt all her muscles tense at the same time her legs started to tremble. Her hips worked faster and faster each second, trying desperately to get that release.

Only one last suck to her sensitive bud was all it took to unleash what she was searching for.

Every fiber exploded at the same time her orgasm clashed down in powerful waves. Her mouth hanged open, chocking back a scream that was forming on the depths of her throat. "John...!" She looked at the ceiling, her vision getting blurry for a second.

All the strength was leaving her body and soul as she collapsed back on the chair. Her legs dropped from his shoulders, and her hand left his now totally disheveled hair. Her chest was rapid with her unsteady breathing, her blood pleading for some oxygen. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to make a loud noise and raise suspicion on her friend. Although that wasn't necessary since her friend was rambling about the rumor without taking a break to breathe.

He separate a little from between her thighs, noticing how her arousal made all her underwear drenched and a few droplets falling in the leather cushion of the chair. His muscles tensed at the very erotic sight in front of him.

His hands made way to the waistband of her panties, slowly taking it off her legs and securing them in his pockets. He could see her glistening folds and puffy pearl now bare and open to him, inviting him for another round. And as almost tantalizing that view was for him, he kept his composure and was going to wait until she finished her call as he promised.

He gave a chaste kiss to her bud, her hips bucking as she hissed at the hypersensitivity she was feeling. He trailed kisses down her thighs to her legs, and then he ended with a final kiss on her ankles before caressing them one last time and muttering an 'I love you' without her hearing it.

A few minutes passed, and she opened her eyes only to find herself alone again, as if he didn't take a step into his home office where she was.

"So, what do you think?"

She tried to compose herself, wincing when she felt parts of her arousal that was left in the chair in contact with her sensitive area. She looked down, seeing all the mess she had made.

I'm blaming this on him.

She's pretty sure if he was still there, he would've said, "You were not complaining when you made that mess."

She could hear the faint noise of the shower running from his room that was two doors down the hall , maybe preparing himself before actually having his way with her.

She straightened herself, passing her hands through her hair, taking a few wet strands plasted on her forehead behind her ears. She accommodated her shirt, not bothering to look for her underwear since it was all ruined now. She was going to take a shower after this or join him.

She cleared her throat. "About the rumor...?"

She already heard that rumor. That took surface, and after a few days, everyone was talking about it. That caused a few problems between her and her lover, but he cleared everything and told her it was just her having a crush on him since he can remember, but she has been with other men to take money from them. Of course, since she knows Price is a man with a few dollars on his account, she wanted to have her way with him. But that didn't happen.

While a few professors and students find her like someone sexy and secure, Professor Price finds her disgusting.

Nothing like my little love, he thinks.

"No, silly! About the professor."

Her lips curled into a small smile, feeling tired about the way her soul almost leaves her body in that orgasm caused by the very one Professor Price.

"Yeah... He's not that bad."

part 2 here

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

I apologize for the shitty writing. I'm not good at writing these types of scenes + my first language it's not english.

Comments and suggestions are appreciated 🫶🏻.

[masivechaos]

only you, only us!

── ☆ remus lupin x fem! reader

── ☆ Request: yes / no

── ☆ Synopsis: Remus is in love you with you, but how could you ever feel the same when Sirius exist? He's so perfect and Remus can't help but feel jealous.

── ☆ Warning/content: mention of parties, drinking, kinda making out, my English

── ☆ a.n.: 1.8k words-

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

Remus watched as you laughed, he would be smiling if you weren’t laughing with Sirius. Sirius, his best friend on whom he had placed all his trust and told all his insecurities. He had to admit he felt quite betrayed.

He took a long sip of his drink, passing his tongue on his top teeth “Everything’s alright mate?” James said as he came by his side, his eyes following Remus’ stare “Ohh, Y/n, huh?”

Remus groaned “Of course Y/n. But of course, Sirius has to flirt with her” To forget the idea he took another drink. James let out a chuckle, not daring answer to his friend. When Remus was like this talking to him was like talking to a wall. The werewolf settled further on the couch, pouty lips against his glass. “Fuck him,” he groaned. 

“Hey… You don’t think you’re going a little hard on him?” James had to defend the person he considered his brother. “He doesn’t seem to flirt with her. Knowing him, he’d probably be snogging her right now if he liked her.”

Remus knew he was right but he was still angry. “Look at her. She likes him.” James knew it wasn’t true, you told him your crush on Remus but you'd asked him to keep it to himself, he was a good friend and couldn’t betray your trust.

“How do you know?”

“She is looking up at him, biting her lip and laughing at something probably stupid” The full moon wasn’t far which made Remus… mean.

James rolled his eyes “C’mon, that’s maybe the time to make a move, don’t you think?” Remus didn’t answer anything, too stubborn to admit his friend was right. “Moony! You can’t be mad at her for ignoring something you never told her”

Remus rolled his eyes. James was so right and Remus hated it. He was never confident enough to make a move on you, you were too perfect, too pretty, too kind for him. But keeping his love for you silent meant he had to border on the idea of seeing you with someone. And somehow, the possibility that it could be his best friend hurt even more.

Sirius always had everything Remus fancied. Girls, a pretty face, a charmful smile and people who wished they were him. No one wished they were Remus. Then again, why would they? Who would want to be a werewolf with scars and eyebags who’d rather read than going out to party like this one?

He couldn’t help it but be jealous of Sirius, even as his best friend it was hard not to feel this way. Remus let out a long breath, the party was shitty enough he didn’t need his own mind to make it worse. 

When he looked around him, James was gone and after taking a quick look at the crowd he found him talking to you. His eyebrows furrowed, he didn’t want James to get involved. Maybe it was the best way to get you and him together but he felt even more weak, a selfish part of him didn’t want help. He knew damn well it was stupid since he wasn’t brave enough to do anything. He got up, he couldn’t handle the sight of you anymore. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“Y/n,” James called. You turned your head and a smile found your lips.

“James!” You opened your arms to pull him into a quick hug. “What’s up?”

The boy cleared his throat “I have a friend-”

“Woah, who would have thought?”

He shot you a glare “- who need helps”

“Who?” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Er… Remus” Your body froze at the name “He’s a little mad and it maybe has to do with you talking to Sirius”

You were a little confused. James knew you fancied the lycanthrope but he never told you the love was mutual. “Do you mean he’s jealous?” You didn’t like the idea of Remus being upset but you couldn’t help the part of you that felt pleased he might fancy you too.

James only grinned as an answer and you understood. Without even thinking, you turned to the sofa but found it empty. Your legs started to run the castle on their own, you finally found him, sat against a tree in one of the courtyards.

“Remus?”

The boy lifted his head, he looked angry and you didn’t like it. You wished you could just kiss his frown away. “Y/n.”

His tone wasn’t welcoming but you decided to settle by his side “What’s going on in this head of yours?” you were smiling but internally you just wanted him to stop being irritated, you wanted him to smile.

“Nothing.” The silence that followed was long “You were having fun with your boyfriend?” you heard the disapproval in his voice.

Your eyes widened “My boyfriend?” you echoed.

“Yeah. Sirius.” Remus was avoiding your eyes, his knees were pressed against his chest.

James made you understand Remus was jealous but to witness it was like an electroshock, the boy hid his feelings well, you were so surprised.

“I don’t like Sirius” you wanted your words to comfort him.

Remus rolled his eyes “Yeah, sure” he mocked. He didn’t believe you. Sirius was everything a girl could want, right?

You frowned, habitually Remus always believed you and it hurt to have lost his trust. “Why do you think I’m lying?” you sounded a little saddened.

“I saw you with him. You’re talking with him more and more, hanging out with him more and more. Just say it to me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I- I’m not with him…,” his anger that once amused you was making you a tad sad now. “We’re just friends! I- I just talk with him because we understand each other-”

“Understand each other?” he quoted, a scoff leaving his lips out of disbelief.

Now you were truly hurt. He was so blunt, he normally never was like this with you. “Yes!” you started to get angry too “We both have shitty families! We understand each other! Next to each other, we can finally find the comfort we both craved as children!”

Remus looked down, ashamed. He felt guilty for letting his anger win him and hurt you in the process. He hated this part of him that still wasn’t sure. He kept his mouth shut, he had done enough stupid things for tonight.

“You still don’t believe me?” Remus heard how offended you sounded. “You want me to show you I don’t like him?” your tone had changed to a more… soft one? 

Remus heard you move next to him but he didn’t dare look at you, staring in front of him. Unfortunately, even like this, somehow, your face ended up in front of his. He wanted to back up but the bark behind him was already digging in his back. Your lips tugged into a large grin “Why are so grumpy? Why don’t you believe me?” you asked softly, almost pleading.

“Because it’s obvious you like him.”

You sighed “I don’t.”

“Why wouldn’t you like him? He’s handsome and charming and popular and-”

“And what if I like you?” you smirked.

Remus lifted an eyebrow and let out a tsk. He shook his head, it wasn’t possible, he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t even understand why you’d like him. “No you don’t. I’m not the type of boy you want to date. I’m not handsome and I’m not nice and-” you cut him off by crashing your lips on his. Remus’ eyes widened in surprise, his heart beating in his ears. He didn’t move, his mind processing what you just did.

You pulled away and grinned “Still don’t believe me?”

“I…” he started, “I…”

You waited patiently “You…?”

“Fuck,” Remus mumbled before he pressed his lips to yours. You chuckled, your hand cradling his cheek, your thumb softly stroking his freckled skin. You leaned into him, your chest flushed against him while he pressed himself closer to you until you were laying on the cold midnight grass. His hands wrapped around your wrists, pinning them to the ground. You let out a small whimper at the roughness due to the close full moon and the built up jealousy.

Remus pulled away, his breath heavy “Merlin..” he cursed, releasing your arms “I… You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he smiled, his cheeks a light shade of pink. 

You let out a short chuckle “Yeah”

Remus laughed at your sass “Cheeky,” he said before he pressed his lips to your cheek, he let his mouth linger on your skin, “I like it.”

You looked up at him with shiny eyes from the excitement and the two or three drinks you got this night “Do you believe me now?”

“Mmmh,” he had an amused smile playing on his lips. “I need one more kiss to be sure,” he said as his lips trailed down until they found yours. You offered him a short kiss. “Hey now, that wasn’t enough”

You laughed and offered him a longer kiss, letting your lips parted so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. Remus let out a soft groan, pressing his body against yours.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours “I think I believe you now.”

“Good,” you whispered, breathless. Your fingers got tangled in his hair, your voice a little more serious now “Why do you doubt yourself so much?”

Remus looked away and shifted, he rested his head on his chest “It’s hard to believe you’d like someone like me. You’re so perfect and I’m so me.”

“You’re so incredible,” you whispered, your lips locked against his temple “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re caring and sweet and kind and handsome. Very handsome.”

“Am I?” Remus smiled.

“Oh yeah. I like everything about you. Even when you are grumpy,” you said. Your nails scratched his scalp “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I have no interest in Sirius, only you, Remus. Only you.”

Remus’ smile widened “Only me,” he repeated, tasting the words on his tongue. He pressed his lips to your neck briefly “I’m sorry I got mad,” he said after a moment of silence.

You sighed “It’s alright. You have nothing to be sorry for,” you whispered in his ear.

Remus closed his eyes and breathed in your skin “Can I say I love you or it’s too soon?”

“You can say it,” you muttered, your heart beating faster and heat creeping to your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered against your neck, his lips tickling your soft skin. You stayed silent for a while, a huge smile on your face.

“Merlin, I love you too.”

He shifted, rolling to his side to look at you “So… it’s only us right now, isn’t it?”

“Only us,” you assured, kissing his lips softly.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ remus lupin taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks  @rhydianissuperior @loveeharrington @mad-elia @jackys-stuff-blog @elenatries2write @princess-paramour @juneberrie @f4iry-blush @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @sparklenarniawizard @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @violetteshoneybee @unadulterated-syd @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @innerloverpainter @vancitycharlie @nyxxxxxxxx @venussflytraps @diorgirl444 @oncasette @locke-writes @dori-and-gray @itsarajr @maddipoof @starconfettii @widowbf @starlit-epiphany @rosalyn-s @etanordiesbullshit @sageskisses444 @luvmarsbars @jsjcue @mellozhi @lovings4turn

[hxney-lemcn]

Silly — Cater Diamond x gn! reader

summary: assumptions lead to you and Cater drifting apart. at least it leads Cater to finally act on his feelings.

tw: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff

a/n: not my best work but not my worst

wc: 1.2k

Master List

It's scary to fall for someone. The uncertainty of it all, the vulnerability of it. It was easy for you to fall for Cater…too easy. You didn’t like how those warm feelings festered and grew, how you noticed the hesitation in his green eyes whenever they fell on you. How his smile would strain most of the time, or how for an extrovert, he pulled himself away. You felt terrible for how you hadn’t noticed his mannerisms before, and they only seemed to intensify when you were around. It broke your heart how uncomfortable you seemed to make him, even if he was great at hiding it. 

So you decided to avoid him. You also thought it might help you get over your feelings as well. Two birds with one stone. It was a slow process, so it wouldn’t stir up anything. Slowly withdrawing yourself from Cater and his friends, slowly putting your time into other activities. It isn’t an excuse if your time was genuinely taken up with something else. You managed to get away with your new schedule with no questions. In fact, no one seemed to care that they saw you less and less. Yes, Trey would still greet you in the hallways, but that was the most interaction you had. It kind of hurt, even if you did it to yourself. 

At first Cater thought he did something wrong. You’d wave off invitations to hang out, mentioning you had club activities. When did you join a club? Why hadn’t you mentioned it before? It was already stressful for Cater to handle his feelings for you, but now you were withdrawing? Have you noticed his longing stares? How he hesitated to let you go? How he had to stop himself from taking up all your time? It felt like torture, barely seeing you anymore. Only able to catch glances in class or the hallways. He reminisced on your previous interactions, how you would lean into his touch, how you’d smile so brightly at him if he did something silly. He missed those moments, and now when he met your gaze, he felt his heart bleed at what he lost.

No matter how much Cater seemed to be in the spotlight, someone always outshined him. He was far from perfect, and he’s sure you noticed. That had to be why you left, why you stopped smiling so brightly at him. Who were you smiling at now? Maybe it's best he doesn’t know, he wasn’t sure he could handle the heartbreak of confirmation that you in fact had someone else. Your smiling face haunted his Magicam, you may not have been photogenic, but you were charming nonetheless. His followers seemed to agree, as they started asking why you hadn’t shown up in any of his recent posts. 

It was quite silly how you both let your hearts bleed for the other, when you both felt the same. How you both longed to see each other again, but thought the other wouldn’t appreciate it. You both were so stuck in your own feelings, in your own insecurities that you couldn’t see the big picture. It only took a month for one of you to break. Typically, Cater would stick to something if he made up his mind, but your whole situation was eating away at him. He was losing sleep and he couldn’t have eyebags! He has to look cute for Magicam!

So he approached you. Cornered you more like. Long arms wrapped around you from behind, auburn hair tickling your neck as Cater’s head popped next to yours. You blinked in surprise as his usual smile was nowhere to be found. Before you could take in much of his expression, he buried his face in your neck. You were thankful the halls were nearly empty. 

“Cater?” You said softly, unsure how to react. “Is everything okay?” You had never seen him act like this before. Yes, he likes to surprise you with back hugs and a camera in your face…but he had never been glum. Never had a frown, never buried his face into you before, always putting on a happy face even if he was anything but. You suppose you couldn’t scold him without being a hypocrite. 

You felt yourself warm as he arms squeezed you at the question, easily melting the icy feeling that grew over the past few weeks. It really wasn’t fair how easily he could make you feel better. How easily your mood brightened when he smiled at you, how easily he made your heart flutter. 

“Could we talk?” He asked quietly. “Somewhere private?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, hesitantly patting his head to try and console him somehow. Cater didn’t want to let go. He had gone on for far too long without your embrace. Your cute hesitant affection you seemed to show only him. His heart continued to twist at the thought of you showing that side of you to someone else. 

Cater forced himself to let go, the warmth you briefly offered him vanishing too soon. He dragged you to an empty classroom, psyching himself up for what he was about to ask. For the information you would tell him. For learning about whoever stole your attention from him.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Cater pouted, hoping to keep the conversation lighthearted. He really didn’t want to give away his true feelings. “Did something happen?” ‘Did I do something wrong?’ is what he really wanted to ask. 

“I’ve just been busy lately,” You replied with a tired expression. You weren’t exactly lying…but it was you who was adding to your own schedule. Caters pout grew, and you saw that hesitation that always managed to shine through his eyes. Why would he seek you out if you clearly were making him uncomfortable? It was sending your heart into a tizzy. 

“Y’know, there’s this really cute cafe,” Cater sighed, green eyes watching for any hint of distaste to his invitation. “I’ve been postponing going ‘cus I think you’d really like it.” 

You blinked, suddenly feeling hurt. Why was Cater doing this? Why was he asking something he clearly didn’t mean? That seemed to take everything in him to do? Why was he forcing himself around you?

“Please stop,” You whispered, head tilted down. You clenched your hands, trying to stay calm, “I know you don’t like me, you don’t have to try so hard. It’s okay.”

Cater could only blink. And then blink again. Not…like…you? A hearty laugh escaped him suddenly, startling you. You watched with wide eyes as he snorted…snorted! You don’t think you’d ever hear such a cute noise from him. Although you weren’t sure why he was laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” You asked, confusion coating your features. 

Waving a hand, Cater’s laughter died down, his smile seemed a bit self deprecating, “We’re both idiots.”

Now it was your turn to pout, a fake glare aimed at the third year, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t hate you,” Cater chuckled, pulling you in close to his figure. He plopped his head on top of yours, and if he wasn’t so close you would’ve nearly missed it.

“I love you, silly.”

[deadghosy]

"Have you always been so damn ugly?"

"Hahaha...Fuck you."

PLATONIC ALASTOR X GN!READER

Warning: bit of a small oc.

YOU SIGHED LAYING on your bed tired like always as your counterpart, Neno is beside you purring. His black shadowy body hold you as you face the ceiling. It's not like you are a depressed person who has no social energy battery and stay in your room not wanting to talk to people. Of course you totally aren't like that...

You heard a static noise outside your door, you narrow your eyes seeing a red glow outside your door. "What the fuck..." you say to yourself seeing the glow. Neno opens his white glowing eyes as he lets go of your body and moves swiftly to the door. It seems like he know who it is as you get off your bed and open the door.  And there he is, the radio demon who smiles down at you.

"Why hello my shadowy fellow/madam!" He says entering your room as you tried to protest him entering. "Well this won't do!" He pulls open your curtain windows to let the light in. Neno hisses going into your shadow as your eyebags show. Alastor smiles that shit eating grin as he sits on your bed. "Well? Why don't you sit down my dear friend, we got things to discuss!" You just stand there side eyeing him.

"Have you always been so damn ugly?" Is what you said that came into your mind.

"Hahaha...Fuck you." Alastor says staring at you waving got you to sit with him.

No way in hell are you talking to the radio demon.

—

AND HERE YOU are ranting about how shitty your morning went about how you felt like shit and how you felt no motivation or feelings at all. Alastor just stares and nod with a smile listening to you. You don't even know why you are actually venting to him about. Sometimes with yourself, you have these weird feelings where you can't feel anything but you aren't depressed. You just can't understand some things really.

Alastor stops you from going into deep context as he smiles thinking of something. "Why don't we go for a walk my dear friend!" He says enthusiastic. You just stare at him with a blank stare...."I'm not your frie-" Alastor snaps his fingers as he has you in an outfit that seems a bit old timey. Kinda seems off the way you dressed back in the 2000's but you liked the color palette it has.

Your hair looked better as you smile looking at Neno who gave you a thumbs up with Alastor and his own shadow counterpart. "Okay! Not bad old man." "I am not an old man" he says with a slight twitch in his eye. "Whatever man" you say chuckling softly at him. Next thing you know you go picked up onto alastor's shoulder with a blank confused face as he takes you out your room.

"Now let's go on an adventure. Can't let you rot in your room like some kind of corpse dear!"

—

YOU "WALKED" around pentagram city still on alastor's shoulder as he hums a tune while you just sat there in his shoulder like a little kid leaving sea world/ Disney world with their father.

"Where are we even going Alastor...."

"Somewhere~" he said in a song tune way.

You just sighed as he wasn't even giving you a straight answer. You felt a "bling" in your pocket. That must be your hell phone. You looked at it to see the contact, "BIG BOSS🔥" calling you. You answer him hearing a bunch of quacks and tools hitting the ground.

"Heyyyyy....ducklinggg" you heard Lucifer says awkwardly. "Hello. Sir." You said flatly. Lucifer's silly smile faltered hearing your flat tone as he sighs.

"Listen I'm sorry I didn't order you right the things for you. I was busy." You heard another quack and a squeak.

"Busy making a doll house for your ducks?"

".....low blow but I can send you your favorite pastry!" He says excitedly on his end of the phone.

You stayed quiet this time but smile showing your sharp teeth, "sure man. I'll forgive you." "FANTASTIC! I'll see you in 2 hours!"

"Wait wh-" and the phone hang up.

Why the hell he said he was gonna order them to you, but come in person...

—

NOW YOU WERE confused even more as you reach a part of town you didn't even know. Alastor smiles as you see demons with black eyes like those were cartoons you use to watch back then. But the town seems lovely and lively as you see a person giving out cotton candy.

Your eyes light up, catching the taller male's attention as he smirks turning his walking direction to the cotton candy stand.

"Hello mister, I would like one cotton candy for the little lady/fellow on my beloved shoulder." Alastor said as you felt embarrassed by how some people watched you as you fidget with your fingers. The man nods with a sharp teethed smile and gave Alastor, who gives you your cotton candy.

You smile awkwardly taking the cotton candy from Alastor and ate it. You gotta admit it was tasty as fuck! The candy melted on your tongue and your eyes lit up like shimmering glitter in a summer sun. Alastor smile softly at you and turns to building while you eat. As Alastor enters you heard a ladies voice.

"Yeah, and I would eat my husband too!"

You turn to see a lady who is wearing an old timey fit and she is very tall, slender-built demon with pale gray skin, and a wide mouth full of sharp light pink teeth, black-colored lips and dusty-pink cheeks. Her eyes are pitch-black.

You always liked to look at people sometimes to observe, it's a weird habit of yours at times but you must admit this lady was beautiful.

"Oh Rosie dear!"

"Alastor hon!" The lady says cheery as she walks to Alastor and you. You hopped off of Alastor landing on Neno who held his hand for you to softly get on the ground. The two overlords hug as you finally noticed who she was. She was the one Alastor told you about sometimes.

"Oh and who is this cutie! Aw I could just eat you up!"

"Please don't." You said with an awkward smile as she pinches your cheek like a granny.

She chuckles putting a hand to her face, "oh don't worry, Alastor told me all about you and how such a dearie you are to him at times."

You raised a brow at that. "Really?" You looked at Alastor who seems to be ignoring your gaze as you just scrunched your face up in confusion.

"Why yes! You're the [animal/shadow] demon he was talking about!" She says as she cups her hands in your. Neno watches as he swirls around your body and playful nibbles on Rosie who chuckles. "And this much be your pet!" "Counter part actually.." Rosie had a surprised look as she looks into Neno's eyes which is pure white, opposite from Rosie's own eyes.

"Well isn't that swell..."

(I'm tired so I can't finish the part where you get to hang out with Lucifer again. My head ache and me being drowsy as shit isn't helping. Hope you enjoyed this)

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

so gang....there's this historian...who's only had approximately 21 minutes of screentime...

unhinged rambling over a fictional character under the cut

I have always loved ulysses ever since the prologue came out back in december 2022, but after my recent rewatch in preparation for chapter 1 coming out later this year, my interest in his character has sparked into a full-blown hyperfixation??? it feels like ulysses wilhelm was designed specifically for me I'm going to be so honest. like, there's the surface level being that he's a boyfailure twink and that kind of character always seems to attract me, but everything else about his character from his design, his personality, his voice, the little aspects of him like the fact that him specifically noting down classmate birthdays and him updating a common phrase to sound more modern shows a genuine desire to connect with his class despite his clear social ineptitude, and also just...him having knowledge about the internet enough to know about internet arguments despite disliking computers?? silly ass. I've also like, never really seriously headcannoned a character with a mental disorder before, even ones that I have myself, but I am actually being so serious when I say that ulysses is literally just my inattentive adhd manifested into a person. I have not felt so represented in so long, and its by a character who doesn't even canonically have it, and I think its very special and a testament to how talented the writing crew behind p:eg is that they can make me feel that or anything I'm typing in this post despite, again, this character only being on screen for 21 minutes he is literally just me in every single way possible, actually. we literally even have the same birthday. I'm not a supernatural person, but like..I think me saying that this character was made for me might not be hyperbole after all. ...he's also just so fucking cute. Can I say that?? LOOK at this fucker??

his slightly scruffy hair that looks like he just woke up from one of his naps, his small but silly little smile, his dumb eyebags, his fucking VOICE, his lame as fuck sense of humor, his sprites, his dumbass sleepy noises, the fact that he's the shortest out of all the male characters, his everything?? I want to be his friend and listen to him yap about history, and I also want to make out with him sloppy style. I am sleepy all the time but he is sleepier, which means I can spoon him. I'd imagine his lifestyle of constantly being in his office doesnt really lend itself well to him receiving affection. he is probably very touch-starved... what if he encountered my persona. would he initially think the lack of sleep has finally caused him to hallucinate, considering I doubt you see slutty demons with big wings in real life. when he finally realizes that I am actually there, would he be fascinated at the sight of such a nonhuman creature being right in front of him? a new piece of history he has yet to discover? what if we become best friends. what if we become best boyfriends. my brain is moving at 200 miles an hour and I cannot stop it, I need him so fucking bad. if you have read this far, I'm not sorry and I'm not ashamed for my actions. except if you happen to be doctor pap (ulysses' va), in which case I politely ask you that you forget everything I have said today. thanks for reading

[corpseidol]

hiii!! I just recently found out abt ur blog and I really really love your works sm like omg ugshhdhdh

anywhoo is it okay to request sbg x reader who acts like regina george? its been bothering my mind lately aaaaa u dont have to write it! hihih tyty i love you take careeee

IT GIRL

author’s note : i love when ppl enjoy my things ilysm /p

concept : regina!reader with the sbg group

genre : headcanons, mean girls!au, drabble

content : might be ooc, reader is an actual bitch, not a single hint of genuine softness

meeting the group

⠀ › ⠀has bullied logan once or twice but then ignored his presence completely after and forgot about him

⠀ › ⠀out of the whole group, logan is unsure of you the most. he can’t tell if being in a group with someone who bullied him before is good since you have seemed to forget who he was.

⠀ › ⠀tyler knows your reputation and is bothered by your presence honestly

⠀ › ⠀ashlyn has never heard of you; never had connections so she doesn’t know you that well but was bothered with your first impression

⠀ › ⠀taylor would try to warm up to you but you make her feel so out of place with how flashy you are

⠀ › ⠀ben and aiden don’t know your reputation since they’re new students but when tyler suddenly revealed everything when he started complaining about you; aiden was entertained with your rivalry

sorrel house

⠀ › ⠀you found the random lady who asked you to go inside very.. weird.

⠀ › ⠀only went in because the others said sure, you just had to be nice.

⠀ › ⠀you felt chills down your spine when you saw the phantom but just like tyler, you chose to brush it off.

phantom world

⠀ › ⠀by this time, you still hated them. (you probably shit talked them too)

⠀ › ⠀when you all got locked in the room, you felt panic until you just thought of using them as ‘meat shields’

⠀ › ⠀you and tyler had a whole fight about what matters most in the moment until ashlyn had to break it up

⠀ › ⠀the first time you were put in severe danger, you used the others as an advantage to survive.

⠀ › ⠀however, this caused problems. the next night; you would be in the same place again.

⠀ › ⠀at some point you’d have to apologize. the next time you were put in danger; it was logan near you. the first thing you had to do was.. apologize? are you fucking serious.

⠀ › ⠀due to the panic of the near-death experience, you stammered out an apology and begged him to help (took a few corrections since you were screaming curse words)

general headcanons

⠀ › ⠀when you flex your expensive things, aiden would suddenly bring up something more expensive (it becomes a debate on whos is more expensive. between the two, aiden’s having fun and you’re just getting upset.)

⠀ › ⠀tyler took the longest warming up to you

⠀ › ⠀there would be a lot of times when you would get into fights because of how opinionated you can be.

⠀ › ⠀you’re pretty much forced to be friends with them. it’s ride or die. no matter how much you hate them.

“i can’t do this anymore, i swear to god, i’m so stressed! and stress causes pimples! and restless nights cause eyebags! i’m gonna get eyebags and pimples!” you panicked “now’s not the time to worry about that!” tyler screamed, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the phantom chasing you.

[veala2]

✦ “ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜꜱɪɴɢ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ.” ✦

fluff (angst?) prompt: “You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

SYNOPSIS - It was your choice, and he didn’t like it. After coming back from helping your allies in Wholecake, tensions grow between you and your captain and your interactions become awkward. The now freed Wano gives you and Law the chance to speak to one another and express both of your true feelings.

CW - spoilers! mentions of stuff from Wholecake to the end of Wano, gn!reader, usage of “Y/N”, mentions of arguments, reader fights off and kills a beast, mention of fainting, holy this is a lot more angsty than I imagined.

A/N - Sorry guys, a lot is happening in my life rn so if I’m not posting that much that is why. Hope you all enjoy this :))

To say your captain is always stressed is like saying a cat likes milk. It’s just so common. Unfortunately, Law’s stress levels currently were as common as a pig that can fly.

The Heart Pirates made it to Wano just a week prior. You’d decided to follow the handful of strawhats to Whole Cake to help them retrieve their friends and the poneglyph that Big Mom kept in her protective castle.

Much to your captains dismay, to say the least. The two of you fought before you left. He hadn’t wanted you to leave, and you wanted to do something to help with your friend's crew.

Words were said. He argued the strawhats as not being their friend, and how you should “join them if you loved them so much” while storming off. Leaving you saddened and upset. As the mission went on, you couldn’t help but worry for your crew.

Well… more for your captain than crewmates.

Due to the strong currents of Wano upstream entrance, you crash landed in the country and were now searching for your crew in an attempt to keep yourself out of any danger. Which was a lot trickier than you imagined, being that you were venturing through a forest that was packed with dangerous animals. Leading you to your current situation.

“Take this!” You exclaimed, taking your weapon and striking the creature. It screeches in pain, dropping to the ground and effectively disabling it for good.

You take a second to breath, walking up to the beast and dealing the finishing blow. The rush of adrenaline slowed and you steadied your heart rate. All of a sudden, you hear a loud sound of feet coming towards you. Without a second thought you ripped the weapon from its place from the beast's corpse. Ready to attack. When the threat you had thought was completely different.

“Y/N! IT’S US! DON’T ATTACK!” Called a voice that you had remembered. You jumped with joy as you ran over to your crews very own first mate, Bepo. As he wrapped his soft body around you in joy.

“Bepo! Oh my god- I missed you so much!” You gushed. From behind, Sachi and Penguin came up and hugged you tightly as well. It wasn't long before your captain came.

“Captain…” You mumbled. He kept his gaze on you, a frown displayed prominently on his face. Though, you could make out a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Law was always a very proud man. Things not going his way would be difficult for him, and he’d say and do stuff he soon regrets later. He has his faults for sure. But he always made up for his mistakes. In his own Law way.

His silver eyes looked you up and down. You couldn’t help but notice his hands that slightly shook. It was clear his eyebags had gotten heavier and darker since last you saw him. You wondered if it was because of the plan or you.

Before you could say anything, he walked up close towards your direction. Your heart rate increases once again. His arm reached up, causing you to close your eyes in a knee jerk reaction. After a couple of seconds you opened your eyes. Only to find your captain holding out a leaf in front of you, and a lingering feeling of a hand in your hair.

“You had something in your hair.” He states, tossing the leaf aside. A blush came on your face, and you awkwardly laughed.

“Ah. yeah, I guess so. Thanks, captain.” You sputtered. Walking away, you turn your head back to your captain talking to Bepo.

He turns his head to you, and your eyes lock together for a second before the both of you let go. A sinking feeling surfacing in your stomach. It felt bad… but also felt good. A confusing feeling for sure.

Trafalgar Law was at a standstill. For one, he had a pounding headache and his stress levels almost made him feel nauseous. At the same time, he felt funny at the sight of seeing you again. He couldn’t tell if he was happy or upset.

It was just a confusing feeling for sure.

The war was over.

After days of preparing, planning and fighting, the country of Wano was free and it was the perfect time to party and rest.

At the sound of Kaido defeated, you fainted. The fight took everything out of you. You had awoken to the sound of your friends cries for you to wake. And it had taken a moment before you realised you weren't dead, and your crew was cheering with joy and not fear.

After wandering around you had caught your captain. Sat upon an engawa that viewed the entirety of the Flower Capital in its joyous and festive mood.

He sat with his clean kimono and usual hat put off to the side. Letting you gaze at the back of his raven hair. He seemed content with his relaxed gaze peering over the city.

With caution, you waltzed over to him and lounged next to him. Not saying a word. He glanced over in your direction.

“Oh, Y/N. You’re awake.” He says, surprised. You keep your mouth shut and keep on looking ahead. He starts again, taking a long breath before.

“Y’know, those idiots wouldn't stop crying about you. They kept asking if you were awake every five minutes. God, they’re so annoying…”

You figured he was talking about Bepo, Sachi and Penguin. As they burst into tears at the sight of you awake and well.

“The whole country is celebrating after everything. It’s ironic how they’re the same people who supported the bastard.” He comments, with a scoff.

“I can still feel the pain from before. All that planning and strategizing went to waste thanks to Strawhat- ya’s idiocy. What would he know about a good plan? He invited you to go on that stupid rescue mission.”

“God, I was so furious when you left. You were reckless, stupid and a fool. So adamant about “helping a friend” and “doing it for us”. You didn’t have to prove that you were a good person by leaving.”

“You have no idea how worried I was. For our plan to work, for us to come out of this alive… for you. I’m still a little shaken from everything.”

“Why did you leave us? I’m still…”

“Damn it, Y/N, will you say something!?”

He asks, loudly and with a hint of anger behind his eyes. Along with another hint of sadness. You couldn't help but smile at his silvery eyes as they tried to pierce through your own. But with no avail.

Your hand went up, a finger pointing towards his messy, black hair. You giggle.

“You have something in your hair, um… do you want me to get it out?” You ask, smiling.

A small blush forms on his pale blue cheeks, stretching out to the very tips to his ears. He slowly nods and lets you gently remove the pale pink sakura petal out. A stark contrast to his hair. You giggle once more and with a soft blow, you watch the petal fall down to the restless crowd below. Disappearing into the Flower Capital.

“And this time I asked.” Adding on with the question. Making him embarrassingly scoff and look away. Like a little boy.

“Yeah, thanks…” He mumbles, crossing his arms together.

Without hesitation, you scooch in closer towards him and rest a head on his shoulder. Mainly to test the waters to see what he’ll do. Law tenses, but lets you do what you please. A shaky breath leaving him.

“Law, listen,” You start, gaining his attention by him turning his head to you, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know how much stress I put you under, really. The guys wouldn’t stop talking about it. And- for the record- you weren’t the only one worried. I couldn’t leave the thought of something happening to you in the back of my head.”

His eyes widened. Not leaving your illuminated face. You look over to him, smiling.

“And… for the record again, I was mainly worried about you. You and your stupidly cute worried face.”

A pregnant pause took hold. You wondered if you said something wrong, your heart skipping a beat. Glancing over, you guessed a not so pleased Law. But instead, you were given a captain with a smile. A growing and bright smile.

“God, that’s so stupid. Just like your stupidly cute face, too.” He says, repeating your last sentence in a way that made you playfully nudge him in the shoulder.

The two of you spent the night together just sitting and watching the night progress. After your confessions, everything seemed to go so smoothly. Laughing at your friends partying and tripping while under the influence. It made you feel like parents, in a sense. Watching over your stumbling kids. Law takes a long breath before speaking again.

“Please don’t leave me again, Y/N. I love you too much to lose you.”

“I love you too much to make you worry. So, don’t worry about it, Captain.”

[nomie-11]

Chapter 19 - Shadows of Secrets

<- previous chapter | masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter ->

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

A knock on Liam’s door startled Violet from her sleep, with tired eyes and heavy limbs, she gently pushed herself out from under Liam’s protective arm and prodded her way to the door, grabbing a dagger on the way. 

Gently opening it a crack, she was surprised to be met with a familiar face. 

“Genevieve,” Violet groans, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What in gods’ name are you doing? It’s two in the morning.” 

It was three days after Montserrat. Violet had received news that Mira didn’t die yesterday, but there was still no news or sight of Xaden, and Genevieve couldn’t sleep. 

“You owe me answers.” She said firmly, her eyes tired as she peered into Violet’s bedroom, Liam asleep softly on the bed, his boots haphazardly thrown against the foot of her bed. “How did Dain find out about my mission, better yet, how did you find out about my mission, because I never told you. And what’s the deal about Andarna and Astrape? I know you’re channeling something from that smaller dragon and you’re hiding it from me. And…” her voice drops, handing Violet her sister’s death record. “What’s a Venin?” 

Violet’s eyes flickered back to the sleeping form of her loving boyfriend, then back to Genevieve, who stood in the doorway, dark blue eyebags overwhelming her features. 

“I can’t tell you about Dain or Andarna.” she quickly says, shaking your head. “Dain’s signet is classified.”

“Classified or not, somehow he knows something I never told either of you, so spill.”

Violet’s face tightened, her hand resting against the doorframe as if it could support the weight of Genevieve’s demands. “I told you, I can’t.” She whispered, casting another glance to Liam, who stirred but didn’t wake. “It’s not that simple.”

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed. 

“How my squad leader, who has never spoken directly to me, knows one of my deepest secrets, needs to be explained to me. How you know in the first place is beyond me!”

Violet's hesitation was palpable, her fingers twitching as if itching to leave the conversation entirely. For a moment, it looked as if she would deny again, but then her shoulders sagged in defeat. 

“When you pushed yourself to burnout, when you were healing me after the fight with Barlowe, Dain must have touched you, and-” She starts, but Genevieve cuts her off almost immediately. 

“He touched me. What does that have to do with him knowing what’s going on in my past?” She questions, pressing Violet further and further. 

“Dain’s signet…” She began, her voice barely audible. “He can watch your memories with a touch of his hand. He sees what you’ve seen when he touches you.” 

Genevieve’s blood turned cold at the revelation. He can see memories? The implications make her stomach churn. “And you didn’t think to warn me?” She hissed, her voice sharp despite her low volume. “You just let me walk around, vulnerable to that?”

Violet winced, guilt clear in the tightness of her expression. “I didn’t know he’d do that to you,” she whispered. “And I couldn’t tell you, it’s classified.” 

Genevieve’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, the edges of her nails biting into her palms. “Classified,” she repeated bitterly, the word tasting like poison on her tongue. “My mission is classified, too! And I’m guessing Dain told you about my mission, too, because you didn’t look surprised at all when he exposed me in front of everyone! He didn’t care that it was classified. You’re supposed to be my best friend, Violet. What has Dain really done for you since you got to Basgiath?” 

Violet flinched at the sharpness in Genevieve’s tone, guilt and frustration clouding her expression. Her fingers tightened around the doorframe as she watched dark and blooming vines creep up Genevieve’s legs. “Genevieve, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” Genevieve snapped, stepping further into the room, her body tense with anger. “He violated my trust, our trust, and you’re defending him?” 

Genevieve watched as Violet’s face softened, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Dain thinks he’s helping me… he’s always been overprotective.” She let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t ask him to tell me or to read your memories. And I didn’t know about your mission until he told me, I wasn’t even curious. I swear, he said it was for your safety, that he needed to know.” 

Genevieve’s heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of betrayal and anger threatening to choke her. “My safety?” She spat, incredulous. “You mean General Sorrengail’s idea of my safety. The same woman who locked me in a cell for over a year and made me her weapon?” 

Violet looked away, the silence between them thick with unspoken truths. “I know, you’re right, I’m sorry. Dain was wrong for stealing your memories, but I didn’t know how to tell you about his signet. I was scared you’d shut me out and I didn’t want to add anything to your plate.” 

Geneveive’s voice trembled with what Violet could only assume was controlled fury. “I’m not the one who’s shut anyone out, Violet. You knew I was being spied on, and you didn’t say a word.” Genevieve shook her head, disbelief settling in. “You already added to it.” She tossed the death record onto the small table beside the bed, the sound barely louder than a whisper in the stillness of the room. “And you still haven’t explained what a Venin is.” 

At the mention of the word, Violet paled. She opened her mouth, then hesitated. “They aren’t real, Genevieve. Venin are just folklore, something from old riders’ tales. They’re not—”

“Not real?” Genevieve cut her off, eyes blazing. “Then why does Quinn’s death record list one as the cause of death?” 

Violet froze. Her mouth opened, but no words came out as she stared at the documents Genevieve had just tossed onto the table. “What?” 

“I stole them from General Sorrengail’s office. These official papers stamped with your family crest list Venin as the cause of death for my older sister, who—last time I checked—died in a petty combat situation, not in a fairy tail.” 

Violet’s face drained of color as Genevieve’s words sank it, the pure and utter desperation in her eyes told Violet everything she needed to know. Genevieve wasn’t angry at her, she was desperate. She would be, too, if her sister died with a mythical creature being the cause of death. 

“I… I didn’t know,” Violet stammered, taking a hesitant step closer to the papers, her fingers trembling as she reached for them. “Venin? That’s impossible. My mother would have—” She stopped short, her mind racing. “No, she wouldn’t lie about something like this, not to me, not about Venin.” But even as she said it, doubt crept into her voice. 

Genevieve’s eyes were cold, fury bubbling beneath the surface. “Well, she did. You want to explain that?” She gestured to the death record. “Or are you going to tell me it’s just another ‘classified’ secret I’m not allowed to know about?” 

Violet’s gaze lingered on the document, her heart pounding in her chest. Everything she had been taught, every story her father had told her, had been rooted in old, forgotten tales—stories meant to scare children, not kill real people. And now, the undeniable evidence was staring back at her in black and white. 

“I don’t understand.” Violet’s voice was barely a whisper in the air. “They’re not real, they can’t be. We would’ve known—” Her words trialed off as she tried to make sense of it all, the doubt palpable. 

Genevieve crossed her arms, her frustration barely contained. “Well, they’re real enough to have killed my sister. And apparently, your mother knew. So, are you going to help me figure this out, or are you just going to keep pretending like everything is fine? Like you’re not picking up on discrepancies between battle brief and actual war reports?” 

The room was thick with the unpleasant taste of tension. “We’ll figure this out,” Violet said, her resolve strong and her hunger for knowledge dripping from her every word. “But please, understand that I didn’t know about any of this, and I’m so sorry about Dain.” 

“I know,” Genevieve said, her words soft as the vines retreated beneath the floorboards. “I shouldn’t have expected you to have the answers to everything. But right now, I don’t trust anyone. Not after Dain, not after finding out this about my sister’s death. So forgive me if I’m being a bitch.” 

Violet didn’t respond right away, guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders. “I know as well,” she said softly. “And I don’t blame you. We’ll figure this out the same way we figured out your signet.” 

Genevieve remained silent, her expression hard. “I hope so,” she said finally, her voice the most detached than Violet had ever heard it. 

As the silence settled between them, a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the night, the storm outside matching the turmoil swirling within the room. Neither of them noticed the shadow that flickered in the corner, just out of sight.

———————————————————

Xaden rubs his hands over his face as a knock resonates through the door to his dorm. He needed to get to Genevieve before curfew, she was waiting for him to go to sleep. What in gods’ name was so important that they needed to interrupt him right now. 

Groaning, he rose from the chair at his desk, tossing his night clothes back into their drawers before opening the door. 

And it's… Genevieve. 

“We’re sleeping in my room tonight?” He asks, slightly taken aback but his words teasing. 

“We’re playing 21 questions.” She said confidently looking him right in the eyes. 

Xaden blinks, surprised by her directness, and then snorts. “Playing games now, are we? You sure you’re not just here to drag me into bed?” 

“Not tonight,” Genevieve shrugs. “I had a revelation that I actually know nothing about anyone, so tonight, we’re talking.” 

He studies her for a moment, trying to read whether or not she’s serious or not. She’s carrying herself with a confidence that only comes when she’s on a mission. “Alright,” he says, stepping aside to let her in, his curiosity piqued. “Shoot me with the first question.” 

“What’s your favorite food?” 

“Easy. Chocolate cake.” 

Genevieve flops down on his bed, enveloping herself in his soft blankets and warm smell. 

Xaden leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He watches her settle into his bed, her hair fanning out like a halo of light against the sheets. The sight pulls out something inside him, an unfamiliar warmth that mingles with the teasing tone of their conversation. 

“Chocolate cake, huh?” she muses, looking up at him with an amusing glint in her eyes. “Is that your secret weapon for winning my heart? A slice of cake?” 

“Hey, it’s worked on others,” he quips, pretending to shrug nonchalantly. “What can I say? I have a lot of layers.”

“Clearly,” Genevieve replies, rolling her eyes playfully. “Alright, ask me a question now.” 

Xaden pushes off from the doorframe, grabbing his chair and sitting facing Genevieve, propping up his feet on the bed right in front of her, causing her to laugh and grimace. “Okay, let’s see…” he says, his voice low and teasing. “What’s something you’re afraid to admit to anyone else?” 

Genevieve’s playful expression falters for a moment, the question striking deeper than she’d expected. She glances away, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket as she considers her answer. “And all I asked you was your favorite food.” she mutters, her voice softer now. 

“You wanted to talk,” Xaden reminds her, though his tone has shifted, too—gentler, aware of the weight behind his question.

She sighs, brushing her now grown out hair from her face, the jagged tips brushing her shoulders. “I’m afraid… of losing control,” she admits after a beat of silence. “Of what I’m capable of. That one day I’ll push too far and won’t be able to pull back.” 

Xaden’s teasing smirk fades completely. He knows what she’s talking about—the weight of the power she holds, the constant tension of trying to keep it in check. It’s something they’ve never really talked about openly before.”Genevieve,” he says quietly, leaning forward a little, his dark eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to worry about that. As long as I’m here, I’d never let you fall that far.” 

Her eyes flicker to him, something vulnerable, raw, and unspoken hanging in the space between them. For a second, she almost believes him—almost. But she quickly shakes it off, the mask slipping back into place as she gives a small, forced smile. “Your turn again. What’s your guilty pleasure?” 

Xaden doesn’t press her, though he knows there’s more she’s not saying. He leans back on his elbows, letting the tension ease. “Guilty pleasure, huh?” Xaden taps his chin in mock thought, but the gleam in his eyes shows he already knows the answer. “Alright, but you can’t judge me for this.”

Genevieve raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, I definitely will, but go on.” 

He grins, leaning in as if he’s about to share the world’s biggest secret. “I love terrible romance novels. The more cliche, the better. Bonus points for ridiculous plot twists and melodramatic declarations of love.” 

Genevieve’s eyes widen in disbelief before she bursts out laughing, clutching the blankets to her chest. The sound is like music to his ears, and his heart swells with pride knowing his words brought her this joy. “No way! Xaden Riorson, Mr. Dark and Brooding, is secretly a hopeless romantic?” 

“I am not a hopeless romantic!” He says, laughing with her. “I just appreciate a good love story.” 

“I never would’ve guessed,” Genevieve says between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. “But your secret’s safe with me… for now.” 

“I’m trusting you with this one,” Xaden says, narrowing his eyes in a playful warning. “Now your turn—spill something embarrassing.” 

Geneveive sits up, crossing her legs as she considers. 

Xaden can’t help but think that she looks perfect right now. Tousled hair, an unfamiliar smile etched onto her face, night clothes, his sheets. 

“If we’re sharing embarrassing secrets, I have one that haunts me to this day.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “When I was 13, I tried to write a love poem to this guy I had a crush on. I thought it was a masterpiece of literary genius—turns out it was so cringy, he showed it to everyone.” 

Xaden winces sympathetically but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “Ouch. How bad was it?” 

“I compared his eyes to a muddy river…” she groans, hiding her face in her hands. 

Xaden snorts, trying to stifle his laughter. “A muddy river? That’s… poetic.” 

Genevieve peeks through her fingers, glaring at him. “I was very serious about it at the time, thank you very much.” 

“Clearly,” Xaden teases, poking her in the side. “I bet he thought it was secretly adorable.” I know I would. 

She bats his hand away, smiling despite herself. “Alright, alright, enough of that. You get another question, that one was bad.” 

“Another question, huh?” Xaden leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze lingering on her face for just a beat longer than necessary. There’s a mischievous spark in his eyes as if he’s about to push the boundaries of their lighthearted game. “Alright, let’s make this interesting.” 

Genevieve narrows her eyes at him, already suspicious of whatever he’s plotting. “Interesting, how?” 

“You have to answer honestly—no dodging.” His voice lowers, his smirk deepening. “What was your first impression of me?”

Genevieve blinks, caught off guard by the sudden shift in their playful banter. Her first impression of him? She hesitates, the memory of their earlier encounters flooding her mind—how he seemed so infuriatingly aloof, always hiding behind that smoldering exterior. 

“I thought you were annoying,” she admits with a grin, watching his expression darken in mock indignation. “You walked around like you knew everything, acted all high and mighty, like no one could touch you. It was infuriating. I wanted to fight you so badly.” 

Xaden chuckles, shaking his head. “Infuriating, huh? And now?” 

Genevieve can feel the tension between them grow, the air in the room thickening as the question hangs in the air. She knows exactly what he’s asking, but she’s nowhere near ready to admit how deeply her feelings for him have shifted. He knows just how physical her attraction is, but she’s never verbalized anything beyond that, she’s only ever shown it.  

“And now,” she says slowly, her voice softening, “I still think you’re annoying. But I also think… there’s a lot more to you than you let on. You’re not as untouchable as you pretend to be.” 

Xaden’s eyes darken slightly, something intense flickering behind his teasing expression. He’s silent for a moment, as if weighing her words, and then he leans closer, closer than she thought was possible, so close she can feel the heat radiating off of him. “You see right through me, do you?” 

Genevieve swallows, feeling her pulse quicken. “Maybe.” 

His gaze drops to her lips for just a second, the tension between them crackling like static in the air. He reaches out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, the touch sending shivers down her spine. “Your turn,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet. “But choose carefully. I’m starting to think you’re asking questions you already know the answers to.” 

Genevieve’s breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, she forgets the game entirely. The heat between them is undeniable, the air thick with unspoken and spoken desire. But she’s never been one to back down from a challenge. “What do you really want from me, Xaden?” 

The question comes out more serious than she intended, and she can see it takes him by surprise. His teasing demeanor falters, and for a brief second, his guard crumbles completely. His hand lingers near her face, his thumb grazing her cheek softly. 

“What do I want?” He echoes, his voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes bore into hers, as if trying to convey something he can’t quite say. “I want…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I want you to trust me.” 

Her heart skips a beat, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He isn’t playing anymore. Neither of them are. 

Genevieve’s breath comes quicker now, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that mirrors the thundering of her heart. She knows that she should pull away, that the last time they had sex it was a heat of the moment thing, and all of their other kisses have been fueled by external emotions. She knows that she’s walking a dangerous line with him, but the gravity between them feels impossible to resist. 

“You already know I do,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “But that’s not what you really want, is it?” 

Xaden’s eyes darken further, and in a flash, he closes the small distance between them. 

“Fuck it.” Her voice rings clear in his head as she snakes her arm up, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him in before he can second-guess herself, his lips crash against hers with a hunger that takes her breath away. 

The kiss is fire—raw, intense, and filled with all the tension that’s been brewing since December. Genevieve melts into it, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him closer, needing more of him, needing all of him. 

Xaden’s hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of her waist, sliding under the hem of her shirt, his touch igniting skin in a way that makes her dizzy. He pulls her onto his lap, their bodies pressed together in a way that leaves no room for hesitation, no room for doubt. 

The playful banter, the teasing—it all dissolves in the heat of the moment. All that’s left is the raw, undeniable connection between them, a force that neither of them can control. 

Genevieve pulls back for a breath, her lips swollen, heart racing. “This… this is what you really want, isn’t it?” She gasps, her eyes searching his. 

Xaden’s gaze is molten, his hands still gripping her waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “I want you, Genevieve,” he says, his voice rough with truth and emotion. “All of you. No more games. No more pretending.” 

Her heart clenches at his words, the vulnerability in his voice shaking her very idea of who he is. She’s wanted him for so long—fought against it, denied it, but now, there’s no denying what’s between them. 

“No more games,” she whispers back, before her lips meet his again, with a fierce intensity, silencing any last traces of doubt between them. This time, the kiss isn’t just about desire—it is slow, passionate, filled with the lingering effects of discarded love. Every secret, every unspoken feeling, every moment of recent tension that’s built up between them crashes down in the heat of their embrace. 

Xaden’s hands trail up her back, pulling her closer, and Genevieve can feel his heart pounding beneath her fingertips. There’s a desperation in the way they both cling to each other, like they’re both afraid of what will happen if they stop, if they let go. She presses against him, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, her breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, the world outside forgotten. 

He breaks away first, his forehead resting against hers as they pull for air. His eyes are heavy, his hands cradling her face as if she’s something precious, something fragile. 

“Gen,” he murmurs, voice thick with something she’s not sure she’s ready to name. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

She can see it in his eyes, his words sinking into her like a stone. For a brief moment, she wants to pull away—to protect herself from whatever this is, whatever they’ve just opened between them. But then she looks into his eyes, and she realizes that she doesn’t want to run anymore. 

Instead, she brings a hand up to cup his face, her thumb tracing over the scar that runs through his left eyebrow. “You scare me,” she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because I think you see too much of me. More than I want anyone to see.” 

Xaden’s expression softens, his fingers tracing a path along her jawline, soothing and tender. “I see all of you, Gen,” he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through her. “And I’m not afraid.” 

Her heart stutters in her chest, the sincerity in his words cutting through her like a blade. She’s spent so long being afraid—afraid of her powers, of her feelings, of the risk that comes with letting someone in. But here, in Xaden’s arms, she feels something different. 

For the first time, she feels safe. 

Swallowing hard, she leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, a gesture filled with something quieter, something deeper. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” 

Xade’s grip on her tightens slightly, as if in response to her vulnerability. “Then don’t be,” he whispers against her skin, his lips brushing her forehead in a tender, almost reverent gesture. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The truth of his words settles between them like a promise, solid and unshakable. Genevieve closes her eyes, and brings him to her again, tongues dancing as he moves to shift them to the bed, her legs hooked around his waist.

Xaden’s weight settles over her, and for a moment, all Genevieve can sense is him—his body aligned perfectly with hers, the warmth of his skin, the familiar scent of him filling the space between them. It’s a closeness she feels down to her bones, a pull that has been drawing them together since the start. She tries to remind herself of her own danger, the reasons she should pull away, but it feels impossible when he’s this close. 

His lips hover near her neck, teasing her with the warmth of his breath, before he plants slow, deliberate kisses along her throat. Each one sends a ripple of heart down her spine, and she arches into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body reacting instinctively to every touch. His hands trace her sides with an agonizing slowness, and she’s caught between the fear of wanting to disappear and never wanting him to stop at all. 

“Xaden…” His name slips from her lips, a soft, pleading sound, and he responds with a low groan, his teeth grazing her collarbone, setting her on fire. Every inch of her is aware of him—his weight pressing her into the mattress, his hands on the map of her body as if he were exploring familiar territory. 

This feels different from the last time. There’s no hurried urgency, no frantic passion that threatens to consume them every moment they are apart. This time, it’s deliberate, measured, as if they both know what exactly is at stake. As if they’re not just giving in to a fleeting moment, but something far more significant. 

Xaden moves with a certainty that leaves her breathless. His hand glides beneath her shirt, fingers tracing her line of her spine, drawing her closer as his free hand grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it off over her head in one move. Genevieve lets herself get lost in his touch, arching into him, her breath catching when his lips trail down her neck. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters against her skin, his voice thick with desire but laced with something softer, something that takes her by surprise. 

She shifts beneath him, pulling herself up to him, her pulse racing. Her hand slides to the back of his neck, holding him closer until they’re practically touching. She presses a kiss to his jawline, before she gazes up at him, her heart hammer against her ribs.

Is this… Genevieve’s breath caught as he stared directly into her eyes as if he was looking into her very soul, seeing her very essence. Is this love?

His mouth moved down to another kiss, hesitating for half a heartbeat. 

“Gen,” He whispered, and she could feel his mouth move as he spoke, he was so close, practically locked in a kiss. His hand tangles in her hair, “I’ve been smuggling weapons out of Basgiath. You were right.” 

A moment passes, nauseating silence overwhelming her. 

Her heart shatters. 

The world seemed to tilt, the air sucked from Genevieve’s lungs as Xaden’s words echoed in the silence of the room. her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out everything but the sound of her own racing heart. 

He was smuggling weapons. And he admitted it. 

Genevieve pushed herself back, her hands slipping from his neck as if they were burned. “What did you just say?” She whispered, her voice barely audible but sharp with disbelief. 

Xaden’s eyes flashed with something unreadable—regret, fear, resolve. He didn’t move to close the distance this time, didn’t try to touch her. “I should’ve told you sooner,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “But I couldn’t risk it. Not until I knew where you stood.” 

The betrayal slammed into her with the force of a crashing wave. After everything—after the tension, the desire, the promise of trust, of sincerity? It had all come crashing down with a single truth that she already suspected.

“You had to find out where my loyalties stood.” She repeated, her voice trembled with barely contained rage. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time finding out where my loyalties stood?” She shot up from the bed, putting distance between them, grabbing her shirt and tugging it on, covering her marks, her scars. 

Xaden stood slowly, his movement cautious, as if approaching a wounded animal. “It’s not what you think,” he began, his tone pleading, though his eyes were hard with the weight of unspoken truths. “I wasn’t lying about how I feel. I wasn’t lying about us.” 

Genevieve shook her head, taking another step back, vines and flowers sneaking through cracks in the stone walls, blooming around her as if they could protect her from the truth. 

“You know where my loyalties stand!” She hissed, her voice guarded and hard, the same way it used to sound. “I’ve been lying to General Sorrengail every time she interrogates me about what you’re doing! And you have the audacity to question where my loyalties lie? Ever since I got here, my loyalties have been to myself!”

Genevieve’s voice cracked as the words left her, the weight of her confession hanging heavily in the air between them. The tension was palpable, almost suffocating. She could see the flash of surprise in Xaden’s eyes, quickly replaced by a dark understanding. He stepped toward her, but she held up a hand, dark vines stopping him in his tracks. 

“I didn’t come here to be some pawn in another person's war,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, though her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. “I came here to survive. And you—“ she pointed at him, her voice laced with venom. “You used that. You used me.”

Xaden’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched at his sides. “You have no idea what’s at stake, Gen. This is bigger than us. Bigger than anything you could imagine. 

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp now, cutting through his excuses. “Don’t try to justify this. You could have told me. You should have told me.”

She could feel the familiar surge of her power bubbling just beneath the surface, the vines creeping further along the walls, the flowers blooming darker, sharper, as if reflecting the turmoil inside her. She had trusted him—maybe not fully, but enough to let him in. And now, he has shattered that fragile trust. 

“I didn’t want to involve you,” Xaden said, his voice low, as if trying to contain the rising storm between them. “I was trying to protect you.” 

Genevieve let out a bitter laugh, her eyes flashing with anger. “Protect me? By keeping me in the dark? By using me like everyone else? You think I need protecting, Xaden?” Her voice trembled as she took another step back, the distance between them growing, not just physically but emotionally, a chasm opening wide. “You don’t get to decide that for me.” 

His expression faltered, but only for a second. “This isn’t just about you. There’s a war coming, and we’re on the edge of it whether you like it or not. I made choices I had to make to keep you safe—whether you agree with them or not.” 

Geneveive shook her head, tears burning at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn’t let herself be vulnerable again—not now. “I can count the amount of people I truly trust on one hand. But I can’t trust you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the truth of it rang loud and clear in the quiet room. 

Xaden’s face hardened, his posture stiffening as if bracing himself for Genevieve to launch at him with the intent to kill. “I am trying to do the right thing, Gen. For you. For us.” 

She let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the truth settle in her chest. “But you still lied, knowing fully well that I was completely and utterly loyal to you. I can forgive a lot, but I can’t forgive that.” 

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, the weight of everything unsaid. Xaden’s gaze never left hers, but she could no longer read his eyes. She couldn’t see the pain or hurt, she could just see the lies swimming behind his onyx irises. 

Finally, he broke the silence. “I didn’t want this to happen,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained. “But I won’t apologize for trying to protect the people I care about. Even if it means losing you.” 

Genevieve’s breath caught at the finality in his tone. She felt her heart breaking all over again, but this time she knew there was no going back. There was no way to undo what had been said, no way to erase the betrayal that now hung between them. 

“Don’t call me Gen anymore. My name is Genevieve.” She whispered, her voice hollow. And with that, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Xaden standing alone amidst the wreckage of what they once had. 

The moment the door closed behind her, the vines and flowers retreated, their vibrant bloom withering away. And Genevieve, for the first time in a long time, felt completely and utterly alone. 

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

hey everyone!!! so… xaden's finally revealed the truth… and Genevieve has planted the seeds of venin being real in violet's mind. The plot is progressing!!

anyways~ thats really it in the ntoes for this week. pretty interesting chapter tbh. It started off as an attempt at writing smut and then i was like oh! this is prime time for traumatizing gen! and it worked. she will literally never get over this (a blatant lie, btw)

thats it for now! see you all wednesday with chapter 20 (holy shit stuff actually goes down in chapter 20) and let me know your thoughts? will genevieve forgive xaden for ripping her heart to shreds? And who do you think are the five people Genevieve trusts? let me know! as always, please leave a like, comment, or kudo if you enjoyed!

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taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo

[controlmyfeet]

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts. 

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos. 

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year." 

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us." 

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately." 

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out. 

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile. 

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little. 

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room". 

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight. 

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do. 

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude. 

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed." 

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too." 

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"  

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second. 

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

[smutinlove]

goodbye i love ur fanfics sm. (specifically carls ofc)

i just live for ur angst fics yk??

sensitive reader pls but she kinda a badass

reader goes insane for some reason,

rick,glenn, carl notice that she hasnt been sleeping/eating/drinking.

she would stay up every night watching the window.

to the point they would have to force her down and eat,

it turns out carl wasnt even talking to her but instead hanging out with his friends (ron and mikey)

small mindset inspo for reader(eversince they arrived at alexandria reader and carl didnt spend time 2gether)

she has no1 to talk to so yeah... u choose the ending ofc!

They say change is good, but sometimes change can fuck up your life. That's what happened to you.

Every day went by with you staring out the window, day and night. Your head was filled with a million different thoughts. Thoughts you wouldn't utter a word about to anyone. Why?

Nobody really noticed you anymore. Out in the wild, before Alexandria, you were a valued member of the group. You and Carl were practically besties (and more) You and Glenn had also had a fun time talking to each other.

He was like a father to you.

But now... you didn't really have anyone.

Everyone was doing their own thing, and you just sat near the window every day—barely sleeping and eating.

Was anyone even worried? Probably not. Why? They didn't notice you. You were a shadow that everyone was ahead of.

"Y/N."

It was another lonely and gloomy evening. An evening full of you staring outside the window—observing the weather... and maybe the citizens of Alexandria. (If they even left their homes. Cowards...)

"Hey!"

You were numb, tired—pissed. No one. You had no one, right?

"Listen to me!"

"Relax—"

You opened the window, letting some fresh air in. It was a soft embrace on a glum Saturday evening.

"Fuck!"

"Carl! Glenn!"

You felt a strong shake. Was the world tilting? No. But you definitely were.

You saw two worried faces staring down at you. One shook your shoulders while the other yelled your name. "Y/N, are you listening?"

Such a soft voice. So soothing. The tone made you melt.

But reality struck and it was painful. There were people talking to you while you remained unresponsive.

"Perhaps she has gone mental!"

"Carl!" Rick scolded.

"Huh?" You finally managed to utter. Your voice was rough and hoarse from not speaking. It hurt.

"She speaks!" Carl chimed. "Not funny, Grimes boy," said Glenn.

"Carl?"

The blue-eyed boy beamed. "Welcome back, love." Carl said, a small smirk falling in to place on his face.

Rick left and came back into the room, holding a plate of eggs and bread. He also had a glass of juice. He placed both things in front of you. "Eat, Y/N. Please."

You couldn't. It... was strange. You just couldn't. But you had to. You should. And you would. And... you could.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the piece of bread on the plate. You also noticed the smiles on Rick and Glenns' faces. But Carl was glaring at the now closed window.

What was he staring at? Mickey and Ron. The two were talking and laughing outside. While he was stuck with you. It wasn't a bad thing that he was stuck with you. No. Never.

"Have you been sleeping?" Glenn asked, noticing your eyebags. You bite into the piece of bread, slowly swallowing and chewing it. You were tempted to lie, but that wouldn't solve anything. "No."

"Why?" Rick asked. "Talk to us. But you don't need to."

"Can... can I talk to Carl?" You asked. "Just Carl."

The two older men gave each other looks before nodding and leaving the room.

"What's up?" Carl asked nonchalantly. You gulped. "What's up with you, Carl?" His name came out as almost a scowl.

"What?" He tilted his head.

You stopped eating and took a sip of juice. "Carl," you felt hesitant. But you needed to. For answers. "Carl, we don't hang out! We haven't talked properly since we arrived here at Alexandria!"

"I... I thought you wanted a life, Y/N. Even if it isn't like before."

You huffed. "Carl, I wanted you! You're my best friend. Fuck! But no! All you have done for the past few weeks is hang out with Mikey and Ron, forgetting about me!"

Carl looked taken aback. "Y/N, please—"

"—No! No more. Get out!"

"Y/N, no. I won't."

"Get the fuck 'outta my room, Grimes!" You yelled with the force of a thunder storm. He nodded and made his way for the door when he turned around and said, "I'll be here. I'll... wait. And I'm sorry."

He left and suddenly the world just became louder. The peace that was once there had been evaporated.

Is it over now?

Maybe not. Maybe it is.

───── ❝ authors note ❞ ─────

Okay you sorry fucks! BEG ME to release a part 2 of this. BEG ME. GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES! grrr

anyway i love angst

also this is like such a cool moment for me. i just published two carl grimes fanfics in the span of two hours. im so hip and cool

[usagikookiejams]

AFTERMATH OF THE BREAKUP

Haitani Ran, Ryuguji Ken (Draken), Hanemiya Kazutora, Haruchiyo Sanzu

Warning: angst no comfort, cheating, NOT PROOFREAD, cursing, mentioned about abusive relationship, drug usage, harsh words

Haitani Ran

It has been 3 months since your relationship with Ran ended in a bad term. Deciding to move from Roppongi to Okinawa to avoid meeting up with him again.

Unbeknownst to you, a guy was following behind while you're doing grocery shopping. After failed attempts to reach the product in the higher rack, suddenly a guy was helping you out.

"Thank you so much-," you were left silent after seeing that the guy was actually your ex; Ran. He looks handsome as always. But, you could see the obvious eyebag.

"How you doing?," he smiled, trying to start a conversation with you but, you just ignored him and pushed your cart forward.

He didn't stop pestering you, until you has had enough and slapped his face. "Don't you feel ashamed? Showing your face after you cheated on me with that 'work-wife' of yours?!," you glared at him.

He explained that he was drunk at that time. However, he paused his words after seeing the disgusted look in your face.

"I couldn't bear looking at you. It reminds me how stupid I am to trust you. Hah, my friends were right about you; you indeed couldn't keep your dick in your pants," you smirked and walked away.

Ran felt like his world started to collapse. Witnessing your hostile behaviour towards him has proven how you don't wanna get back with him no matter what.

Ryuguji Ken (Draken)

You and Draken started dating after 3 years of Emma's death. Motivating him daily has led to him starting to open his heart to you.

But things weren't always nice and easy. It indeed was very hard for someone to move on from his past lover.

That's why, after only about 2 years of dating, you decided to broke things off with Draken after you has had enough of him comparing you with Emma.

Emma this, Emma that; you were tired of hearing his complaints.

Though he looked like he didn't care back then, but why is he always reaching out to you now?

He looks so desperate trying to win you back. Showing his effort by buying you flowers every week, which ended up disposed in the dustbin at your office.

Today remains the same routine of his. But you decided to give him your piece of mind once you saw him walking towards the receptionist counter.

You dragged him outside the building where your co-workers couldn't see you. "Can you stop all this nonsense?," you sighed.

"But baby-," he couldn't finish his words when you suddenly took the flowers and placed it on his motorbike.

"I am not your baby, and I don't need your flowers. Why not giving them to Emma, considering she may need them more to decorate her grave?," you couldn't help but saying deep and harsh words.

There, Draken was left heartbroken. He realized how all of his action of comparing you and Emma has led to you hating both of them.

Oh lord, how he wish you would care for him one more time.

Hanemiya Kazutora

Being in a relationship with Kazutora was challenging, he always scold you for things that are even miniscule; blaming you for it. Thus, you decided it was best to separate with him, as he tend to get physical with you.

Visiting the hospital for how many times now, that you don't even remember; getting psychology treatment to treat your mental health from past abusive relationship.

You were busy listening to music that you didn't notice that you has bumped into someone. The person sighed in annoyance, that is, when you heard your name being called in shocked tone, "Y/N?."

You frozed in place, looking up at the person. Oh, it's Kazutora. You got up and said sorry as quickly as possible before getting away.

You felt your hand being pulled, and you couldn't help but flinch. "Hey, hey sweetheart, it's okay. I won't hurt you." You still your position, didn't dare to look at the man who had inflicted pain upon you before.

Kazutora felt a pang of hurt in his heart, looking at how you're terrified of him. He felt tears running down his cheeks, profusely saying sorry while saying he missed you so much and how his mental health is declining.

You looked at him dead in the eyes. Though feeling scared but you tried to stood your ground. "Yeah? And what about me? What about all the things that you said, and pain that you inflicted on me before huh? Answer me Hanemiya," you said in heavy tone.

Kazutora didn't like how you're saying his first name. It was always Kazu or baby; anything but Hanemiya. Nevertheless, he tried to reason with you how he never intended to do those things, saying that he wasn't in the right state of mind.

You scoffed and warned him how if he still loves you, he should just leave you alone. Kazutora was about to say something but you dismissed him, and just walk forward leaving your past behind.

After that encounter, Kazutora still trying to reach out to you by visiting you at home or workplace. That is until one day, he was forced to stop his action once knowing that you has moved to another country with no one knowing your whereabouts.

Haruchiyo Sanzu

Dating Sanzu was never a boring experience. He's wild and loves to party, which at last causing you to not being able to keep up with his behavior.

Lucky for you, the break up was easy as Sanzu too thinks that you're too boring, and always acting like a 'nagging bitch'. Thus, deciding to also let you go.

Despite the break up only took place less than a month ago, you're suprisingly doing great as you are now start to prioritize yourself. Spending time to learn new hobby; that is photography.

Currently you're in the park, capturing panoramas and birds that flew over the horizon. Click! You went to check the picture but noticed a familiar pink hair in the photo.

The pink-haired-person looked over his shoulder as he heard the clicking sound. He couldn't believe his eyes when seeing you, thus started to run towards you, "Y/N!."

"Oh shoot..," you whispered to yourself and started walking faster. Albeit he was fast enough to grab your shoulder. "Baby, how you been? I wasn't able to contact you for a month. Did you change your contact number?," the person said.

"So what if I did, Sanzu?," you put on confident look. "It's not like we're going to contact each other anymore, is it?," you continued.

"But-," Sanzu was about to speak but you just shook your head. "I wish to never meet you again. Now that I look back, I realized how dumb I am to love some maniac like you. You didn't even consider my feelings, always gaslighting me and even calling me names. So don't be suprised when I decided to move on from you," you scoffed and walked away without looking back.

At that moment, Sanzu knew he fucked up real bad by messing up the relationship you guys had before.

Later on, he started to indulge himself in more drugs, as it's the only way he could be free from the hurting feelings.