#posting this on tumblr because I'm scared of the ao3 curse

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. A/N: This chapter is 24k words & Tumblr won't let me upload it all in one post so cutting it off in four smaller parts.

Previous Chapter 19 - Part 2 (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 19 (alt ending 2.10) - The Anatomical Weight of Neglect in Infinite Drops - Part 3

You knew what you were doing.

Pregnancy hormones were dangerous. They made you crave pickles at three AM, made you cry over insurance commercials, and—most importantly—made you fearless.

So, when you saw the TikTok, you knew exactly what you had to do.

"Kento."

Nanami didn’t even look up from his book. His reading glasses—they were yours; he’d stolen them—were perched low on his nose, the perfect balance of nerdy and hot. His left hand rested on your thigh above the blanket, a quiet weight that made your heart full despite yourself.

"Hm?"

"I want a cum pendant."

Nanami's hand slid off your thigh.

Slowly.

Methodically.

Like his brain needed a moment to catch up.

Like he was trying to pretend he didn’t know you in public.

He turned a page of his book.

Stared at it blankly.

Then he closed it with a decisive snap.

"I'm sorry, what?"

You smiled sweetly, brushing your hand along his pillow. "You heard me."

Nanami’s expression barely shifted, but you could feel the existential dread radiating off of him.

His eye twitched behind his glasses.

"Where… did you hear about this?"

"TikTok."

His expression darkened like you’d just mentioned Satan himself. "Of course."

You leaned in, brushing your mouth against his ear. "Come on, Kento. I’m pregnant with your child. Doesn’t that mean I deserve… a little keepsake?"

"No."

You pouted. "But I thought you loved me."

"I do."

"So prove it."

"I am not turning my bodily fluids into jewelry."

"But other men do it."

"Other men are not me. And other women clearly have no self-respect."

"Wow," you murmured. "Misogynistic and selfish. My body is changing to bear your child, Kento."

Nanami's hand shot up to rub his temple. He was visibly sweating now. "I need to lie down."

"No," you said, straddling his lap with an evil smile. "You need to cum in a jar."

Nanami physically flinched. "Stop saying that."

You dragged your fingers down your stomach. "It’s a symbol of our connection."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "If you keep talking, I will sleep in the spare bedroom tonight."

"Okay." You slid your fingers under his collar, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "I’ll just ask Satoru then."

Nanami’s hand shot up, grabbing your wrist.

His cursed energy spiked. Not that you could see cursed energies.

"You wouldn't."

You smiled. "Wouldn't I?"

Earlier

"Hey!" you called, sauntering into the bedroom where Gojo was sprawled upside-down on the bed, shirtless.

"Mm?" He flipped and grinned when he saw you. "Hi, baby mama."

You crawled onto the bed, sitting on his chest. Gojo beamed up at you like the lovesick fool he was. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I want a cum pendant."

The smile slid off Gojo’s face like someone had yanked the floor out from under him.

His mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

"I’m sorry," he said. "A what?"

"A cum pendant," you repeated sweetly.

Gojo’s brows furrowed. "Why do you want a cum pendant?"

"I saw it on TikTok."

He sighed. "Of course, it was my fault for paying for internet."

You smirked. "If you really love me, you’ll make me one."

"…I’m not doing that."

"But you’re the strongest," you whispered, brushing your fingers over his bare chest. "Surely the strongest sorcerer in the world isn’t scared of a little… commitment?"

Gojo's eyes sharpened. "I am very committed to you. And our child. And our marriage."

"Then why not make me a little keepsake?"

"Because," Gojo said, "if Nanami finds out, he’ll actually kill me."

"Nanami doesn’t need to know."

"Nanami knows everything," Gojo muttered darkly.

You slid your hand down his chest. "Oh? Afraid of him?"

"Absolutely."

"And what if I make him one too?"

Gojo's mouth curled into a dangerous smile. "I think you underestimate how fast Nanami would file for divorce."

You smiled, leaning down until your mouth was just above his. "So you're scared."

"I’m not scared," Gojo whispered. "I'm…"

He hesitated.

"Okay, yes, I’m scared."

You smirked. "Coward."

Gojo sat up suddenly, gently flipping you onto your back beneath him. His mouth pressed against your jaw. "Listen, sweetheart," he whispered, lips skimming the edge of your throat. "I love you. I worship you. I would die for you."

You grinned. "Then—"

"But—" Gojo’s mouth curved into a sharp smile— "if you make me ejaculate into jewelry, Nanami will kill me first, then I’ll turn into the strongest curse possible and haunt you for eternity."

You pouted and sighed. "Ok, then I'll settle with a bracelet."

Gojo visibly relaxed. "A bracelet?"

"A cum bracelet."

Gojo’s eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god."

You burst out laughing as Gojo groaned, rolling off of you and pressing his hands over his face.

"Just think about it," you teased.

Gojo peeked out from behind his hands. "Only if you promise not to tell Nanami."

"No promises."

---

2 Tuesday

Nanami was waiting when you walked into the kitchen the next morning. He was standing with his arms crossed.

Gojo was behind him, sitting on the counter, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

Nanami’s expression was sharp. "Satoru told me."

You glared. "He’s such a snitch."

Nanami continued, deadpan. "You can’t have a cum pendant."

"Why not?"

Nanami’s eyes darkened. "Because I have standards."

You shrugged. "That’s funny. Considering you married Gojo."

Gojo gasped. "Top ten anime betrayals in history!"

Nanami ignored him. His eyes narrowed. "Let me make myself clear: no pendants. No jewelry. No…" His lip curled. "Anything with bodily fluids.”

You crossed your arms. "You guys are no fun."

Gojo slid off the counter, draping his arms around Nanami’s shoulders. "Come on, Kento. It’s kinda romantic."

"Don’t touch me."

Gojo smirked. "Do I get credit for saying no?"

"Absolutely not." Nanami shot Gojo a look. Gojo immediately backed off.

You suddenly yelled. “Hah! Gotcha! Both of you failed. He touched me yesterday—on his own—and you were talking to him just now.”

Gojo’s face paled, his grin faltering for the first time. “Wait… so you don’t want the weird jewelry?”

You laughed, cold and mocking. “Of course not. I’m not insane.”

Nanami’s expression shifted, cycling through what could only be described as the seven stages of betrayal—or maybe relief.

Soon, he spoke. “You mean all three of us lost? Because I clearly remember the rules about no talking to him applied to you too.”

You scowled for a whole minute at him like you could burn him through your eyes.

Then you stormed off. “I hate both of you.”

Gojo’s arm slung back around Nanami’s shoulder like they were old friends, which they technically were. “Good thinking, Kento.”

Nanami shrugged him off, returning to his breakfast with the precision of a man who refused to let chaos derail his routine. “This was a one-time lapse. She’s clever—too clever to not find every loophole. Consider this the first and last time we catch her off-guard. Now get lost.”

Gojo sauntered away, his laughter echoing down the hall. “See you around, Kento.”

---

Nanami was already suspicious when he saw the notification.

He had been cleaning the kitchen—because, apparently, Gojo had decided to "help" earlier by preparing an elaborate brunch that ended with more flour on the ceiling than on the plates—when his phone vibrated.

A TikTok. From you.

Nanami narrowed his eyes. You rarely sent TikToks to him unless it was to annoy him or make a point. The last one had been a video about "Signs You’re in a Codependent Relationship," and he’d had to sit through a very awkward 45-minute conversation afterward.

He unlocked his phone.

"If you have a little boy in your life, send this to him.”

“Supp my lil gay boy."

Nanami’s brows furrowed.

"...What?"

Then his phone buzzed again.

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀

Daddy: Did u see it?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: WTF does it mean? 🤔

Father Time: I don’t know.

Daddy: I feel like it’s about us. 🤷‍♂️

Father Time: What makes you think that?

Daddy: Idk… vibes. 🌌

Nanami’s jaw tightened. He hated when Gojo said things like that.

Mainly because he was usually right.

You had been glaring at them earlier.

Correction: You had been glaring at Gojo earlier.

Nanami had merely gotten a polite but frosty look.

Gojo, however, had been receiving the type of glare typically reserved for cheating husbands and men who said, "Calm down" during arguments.

Daddy: She was glaring at me. 😬

Father Time: She was glaring at both of us.

Daddy: Yeah, but more at me. 😤

Father Time: Fair. 😐

Nanami sat down, rubbing his temples.

Gojo, apparently, was spiraling in real time.

Daddy: What if she’s trying to tell us something? 🤔

Father Time: Such as?

Daddy: Idk… like maybe she thinks we’re gay. 🏳️‍🌈

Father Time: That seems unlikely.

Daddy: Do u think it’s ‘cause we were holding hands yesterday? 🤝

Father Time: That was a strategic decision.

Daddy: Yeah, but we were holding hands. 💀

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

Father Time: That was your idea.

Daddy’s typing bubble appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

Daddy: Do u think she’s mad about it? 😬

Father Time: Why would she be mad?

Daddy: Idk… vibes. 🌌

Nanami scowled.

Then—

Gojo called him.

Nanami answered on the third ring.

"She’s mad at me," Gojo said immediately.

"Probably," Nanami said.

"Why?"

Nanami rubbed his temple. "We don’t have enough information."

"Okay, but the TikTok. It’s a message," Gojo insisted.

"It’s likely a joke."

"But why that joke?" Gojo pressed.

Nanami’s brow furrowed. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"That she thinks we’re—" Gojo hesitated. "—You know."

Nanami’s silence stretched ominously.

"Okay, hear me out," Gojo said. "We’ve been hanging out a lot."

"Because we share custody."

"And we’ve been… close."

"Out of necessity."

"And we’ve been holding hands."

"That was your idea."

"And," Gojo said pointedly, "you let me."

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

"She’s mad about something," Gojo pressed. "And then sends us that TikTok."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"I’m implying that maybe…" Gojo trailed off. "…Maybe she thinks we’re gay for each other."

Nanami stared at the floor. His jaw tightened.

"That’s ridiculous," he said.

"But not impossible," Gojo pointed out.

Nanami exhaled sharply. "She would have said something."

"Would she?"

Nanami’s silence stretched again.

Gojo’s voice lowered. "You don’t think she’s mad that we’ve been spending too much time together, do you?"

Nanami considered this.

It was true that they had been in close proximity lately. Strategizing. Moving in tandem around you. And Gojo had been—

Nanami’s eye twitched.

"That’s ridiculous," he repeated.

"Yeah," Gojo said. "That’s what I thought."

A long silence.

"…You don’t think we should stop, right?"

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "Stop what?"

"I don’t know," Gojo said. "Hanging out."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. His jaw flexed. "No."

"Cool," Gojo said lightly. "Just checking."

Nanami inhaled slowly.

Gojo’s tone shifted. "You know what this means though, right?"

"What?"

"She’s trying to make us jealous."

"Of each other?" Nanami’s tone sharpened.

"Obviously."

Nanami exhaled sharply. "That makes no sense."

"Maybe." Gojo’s tone brightened. "But just in case…"

Nanami’s brow furrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

"We stake it out."

"Stake what out?"

"Her next move."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "This isn’t a chess game."

"But if it was," Gojo’s tone sharpened, "we’re already two moves behind."

Nanami sighed. "What’s your plan?"

Gojo’s voice softened dangerously. "We make her jealous back."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"Elaborate," he said.

Gojo’s grin could be heard through the phone.

"We hold hands again."

Nanami exhaled sharply.

"Strategic decision," Gojo said innocently.

Nanami rubbed his temple. "I’m starting to think you enjoy this."

"Maybe," Gojo said. "But you’re still holding my hand."

Nanami sighed.

This was going to end badly.

---

It started as a joke.

That’s what Nanami told himself.

But after the fourth TikTok—and the third strategically timed glare—he was beginning to think it wasn’t.

Nanami was in the kitchen, again. Cutting vegetables with the kind of clinical precision that would have made Martha Stewart weep, when his phone vibrated.

Another TikTok. From you.

He dried his hands, unlocked his phone, and saw:

"If your man doesn’t send you a 7-page essay about how much he loves you and include MLA citations, you’re single, babe."

Nanami stared at the screen.

The audio looped.

"—you’re single, babe."

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

You walked into the kitchen, wearing one of his shirts that barely covered your thighs. His eyes tracked the hem automatically.

You raised a brow. "Something wrong?"

Nanami set down the knife carefully. "No."

"Cool." You grabbed a glass of water and left.

Nanami’s jaw flexed. He stared down at his phone.

Seven pages. MLA citations.

What was this, a thesis defense?

The phone buzzed again.

Daddy: Did u see it? 👀

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: She’s trying to get in your head. 🧠💭

Father Time: Unlikely.

Daddy: I’m telling u, it’s a trap.

Father Time: If it is, it’s a poorly constructed one. 🏗️

Daddy: U should probably start writing tho. ✍️

Nanami’s eye twitched.

He was not going to write a seven-page love letter.

Was he?

---

Nanami was doing the dishes when his phone buzzed. (He wanted to spend time with you, so he had given the entire staff indefinite leave—totally not because he was paranoid about someone poisoning you, of course.)

He wiped his hands and read:

"If your man doesn’t fix your cravings within 15 minutes, it’s not real love."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

From the living room:

"Nanami."

He turned.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"I want those Indian Red Chilli Pickles."

Nanami set down the dish towel. "It’s 10 PM."

"I’m carrying your spawns," you said simply.

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

Then Gojo’s text appeared:

Daddy: Run.

---

The next day, you wake up to the sound of quiet rain tapping against the glass windows. The penthouse is dim, the curtains drawn tight. A heavy warmth presses down on your chest, and for a moment, you think you’re dreaming. Then you realize you can’t breathe.

“Kento,” you rasp, voice weak.

Nanami’s arm is wrapped around you, forearm pressed just beneath your ribs. His chest is against your back, solid and unyielding. He’s asleep, his breath steady against the nape of your neck.

You shove at his arm. Nothing.

“Kento,” you try again, louder this time.

A deep, gravelly hum. He doesn’t even open his eyes as he mutters, “Mm. Five more minutes.”

“I’m literally dying.”

His arm releases you in a swift, controlled movement. His hair is rumpled—golden strands falling over his forehead in a rare, unpolished way.

“You’re not dying,” he says.

“You sure?” You roll onto your back, hand pressing against the spot where his arm had been. “Felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest.”

Nanami sighs. His hand slides across your belly, fingers pressing lightly over the swell of your six-month-pregnant stomach. His touch is measured, careful—but his eyes are scanning you with the sharpness of someone cataloging a threat.

“Their cursed energy is spiking again.”

You try to sit up. He stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“Rest,” he orders.

“I have a long day ahead of me playing video games.”

He laughed—a deeper sound than usual, rich with his morning voice, the kind that warms you on a rainy morning.

---

Daddy: Nanamin. Did you know that pregnant women produce 50% more blood than usual? 😏

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: Which means there’s more circulation. Which means—

Father Time: No.

Daddy: —she’s probably more sensitive rn 😏

Father Time: Satoru.

Daddy: I’M JUST SAYING IT’S BIOLOGY 😈

Father Time: Go back to bed.

---

Sometime later, he serves you a bowl of rice and miso-glazed salmon. You lean down and sniff it.

“Did you season this?”

Nanami shoots you a look so dry it could crack concrete. “Do you want to find out what happens if you insult my cooking?”

You smirk, take a bite, and hum thoughtfully. “Mm. Could use more salt.”

Nanami steps toward you. His hands settle on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours.

“You have two options,” he murmurs. “Eat. Or I’ll feed you myself.”

You hold his gaze. A slow smile curls at your mouth. He stares at your lips.

You’re about to say something cutting when the elevator chimes.

Haibara steps out, hands in his pockets. His smile is too sharp to be friendly. “Accountant. Nice shirt.”

Nanami stiffens. You watch the tension settle into his shoulders.

“Why are you here?”

Haibara’s gaze slides toward you. His smile stretches wider. “Friendly check-in.” He looks at you. “You’ve been hard to reach.”

“I’ve been busy doing nothing.”

Haibara shrugs. “Well, that’s disappointing.” His eyes flick to you. “Call me if you get bored.”

Nanami doesn’t relax until Haibara’s gone. His jaw is tight, his hands curled into fists.

“Why does he think we’re friends?” Nanami asks.

“Because Haibara never accepts reality.”

---

Gojo’s UV Photography Era (Much to Megumi’s Misery)

Haibara was already annoyed.

It had been three days since Gojo moved in, and in that time, Gojo had:

Disrupted the entire energy of the penthouse by existing too loudly.

Claimed the biggest bedroom and decorated it with neon LED lights, despite Megumi’s very obvious disapproval.

Referred to himself as the "House Guest Supreme" in group chats.

Tried to eat takeout on the couch once and was nearly stabbed.

And now?

Now he was standing in the middle of the living room, holding a UV flashlight, grinning like an idiot.

"Okay, hear me out," Gojo said, waving the light around. "Did you know there’s like—a whole world of things the human eye can’t see? And I, the enlightened one, have discovered a new hobby."

Haibara glanced at Megumi, who was already putting in his headphones.

"Nope." Megumi turned on his heel. "Not engaging."

"Aw, c’mon, Megumi, don’t you wanna see what’s lurking in your apartment?" Gojo flicked on the UV light and shone it across the room.

Megumi didn’t even pause. "If you shine that anywhere near me, I will throw you off the balcony."

Gojo grinned, absolutely undeterred.

"Tough crowd," he muttered. Then, he turned to Haibara. "What about you? Wanna see something cool?"

Haibara shrugged. "Depends. Are you about to expose how filthy this place is?"

"What? Nooo." Gojo beamed. "I already did that in the kitchen this morning. You guys are disgusting, by the way."

Megumi clenched his jaw, visibly resisting the urge to strangle him.

"What are you actually doing?" Haibara asked, already regretting giving Gojo attention.

"Taking photos," Gojo said proudly, pulling out your camera.

Haibara’s brows furrowed. "Since when do you do photography?"

"Since five hours ago," Gojo declared. "I asked my lovely, perfect, amazing wife how UV photography works, and she told me all about filters and light spectrums and editing."

Haibara stared. "You absorbed all of that in five hours?"

"No, like in an hour," Gojo said smugly. "I’m a genius, and she’s a good teacher."

Megumi actively sighed through his nose.

"Haters gonna hate," Gojo sang, snapping a UV picture of Megumi’s scowl, then grimaced when adult Megumi looked an awful lot like Toji.

Megumi’s eye twitched. "Delete that."

"Mmm… nah." Gojo grinned. "This one’s going in the album."

"You have an album?" Haibara asked, genuinely impressed and mildly horrified.

"Of course," Gojo said. "You think I do things halfway? My wife told me to make one, of you two."

Megumi muttered something suspiciously like "should’ve killed him when I had the chance."

Ignoring him, Gojo practically skipped back to his room.

Haibara sighed, rubbing his temples. "At least he’s entertained."

Megumi shot him a look. "He’s getting too comfortable."

"What, you don’t like hearing him giggle at his own jokes at 2 AM?"

"I hope he suffocates in his sleep."

Later that night, your phone pinged.

Satoru: (8 attachments)

— LOOK WHAT I DID

— UV photos of YOU (from when you weren’t paying attention and I was hovering outside your balcony)

— Also, I took one of your hand on my shoulder, and I made it black-and-white but kept the UV highlights blue, and it’s SO cool, baby.

You scrolled through them.

One shot showed the faint glow of your wedding ring-you didn’t wear these days-under UV light, delicate and striking. Another had the outline of your silhouette against a window, the contrast sharp and artistic.

Your heart skipped.

You: These are actually good, Satoru.

Satoru: Actually good??? EXCUSE ME.

You: They’re really good.

Satoru: That’s better.

— Anyway, what should I UV next?

— I’m thinking the bedroom.

You paused.

You: Don’t.

Satoru: …

Satoru: I did it.

Satoru: I regret it.

You burst out laughing.

From the other room, Megumi’s voice rang out, furious.

"GOJO, DELETE WHATEVER YOU JUST TOOK."

"I CAN’T. IT’S BURNED INTO MY SOUL."

You wiped a tear from your eye.

Satoru: Baby, I’m coming home.

— I can’t stay here.

— It’s cursed.

You: You are literally the strongest sorcerer alive.

Satoru: AND EVEN I CAN’T CLEAN THIS. WE NEED NANAMI.

Megumi thought Gojo had sent you the image he’d taken of him earlier; in reality, it was just Takahashi who’d come with him earlier in his bag.

Later, when you stared at the photos with a critical eye, you realized, he was trying to take some like how you preferred taking yours.

Your hormones almost made you cry over it.

---

Nanami Kento was sweating bullets.

Which was ridiculous, considering he was currently sitting in his own living room, on his own couch, in his own house.

You were sitting opposite him, legs crossed, one hand resting lightly on your pregnant stomach. A faint smirk curled your lips.

Your gaze was steady—too steady.

Duel-at-high-noon steady.

Nanami didn’t like it.

His jaw tightened. His elbow pressed against the couch armrest. "What?"

You tilted your head slightly. "You seem tense."

"I’m not tense," Nanami said flatly, despite the fact that he could feel a bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

Your gaze sharpened.

He could feel it like a needle behind his ribs.

"You’ve been staring at me for the last five minutes," Nanami said.

"You noticed." Your tone was lazy.

"Of course I noticed," Nanami said, his teeth clenching slightly. "What are you doing?"

You leaned back against the armrest, brushing a hand down your stomach. "Negotiating."

Nanami’s brows drew together. "Negotiating what?"

"If you let me join a gym," you said smoothly, "and cover the membership fees—without following me there or micromanaging my workouts—I’ll let you hold my hand for one full minute."

Nanami stared at you.

"Is this a joke?"

"No," you said. "Completely serious."

His brow furrowed. "Why can’t I go with you?"

"Because you micromanage," you said. "I’d get one stretch in before you’d start lecturing me about improper form."

Nanami’s mouth tightened. "If you stretch improperly, you could injure yourself."

"See?" You gestured toward him. "Exactly this. And don’t worry it’s not because someone said something; I just read that it helps with back pain, and I already have terrible posture from work."

Nanami sighed and rubbed his forehead. "And who’s supposed to accompany you, then?"

"Haibara."

Nanami’s spine went stiff. His mouth flattened. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" you asked.

"Because Haibara—" Nanami inhaled sharply. "Because he’s Haibara."

"Exactly," you said, smile curling. "And if I collapse or go into early labor, he’s strong enough to carry me out."

Nanami’s eye twitched.

You leaned forward slightly. "So. Do we have a deal?"

Nanami’s eyes sharpened. His gaze flicked to your hand resting lightly over your bump.

"And why," he said carefully, "would holding your hand for a minute be a suitable reward?"

You shrugged. "It’s all I’m willing to offer."

"And if I say no?"

You leaned back. "Then I guess I’ll just have to ask Satoru. He will agree to anything."

Nanami’s gaze was steady—calculating.

You could feel the tension stretching between you both like a taut wire.

He didn’t want to say yes.

He wanted to refuse.

But you could already see the cracks forming.

"I can tell you’re considering it," you said sweetly.

Nanami exhaled slowly through his nose. "You are a menace."

"And you’re stalling," you replied.

Nanami’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Then—

"Fine."

You smiled. "Excellent."

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple. "This is going to end badly."

"Only if you interfere."

"And Haibara?"

"He promised not to post any photos."

Nanami's eye twitched again. "This is the worst decision I’ve made in years."

"And yet," you said, brushing your fingertips over his knuckles, "you’re still making it."

Nanami’s gaze softened slightly. His hand curled lightly over yours.

One minute.

Maybe two.

"Don’t push it," Nanami murmured.

You smiled. "No promises."

---

At first, you didn’t notice.

Because why would you?

You were pregnant, focused on maintaining some level of fitness without slipping into full discomfort. The gym was supposed to be a neutral zone—a place where you could breathe and feel like yourself, even as the babies you were carrying made their presence increasingly known.

And at first, the women seemed nice.

Compliments about your workout form. Polite smiles. Questions about your pregnancy.

"Oh wow, you’re still working out at seven months? That’s so impressive."

"Your skin looks amazing. Do you use snail mucin?”

"It’s so inspiring seeing you keep up with everything. How do you do it?"

You liked them. You smiled back. You answered their questions.

But then—

Things started to shift.

It was subtle at first.

The way their eyes lingered when you mentioned Gojo or Nanami in passing.

The way their smiles sharpened when you told them you weren’t here with your husband.

The way they started asking more… pointed questions.

"So… Gojo Satoru is your husband?"

"Wait—Nanami Kento? From Jujutsu High?"

"They both live with you? Wow. That’s… interesting."

You didn’t think anything of it.

At first.

Then you started noticing the way they would brush too close to you during workouts. The way they would adjust their leggings near you, making sure you could see the way they fit. The way their eyes would glint when you mentioned that Nanami was picking you up, or that Gojo had cooked breakfast that morning.

Still, you ignored it.

Because you were a confident and well-adjusted woman.

And because you didn’t feel threatened.

Until—

You were sitting on a mat, stretching, when you heard it.

Behind you.

"She’s lucky. If I had two men like that, I wouldn’t be here working out—I’d be home getting pregnant again."

You froze.

"Oh, totally."

"Nanami’s so serious, though. I bet he’s hard to crack."

"But Gojo…" A laugh. "He’s gotta be easy."

"And with her pregnant, they must be so… pent up."

"Right? You’d think they’d be looking for a distraction."

"Maybe they already are."

You turned your head slightly.

Three women, all in matching pastel sets, were sitting on mats behind you, stretching.

They weren’t even trying to be subtle.

Your hand curled over your knee. Slowly, you turned around.

"Sorry," you said, voice light. "What was that?"

The brunette smiled, lips glossed to perfection. "Oh, nothing."

"Just girl talk," the blonde added, eyes sharp.

"Interesting," you murmured.

You stood with a little struggle, brushing off your leggings. Your stomach was tight beneath your hoodie, the weight of the twins pressing comfortably against your spine.

The brunette’s gaze flicked to your bump. "You know, it’s impressive you’re keeping up. A lot of women… let themselves go."

Your gaze sharpened.

"And it’s so sweet of your husbands to support you like this," the blonde added, smiling. "You’d think they’d be more… distracted."

"Mm." You smiled faintly. "Why would they be distracted?"

The third girl shrugged. "Well, you know." Her smile curled. "Men have needs."

Your jaw flexed. "Do they?"

"Oh, totally." The brunette’s gaze sharpened. "I mean, it must be so hard for them, watching you like this, knowing you’re not exactly… available right now."

"You’d think they’d need a… break."

Your smile widened. "Would they?"

The blonde’s gaze sharpened. "Well, if they ever did…" She smiled sweetly. "They’d have options."

You exhaled slowly.

"Oh." You smiled wider. "Sweetheart."

All three girls stilled.

You took a step forward.

"I think you might be under the impression that my husbands are…" Your eyes narrowed. "Approachable."

The brunette’s gaze flicked. "Well—"

"They’re not."

The blonde’s smile tightened. "It’s not like we’d actually—"

"Of course you wouldn’t," you said softly. "Because you wouldn’t survive the attempt."

The brunette’s eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

You smiled. "Did you think they were vulnerable?"

The blonde’s mouth opened.

"Do you know how many women have tried to approach them before?" you asked conversationally. "Do you know how many times Gojo has smiled politely while Nanami’s hand was already curling into a fist?"

The brunette inhaled sharply.

"And do you know how many of them actually succeeded?" You stepped closer.

"Exactly zero."

The blonde’s mouth parted. "We didn’t mean—"

"You thought I wouldn’t notice." Your smile sharpened.

"You thought I’d be too tired. Too distracted."

The brunette’s face paled.

"Here’s the problem," you said softly. "You’re not competing with me. You’re competing with them. And you will lose."

The blonde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "We were just joking."

You smiled. "Sure you were."

The brunette’s gaze sharpened. "You think you own them?"

Your smile widened.

"Now see, unlike you guys, I’m not five years old, and my husbands are not objects of possession," you said, voice soft but mocking.

The brunette’s mouth parted.

"And if you think," you said, voice low and steady, "that they would ever settle for less than me—a woman more capable than your entire bloodline combined—you're more delusional than I thought." Your gaze sharpened, cutting through the thin veneer of civility. "I could dismantle your entire family’s reputation before breakfast. So if you think harassing or objectifying my husbands is something you’ll get away with…"

You leaned in, a slow smile curling at the corner of your mouth.

"…then you have no idea what you’re dealing with."

The blonde took a step back. "We didn’t mean to offend you."

"Of course you didn’t, girls," you said brightly. "You won’t survive the attempt like I said, which is why I’m letting you leave."

The brunette inhaled sharply.

You smiled.

"And next time," you added, tone light, "maybe try approaching someone a little… safer."

The blonde’s mouth tightened. "We were just making conversation."

"Sure you were." You tilted your head. "Now leave, if you don’t want your families evicted suddenly."

The blonde hesitated. The brunette’s jaw flexed.

Slowly, they turned and left the gym.

You watched them go, smile fixed in place.

Then Haibara’s voice came from behind you.

"…Wish you’d been that resilient in school."

Your nostrils flared. "Shut up."

Haibara smirked. "Does Nanami know you can talk like that?"

"Oh, he knows."

"Think they’ll try again?"

Your eyes glinted. "Not if they’re smart."

“Good thing, no one will bother you here now.” Haibara muttered as you nodded and left to weight-lift.

Not that you noticed, but Haibara Yu—tactically well-coordinated ex-spy and Eldritch horror Haibara Yu—had been dropping weights on his foot ever since you joined the gym with him because he was too busy watching you, finally getting the chance to spend time alone with you, uninterrupted. And honestly? He wasn’t even mad about the bruises.

Meanwhile, Megumi, who had inherited his father’s Hybrid Functional Training regimen—a brutal combination of heavy lifting and combat conditioning—would have micro-managed your every move worse than Nanami ever could. That’s exactly why you chose Haibara as your gym partner. And when the opportunity landed in his lap, he wasn’t about to let it slip away.

---

Nanami had known something was wrong the second you stepped through the door.

You were back from the gym—and you looked like you had just come from the gym. Your leggings were clinging to you, your hair was tied back in a loose bun, and you were still lightly flushed from the workout.

Nanami had already prepared a glass of water and a protein bar. He wasn’t going to comment on the fact that Haibara was the one who had taken you—that was a separate problem to address later.

But something was… off.

You were standing in the hallway, frowning at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"Did something happen?"

Your hand slid protectively over your stomach. "No."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "You’re sure?"

You exhaled sharply, still staring at your reflection. "Yeah."

Nanami’s brow furrowed. He set down the glass of water and crossed the room, standing beside you. His gaze followed yours in the mirror.

"You look fine," Nanami said carefully.

Your mouth tightened. "I look huge."

Nanami’s brows drew together. His gaze flicked toward you. "You’re pregnant."

"I know that."

"Then why are you—"

"I just feel big," you snapped, turning toward him.

Nanami went still. His eyes sharpened.

You sighed, brushing a hand down your shirt. "I was next to Haibara in the gym mirror today."

Nanami’s jaw immediately clenched. "And?"

"And I looked huge next to him." You gestured toward your stomach. "Like a planet orbiting a star."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"And everyone was looking at me," you continued, your tone sharp. "I could feel it. Like they were thinking, How did she let herself get like this? I’m—" Your voice caught. "I’m massive."

Nanami inhaled slowly through his nose. His hand flexed at his side.

"Did Haibara say anything?"

"No," you said quickly, like it was the most absurd thing in the world, right up there with pigs flying. "He’d never."

"Then who?"

You hesitated. "No one said anything."

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

"But they were looking." You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know why it just hit me today, but I feel…" You trailed off.

Nanami’s gaze softened. "You feel what?"

"Like I’ve lost control of my body." Your hand pressed lightly over your stomach. "I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought I’d just feel… low on energy. Or at least in control. But instead, I just feel…" Your throat tightened. "Heavy."

Nanami exhaled slowly. His gaze tracked over your face, the slight tremor in your hand.

"You don’t look heavy."

"I feel heavy," you muttered. "And round. And—"

"You’re pregnant," Nanami interrupted gently. His hand brushed over your shoulder. "You’re carrying two human lives. Your body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to."

"That’s not the point," you muttered. "The point is—"

Nanami’s hands slid down to your hips, steady and grounding.

"Listen to me," Nanami said quietly. His gaze sharpened. "You are not ‘huge.’ You are pregnant. You are growing lives. That is not weakness."

Your throat tightened. "You have to say that. You’re my husband."

Nanami’s gaze darkened. His hands tightened lightly over your hips. "I don’t have to say anything."

Your mouth trembled. "But—"

"You feel heavy?" Nanami’s voice dropped. His gaze cut through you. "Then let me hold you."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

Nanami lifted you.

"Nanami!"

You inhaled sharply as his hands curled beneath your thighs and lower back, lifting you effortlessly off the floor. Your legs wrapped automatically around his waist, and your hands curled over his shoulders.

"Too heavy?" Nanami’s tone was low, dangerous.

You stared down at him, wide-eyed. "I—"

Nanami’s mouth curled slightly. "I don’t think so."

"That’s not the—"

"You said you feel heavy," Nanami said simply. "Do you feel heavy now?"

You swallowed. "That’s not fair."

Nanami’s hand slid over the back of your thigh. His gaze sharpened. "You’re not heavy," he said softly. "You’re mine."

Your chest squeezed painfully. "You’re just saying that."

Nanami’s brow lifted. "Am I?"

You hesitated.

Nanami’s hands tightened over you. "I could hold you all day," he said quietly. "Does that sound like someone who thinks you’re too much?"

Your throat tightened. "…No."

Nanami’s gaze softened. His hand slid over your lower back, steady and grounding.

"I don’t care how much you weigh," Nanami murmured. "I don’t care how you look next to anyone else. I care that you’re safe. I care that you’re alive and healthy. I care that you’re here with me."

Your lips parted. "Kento…"

Nanami’s gaze softened. His hand brushed over your jaw. "Do you understand?"

You inhaled shakily. "I… think so."

Just then, Takahashi scurried into the room, a chewed-up cord dangling from his mouth like a war trophy. His beady little eyes landed on you—

And then on Nanami.

Who was still holding you.

Takahashi’s baby raccoon brain immediately decided this was a crime.

With the righteous fury of a woodland creature who had never known oppression until this very moment, he launched himself at Nanami’s leg.

Nanami, unfazed, merely lifted you higher.

Takahashi, realizing his attack had failed, hissed—his little back arching, fur puffing up like a tiny, enraged marshmallow.

You barely stifled a laugh. "He thinks you’re hurting me."

"Hm." Nanami’s mouth curved slightly. "Should I put you down before he declares war?"

Takahashi bared his teeth, his whole body trembling with rage. He lunged for Nanami’s slippers, gnawing like he was trying to free you from captivity.

"Takahashi, no—" You wheezed, covering your mouth.

Nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on you as Takahashi flailed against his leg, clearly trying to defeat the great oppressor.

"You’re not helping, darling," Nanami muttered, voice dry.

"Put me down before he actually draws blood," you said, barely containing your laughter.

Nanami sighed but obliged, lowering you carefully to the floor. The second your feet touched the ground, Takahashi immediately stopped fighting—staring up at Nanami like, That’s right. Know your place, human.

Then, with one last threatening huff, he scurried off like a victorious warrior.

Nanami, unbothered, gave you a pointed look. "Better?"

You hesitated. "…Yeah."

"Good." Nanami’s mouth curved slightly. "Would you like to continue arguing, or should I order dinner?"

Takahashi, apparently satisfied with his bravado, sprinted away after spotting a bird by the window.

Your mouth twitched. "That depends."

"On what?"

"What kind of dinner."

Nanami smiled. "Anything you want."

You arched a brow. "Even if it’s expensive?"

"Especially if it’s expensive."

"Even if it’s complicated?"

"I’ll learn how to make it."

You narrowed your eyes. "Even if—"

Before you could finish, his hand slid over the back of your neck, tilting your chin upward. His mouth curved.

"Yes," Nanami murmured. "Even then."

Your breath hitched. "You’re too good at this."

Nanami’s mouth curled. "That’s why you married me."

You rolled your eyes, but your hand curled over his wrist.

Nanami’s gaze softened. "Do you feel better?"

You hesitated.

"…Maybe."

Nanami’s brow lifted. "Only ‘maybe’?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"If you’re going to rub my feet later."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. "I would have done that regardless."

Your mouth twitched. "Dangerous."

Nanami smiled faintly.

You scowled. "Don’t get cocky."

"Too late." Nanami pressed his mouth lightly to your temple.

You sighed. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re beautiful," Nanami said simply.

Your cheeks flushed. "Stop that."

Nanami’s hand slid lightly over your lower back. His mouth brushed over your temple.

"Never," he murmured.

From across the room, Takahashi huffed disapprovingly.

---

t for watermelons. Not for anything."

Your chest squeezed painfully.

You leaned into him, pressing your face against his shoulder. Gojo’s arm curled protectively around you.

"Thanks," you murmured.

Gojo’s mouth brushed over your temple. "Anytime, sweetheart."

You sighed. "I can’t believe you actually got so many watermelons."

Gojo’s grin widened. "Marry rich."

You scowled into his shoulder. "I already did."

Gojo laughed. "Smart girl."

You sighed, resting against him as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

And beneath his hand, your belly shifted softly.

Gojo smiled.

"See?" he murmured. "They approve."

Your lips curved. "We’ll see if you still think that at 3 AM when they wake up screaming."

Gojo’s grin widened. "Can’t wait."

You rolled your eyes. "You say that now."

Gojo’s hand slid over your belly again, his gaze bright.

"Watermelons and chaos," Gojo murmured. "It’s going to be a hell of a life."

You smiled. "Yeah."

Gojo grinned, relieved. "Yeah, yeah. I love you too pretty hoodie lady."

You turned to look up at him. 

Then, because Gojo never knew when to quit—

"You wanna go thank the watermelons personally? Maybe we can write them a letter?"

"Satoru."

"What if we start a fan club? ‘Mothers For Seedless watermelons.’ I'll be vice president—"

"Satoru."

"—and we’ll meet every Tuesday and talk about how life-changing they are—"

"Satoru, if you don’t stop talking—"

"I’ll carry you to the car?"

You sniffed and wiped your eyes again. "Fine."

Moments later, Gojo was holding both you and the watermelons.

He kissed your forehead before carrying you out the door like you were royalty.

---

Chili Rating Poll: Rate each husband's progress in couples therapy (1-5 🌶️): 1 🌶️ = Still setting fires in Sims 4 3 🌶️ = Gojo bought apology watermelons 5 🌶️ = Nanami admitted he’s a simp Bonus: How many times did you scream ‘JUST COMMUNICATE’? So how many parallels did you catch???🤔🌚 Or what was your fav line??? 👀

Next part of this chapter - (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

[noxiousgrace]

I need more self indulgent cale & eruhaben fics in my life 😔

---

(set after part 1 of the novel, canon divergence, spoilers ahead)

I'm writing this at 5 am, don't mind the inaccuracies i haven't re-read part 1 fully yet

> cale telling the truth about his transmigration to eruhaben <

----- part 1/? -------

'This ability is more of a curse, than a blessing, for fucks sake. Is a good nights rest too much to fucking much to ask for?' Cale lamented, a few seconds after waking up.

inside of his room in the super rock villa, he sat up to rest against the headboard of his bed.

He didn't say anything after waking up, silently munching on the assortment of fruit placed conveniently next to his bed, his gaze focused on nothing.

Eruhaben: "good morning."

Cale flinched, but replied almost immediately: "good morning, eruhaben-nim."

Eruhaben: "..."

Cale:"..."

...

Eruhaben: "so, you're just gonna refuse to talk about it?" He asked, a single eyebrow raised in accusation.

Cale glanced at him from the corner of his eye, debating on what would end this conversation the fastest.

Eruhaben, all too familiar with his tactics, continued speaking: "the kids aren't the only ones worried about you. I think these last 2 years have been more than enough for you to realise you can rely on us, no?" His voice held a slowly rising feeling of irritation.

Cale, his eyebrow raised and voice almost drowning in confusion, replied: "where is this coming from, eruhaben-nim?"

The ancient dragon didn't reply to the ignorant human. gathering his thoughts so that he could, by some miracle, verbally beat some sense into this dense bastard.

The bastard in question had been talking in his sleep, every night for the last week, which wouldn't have been much of a problem if the words coming out of his mouth weren't so unnerving.

They weren't even in a language that eruhaben could understand, the dragon had questioned choi han, after noticing the swordsmans discomfort to cales newly acquired habit.

"the language is korean" was the only explanation the elder managed to get out of him.

Tsk, the easiest way was to just question the source of concern directly.

Eruhaben: "how the hell do you know korean? Choi han is the only person from his hometown as far as we know."

Cales expression remained stoic, the sweat gathering behind his ears was the only sign of discomfort eruhaben could see.

After a few beats of silence, cale seemed to have reached the end of his internal war, and sighed: "it's better if i just tell you the truth, please keep this a secret between the two of us."

The dragon nodded, his unease only growing with Cales anxious attitude: "I promise."

Cale, at his wits end, spat out the truth: "I'm a transmigrator. I was born in choi hans hometown, which is called korea by the way, and ended up here soon after i turned 36."

Eruhaben didn't reply immediately, processing the information. Eventually, he found the explanation sensible, and asked: "I see, what does that have to do with your sleep talking?"

Cale: "my ability, record, has been acting on it's own and replaying everything I've recorded so far."

Eruhaben nodded, hiding the rising confusion and concern inside him: "i understand. I'll make something that'll help you sleep easier."

Cale: "thank you"

---

There weren't any further problems since then, but eruhaben was known for his curiosity, so he continued to question cale anyway.

The questions themselves weren't too invasive, mostly asking about the korean lifestyle and culture. Nothing pertaining to cales backstory specifically.

Until now, of course.

Eruhaben: "what was your family like? "

Cale: "I don't remember. "

Eruhaben: "what? "

Cale hesitated, he knew it was disrespectful to not even remember the face of the person who gave birth to him, but it wasn't entirely his fault. he just didn't know how eruhaben would react to it.

Well, he's already in this deep, no reason to stop telling the truth now.

Cale: "I don't remember them. "

Eruhaben was stunned, he gave cale a once-over, this kid seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so the dragon had assumed the parents worked hard for that to be so.

Eruhaben, with a sense of foreboding, asked anyway: "how come?"

Cale: "they died when i was young, it's been a long time since then, i hardly remember anything from my childhood."

Eruhaben, with a heart pinched by guilt, answered: "that's okay."

Cale simply nodded, unaffected.

The dragon didn't ask any more questions for a while after that.

----

Cale: "eruhaben-nim."

Eruhaben: "what?"

Cale: "you've been staring at me a lot lately. Do you need anything?"

Eruhaben: "tsk. I'm just worried about you."

Cale: "oh?"

Eruhaben, never one to shy away from a problem for too long: "what happened to you after your parents died?"

Cale, not entirely expecting the blunt question: "i lived with my uncle."

Eruhaben, relieved, answered back: "i see, he must've raised you well then. I'm glad you weren't alone."

Cale: "No."

Eruhaben: "No?"

Cale snorted: "that piece of shit doesn't deserve any praise, eruhaben-nim."

Eruhaben: "what do you mean by tha-?"

Cale simply turned around and left, preferring disrespecting eruhaben to opening about this specific part of his life.

The dragon stared at the receding back for a while, his previous relief reduced to dust.

----

[imsogonesposts]

steve harrington masterlist!

anything written in red means the fic is currently only on ao3, and will link you to the post on ao3. anything written in white/black will link you to the post on Tumblr. <3

🩷 = favorites

Series

I'm With the Rockstar (series masterlist): Modern!Musician!Steve x reader🩷

One Shots (kinda)

I love you: you tell Steve your first I love you

Memories: after being broken up for a while now, Steve shows up on your front door

Is This Just Fantasy?: you fall victim to vecna's curse🩷

Under the Mistletoe: the kids try to get you and Steve to kiss under the mistletoe

5 Times Steve Harrington Hated the Holidays and 1 Time He Didn't: Steve has a hard time believing any Christmas he has after the age of ten will be any good

We're Snowed In: You and Steve were watching Christmas movies together on Christmas Eve. Until you get snowed in.

We're Getting a Dog?: Steve surprises you with a dog for Christmas

A New Year's Kiss: You and Steve host a New Years Eve party for the kids, and later share a New Years kiss

Everybody Wants to Rule the World: Steve finally asks you out, and falls victim to Vecna's curse🩷

Oh No, I'm Falling in Love: Steve helps you move on after being cheated on

You Can See It With the Lights Out: A timeline of yours and Steve's relationship

All That You Ever Wanted From Me Was Sweet Nothing: Yours and Steve's long-distance relationship through college

The Other Side of the Door: Steve tries to make up after a fight

It Was Enchanting to Meet You: You and Steve meet at a party, but fail to exchange numbers before parting ways

Nightmare Fuel: Steve has a nightmare🩷

I Wanna Love Like the Movies: Yours and Steve's relationship felt like something out of a fantasy book. Until it wasn't

It Feels Like the Start of a Movie I've Seen Before: A timeline of yours and Steve's relationship

The Murray Treatment: Murray helps you and Steve finally acknowledge your feelings for each other🩷

Youre Losing Me: You and Steve have been through hell and back together, but it seems something as traumatic as the upside down isn’t enough to hold a relationship together, cause now they’re losing each other

Like a Never Ending Song: Steve gives you a call

Don't You Know You're My Lifeline: Steve ends up in the hospital

Right Person, Wrong Time: You're really into Steve. But he's really into Nancy Wheeler.

When Steve Falls in Love: Steve wants nothing more but for the two of you to last. Because when he falls in love, he falls hard. (first date)

I Never Thought We'd Have a Last Kiss: You and Steve weren't supposed to end like this.🩷

Have You Ever Thought That Just Maybe You Belong With Me?: You and Steve are best friends, and you have feelings for him. But he has a girlfriend.

I Do Anything But Hate You: You and Steve hate each other. Unfortunately, you also have to date each other (fake dating)

I Want You For Worse or For Better: Steve broke up with you, now he's trying to get you back

August Slipped Away: Steve thought he could have a summer fling. But now she's going to the same school as him.

I Made a Mistake and I'll Tell You I'm Sorry (Sorry): You miss Steve's 21st birthday

I Still Love You, I Promise: Steve broke up with you and has grown to regret it

5 Times Steve Tried to Tell You He Loved You, and the 1 Time You Beat Him to It: Steve loved you, he was just a little scared to say so🩷

Haunted House: You and Steve visit a haunted house

Suburban Legends: A tale of two star crossed lovers

Lovelorn (Nobody Knows): You and Steve skip your prom🩷

Every Line, I Would Write for You (But a Footnote Will Do): You like your best friend Steve, but he doesn't feel the same

Composed a Hundred Ways to Tell You-: You write a letter to Steve, telling him how you miss him.

I Said "I Love You," You Say Nothing Back: Steve is in love with his best friend. But she's under Vecna's curse, and is risking her life, playing bait in hopes that the others can kill Vecna.🩷

It's a Normal Thing to Fall in Love with Movie Stars: After meeting Steve at a restaurant, you learn what it's like to date a movie star.

A Cold Fall: Steve takes you ice skating

Now I'm Missing Your Smile: When you come home from college for your winter break, you find yourself missing your ex boyfriend Steve Harrington. 🩷

Sixth Times the Charm: It seems like every time Steve tries to kiss you, something or someone interrupts him. (5 times Steve tries to kiss you for the first time, and the one time he finally got to.) 🩷

Cold Night In: Cuddling with Steve on a cold night.

You’re All That I Wanted, Never Been So Sure: You and Steve settle in after moving into your new apartment. 🩷

All at Once, You Are the One I Have Been Waiting For: You and Steve attend a college party together

Heart-Shaped Balloons, Streamers, and Rose Petals: Steve celebrates Valentine's Day with you

So This is Love: a cinderella retelling. a girl accidentally meets the prince and gets him to fall for her.🩷

Sleepy Mornings: The morning of your first anniversary of being married to Steve. 🩷

Nothing Could Compete With You: Steve struggles to leave Hawkins as the memory of you haunts him.🩷

Your Eyes Still Shine, Like Pretty Lights: You first met Steve at seven years old after moving into the house next to his. He was your best friend for years, and eventually, he began to develop feelings for you. (childhood best friends to lovers) 🩷

[otrtbs]

writer interview game ✨

thank you for tagging me linds!! <3 @inevitablestars

how many works do you have on ao3? 5 on my otrtbs account (+1 unpublished one) and 6 on my otrtbs_shorts account (where all my one shots and short stories went!!)

what's your total ao3 word count? 580,654

your top 5 stories by kudos? Art Heist, Baby! Tender Curiosities, Baby! Winterlude Angel of Death You and Me

do you respond to comments? i try!!!! i really try!!! ahb! gets unmanageable i fear but if you get there early enough on new chapters that i post on new stories, i really try to get to them!!

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? uhm. i guess art heist, baby! but tbh i feel like i could go angstier... maybe that'll be a writing goal for the new year...

do you write crossovers? no! haven't yet. but i was just talking to some friends today about something so cursed ....that could be my magnum opus if i wasn't a coward

have you ever received hate on a fic? no, never!!! everyone is really nice and respectful and can keep it peaceful and fun :))) !1!1!1!1! (<- girl who is manifesting for the future <- my fic has been eviscerated on goodreads and reddit and tiktok and twitter and in my tumblr asks and on ao3 i wouldn't be surprised if people are adding it to their linkedin atp)

do you write smut? very poorly and briefly and not really el oh el

have you ever had a fic stolen? not plagiarized, no!!! thank god!! but stolen and sold....well, yes i fear.

have you ever had a fic translated? yes! so many wonderful sexy versions of art heist, baby! out there for people to enjoy !! angel of death has been translated too!!

have you ever co-written a fic before? no, because collabing scares me. in the sense that i would be worried that i wasn't writing to my co-authors expectations and also ... if they don't directly align to My Vision i will also throw up. so. i don't think co-writing is in the cards for me

what's your all-time favorite ship? JEGULUS <3 jegulus. my forever girls <3

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? when i say i have...a master timeline full of every event that happened to bellatrix, andromeda, narcissa, sirius, and regulus.... detailing their time at school, what classes they take, key life events...just for me to use to write a massive canon-compliant fic of their lives.... i have put in HOURS and HOURS of work into that wip but i don't think it'll ever be done and/or see the light of day

what are your writing strengths? i really love writing detailed, descriptive interior scenes. it's one of my favorite things to do! i see every interior scene in my fic like a little still-life painting and i want the reader to be able to visualize the same still-life im seeing in my head in their head!!

what are your writing weaknesses? commas </3 grammar in general... like sorry 2 ur honor. but who fucking cares? do you get the vibes? are the vibes there? that's all i care about.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i love it!! i've learned a lot of fun phrases from it !!

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? im gonna write moonchaser (jamus, wolfbucks? idfk) !!!!!! when my james/remus thesis drops i swear !!!!!!!!

what's your favorite fic you've ever written? Winterlude!!! Winterlude is my favorite child, she's beautiful, she's gorgeous, she's fun, minimal angst, happy endings, regulus is hot as fuck in it, i want to go to there so bad. winterlude !!!!!

okay, i'm no pressure tagging @rabidlittlestrawberry @whorerific @pretentiouswreckingball @twisted-tales-told @residentrookie 💕

[dreamauri]

I want to write a fanfic, lando x reader. But I want to make it an Oc reader. the Tumblr audience dont like that, neither will the AO3, I'm too scared to post on AO3 anyways because I'm scared of the first time curse thing (I cannot afford a curse right now, there's a lot going on in my life) and I don't want to post to wattpad either (even though i think it will thrive there) because well... it's wattpad, and I actually don't like my things being stolen

[covenofagatha]

the way i scrolled to see what ask the g!p rio one was because i was like wow that's hot and i realised it was mine 😭 you already know I'm all for it, i am a service top!rio truther when it comes to these things. imagining rio begging and needing soo much praise to know she's doing good, needs affirmation even though she's the one technically in charge. curse you (or maybe me because it was my worm i fear)!!!

your favourite colour being purple makes a lot of sense... you and agatha harkness purple witch...... you're so gay 🙄 /lh

building sets is pretty fun, coming up with the designs is the best part! the pain comes from actually doing the math parts (how heavy my flown stuff can be, the thickness of the wood, what kind of wood, how I'm securing it etc) and because my math is so crap i spend excessively long on it oops. I'm not the one in charge generally, i just build whatever designs they throw my way haha.

the company im with is amateur and we're mostly doing it for the passion! so don't expect much, as for plays I've peformed in, I've done the-scottish-traitor-i-will-not-name, A Christmas Carol, and a few other smaller ones for kids lol. the ones I've helped out in (for stage managing, lighting, etc) are The 39 Steps, Aladdin, Pride and Prejudice, Beauty and The Beast, Jekyll & Hyde etc. i use my weekends to work on them when I'm not yelling at my computer or at the gym!

I've been cast as Noel (I'm awfully masculine so they decided it was fine lol) for Ride The Cyclone which I'm not sure you know. His song (Noel's Lament, you can search it up) is pretty fun, I'm more concerned about the costume... you don't strike me as a theatre kid, though i might be wrong! What kind of music do you listen to dear?

your aspirations sound awesome, i think it's really cool that you want to get into the education sector.. maybe that's why you like abbott elementary! speaking of which, who's your favourite from there / who do you resonate with? I've been told I'm a carbon copy of gregory, down to the side eyes 😭

i suppose it's only fair i share three fun facts of my own! 1) i wake up at 5am religiously every single day, and regardless of what time i sleep at my body wakes me up anyways. I'm also the kind that can't fall back asleep once I've opened my eyes so... lol. i usually get a workout in and shower/rot a bit before i headout for classes. if I'm really tired, the latest I've woken up is 8am lol. it's why I've never understood the "fucked-so-good-woke-up-12-hours-later" thing, but that could also be chalked up to my virgin ass oops.

2) i can speak 4 (working towards a fifth) languages, english is actually my third language which is why I'm so scared to post my own work! so I'll stay in the anonymity of my worm field thank you very much. won't share what the rest are because they'd reveal what ethnicity i am, and how am i supposed to be cool and mysterious and nonchalant if people know who i am... hope that's alright <3

3) not really interesting but I'm actually pan! men are great and there are plenty cool ones, it's just really hard for me to find them attractive after they hurl like 10 different slurs at someone or they're just. yeah. no hate to them and i have no preference (which is awfully telling of me, truly, because how do i have literally all avenues and yet remain unable to score a single one smh) and also women are very very very hot. I'm scared to talk to them irl or online which is why I'm anonymous 99% of the time 😅

question time: out of genuine curiosity, how tall are you? I'm going to go on a whim and say you're 5'5 (i dont know what that is in metres so it's just the vibes) lol. and, out of all the platforms you're on (instagram, twitter, tiktok, tumblr, ao3, i dunno what you're on really), which do you prefer posting on the most and why? finally, if you were a pokemon (not sure if you even like pokemon so change it to an animal if you don't want em), what would you be?

as always, take care and have a good tuesday! I hope all is well for you and i hope you don't fall asleep in your classes like i did today, lol. I'm really happy to hear you took some time off for me and i hope you know you shouldn't feel any pressure to post/write things! we'll always be here at the end of the day, regardless of what you post. don't tire yourself out from the gym too much (share the routine though!) and i hope you have a good time! remember to stay hydrated, rest well dear 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Okay okay to be fair purple was my favorite before AAA came out but yes still pretty gay of me I know

I like math but that math does not sound very fun but all of that other stuff sounds cool!

I have never heard of Ride the Cyclone whoops but I will look it up along with the song (I am NOT a theater kid at all) but omg good luck!! (if it hasn't already happened and if it has then I'm sure you did great)

I mostly listen to pop/indie (I guess) music: Conan Gray, Gracie Abrams, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Noah Kahan are the big ones but I dabble with others

Honestly, I think my favorite is Melissa and I like to think I resonate with her (at least more than all the other ones). Gregory is fucking hilarious and his little side eyes to the camera kill me so I approve of you being his carbon copy

5 am is crazy, I'm definitely an early riser no matter what as well, but never willingly that early...I think the latest I've ever slept until has been like 9 am so I'm right there with you

That is so cool! You sound very smart

I'm like 5'3'' and a half so I always round up to 5'4'' god how are you basically right about that too

I enjoy posting on tumblr the most (all the other social media sites I'm on I NEVER post on so I guess just from process of elimination lol) but I do find tumblr easier than ao3

I'm going to be so for real I don't know a thing about pokemon (I do have one gold card (is that what they're called? idk)) so I think if I were an animal I'd be a turtle

Ohhh I'm not hitting the gym I genuinely think I wouldn't be able to move tomorrow if I lifted (and I'm not even sure I'd be able to lift like the bar at this point) so I am going for a swim! Probably just for an hour or something, super chill and all, just trying to get back into it

Hope your day is going well 💜

[20forty9]

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter III - Sisyphus

Summary : Suliman makes the spirit realize something about itself and the curse it bears. You find yourself feeling more down than usual.

Word Count : 5.3k

Warnings : Suicidal ideation, uncomfortable touching because it's Suliman, lol.

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : Hiya! Back with another short chapter. I'm posting this one early because I'll be away next week and won't update for 2 weeks. I'll be active on Tumblr as always, though! As an apology for my going away, you get more Satoru and Suguru this chapter! Enjoy, please let me know what you think of this chapter, I love reading your comments and they motivate me. (I see your comments ladies, and they make me smile - I'm lurkin' and I'm stalkin' when you least expect it-) (please someone get this reference, I'm embarrassed now)

  Sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain. ~Alice In Wonderland

Even after two or three weeks of back and forth blood tests, physical tests, psychological tests and even more tests , the initial shock that the spirit’s heart no longer belonged to itself didn’t wear off. It seemed that it checked its pulse every alternating hour, just to confirm that it truly wasn’t there. And each time without fail, there would be a lack of thumping underneath its shaky fingertips. 

The missing heart didn’t seem to stop any normal biological workings of its body, however. Sweat still formed underneath its palms, blood still pumped throughout its body, but it was a mystery as to how. Even with all the lingering questions at the back of its mind, the spirit was too afraid to ask, scared that there would be a possibility that it would learn something it would rather not know in the first place. 

It spends most of its time looking outside the window of its locked room. With every day that passes, it starts to resemble a prison cell more and more. The spirit would never imagine it would long for its old life, shrouded in naivety and unknowing of the current horrors it now faces. It feels melodramatic as it reminisces; stop complaining, you got what you deserved, a nasty voice says at the back of its mind . Why didn’t it just stay with its kind instead? Why did it have to wonder what the other side looked like? It spends most hours chastising itself for how stupid it was for shaking a dirty human’s hand. 

Said-dirty human unlocks the door to the spirit’s room, a small smile playing upon her lips. Dreading that Suliman is gathering it for another test, it cowers into the furthest corner of its bed, shoulders raised up to its ears as it tries to make itself seem as small as possible, as if it could make itself vanish into thin air, but the glare it sends her is deadly. 

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she says, sitting down on the bed, hands neatly folded over her lap. “I come bearing good news.” 

What you consider good news is terrible news for me, it thinks to itself, teeth grinding together. 

“You’ll be allowed outside today,” Suliman wistfully looks outside the window, peering down and observing the garden outside. 

That makes its eyes widen by a slight margin. It doesn’t remember the last time it felt the sun on its bare skin, nor the soft breeze enveloping it with a soft caress. Hell, it doesn’t even recall when it last smelled fresh air.

It realizes a moment too late that it gave too much of a reaction to the woman in front of it. She squints her eyes as the smile on her face grows, unnaturally so, pleased with herself. Too trusting, too expressive. Get a hold of yourself. 

“Follow me,” she beckons it to follow as she gets up from the bed, taking slow steps out of the doorway as she leads it down the dimly lit hallway. 

The spirit notices that there’s a new painting adorning one of the once-empty spaces along the wall; a picturesque illustration of a landscape made up of yellow sand and brown dead grass, with short trees with skinny stumps and lots of foliage. It can’t help but wonder where this location is. Its eyes scour the small details of the painting, noticing each brushstroke and dot that the artist left behind in their wake. The oranges and blues of the sky mix together, creating a beautiful sunset. At the bottom of the frame sits a golden plaque. 

South Malawi… it reads the words in its head. Wonder where that is. 

A shove to its shoulder from one of the men standing behind it pulls the spirit from its daydreaming, and begrudgingly, it continues to follow Suliman from behind. It knows it shouldn’t take the opportunity to go outside for granted, but it can’t help but think this is another one of her big schemes that will only cause pain and grievance. 

The small group makes their way to the impressive greenhouse, and though it has passed through it multiple times by now, it still can’t help but admire the humongous banana plant that nearly reaches the top of the archway of the glass ceiling. It can see that it is flowering, the pastel pink of the flower’s petals contrasting against the vibrant green of the plant’s huge leaves. The spirit doesn’t know if it’s Suliman who takes care of this herself, or if she has a team of gardeners for it, but either way it holds a small smidge of respect to whoever upkeeps the greenhouse. 

Right before they reach the exit of the greenhouse, Suliman stops and turns to face the spirit. 

“I expect that you’ll behave and listen to what I tell you to do,” she says, eyes boring into its own. “If you don’t, I’ll be very disappointed.” Code-word for ‘I have no problem tossing you back into that room where you first woke up and letting you rot.’ 

Anxiously, it subtly nods that it will obey her. As badly as it wants to turn tail and run, the spirit knows that there is a high chance that whatever plan it tries to pull will inevitably backfire on it. 

With that, the shaman smiles again with an air of satisfaction before she opens the doors. 

Immediately, a small breeze brushes against its face, as if the wind is welcoming it back outdoors. The spirit inhales deeply, the smell of dewy grass hitting its nostrils – the garden must’ve been recently watered. It’s early in the evening, the sun barely starting to set, so most people are inside preparing dinner, leaving Suliman, the spirit, and her small group of men to themselves. There are a few small bats starting to fly haphazardly from tree to tree, the afternoon light casting cool shadows along the ground. 

Suliman leads it through the gardens, her hands brushing through the neatly-trimmed foliage and stroking delicate flower petals. If she were anyone else, the spirit would think that this is the image of pure innocence, of embracing the natural beauty of the world, but in reality, it is anything but. Instead, this is the image of despicable ugliness, manipulation that can rot someone’s bones deep to their core.  

They arrive at an expanse of land that remains untouched by the gardeners, void of trees and any shrubbery. With a wave of her hand, the group of men stop walking, hanging back and staying still along the path of the gardens. Their cold eyes stay locked onto the spirit, analyzing each breath it takes. 

Meanwhile, Suliman continues to take a few steps forward, putting a fair amount of distance between her and the spirit. Her lips move as she moves her hands to form a symbol that it doesn’t recognize, familiar dark and wispy tendrils that once covered its arm being erected from the ground. 

It immediately takes a few steps back, arms raising defensively in front of itself, fists clenched in case the shaman tries to attack it again. Instead, a smirk plays upon her lips, and with another quick motion of her hands, the tendrils move to wrap around themselves, slowly shaping into what looks like a scarecrow; black and purple shadowy arms outstretched with skinny stump-like legs to keep it standing upright. 

When the weird scarecrow doesn’t show any sign of moving, the spirit’s shackles slightly lower, but its muscles are still tense in unease. It casts a confused look in Suliman’s direction, who approaches the spirit and steps behind it, her hand coming up to move its right bicep to raise again, this time to aim at the tendrils. Her other hand wraps around its waist, making dread and nausea pool in the familiar pit at the bottom of its stomach. It swallows down the rising bile at the back of its throat, eyes trying to focus on the scarecrow in the distance. Her touch makes its skin crawl, and it's almost considering ripping it off. 

Suliman hooks her chin over its shoulder, gaze boring into the side of its head. The hand resting on its waist trails up the side of its rib, making goosebumps erupt along its skin, before it latches onto its chin, turning its head to face her. Her unnaturally soft skin seems like sandpaper against its own, making it swallow back the uncomfortable amount of spittle gathering in its mouth. When did it become so powerless? 

“I want you to destroy that,” her eyes flit over to the scarecrow. “Use your fire.” 

With that, she retreats to observe from behind, hands clasped together in expectation. 

Its eyes drift back to the target in front of it. It knows from previous experience that if it tries anything with its other abilities, they won’t reply to its first initial pull until it does it again, but that only results in agonizing pain. What’s to say this won’t be different? 

The spirit takes a quick glance back to the shaman looming behind it. Her eyes are almost closed from the large grin that stretches across her face. Everything about her is just… wrong. Unfortunately, it can’t afford to piss her off unless it wants to get locked in that cellar once again. 

It takes a deep breath to steel itself, thumb pressing against its middle finger, closing its eyes to focus on singling out the cursed energy that surely must be enemating from the tendrils. Strangely enough, it feels nothing. Attributing it to its nervousness around Suliman, the spirit tries harder to concentrate, but there’s still a lack of cursed energy in the air. Very strange; a woman of her power should surely be exuding large amounts of it, especially the offsprings of her unintelligible technique, but there seems to be a void instead. Her control must be absolutely phenomenal, it thinks to itself. 

No matter – after countless years of being deaf, its other senses have become impossibly more refined. Its eyes can pick out details that others cannot see from long distances, and for its ability to actually hit anything, it must know precise measurements. In the case of the scarecrow, it stands exactly fifty-four meters away from the spirit. 

With a quick snap of its right hand, sparks emerge from the tips of its fingers, a hot beam of fire emerging and darting towards the target at high speeds, engulfing it in bright unnatural blue and cyan flames. When the flames and smoke dissipate a few seconds later, all that is left is a pile of ashes laying in the grass. 

The spirit felt absolutely no pain. 

But… 

“Isn’t it amazing, what a blazing fire can decimate in a matter of mere seconds?” Suliman immediately invades its view, interrupting its slowly dawning horror. “You are gifted with such immense power… you could destroy anything that stands in your path.” 

The insinuation that she has something else on her mind isn’t lost on it, but the spirit quickly backs away from her, trying to put a safe amount of distance between the two. Another snap of its fingers, and it summons a small flame on the tip of its index finger. Blue and cyan. It gets snuffed out as quickly as it came. 

The nausea seems to take over again; the flames aren’t as hot as they originally used to be and are a completely different colour. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to manipulate fire that feels like it doesn’t belong to itself, like the element knows its own existence is wrong. Hot white anger pulses through the spirit, teeth grinding together as its jaw clenches painfully hard. How dare she reduce it to this? How dare she manipulate its very being this way? She’ll pay. It will destroy her and everything she’s worked for. The spirit still has its fire, it will make sure it decimates everything here. She’ll fucking regret the day she met this spirit–

Searing pain courses from its left arm and spreads throughout its entire body, making it double over, heaving and gasping shallow breaths of air. As it tries to recuperate itself, it sees Suliman crouch down to meet its eyes, tilting her head as if to taunt it further. 

“Sorry, did I forget to mention…?” She says, grey eyes lighting up in morbid glee. “You better learn how to control that anger, spirit. What is it that Mark Twain said… oh, I know! Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured. Or something along those lines– honestly, he never interested me very much.” 

Her gaze trails down to the spirit’s left arm, and its own follows. Underneath the short silk wrap, it notices that the curse mark has peeked through the fabric. Did the fabric move when it snapped its fingers…? Wait, no–

“–It’s spreading,” Suliman finishes its thought process. 

Just when it felt a flicker of hope at the prospect of being able to use its fire to ruin this god forsaken place, it all comes crumbling back down. There is no winning against this cruel shaman and whatever demented curse that has been placed upon it. 

“Well, that’s enough for today. It’s getting late,” she says, waving a simple gesture at the men on standby. They immediately make their way over, surrounding her and the spirit as they force it to walk forward back towards the greenhouse. “I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

As the sun sets behind them, the spirit can’t help but think it would rather die than be here. 

It yearns to let itself rot in the ground and let go. 

 

It’s been about a week or so since you have seen any of the other students around campus. You would like to assume it’s the higher-ups doing it on purpose, trying to isolate you from the rest of them, but in reality you know that it’s you doing this to yourself. You’ve barely left your dorm room, spending your days moping in bed instead. For some reason, the nightmares have been getting worse. Though you used to be able to go for days without sleep, it doesn’t seem to apply to you now. 

Your hands tremble, muscles weak and face dripping with sweat every time you wake up violently from whatever nightmare you were having. It’s enough to drain you for the rest of the day. Instead of going outside and training or doing anything else to distract yourself from it, you stare at the wall in front of you, eyes unfocused and mind anywhere but the present. 

The lack of sleep makes the pain in your arm more bothersome than ever, but you can’t find it in yourself to care enough to take the shitty medication Yaga gives you. It sits untouched on the nightstand beside your bed. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve also barely eaten, only having a few snacks that you keep in one of the drawers in the room and some water when you feel like you can stomach it. You had just enough energy today to take a shower for the first time in nearly a week, so maybe you’ll be able to actually eat a meal this evening. 

You currently lay down on your side, back facing the doorway and gazed fixed upon the blank wall that the bed is pressed up against. Your hair is still damp from the shower you took an hour ago (you couldn’t be bothered to dry it), strands of hair staining the pillowcase with water. Your arms are left uncovered, clean bandages laying on the floor, exposing the curse mark and old scars that run along the length of them. 

It felt like just when you thought things could start to look up, life always threw you in for another loop, no matter how hard you tried and continued to try. There were days where this bothered you more than usual, and some days where you just didn’t care enough, feeling completely numb. At least when you pretended to be happy, putting on a nice smile and ignoring the constant nagging voice at the back of your mind, you could imagine what it would be like to feel normal for once. 

There’s a sudden large palm that gently touches your back, making you suck in a deep breath and flinch away, quickly turning your head to face whatever was disrupting your peace. Wide eyes lock onto dark brown ones, the familiar sight of Yaga greeting you instead of an enemy. 

“ Sorry,” the teacher signs, immediately retracting his hand, opening his mouth to speak. “I tried to grab your attention, but you weren’t responding . ”

Immediately, you break eye contact and shake your head. 

“ It’s fine, ” you move your hands lazily in reply. 

Yaga takes in the sight; messy unkempt hair sticks up at awkward angles, your eyes are impossibly sunken in, and there’s a shake to your hands when you sign. The brunette sighs out deeply, disappointed that he didn’t catch onto this sooner. 

“Come with me, let’s get you out of this room,” he says. 

You can’t look directly at him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from his lips, either. I don’t want to, you think to yourself, I don’t want to go out there right now. I want to stay here. Leave me alone. 

“You can’t stay in here and rot in bed all day, it’s not good for you. At least come with me to prepare some tea,” Yaga refuses to leave you alone in this state of mind, having become familiar with it by this point. There are bad days, and then there are worse days. 

Empty, droopy eyes look back at him, not a single trace of emotion across your face. You know he won’t leave until he gets what he wants – you remember the time Yaga dragged you out of the room by the feet as you threw a tantrum – and resolutely shuffled your body to get out of bed. 

Satisfied, Yaga stands up, extending a hand that you don't accept. Instead, you take the bandages laying on the floor and wrap them around to cover both arms individually. Though they’re loose, you don't want to be touched by anyone right now. Even though it’s not cold enough, you take an oversized hoodie and put it on, the loose sleeves barely touching the bandages. You’re already wearing some soft baggy sweatpants and fuzzy socks on your feet. 

Without exchanging any words or signs, Yaga leads you out of the room after you put your shoes on. You don't bother looking up, either, too wrapped up in your own self-pity to really care enough about what he may have to say to you. 

There’s a communal kitchen in the dormitories, and the teacher must’ve passed through before visiting your room because there are already two mugs full of piping hot green tea set on the table. Slowly, you both sit down across from each other. 

For a solid twenty minutes, you don’t talk. Both of you slowly sip on your tea, letting the taste comfort you. You feel your muscles start to loosen up, though you can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion catching up or from the relaxed state the drink puts you in. 

Yaga doesn’t ask any questions about what is running through your mind, knowing he won’t get an answer. When you are in this state, you tend to keep everything close to your chest; whether it’s because you want to, or because you don't know where to start or what to say is unknown to the both of you. For lack of a better term, you shut down. 

Instead, he decides to take your mind off of things. 

With a tap to the table to grab your attention, Yaga puts his cup down. 

“I got approval from the elders to send you out on a mission with my students,” he says. 

Your eyebrows lightly raise in surprise. You weren't expecting them to fold that quickly, even though it took a few weeks. 

“They’ll be sending you all out tomorrow,” he takes the last sip left of his tea. “I want you to be very careful, don’t unleash anything that will make them lose their minds.”

You nod, feeling the swell of determination blossom in your chest. “ I won’t let you down. ” 

Yaga slightly tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth quirking up very subtly. 

“When have you ever?” 

You look down at your empty mug. Just now? When I could barely manage to get out of bed, like usual? I let my emotions get the better of me again, I’ve become weak. It’s an endless cycle. I’m so tired. 

Instead of acknowledging any of these thoughts anymore, you look back up at your friend, sending him a tired smile, one that you hope comes across as genuine. 

“Nevertheless, stay alert and please take care of my students for me,” the teacher says, rising from his chair. “And go take a walk before the sun sets today.” 

He doesn’t see you rolling your eyes behind his back as he walks away – he acts too much like a father sometimes. However, you decide to listen to Yaga anyway; a walk will do you some good. 

After putting your empty cup in the dishwasher, you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie, making your way outside. It’s more cloudy than usual today, the sun barely peeking through the dark clouds, but that doesn’t deter you. You take slow steps as you try to enjoy a leisurely stroll around campus. There doesn’t seem to be a single soul around today, probably staying inside just in case it starts raining. 

It’s been a long time since you have lived in isolation away from everyone besides the man who took you in, so you don't feel lonely as you walk down the pathway by yourself, but you have to admit that it feels like something is missing. Though you had only interacted with Yaga’s students a handful of times, they had a certain energy they brought to the room, one that couldn’t be replicated on its lonesome. Geto, Gojo and Shoko always freely joke around each other, complimenting each other’s personalities perfectly. 

You find yourself yearning for that connection that they have with each other. 

You look up ahead, feet dragging along the ground as you notice a figure sitting underneath the shadows of a large tree, lost in their own world. The pure white hair is unmistakingly Gojo’s, who seems to be alone for once, not surrounded by his entourage of friends. He seems to be looking down at something in his lap, and you decide to approach him. 

Gojo hears your footsteps on the pavement before he sees you, peering through his glasses to look at you. 

“Wow, you look like shit,” he says. 

Direct to the point as always. 

You simply nod in reply. Too exhausted to think about Gojo’s discomfort surrounding the cursed spirit situation, you sit down next to him, back pressed against the thick trunk of the tree. Your shoulders are nearly touching, but you make sure to lean back just far enough once you notice the proximity. 

You observe Gojo’s face from the side for a moment, noticing the furrow of his brows and the tired look in his eyes hiding behind the pair of sunglasses. If you were in any other state of mind, you might say that the white-haired man looks sad , but you quickly shake that thought out of your mind. Him, being sad? He’s the most arrogant and extroverted person here, always surrounded by someone. And yet…

Gojo closes the book resting in his lap when he notices you trying to take a subtle peek at what he was reading. There’s a strange leaping sensation in your throat as you see the cover.  

Why is he reading a book about sign language? 

The white-haired man tries to shuffle the book out of your sight, putting his large hands over it and turning to face you slightly. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, and shit, you can’t tell if he’s joking or being sarcastic now that his eyes are covered by the pitch-black sunglasses. 

You shrug awkwardly, shaking your head no. 

“Wait, no, try signing instead,” Gojo says, turning his body slightly to face you more. You raise an eyebrow, but obey him anyway. 

“ Seemed like you could use some company, ” you sign. 

Gojo stares at him for a moment, brows furrowing, before he shakes his head, looking absolutely stumped. “Nope, I got nothing.” 

Not entirely surprised, you point from the book to him. Why do you have this in the first place? 

He huffs, sunglasses dropping down to the tip of his nose, bright blue eyes averting to look anywhere but at you. 

“I gotta know when you’re talking shit about me,” he says, crossing his arms. “Plus, sensei seems to be super keen on trying to get you to join us for missions, so I have to understand you somehow. You can’t fight and write in that dumb notebook of yours at the same time.” 

Though you can’t speak in the first place, you find yourself speechless. Or motionless, in this case . Gojo was so rude on your first meeting, shackles raised and ready to fight you at any moment, yet here he is now, determined to try to pick up sign language faster than any other person you have ever known… though he words it in his own strange way. 

Unable to formulate a reply, you give him a soft smile, one that you know you don't need to fake. 

The white-haired male doesn’t speak any further until he looks down at the book, moving his hands off of it to open it again, then looking back up at you, whose eyes are already on his lips. 

“Teach me how to sign my name.” 

So, for the next twenty minutes, you teach Gojo how to fingerspell his name, the latter catching on rather quickly. Of course he’s naturally good at sign language , you think to yourself somewhat bitterly. 

Gojo’s blue eyes are uncovered at this point, sunglasses resting on top of his head as he brings his entire focus to the lesson at hand. He seems strangely invested, nodding his head vigorously as you sign your own name, then a common greeting. 

His attention is finally diverted to something behind you. Gojo waves at the person with a small grin stretched across his face. Curious, you turn around, seeing Geto approach the duo. 

“Hey guys, what’re you doing over here?” He asks, taking a seat in the grass in front of the two of you, legs crossed. He notices the book in Gojo’s hand. “Sign language?” 

“Yeah,” The latter shrugs nonchalantly. 

Geto grabs the book from off his friend’s lap, flipping through the pages. Wondering what the pictures look like, you move over to peer over Geto’s shoulder and take a glance at them. The raven-haired man tilts his head slightly to the side to allow for a better view, pausing at a specific page. 

“Ohh, look, they have signs for animals,” he smiles. 

An image of an unhealthy black betta fish sits right next to another of a pure white one with healthy fins. There’s a smaller picture of a red and white koi fish underneath both of them, rolled over on its back. Next to the images are illustrations of hand signals, with the names and meanings written next to them. 

“This is how you sign fish, right?” He asks, turning to look at you. You suddenly notice how close your faces are to each other, but neither of you make a move to change that as you nod, pointing to the black fish. 

“Sad fish, ” you sign, then point to the other one. “ Happy fish. ” Then, the red and white one. “ Dead fish.” 

All three of you suddenly deadpan. 

“Did you seriously pick up a kid’s book on sign language?” Geto turns his head up to look at Gojo. 

“They didn’t have any other available books, sue me!” He immediately exclaims in defense, yanking the book back. “There weren’t many sign language books.” 

“Kinda morbid for a kid’s book, don’t you think?” 

“It’s never too early to learn about mortality!” He says with a gleeful smile spread across his face before reading through the pages again. 

You huff in amusement before you get nudged by Geto’s elbow, who looks at you expectantly. 

“How do I sign my name?” He asks, the look in his eyes so soft that it makes you nervously look away for a second. 

Another ten minutes pass as you teach them both how to sign each other’s name. You’re just about to move onto Shoko’s name when there’s a large flash of light that explodes from the dark grey clouds in the sky. Immediately, it starts pouring. Thick droplets of rain cascade and puddles are already forming in the divets in the ground. 

“Oh shit – let’s go inside!” Gojo exclaims, lifting his shirt up to hide the book underneath it to protect it. 

“Run, run ! Go!” Geto laughs, grabbing your wrist and heaving you up off the ground, the three of you immediately dashing through the storm to the dormitories. Your converse are completely soaked when the raven-haired man accidentally makes you run through a large puddle, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. The cold rain is so refreshing as it hits your skin, waking you up more than your blistering shower did this morning. 

You look back at Gojo, who frantically scrambles behind the two of you to slam the door shut as the wind picks up, blowing rain into the entranceway of the building. 

The three of you exchange looks with each other, taking in each other’s soaked appearances. Then, the two young men burst into laughter, you silently laughing, eyes crinkling as the smile spreads widely across your face. You can see Gojo and Geto’s shoulders shake from their sniggering. 

Your clothes are anything but dry, sticking awkwardly to your skin with mud covering you head-to-toe, but it’s so amusing that you all just keep chortling at the situation. 

“Wh– wait– what happened to the book?!” Geto asks his friend through bursts of chuckles. 

Gojo reaches underneath his soaked shirt, pulling the book out; all the pages are crinkled, water dripping down the spine of it. He pouts, realizing it’s completely ruined. 

“Aw man,” he whines. “It’s totally done for.” 

Reluctantly, he throws it in the trash bin near the front door, knowing there’s nothing he can do to salvage it. 

“Well,” Geto says after catching his breath, looking at the two of you. “Guess we gotta go dry off. I’m gonna go take a warm shower, that rain was freezing .” 

Gojo’s already running back to his own room, waving a simple goodbye to them and leaving a trail of water in his wake. 

Geto awkwardly throws a smile in your direction. “See you tomorrow, I guess?” 

You nod in reply, grinning and doing a sideways peace sign. “ See you later.” 

As the raven-haired man walks in the same direction that Gojo went, you steal a quick glance at the trash bin. You make your way over to it, peering inside, and hesitantly reach an arm inside of it, grabbing the book that was thrown away just mere moments ago. 

You hold the book close to your chest, heading in the opposite way from where the two men disappeared into to go back to your own room, feeling a weird sense of satisfaction in the back of your mind.

[tlonista]

Astarion fic recs, Batch 2

Thanks so much to everyone who had kind words for my Astarion fic rec list! My habit continues unabated so I wanted to throw out another little batch of mostly recent, mostly hurt/comfort-oriented Astarion-centric fanfic that I liked. As before there's references to Astarion's past abuse and assault so mind the AO3 tags.

Anyway happy holidays fellow pale elf fans, pls tip me off if you watched the latest Larian animated short and felt moved to write about shivering blanket-wrapped Astarion sitting on Karlach's lap.

Incomplete Multi-Chapter:

The Friends We Meet in the Dark by Copaline

Astarion is captured by monster hunters while spiraling over how to earn Tav's affections. Second in a series, but can be read standalone; one of two chapters posted. Big fan of its protective f!Tav, and there's some fun banter with the rest of the gang.

I Don't Know You Yet by thbreakofdawn

Nicely executed modern Bloodweave social media (text messages and Twitter) AU. Astarion is a sex worker and Gale is a grad student struggling with his relationship to his girlfriend Mystra, and they strike up a text-only friendship after a random connection. Very effective use of the multimedia format.

If the Cross on the Door Doesn't Scare You by Aylwyyn228

Sweet, angsty "Astarion starves in the Shadow-Cursed Lands because he's too scared to ask for blood" fic with the added turn of Gale guessing exactly what's happening, but being too toxic-blooded to actually help unless Astarion tells the others about his vampirism.

a half-blown rose by winter_writes

Astarion's "Tav didn't kill Cazador" dialogue in the Patch 5 Epilogue is one of the saddest things in the game, and I'm so excited to see writers running with it. In this fic Astarion was recaptured by Cazador post-game and then finally freed thanks to a fire... but he's terribly injured in the aftermath and ashamed to have his ex-lover see him. Only one chapter so far but I'm a big fan.

death by rock & roll by falco_c

This hasn't been updated in a while and Astarion hasn't actually appeared in it yet, but I'm throwing it in as a bonus because I really love its Almost Famous-y music industry AU vibe. Its translation of the tadpole ensemble into rock-and-roll burnouts, featuring in-world interviews, is absolutely delightful.

One-Shots:

Untitled by trulycertain (Tumblr-only)

It's spawn Astarion realizing he can turn into a bat and flying around and getting tired with Tav around, that's it, that's the fic. Completely adorable fluff. But "Is this what it’s meant to be like? Being a spawn? Not a starved slave?" kills me.

Family by sword_and_lance

Astarion goes to see his family after being turned, and Cazador cements his control over Astarion by offering him some scraps of comfort in the painful aftermath. It's short and restrained and chilling and so so sad.

Pointy Ears by SpaceBarbarianWeird

Yes another fluffy fic, what am I coming to. But who doesn't want to read about Astarion rediscovering trust by letting Tav touch his sensitive pointy ears with some brief digressions into elven social norms and gift-giving.

Complete Multi-Chapter:

Desperate Measures by Asidian

One of the fics that inspired "If the Cross" above, and one of my favorite "Astarion in the Shadow-Cursed Lands" pieces. Very good at balancing a sympathetic take on the character with him being, like canon Astarion, deceptive and a little bit abrasive when cornered. Plus bonus fun with Scratch.

this is a gift (it comes with a price) by ryttu3k

A post-game Ascended Astarion fic in which AA is literally soulless and knows it, and his sometimes-lover Duke Wyll Ravengard discovers over a series of nighttime visits that he secretly hates it. One of my favorite Ascension fics in part because, intentionally or not, it feels weirdly true to the experience of depressive anhedonia?

The Light of the Seven by Verelia

@reddenmore mentioned this one in the tags on my last fic rec list and I wholeheartedly agree; it's a real good Szarr Spawn Family character study delving into the backstory and personality of each of Cazador's "children," including Astarion.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

twenty questions for fic writers 💕

thank you so much for the tag @little-diable 💖💖💖

This was so interesting!!!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

4 - I don't know why but for quite a time I was just too scared to post my writing there, so I started very recently

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

15 789

3. what fandoms do you write for?

The Last Kingdom (and I've written two fics for The Wheel of Time)

4. top five fics by kudos

I've got just 4 on AO3 and Braiding hair is the most popular there

Here on Tumblr – Saved is still the champion although it's my very first reader insert fric I wrote.

5. do you respond to comments?

Always! I love when people comment, it's the only way to really understand what they liked about the fic

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I love angsty endings:

Princess Reunited Until the death us parts - all have lovely angsty endings 😅

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My latest fic: The Curse – because with this fic I'm giving a happy ending to a controversial villain character that actually dies in canon

8. do you get hate on fics?

No, I've been lucky not to receive any so far

9. do you write smut?

Yep

10. craziest crossover?

The only one I've ever done Until the death us parts - TLK and Assassins Creed

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know. I've had a few times a feeling someone has gotten inspired by my writing, but never to a level that I considered it stealing

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, and I love doing it with you my dear @little-diable

14. all time favorite ship?

I don't have any particular ships I focus on

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Reunited - I've received so many requests to give the story a happy ending and I really want to do it but somehow I never get to it

16. what are your writing strengths?

Descriptions, evocative scene setting

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogues

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love when others manage to do it, but as I struggle with dialogues anyway - I don't even try 😅

19. first fandom you wrote in?

The Last Kingdom

20. favorite fic you've written?

I've got a couple of favorite ones: You are good, Feeling you and Dream are at the moment the ones I love most

Tagging: @lord-aldhelm @foxyanon @timetravelingpenguin1066 @gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone

@alexagirlie @st-eve-barnes @bhxrdy or whoever wants to join

[starcraftt]

♞ ABOUT ME

GLAICER ;; a dorky writer who's trying her best

heya there, nd welcome to my little corner on tumblr! my name is glaicer or cienna, but you're so very welcome to come up with most any nicknames for me ( dfagd, i love nicknames,,, :star_struck: ).

𖤓 my original username would've been .periwinkleyes, but apparently someone already took that?? so,, uh,, frick you man ( not really im sorry. ) but my current username is referencing the pc game of Starcraft ( II ), which i haven't played in a while but you know.

𖤓 I AM ACTUALLY REALLY AFFECTIONATE ND HAVE A WEIRD WAY OF INTERACTING, SO I WILL SOMETIMES JST RESPOND WITH A '🫶' or '<3' or smth im so sorry if this makes you feel weird, jst let me know !!

𖤓 i use she/her/hers pronouns ( won't correct you if you use they/them but please no masculine pronouns ) and identify as a female. <3

𖤓 my messages are always open, and never feel stressed to message me, i love talking to people on here and meeting others with similar interests ( read: pls pls pls pls pls message me pls ). jst dm if you have anything to say, such as asks, questions, headcanons, fanfictions, requesting me to do/write something, literally anything!! send me a keyboard slam!! i promise i'm nice :3

⤷ 𖤓 if you'd like to stay anonymous, you're always welcome to use some sort of symbol or emoji as a pseudonym ! just let me know on the message what you're gonna use, haha!

𖤓 i am a minor ( under eighteen ), so please don't send or talk about any nsfw things around me.

𖤓 i sometimes get very opinionated on some subjects?? it's,, its kind of insane.

𖤓 any comments/reposts/likes/kudos mean the world to me,, tysm to whoever does. ^^ ( forewarning i can't respond to compliments im an anxious nervous wreck. )

𖤓 dedicated band kid, try me. i play the clarinet, and some piano!

𖤓 weird humor, you'll hopefully get it. it's kinda dark i dunno.

𖤓 i do/can rp btw !! i have more detailed responses and ocs, but for sure i can rp most any of my fandoms, and willing to also do original ideas as well! <3 just message me ^^

WATCH OUT ;;

before you follow, i tend to use profanities and curse quite a bit ( which is weird because i used to never curse lmao ), and tend to use dark humor to cope often. i'm extremely awkward with any type of compliments ( or maybe just conversating in general ahaha ) and usually just respond with a keyboard slam and a 'thank you smmmm <33 😭🫶🫶' ( :D ). i promise i try my absolute best to be friendly and keep this blog at least pg-13 so if i post anything problematic or triggering, i'm so, so sorry and please speak up about it. sometimes my content can be dark and angsty so um,, prepare yourself !

STATUS ;;

currently in an eighties movie kick, in my c. thomas howell phase ( jst wait, i'll go through a phase for each outsiders cast member ), in love with robert morris from red dawn 1984 ( pls ask about him pls pls pls im on my knees begging ), in love with patrick swayze's laugh ??, debating finishing those fics, in love with sam and dean winchester whilst being scared that there's smth behind me in the dark :3, possessed sam winchester has my ENTIRE heart btw.

TAGS ;;

ask and you shall be answered - simply answering a message! starcraftt - will be on my answers to messages or fanfics/original works! blog check up - jst what it reads !!

GATEWAY TOWARDS ;;

other profiles : @pixelsdepleting ⨳ @starrsforyou ⨳ @eastsidetulsa ( under construction )

socials : quotev ⨳ c.ai ⨳ ao3

posts : user starcraftt ⨳ fandoms ⨳ likes/dislikes ⨳ ask away ! ⨳ golden hour ?! ⨳ soda's death

masterlist ; a labyrinth of unwritten works, do you dare enter?

[hpsaffics]

🧛‍♀️ WLW Wed: Vampires (Part 1) 🧛‍♀️

A jointly compiled HP femslash rec list made by the lovely members of the HP SAFFICS discord server. See all previous rec lists in the WLW Library on Tumblr or AO3!

Currently: Vampires (see part 2) Previously: Ginmione (see list)

—

🩸 LONG (>10k) 🩸

There's no blood like yours by isuckatnicknames [Hermione/Bellatrix, E, 102k]

Bellatrix is a pretty ancient vampire and Hermione is her 'meant-to-be'. There's no stronger bond that that.

A fate better than death by sugarsnappeas [Bellatrix/Rita, M, 17.9k]

Bellatrix was a vampire... Bellatrix was a possibility... Bellatrix was intoxicating, captivating, and Rita had been enraptured by her since the first moment she had seen her.

Sharp Bites, Soft Kisses by vendettadays [Hermione/Pansy, E, 10.7k]

Hermione thought her life had quietened now that the world was calmer. She had a good, stable job at the Ministry. She had her pub nights with Harry and Ron. All in all, things were going well for her. That was until she died and was turned into a vampire.

—

🩸 MEDIUM (3-10k) 🩸

hot blooded (now you're driving me wild) by @grimjobs [Pandora/Lily, Pandora/Mary/Lily, E, 8.3k]

Still, Lily grinned wide; teeth fully on display, and she heard Pandora’s breath hitch as her thumb moved from her cheek to stroke along one of the fangs now protruding through her gums.

When the thrill is gone by @sleepingontheway [Fleur/Hermione, NR, 6.0k]

Years post-war, Hermione is a shell of the girl she once was. This is not a happy tale.

Sweetness and Light by Headcanonsandmore [Luna/Ginny, T, 5.8k]

Ginevra Weasley (the daughter of a large working class Devon family) helps rescue a Miss Luna Lovegood from drowning in a river. However, the enigmatic Miss Lovegood is far more than meets the eye.

i would kill for some company (temporarily) by invisiblemuseum [Pandora/Lily, M, 4.7k]

pandora's never seen something so pretty and not wondered just how long it would take for it to die, and just how good it would taste.

Of Shadow and Blood by Wolf_of_Lilacs [fem!Harry/fem!Tom, NR, 4.2k]

Even serial killers should exercise caution when picking up hitchhikers. Who knew? (Certainly not Tommie Riddle, with a pathological fear of death and a taste for the macabre.)

A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night by RachelC978 [Fleur/Hermione, T, 3.3k]

Don’t you just hate it when your meal gets interrupted? When it’s by a beautiful woman whose blood sings to you, it’s slightly more forgivable.

—

🩸 SHORT (2k-3k) 🩸

The Catacombs by GhostxWriter [Surprise pairing, E, 2.9k]

Deep within the bowels of society, a girl dances in a club. Here, in the depths of the catacombs, she finds what she’s looking for in the eyes of an almost-stranger.

An Eternity with You by @sosh022 [Fleur/Hermione, M, 2.6k]

Fleur dies and Hermione defies the laws of life and death to bring her back. Because sometimes, one lifetime is not enough.

Like A Secret In Your Throat (Can You Stake My Heart?) by arakhnee [Marlene/Dorcas, M, 2.5k]

Dorcas is a vampire. A monster, if you will, and Marlene's target - except that they keep evading her. When Marlene is sent on her sixth mission to kill them, she makes a vow not to fail this time.

Hey, Baby, I'm Not Scared (I'm Just Dying Inside) by orphan_account [Fleur/fem!Harry, E, 2.5k]

Fleur Delacour vanishes without a trace at the end of the war, presumed dead by those around her. Harry takes the wrong turn in an alley in Paris and learns that the truth is far more complicated (and far more horrifying).

The Third Option by @fiestylilmetalbendingqueen [Astoria/Pansy, T, 2.4k]

Each day Astoria's blood curse gets worse, and after exhausting all other options, there's one more to consider.

—

⚰️ Want more femslash vampires? ⚰️

@hpbloodlust | AO3

Vampires: Tag on AO3

WLW Library: Tumblr | Tag | AO3

[bookishfeylin]

Evil AU- From Ao3

@darklordofspring I'm tagging you because I'm not sure if you saw this on Ao3 or not but either way... I'm posting another Feylin ficlet on tumblr :)

If anyone already read this on Ao3 then y'all know I wrote this because Tamlin as a villain is so BORING in canon. Let him be actually EVIL, please.

Feyre raced through the streets of Adriata, not daring to look behind her. He was close— too close. She couldn’t let herself be caught, the information she carried for the rebellion against Tamlin was far too important to fall into his hands. And Cauldron only knew what he’d do to her.

Pausing to catch her breath, Feyre wiped away the tears that were trailing down her cheeks. The male she loved was gone. Whatever Rhysand had done to his mind had destroyed Tamlin and all he stood for. Now… he was a tyrant. And Rhysand was away in the Day Court, with the rest of the rebellion, unable to fix Tamlin’s mind as he tried to change back after Tamlin had—

A sound behind her caught her attention, and Feyre realized she was still being followed by Tamlin’s soldiers. She started running again, still scared, still uncertain.

She’d been away visiting Helion in the Day Court to practice her spell cleaving skills with him when Rhysand had decided to “prank” Tamlin and cause this whole mess in the first place. Since then, she’d been working with the rebellion brewing in the other courts in an attempt to stop Tamlin, and fix his mind. So Feyre hadn’t run into him yet, she hadn’t seen her husband in months. But she’d heard stories—second hand accounts about what he was doing, how he was running his court.

Feyre had wondered about the limits of Tamlin’s power, and he’d never been very forthcoming about it. She knew, obviously, that he could shapeshift, and that he could shapeshift other people and warp the environment around him, as he’d shapeshifted his sentries into wolves and as he’d displayed bits and pieces of his power to her when he was still cursed, like changing the large table they’d first ate at to a small one, and lighting candles with the snap of his fingers. But she’d never put two and two together to realize how objectively terrifying it was that Tamlin could not only warp his body, but warp everything around him. And everyone. 

Rhysand, currently, was stuck in the form of a rabbit, and similar things had been said about anyone who had tried to fight Tamlin so far. He’d changed people into animals. Multiplied people’s cells to give them cancers—and a slow, painful death. He’d changed the air in another person’s lungs to water, drowning them where they stood. 

And while there were other daemati in addition to Rhysand, such as Feyre herself, Tamlin was the only known shapeshifter. Feyre’s shapeshifting abilities only extended to her own body, and compared to what Tamlin was doing, were next to nothing. She was incapable of reversing his actions. Perhaps it had taken Tamlin abusing his power for everyone in Prythian to understand just how much he had, how much he held back on a day to day basis. 

Pushing aside those thoughts, Feyre continued to run, only to feel something graze her calf, sending a searing pain up her leg. Unwittingly Feyre tumbled to the ground, hissing as she hit the stones below her. Looking to the side to see what had hit her, and feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, she was horrified to see that it was an arrow—an ash arrow, coated with some sort of substance. They’d drugged her. 

The footsteps were close now, but Feyre could barely concentrate. She had to get up, had to move, but her body wouldn’t listen. She could barely crawl. The world was spinning, and her arms were shaking, and she could barely move…

Feyre collapsed again just as the footsteps reached her, and the world went black.

~~~

The first thing Feyre registered, as she slowly came to, was that she was laying in something soft. Something soft and warm. Then came the fingers gently carding through her hair, tucking a few rebellious strands behind her ear, and a very familiar earth-and-honey scent. Her mate. 

Instinctively she turned to her side, nuzzling into Tamlin’s chest, seeking out his warmth. Feyre felt him chuckle.  “I knew you missed me,” he mumbled, his tone almost smug. 

There was something wrong about this, something… something Feyre needed to remember. But she could worry about that later, and she was content to stay here and let him pet her, surrounded by his scent and warmth and—

Then the memories came back: Adriata. The rebellion. Tamlin.

Feyre opened her eyes and shot up, surprised to find herself back in their bedroom, laying in bed alongside—

Alongside him. Tamlin had the audacity to play with her hair and sleep beside her as if she hadn’t just been kidnapped by his sentries in Adriata. As if he wasn’t about to torture her for information. Looking down at herself, Feyre realized she had some sort of silver necklace around her neck. Closing her eyes, Feyre briefly tried to reach out with her magic, hoping to use her daemati abilities to at least buy her time to escape, but Feyre found it impossible. It wasn’t just a necklace, then—it was a power dampener. Practically a collar. And Tamlin had put it on her.

Shivering and refusing to meet his gaze, Feyre pulled back out of the bed—or she tried to, at least, before he grabbed her arm, his claws sliding out, before she could leave fully. “Stay,” he commanded, and Feyre finally looked up at him, truly looking at her husband for the first time in months. 

His hair was short, now, and he was wearing a soft, white nightshirt and pants. A small part of Feyre was glad that he looked healthy, at least, if she ignored his piercing red eyes. Whatever Rhysand had done to Tamlin had changed his eye color, from the soft emerald green Feyre had grown to love to a harsh crimson, worsened by his current glare.

Feyre cringed and looked down again, and he let go of her arm before crossing his. “Where, exactly, were you going?”

Away from you, Feyre wanted to say, but she held her tongue, remembering the stories she’d heard about Tamlin’s newly vicious temper. After deliberating for a moment, Feyre spoke up. “I was going to protect myself. I know of the torment your prisoners go through, so I wanted to prepare myself for the inevitable.” He raised an eyebrow, though his glare had lessened. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Feyre.”

Shivering, still, Feyre asked, “Why not?”

Sighing, Tamlin grabbed her shoulders, holding them surprisingly gently as he slowly stopped her from shaking. Then he moved a hand beneath her head and used a single knuckle to tilt her face up to look at him. “You are my wife, Feyre, not my prisoner.” For a moment Feyre let herself breathe, sighing in relief. Then Tamlin spoke up again. “Why have you been running from me, all these months?”

Feyre bit her lip, not sure whether to lie and appease him or speak the truth and risk his temper. Tamlin answered for her. “I want the truth, Feyre.”

Looking down, Feyre said, “I’d heard what you were doing to people, what you’d let yourself become. I didn’t know what to think or expect.” Slowly, Feyre met his gaze again. “Why are you hurting people, Tamlin?”

Instead of answering, Tamlin simply gave her a strange, almost predatory smile. “I’m letting go, Feyre. I don’t have to control myself every moment of every day, anymore. I don’t have to struggle not to hurt everyone else. I do what I want.”

He almost sounded genuinely happy about it. Almost. But it still didn’t answer her question. “But why, Tamlin? Why are you hurting people? Why are you trying to take over Prythian?” It was a question everyone in the rebellion was struggling to understand. Rhysand may have messed with his mind, may have made him violent and twisted and cruel, but power hungry? It didn’t make sense.

“For you, of course.”

What?

“I’ve told you before that I hate being a High Lord, Feyre. I don’t want to rule Prythian for myself. I’m going to give Prythian to you, and to any future children of ours. I’ll simply enforce your rule, ensure a peaceful reign for you.” Then Tamlin smiled, as if his plan wasn’t insane. “And the best way to enforce peace is through force, Feyre. Obedience or punishment.” Tamlin said it so simply, as if he wasn’t being borderline barbaric. 

Feyre shook her head. “I don’t want to rule Prythian.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, Tamlin, I really don’t.”

He simply titled his head, then laughed. “You’re so funny, Feyre.” Then he slowly pulled himself out of the bed, and he gestured for Feyre to do the same. “Get dressed, Feyre. I have some things to show you.”

Not wanting to risk his temper, Feyre did as he said.

~~~

It was minutes later when Feyre found herself following Tamlin as they snaked through the walls of Rosehall. Their once beautiful home had been transformed to a nightmarish estate, and the servants that always seemed to be chatting happily now cringed in fear away from them, though a few of them gazed hopefully at Feyre. What had Tamlin done?

Tamlin had grown quiet as they got closer to their destination, and looking around him Feyre saw the throne room before them. And there, on his knees and between two sentries, was Lucien. Feyre hadn’t seen Lucien in months, either.

Tamlin growled as he caught sight of him, and Feyre noted that even the sentries cringed at the noise. Then the strangest thing happened. It seemed that reality itself was… warping. Changing. 

Black cracks began to form on the ground, slowly spreading out from where Tamlin stood, and in the cracks Feyre saw small, twinkling lights. Like stars. Between them the floor itself seemed to… melt, almost, suddenly becoming less solid, like mud, almost. Including where Feyre stood. 

“Tam,” she called out, trying to get him to stop, to calm down, to fix whatever he was doing.

Tamlin looked back to her for a moment, and blinked, as though remembering she was here with him. 

Then the ground re-solidified beneath Feyre’s feet, and the cracks disappeared as reality seemed to reorient itself. In front of them, both Lucien and the sentries sighed in relief, as though something horrible had just been averted. Feyre was sure something had been. 

Then Tamlin spoke, and his words were like ice. “You were going to take Feyre away from me.”

Lucien just jutted out his chin, his shoulders back, eyes defiant. “You have no proof of anything, High Lord.” Lucien practically spat out the title, and Feyre found herself taken aback, for a moment. Tamlin and Lucien had always been close, and in the century she and Tamlin had been married, Lucien had only ever used Tamlin’s title jokingly. 

Tamlin growled again, and Feyre noted the fangs beginning to form at the sides of his mouth. “My sentries caught you conspiring with the rebellion to get Feyre back. Perhaps you’d like to see the notes they found?” 

Lucien went pale, and he seemed to slump even closer to the ground.

Tamlin extended a finger, and Feyre realized that his hands had grown claws again. “You’ve betrayed me, Lucien. And I don’t tolerate betrayal.”

“Tamlin, please,” Feyre interjected, hoping to stop whatever he was going to do. 

Tamlin and Lucien both ignored her, and the latter spoke up. “So kill me, then. Punish my disobedience, High Lord.”

But Tamlin simply chuckled, something cold that made Feyre’s stomach twist in on itself. “You would wish for an easy punishment, wouldn’t you?” Lucien went paler, if he could, and tried to back away, only to be caught by the sentries again. Tamlin spoke one final time. “Death is far too easy for what you did. I’m interested in something more… satisfying.” 

Then Tamlin reached forward and waved his hand, and Lucien crumpled to the ground, beginning to shake and groan. Feyre ran forward to try to help him, to pull him up, but Tamlin grabbed her arms again, holding her back. 

Feyre watched in something akin to horror as Lucien began to scream—and slowly transformed into… something. Tamlin’s transformations had always been instantaneous, had always been hidden in a flash of light, but this? He was purposely prolonging it, purposely letting Feyre and the sentries watch how grotesque and painful transformation could be, purposely using his power to torture Lucien.

Lucien screamed again and Feyre turned back to Tamlin. “Stop this, Tamlin. Please,” she begged.

But he merely looked at her, raising an eyebrow, even as Lucien continued screaming, even as his scream changed to something more… animalistic.

He wasn’t going to listen. Still restrained by Tamlin, Feyre turned back to Lucien, watching in horror as his limbs seemed to elongate, as the bones within them seemed to snap and slowly fuse back together, as his muscles and joints contorted and as grey fur slowly cut through his skin. 

Feyre turned aside, and vomited. Tamlin held her, rubbing slow circles into her back as Lucien’s screams morphed to moans, and as his moans changed to whimpers. Then he was done, and the room was silent.

Turning back around, Feyre found herself staring at a pool of blood—with a large grey wolf in the center. Lucien.

Blinking back her tears, Feyre curled her hands into fists. “Change him back.”

“What?” Tamlin asked, incredulous.

“Change. Him. Back.”

Tamlin snorted. “Why should I? He needed to be punished, for what he was doing.”

“He was looking out for me!” Feyre pleaded. “He thought I was in danger, Tam. That you were endangering me. Because you are .” Tamlin recoiled, snarling, but Feyre continued. “You got so angry about seeing Lucien that your magic began to rip apart reality, Tamlin. You’ve been changing people’s forms as you see fit. How long before you do that to me?”

“I would never,” he hissed. “You are my wife, my mate, my love. I would never harm you, Feyre.”

“Then prove it. Change him back right now.”

Tamlin’s claws slid out again, but he balled his hands into fists regardless, before looking back at where the wolf that had been Lucien was laying on the floor. He waved his hand, and—

Nothing happened. 

Feyre turned back to Tamlin. “Change him back, Tamlin. Now.”

But Tamlin merely raised an eyebrow. “I am.”

“I don’t see his transformation,” Feyre said, knowing she was pushing Tamlin’s limits—but not caring, anymore.

But Tamlin gave her that same sickly grin, again. “You said I had to change him now, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So I’m changing him now. Or more accurately, his transformation back is beginning now.” His smile was still cold as he added, “It’ll take a few days to complete. He's changing back cell be cell. Tissue by tissue. Organ by organ.”

Feyre gasped. Lucien’s transformation just now had seemed painful enough when dragged out for a few minutes, but dragged out over several days? It was torture, pure and simple.

“Tamlin, please—”

“I’ve done as you asked, Feyre. But I won’t do anything more, no matter how much you plead.”

Feyre closed her mouth, unable to believe what she was hearing. This wasn’t Tamlin—not at all. He would never torture his best friend for days on end, like this. Rhysand what have you done? 

Feyre had to fix his mind, had to undo whatever damage Rhysand had done. But Mother only knew how she was going to do it.

[zaharya]

Masterpost [Zaharya]: Fics and Projects

All of the fics listed below the cut are on my AO3; individual links in each title. But first, links to a couple posts you might be looking for if you came to my Tumblr on purpose.

Important posts and Masterlists

Scrivener Tutorials Masterlist – list of all my Scrivener tutorial posts

ADHD science ramble, ADHD strategies

Synopsis for Part 1 (Summer) of MTP – Previous pinned post; wouldn't want to lose that, right?

Whumptober 2021 Masterlist – overview including prompts and summaries for all my Whumptober 2021 fics

Side-projects and Community

Chaotic side-blog: @zaharya-unfiltered

Project side-blog: @facial-expression-descriptions where I'm (very slowly) creating a library of facial expression gifs/images and collecting people's descriptions for said expressions.

Discords: The Merlin Library — BBC Merlin fandom server (info @themerlinlibrary) Cosmere Corner — Cosmere fandom server (info here)

In case anything of what I do was/is helpful for you or you just really enjoyed some of my writing, and if you feel so inclined, you can support me on Ko-Fi – any support is immensely appreciated!

My Writing | Fic-Masterlist

Under the cut are all my fics! I hope you enjoy!

Fic info setup:

Title – Rating, word count Main pairing(s) & relationships Era/AU; Summary / what to expect [Fest the fic belongs to, if applicable]

Fandoms:

Merlin (TV)

Harry Potter

Shadow and Bone (TV)

Series

Drabbles for Dopamine – mixed fandoms Z's Whumptober 2021 – Merlin (TV)

Merlin (TV)

Blackout, Beaming, Gold – M, 18.7k, with Art by Sunfall_of_Ennien Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Steampunk AU, Slave!Merlin; Combines various prompts for Whumptober 2021; Merlin was enslaved years ago but nobody can afford to buy him, Arthur doesn't want a slave but Uther insists – destiny takes its course. With steampunk fashion, gun fights and protective!Aithusa as a giant, winged murder kitten. [Whumptober 2021]

Get Him Back – M, 14.6k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Loaded March spin-off; Set in the beginning of LM part 8 (Groundwork), though it's not entirely necessary to have read LM in order to read this one. (You should totally read it tho because LM is amazing.) Featuring a kidnapped hurt (and ridiculously powerful) Merlin, protective BAMF Captain Arthur Pendragon, precious bby Mechadragon, and some of my favourite combat scenes I ever wrote.

Horizons Over Battlegrounds – T, 14.5k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Gwaine & Merlin, The Knights & Merlin Canon Era; Canon divergence starting in episode 04x04 "Aithusa" – magic reveal, baby Aithusa, and a BAMF Merlin losing his cool after a prank gone wrong. Good thing that Arthur is around to try and calm him down. [Merthur Glompfest 2022, Merlin Bingo 2022 square A2 "Happy Ending"]

What matters is what you make of it – T, 11.4k, with Art by @rhiadan Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Canon divergence from episode 02x01 "The Curse of Cornelius Sigan" – Merlin's power has a will of its own, both Merlin and Arthur are scared, but also angry, and there is (once again) a lot of very visually descriptive magic. [Merlin Reverse Big Bang 22/23, Merlin Bingo 2023 square M4 "Anxiety"]

I Didn't Know That I Was Starving 'till I Tasted You – G, 8.1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Angsty aftermath of Arthur finding out about Merlin's magic, with both idiots of them thinking the other doesn't want to see them. Merlin stops eating, Arthur drowns in guilt – but they'll figure it out. (There's always a happy ending with me.) [Whumptober 2021]

Dragon's Legacy – T, 7.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Dragon!Merlin (ish) – Arthur manages to kill Kilgharrah, who then bestows his magic unto Merlin to preserve dragon-kind. [Merlin Bingo 2022 square I5 "Forced Body Modification"]

I wish I'd known then – T, 7.5k (WIP) Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern AU; Merthur watches Heartstopper (spoilers for HS season 1) – the one where Arthur realises how things could have gone between him and Merlin. So much pining. [Merlin Bingo 2023 square I2 "Roommates"]

Noble('s) Wrath – M, 7.1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal; The knights of a visiting noble hurt Merlin – cue: furious protective Arthur. Just your classic Hurt/Comfort fic with mildly graphic violence and a lot of fluff to make up for it. [Whumptober 2021]

A Faire Fight – T, 6.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern Era, post-return; Merlin takes Arthur to a medieval faire to help him feel more at home. They fight in a tourney and are fluffy and cute. [Merthur Glompfest 2023, Merlin Bingo 2023 square G2 "Competitive Idiocy"]

My Breath In Your Lungs – M, 6.5k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Merman!Merlin AU, modern setting; After saving a man from drowning, Merlin is captured by humans and imprisoned in a tank. Featuring a dramatic rescue and a bonus chapter just for the pining. [Whumptober 2021]

His Most Treasured Possession – M, 5.9k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin; Primarily fluff; post-episode s04e02 magic reveal, Merlin keeps Arthur's sigil – until he loses it. Except he didn't lose it, Arthur stole it back to propose properly. [Merlin Bingo 2023 square I1 "Loss of a treasured possession"]

Waters Deep (As Your Secrets) – T, 4.3k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal; Begins at the end of s01e07 (The Gates of Avalon), as Sophia attempts to drown Arthur. Featuring considerate, soft Arthur (with newly acquired trauma), and protective Merlin who really should reconsider talking to himself out loud. More Hurt/Comfort because that's what we like in this house. [Whumptober 2021]

Stay With Me – M, 4.3k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal, temporary character death; Did I say Hurt/Comfort earlier? Yes, well, here's peak Hurt/Comfort with enough Hurt that more than 10 people shouted at me – but I promise there's an equal amount of comfort (ask @swisstae if you doubt me)! With BAMF Merlin getting stabbed as thanks for protecting Uther, protective, vengeful BAMF Arthur, iconic BAMF Leon, and very visual magic (partly inspired by the song Illumielle by Jo Blankenburg). [Whumptober 2021]

Overwhelm – G, 3.1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern setting, college/university; Merlin is stressed and overwhelmed, Arthur is here to support him (and perhaps confess a secret). Just another escalated drabble.

No Stranger At All – T, 2.8k Merlin & Gwaine Canon Era, (partial) magic reveal; Gwaine sees Merlin being captured by Cenred's men and intervenes – turns out Merlin doesn't need saving. Protective bestie Gwaine has my heart, and that's really all this is. [Whumptober 2021]

Something True – T, 2.8k Gwaine/Lancelot Canon Era, magic reveal, episode s04e02 (The Darkest Hour); A Gwaincelot alternative to the atrocious lies in episode s4e02 (The Darkest Hour). Angsty because Lance is a drama queen in his POV, but as always with a guaranteed happy ending.

Supper and Reassurances – G, 1.3k; sequel to Something True Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post-magic reveal, post-episode s04e02 (The Darkest Hour); Merlin wakes after the events of Something True, Arthur is overprotective. The comfort part of Hurt/Comfort.

It's Pretty – G, 2.3k Gwaine/Gia (OC) – background: Merlin/Arthur, Percival/Elyan, Leon/Morgana, Lancelot/Gwen Canon Era, soulmate AU; Gwaine doesn't have a soulmark, until the arrival of an odd stranger. A slightly reimagined first meeting for Gwia, because Harley asked for it. Mostly humour and fluff.

A Mark Of Survival – G, 1.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, canon divergence post-episode s05e13 (The Diamond of the Day); Aftermath of the Battle of Camlann, featuring soft bois and scar reveals. Gentle hurt/comfort. [Whumptober 2021]

The Court Sorcerer's Chambers – G, 1.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post magic reveal; Pure fluff about Merlin settling into his new position as Court Sorcerer (and King Consort).

Burn Like Her, Burn Like Me – M, 1.6k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post magic reveal; Merlin gets tortured. ... No, that's literally it. (With a happy ending tho, of course.) [Whumptober 2021]

Just a Chill – G, 1.5k Gwaine/Lancelot Canon Era, post magic reveal; Originally written for Gwaine/Gia, now featuring a sick Lancelot and (again) very visual magic. Angst with a happy ending. [Whumptober 2021]

Easy As Breathing – G, 1.5k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post magic reveal; Pure fluff – Merlin and Arthur hunker down in Arthur’s chambers during a storm. [Merthur Glompfest 2023, Merlin Bingo 2023 square G5 "Dating"]

Lancelot's Last Resort – G, 1.4k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal, episode s04e02 (The Darkest Hour); Another alternative for the atrocious lies in episode s4e02 (The Darkest Hour), this time featuring Lancelot doing the unthinkable – betraying Merlin's trust – and an expectedly outraged Arthur. Emotional Hurt/Comfort (as always with a happy ending). [Whumptober 2021]

One Day – G, 1.2k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, episode s03e02 (The Tears of Uther Pendragon); How the iconic conversation in 3x02 (The Tears of Uther Pendragon, Part 2) could have gone if Arthur was a little more observant. Hurt/Comfort with a worried, protective Arthur, confused Merlin, and Merlin's scars revealed.

(Don't You Dare) Let Go – G, 1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Just your average Tuesday capture by bandits and subsequent escape with an unfortunately positioned cliff. Technically whump, but really mostly humour. [Whumptober 2021]

just one more – T, 1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern Era; Angst with a (potentially ambiguous, if you read it that way) happy ending – Merlin gives up after 1500 years of waiting. [Merlin Bingo 2022 square A4 "Winter"]

Merlin Drabbles

Three Days – G, 938; Merlin/Arthur quiet whispers and rain-lit gold – G, 582; Merlin/Arthur The Bet – G, 445; Merlin/Arthur That One – G, 442; Gen, future Merlin/Arthur implied And don't you dare stop doing it – G, 249; Merlin/Lancelot

◇◇◇

Harry Potter

Mine to Protect – E, draft at 244k (WIP) Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Severitus (Severus is Harry's father) Canon divergence starting after the Ministry battle in OotP; I could try to summarise this somehow, but really this one is my big one. So, there's a bit of everything, including sickeningly sweet fluff, somewhat graphic violence, humour, angst, assorted tropes, and a whole lot of plot. Click here for a Synopsis for Part 1 (Summer), aka. chapters 1-30 of MTP.

A good, normal life – E, 14k Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Muggle modern AU; Harry and Draco meet at a club and become fast friends. They're both pining idiots and there's a bit of angst but (as always) a happy ending. Based on a dream.

Why would he eat it?! – T, 4.5k Harry/Draco, Remus/Severus, Severitus (Severus is Harry's father) Post-MTP AU; Severus accidentally eats Harry's old, frozen LSD. Based on a true story (nope, not kidding, that happened).

HP Drabbles

The Veil – G, 393; Harry/Draco Beltane – G, 294; Harry/Draco Nighttime Disturbances – G, 611; Remus/Severus Silent Mountain – G, 687; Harry/Draco Nighttime Sweets – G, 627; Remus/Severus, Harry & Severus What did you just say? – G, 664; Harry/Draco Designs – G, 277; Harry/Draco Of Nargles and Gurdyroots – G, 767; Blaise/Luna Elixir of Dreams – T, 314; Remus/Severus Another Drink, Another Cartwheel – G, 281; Severus & Gia, Harry & Severus

◇◇◇

Other Fandoms

Their Future – G, 1.4k, Shadow and Bone (TV) The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov Canon Era; Emotional comfort fluff, with Aleksander worrying about his suitability to be a father and Alina supporting him.

[kayte-overmoon]

"Slow Cherry" Chapter 6

(cross-posted on AO3)

This is the most recent update for Slow Cherry at the time I'm posting this (Sept. 15), so Tumblr is now synced with AO3. Updates will be cross-posted on both from now on :)

Tags: shameless Princess Bride References, first meeting, first kiss, they're so obnoxious already, I love them

Snippet: He fiddled with the thick pewter ring on his left thumb, contemplating taking it and the rest of the jewelry off.

“Dream?”

He looked up from his hands, breath catching at the voice that was both familiar and foreign.

Read Chapter 1 Here

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This chapter contains no explicit content.

Dream was standing in the arrivals terminal, trying not to throw up.

He’d never been more nervous in his whole life. Not when he moved out of state for school, not when he sold his computer code, not even when he went on his first date in high school.

He kept checking the thighs of his pants to make sure he wasn’t leaving visible sweat stains every time he wiped his hands off. He was wearing a nicer pair of jeans that Sapnap had once told him made him look “dummy thick” and a black button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows—half because he was sweating his brains out and half because he remembered the way George had stared at his hands over their video call. Black shoes, a couple rings, and a chain necklace, and he felt way overdressed. God, why did he go with the jewelry? This was an airport, not a fucking club.

He fiddled with the thick pewter ring on his left thumb, contemplating taking it and the rest of the jewelry off.

“Dream?”

He looked up from his hands, breath catching at the voice that was both familiar and foreign.

“George?”

A brilliant grin broke out on the brunet’s face as he abandoned his rolling suitcase and barreled into Dream’s chest. Dream gasped, wrapping his arms around him, cursing the backpack that was in the way of holding George properly.

He was here. He was actually here.

A soft giggle puffed against his neck. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Dream blushed, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. He just tightened his arms around him to keep him from noticing Dream’s flub.

Wild dark hair tickled his nose as he ducked his head. He smelled of airplane and day-old shampoo, but beneath it, there was the distinctive scent of George. Dream was already addicted to it.

“You didn’t tell me you were so short.”

George scoffed, jabbing Dream in the ribs as he pulled back just enough to look at him. Up close, George was twice as pretty as he was on screen—how was that even possible? His eyes were dark brown, shining gold at the pupils, lined with thick lashes. His cheeks were flushed, pink lips stretched over a dazzling grin. He was just wearing a familiar black hoodie and comfy-looking sweats, but he managed to make even leisurewear look good. He was warm and solid in Dream’s hands, looking up at him like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

“You’re just obnoxiously tall,” George griped. “What do you even need all that height for?”

Dream smiled mischievously. “For this.”

George yelped, feet leaving the ground as Dream bent his knees and lifted him up. George giggled madly, tucking his face into Dream’s neck, arms and legs koala-ing around him as Dream squeezed him tight. A content sigh left the brunet. “That’s a good enough reason, I guess.”

Dream closed his eyes, drowning out the airport traffic around them as he breathed in the man wrapped around him. His heart was pounding wildly, his nerves and excitement swirling in his chest and morphing into something new, something that scared the shit out of him but felt too good to stop. It was like taking your first hit of a drug and knowing it was wrong, but the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt of taking it.

They embraced for a few moments more before George started squirming. “Dream,” he said softly. “Let me go. I’m done with airports for the day. Maybe forever. Haven’t decided yet.”

Dream snorted and set him gently back on his feet. He was reluctant to let him go, afraid he would disappear if he stopped touching him. Something must have shown on his face, because as soon as he was standing on his own, George reached out and laced his cold fingers with Dream’s. He pulled their entwined hands up to his face, pressing his lips against Dream’s knuckles. He blinked up at him with wide, tired eyes. “Take me home, Dream?”

Heart stuttering and words leaving him, Dream nodded.

Dream pulled him over to the luggage carousel, yanking George’s bigger suitcase off the line when he pointed it out. They each pulled a suitcase behind them, their clasped hands swinging between them. Dream led him out to the parking garage where he’d left his car, clicking the button to unlock his trunk as they approached.

George stopped a few steps away, his hand slipping from Dream’s. “Wait.”

Dream frowned, looking at him cautiously. Had he changed his mind? Was he uncomfortable? Oh God, had Dream been too unprofessional, too familiar? Had he fucked this up already? Had he—

“This is your car?”

“Yes?” Dream said. He glanced at the car: a sleek sports-car that handled well in the city, a couple years old but clearly above the average pay grade. “Is something wrong with it?”

George blinked, staring at the car as Dream put his bags in it. “This is—I think you lied when you said how rich you are.”

Dream chuckled, the tension in his chest easing a little. “I never told you how rich I am.”

“And there’s the problem.” George’s mouth quirked in a smile as he handed over his backpack for Dream to put in the car. “How rich are you, Dream?”

Dream smirked. “I think it’s best you don’t know.”

“Okay, well.” George stopped, seeing he wasn’t going to win an argument with that opener. He stepped closer to Dream, leaning against the car, invading his space. His voice dipped down to that husky register that sent a fizzle of heat through Dream’s chest. “If you’re going to be my sugar daddy, I think it’s only fair if I know how much I can ask for.”

Dream laughed, reaching out to brush his thumb across his cheek. “Nice try.” He pulled George away from the car so he could shut the trunk. “Just get in the car, sweet cheeks.”

George pouted but rounded the car to get in, huffing the whole way. Dream rolled his eyes and followed to get in the driver’s seat.

“Do you want to navigate me?” he asked. “Or you can give me the address and I can—“

Lips against his stopped him mid-sentence.

George was kissing him, sweet and slow and Dream lost his head the second he registered what was happening. He grabbed George’s arm with one hand, the other running up his neck to curl in the hair he’d been itching to get his fingers in for months as he deepened the kiss, easily wresting control from the older man. George made a soft sound against Dream’s mouth, following his pace willingly. His hands were fisted in Dream’s shirt, pulling him across the console into his space.

It wasn’t comfortable, and neither of them could get a good grip on the other, but it was all Dream had wanted and more.

George pulled away after a moment, panting, and Dream couldn’t help but nudge his head up with his nose so he could kiss his way down George’s jaw. “Dream,” he breathed, hands curling around the back of Dream’s neck to pull him closer. “Oh, fuck, I—“

Dream nipped the skin of his neck, making him gasp. “Language, baby.”

“S-Sorry.” George tipped his head, silently asking for more. Dream complied, licking the salt from George’s skin as he panted against Dream’s ear. George hummed, a little quiver going through him that Dream felt against his hands. “Dream, I—not here.”

Dream growled a disappointed noise into the brunet’s hot skin, feeling the pulse thrumming beneath his lips. “You started it.”

“I know, I—God, I just wanted to…”

Dream pulled back, tipping George’s head back to meet his gaze again. His eyelids were drooping in a way that could either be from lust or from exhaustion. Probably both if he had to guess. “I know. Me too.” Dream kissed George again, keeping it soft as he licked the sweet taste of George’s lip balm from his lips—something faintly fruity and fresh, like strawberry and mint. He forced himself to pull away, licking his lips to savor the last of the taste. George’s eyes focused on Dream’s mouth, watching the faint movement of his tongue as his own mouth hung open. “But we need to get you home. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m n—“

“Don’t tell me you’re not.” Dream pulled his hands back, grabbing George’s hands to keep him from pulling him in again. “You’ve been in the air for 20 hours. The only thing I plan on doing to you tonight is get you settled in your apartment, order you some food, and kiss you goodnight.”

George blushed and stuck out his bottom lip in an adorable little pout that almost had Dream going back on his words immediately. “Fine,” George said. “But you’re coming over tomorrow to help me unpack and build furniture.”

Dream laughed, releasing George’s hands so he could start the car. “Deal.”

George fell asleep in the car, as Dream expected. He followed his phone’s directions to George’s apartment building, turning down the volume so he didn’t wake the other man. He kept stealing glances—as many as he could without crashing into a power pole. He curled himself in the seat, feet tucked under him, head pillowed on his arm against the door. At one point, his lips parted as he huffed soft breaths in his sleep.

How could one person be so perfect?

His apartment wasn’t far from Dream’s place—maybe a five-minute drive if traffic was in his favor. It was out of his way from school, though, and not within comfortable walking distance, so he wouldn’t have an excuse to just “be in the neighborhood.” That was disappointing, but probably a good thing. If he knew George was only a few doors down, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He could barely control himself now, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.

This was Mr. Not Found, the camboy he’d been pining after for months. The man who fueled Dream’s fantasies, who he’d gotten off to for the better part of two years. His sugar baby.

The man he was almost definitely falling in love with.

Dream was gritting his teeth at a stop light, cursing himself internally, when a hand slid over his on the gear shift. George apparently woke when the car stopped, blinking blearily around. He trailed his fingers over Dream’s hand, his touch focusing on the ring on his thumb and the pronounced vein on the back of his hand. Dream flexed his fingers around the gear shift just to watch George’s cheeks turn red.

“Good nap?” he asked as the light turned green.

Pulling his hand back, George nodded. “How close are we?”

“Like, two blocks away.”

George sighed, nodding as he slipped into a yawn. He stretched as much as he could in the confines of the car, looking utterly lost in Dream’s black hoodie. “Sorry. I’m not good company when I’m asleep.”

Dream smiled. “I don’t know. You were pretty cute, drooling all over the leather.”

George scrambled to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie before realizing Dream was laughing at him. “Jerk.” He smacked Dream’s arm gently, making him laugh harder as he flicked the blinker to turn into the parking garage beneath George’s building.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Like I told you, you don’t have to entertain me or anything.” He flicked his gaze over to George. “It’s enough that you’re here with me.”

“Aww,” George cooed, leaning across the console to butt Dream’s arm with his head. “You’re such a simp.”

“Haha,” Dream deadpanned. He pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make you put together all that IKEA shit on your own.”

George snorted and raised his hands in surrender, a glint in his eye. “Fine! I’m sorry. I’ll be good from now on.”

Dream rolled his eyes and opened his door. “We both know that’s a lie.”

George didn’t argue with that.

They retrieved the bags from the trunk and buzzed into the office to be let in. Dream was pleased to find the complex had a great security system: there were security guards in the garage and the lobby, and no one could get in without being let in by other residents or someone at the office. The lobby itself was nice, with high ceilings and modern, clean furnishings. A younger lady greeted them at the desk and helped George finalize his paperwork. She confirmed his identity with his passport, gave him his keys, and told him there were several packages waiting for him—the furniture he’d ordered.

Dream was even more pleased with the apartment itself. It was nice—not as nice as Dream’s, but close enough. There were synthetic wood floors, and the walls were freshly painted a light neutral cream color. The main area was open concept, the kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a little breakfast bar. There weren’t enough windows, in Dream’s opinion, but that was a given when you lived in the city.

George stood in the middle of the empty room, spinning in a circle to take it all in.

“Everything to your liking?” Dream asked, setting the bags down at the door. “If not, I can go bang a few heads in, or flash some cash and get you a better place.”

George laughed, turning to look at him. “No, thanks. This is great. I’ll need to go shopping for furniture in here soon, but most of the bedroom stuff is downstairs. Do you mind helping me bring that up?”

Dream shook his head and ushered him back downstairs.

There were only a couple boxes, none of them horribly heavy, but the lady at the desk got them a cart to take it all up. Dream was very thankful for the elevator.

They ordered some sandwiches from a nearby deli that Dream loved and set about sorting out the furniture. George said he was too tired to deal with most of it, so he convinced Dream to just find the box that contained his mattress and let it air out. While the mattress spread itself out on the bedroom floor, Dream helped George find the set of sheets he’d tucked away in his bags. They were old and well-used, but they would do for now. Dream made a mental note to buy some nicer ones before he came over next.

A weird sort of happiness crept over Dream as they sat in George’s empty living room on the floor, giggling and eating sandwiches together. It felt… right, somehow. Like this was what he’d been missing his whole life.

Thoughts like that were dangerous. They weren’t dating. They weren’t really even friends. George was just trying to live his life, and Dream was creeping on him and crossing boundaries in his mind. To George, Dream was just a convenient hookup while he got settled into his new life. To George, this was a means to an end, a way to warm his bed until something better came along.

It hurt to know Dream was just a client.

A foot nudged his own. “Hey.” George was looking at him oddly. He’d been talking, and Dream hadn’t been listening.

“Sorry,” Dream said.

“It’s okay.” He set his sandwich wrappings aside. “Do you want to go home, or…”

Something nasty twisted in Dream’s chest. He shot to his feet, brushing crumbs off his lap. “Yeah, I should get going. I’ve got… stuff to do.”

“Oh.” A spark flashed across George’s face, but he hid it quickly, standing as well and collecting their trash. “Right. Well. Thanks for picking me up. And for dinner. And for…” He made a vague gesture with his hand, color rising to his cheeks.

Despite the pit in his stomach, Dream smiled. “Thank you, George. It’s a delight to finally see you in person. Even better than through that 4K webcam.”

George cracked a smile. “Thanks.” He balled the trash in his hands. There wasn’t anywhere to throw it away yet, so he just held it uncertainly until Dream took it from him and stuffed it in the bag it arrived in to throw away on his way out.

“Will you be alright here for the night? You can come crash at my place if you…”

George shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got my bathroom stuff ready, and the mattress is comfy enough for now. I’ll probably be asleep before you even make it home.”

“Okay. Well.” Dream cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in the morning, then? To help you unpack and all that. I’ll bring breakfast?”

George nodded.

“Cool. I’ll, uh, see you then… then…”

He turned to leave but George caught him by the sleeve. “Wait.”

Heart doing somersaults, he stopped and faced George again. “What?”

“You forgot something.”

Dream looked around, patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone and his keys. “No, I think…”

George looked up at him from under his lashes, tapping his chin. “I was promised dinner, help getting settled, and…”

Finally, Dream caught on, remembering his words from the car. He smiled, stepping closer and tipping George’s chin up. “Of course,” he said. “I almost left without my goodnight kiss.”

Face flushed, George grinned, stretching up into Dream’s space until they shared the same breath. “I’d never forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Dream closed the distance between them, chasing the feeling of the camboy’s lips against his. George made the same content noise against him as he did the first time, relaxing into Dream’s hold. His arms slipped around Dream’s waist, not letting him pull away until he had his fill.

Dream held him close, one hand on his jaw and the other, the one holding the trash bag, on George’s shoulder.

All those thoughts from earlier disappeared. This wasn’t just any camboy; this was George. They’d spent late nights talking about video games, movies, life philosophies. He’d seen George at his most vulnerable state when he accidentally let his real name slip. He pushed Dream’s limits and knew what to say to rile him up. He drove him absolutely crazy.

George opened his mouth, tongue tracing over Dream’s upper lip to entice him into something more, but Dream pulled back with a groan. “No. We’re stopping before I decide I need to stay here.”

Acquiescing, George pulled back with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

With his self-control waning, Dream tugged George’s hair just a little to keep him back. “Easy, there. You need sleep, and if I stay, neither of us is sleeping tonight.”

A disappointed, undeniably horny noise clawed its way from George’s throat and Dream very nearly said fuck it and dragged George over to the mattress on the floor. He took a pointed step back, so he was no longer touching the other man.

“Go to bed.” He backed up more, putting as much distance between them as he could. “I’ll be here at eleven so you can sleep in as much as you want. I’m bringing crepes.”

“Dream?”

“Yeah?”

A look that was far too innocent to be believable was leveled his way. “You’ll fuck me tomorrow?” George asked, voice soft as silk.

Dream grasped the doorknob to keep himself from doing something he’d regret. “Tomorrow,” he said, voice deeper than it had been a moment ago. “If you’re patient, I’ll fuck you tomorrow.”

George grinned, clearly having gotten the reaction he wanted.

Shortly after he got home, Dream got a message notification from George. He opened it, half expecting a raunchy text that would make him regret leaving.

But no. It was a meme.

It was a screen cap from The Princess Bride, a movie they shared a love for. It was the scene where Westley explains to Buttercup how every night while he was held captive, the Dread Pirate Roberts would tell him, “Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.” But “Westley” had been poorly scratched out and replaced with “George,” and “kill” was now “fuck.”

George sent him a hand-crafted meme that said “Good night, George. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely fuck you in the morning.”

What a fucking nerd.

God, Dream was so in love with him.

After clutching his phone to his chest for a few moments, freaking out like a teenage girl, he saved the picture to his phone and responded.

As you wish.

Previous Chapter

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[cssns]

Hello, Everyone!

Please welcome @searchingwardrobes to the CSSNS!

Tumblr Name * @searchingwardrobes

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom? * I lurked for awhile before I posted my first CS fic on Ao3 in 2016, so five years. How is that possible?!?

When did you start shipping Captain Swan? * I started binge-watching the show in 2014 and started shipping CS during the Neverland arc.

What drew you to this event? * I did the first CSSNS back in 2018 because I had just joined tumblr and I was trying to get to know more people in the fandom. It worked, and I've made a lot of great friends!

What inspired your topic? * Another ghost story from my home town! This time about a girl who supposedly haunts a bridge, and if you drive over the bridge at midnight, you'll see her. I used to have to cross the bridge when I babysat, and the few times I had to cross it at midnight, I closed my eyes! Not a smart choice at all. Kids, keep your eyes open while driving, lol.

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below. * When ebony flashes gold,

Blood runs cold.

When ivory runs red,

You’ll be dead.

Killian Jones gasped, his blue eyes flying wide open. He cursed himself and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Even though Liam wasn’t in the car, he could hear him clearly. “Bloody hell, little brother, it’s just a silly ghost story.”

Closing his eyes as he drove across the troll bridge when he’d only had his license for three weeks may not have been the dumbest thing Killian had ever done, but it wasn’t the brightest either.

Trolls didn’t really live under the bridge, of course. Some teenagers just thought it would be funny to spray paint an “R” between the “T” and the “O” in TOLL. It wasn’t a toll bridge either, or at least hadn’t been for a long time. Long enough for the metal box where people used to toss their change to rust over.

Killian’s jaw tightened as he passed the vandalized sign and his wheels thudded over the edge of the bridge. Before he could stop himself, he glanced into the rear view mirror.

A white nightgown shining in the dark night; golden hair blowing in the wind.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, an even more foolish decision than before, since the road now curved slightly to the left.

“It’s just your imagination,” he told himself.

Hallucinations brought on by hypothermia followed by post traumatic stress disorder . . . So read the clinical diagnosis that the psych ward gave Liam when Killain was discharged. The wolf, however, the one that bounded out in front of his car, eyes glittering cooly in the darkness, wasn’t an hallucination. Killian jerked the wheel as any typical inexperienced driver does, and right before he crashed into the pine trees, he saw it again. Golden hair . . . a white nightgown stained red with blood . . . Then everything went black.

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event? Scaring people again like I did with one of my last CSSNS fics - An Education in Southern Gothic. I never thought I could do that, and my ideas for this one are even scarier. It's fun to work on something that is different for me and stretches my creativity. I am also excited to see what my artist will do with it! I don't know if I can say who she is yet, but I will say that she is amazingly talented, and I am thrilled to be paired with her.

Oh my goodness!! I'm so looking forward to this fic -- it sounds so intriguing!!!

[your--isgayrights]

Okay i actually have no clue on how tumblr works (hope I'm doing this right lmao) but I'm writing my first fic (I still can't really move on from orv so I decided to make my own content lol.), I really love your writing style, do you have any tips??

Hmmmm tips tips tips tips.... First of all I’m really flattered that you like my writing enough to ask me about it! I’ll try to give my best answer... I think that I used to read a lot of people’s “writing tips” but ultimately I ended up not really understanding them until I started writing a lot? Either way it’s fun to read how other authors think... It’s really cool that you’re writing your first fic and you thought to come to me... did I already say that? Okay long post under the cut.

I don’t think this will be all that helpful, but this is just things that I think about if that’s interesting!

For me a lot of writing is like struggling with motivation (I have ADHD so that’s probs why), I really have to pace myself while writing because I can’t just force myself to do it. If I go in every day and think “I have to write today I’m not doing anything so I should be writing” I can get burnt out really easily, even if I really like the thing I’m writing and know how it’s supposed to go. So one of my big things is that when I’m not thinking about writing I’m not thinking about writing. that gives my brain a break and refreshes me when I get back to my google document.

Something I’ve also struggled with having to remember is that there’s like. Never a perfect way to write. What I end up doing is thinking up ideas and fragments and sentences in my head and the very moment I think of something I like I have to write it down in my notes app. Most of my writing process ends up being like. Filling in the blanks and connecting the dots between scene fragments. 

For fics in particular I’d also just recommend rereading your favorite parts of the og work! I’m the kind of person who has a pretty good reading memory, so people may have noticed that I include a lot of little details referencing the text in my fic. Just reading the work kind of helps you remember the voices of the character and the style of the narration, and if you just like. internalize it. you can probably replicate it pretty well if you wanted to.

OKAY I say that but don’t worry too much about replicating things in the og work perfectly. I find that a lot of times when I’m writing I’m inserting a lot of personal touches and putting things that are a part of me in the work. Writing is always going to be like. an extension of your voice, no matter what you’re writing. I think that when I heard about stuff like that from authors in the past I was always like. What? I’m not writing about things that happened to me. I’m writing about grown adult men having emotional issues, silly. But there’s like a lot more nuance to writing about yourself, I guess. Like you don’t have to have like a self insert or be projecting onto a character to have yourself reflected in something you’ve written.

I’d say that like, whatever you write as your first fic is going to be lovely, but when you grow up as a writer and look back on it, you’re not going to remember who you were when you wrote it. I think that’s why a lot of people look back on their first works and are like “I can’t believe I wrote that, what was I thinking, cringe cringe cringe ugh.” Like I definitely do that sometimes, but I’ve found that the old work I’m happiest with nowadays is the stuff where I can recognize myself in it, even if I’m not in that fandom anymore or if there’s old jokes or typos I don’t remember making. 

With that being said, I’m the kind of person who always gives myself a mission statement when I’m writing. I sort of mentally go, okay, I’m writing this kind of thing, and this is why I’m writing it. It can be something like oh I’m writing this fluff piece because I love this character and wish they had a happier ending, or  oh I want to write this multi chapter fic exploring an issue touched on in the original work but I feel like with my own experiences I could expand on it more than the author did. Just something that tells me why it is important to me to write this thing when I’m writing it.

AAAH I feel like I made that sound more dramatic than it really is, that’s just how I think I guess. I’m the kind of guy where its like things need to have like MEANING to me when I do them. I’m dramatic and gay and that’s my personality I guess 😔.

Hmmm maybe it’s also my BIGGEST writing tip tho. Like kind of just thinking things through when you’re writing is pretty important. When I was first learning to write at all (talking about baby baby me here this is like sort of a side tangent sorry) I think that a lot of times I would copy phrases and developments that I had liked in things that I had read without really fully considering why I would include those things other than the fact that that was just what I thought writing was. It’s important to consider what importance every scene and sentence has to do with the flow of the story. Are they just things that are happening, or is there a reason that the audience needs to know these things? The weight of your words should have some sort of consequence as a result of you writing them. Are you telling the audience information they need to know? Is it about how the character feels? What does this say about the character? Etc.

I suppose that’s sort of my own writing style. You’ll probably notice that I don’t write a lot of descriptive prose if you read my fic. The thing about me is that I never want to write something that makes my audience question why they’re reading it, I guess. I’m sort of self conscious and think about the reading experience a lot. All of the things I choose to describe are usually so that the reader can understand where people are in the scene and what emotions they are having. There’s a lot of emphasis that I put in like. A reader’s ability to read into things, which works against me sometimes because I’m not always certain if people picked up on different things that I put a lot of thought into (the curse of being seen... sob).

ALSO use paragraph breaks. In my first fic (that I’m not going to tell anyone what is even though its on ao3 because im shy) the thing I always regret the MOST is that there are big chunky paragraphs that are hard to read through at the start. Like my eyes get lost. I mentioned I have ADHD before but even though I like. physically can’t read a big chunky paragraph I will always write them that way if left to my own devices. Paragraph breaks don’t have to just be broken up by dialogue they can be wherever you feel like doing them. You need a lot of them. This post should probably have more of them... oh my god it’s so long...

OKAY FOR REAL THOUGH IF YOU COULDN”T SLOG THROUGHT THE REST OF THAT THE MOST IMPORTANT TIP IS RIGHT HERE: 

JUST LET YOURSELF WRITE

I have a lot of like. academic trauma, so maybe this is just me, but the reason I didn’t write fic until I was like 16 was because I was always really scared that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be good enough for some impossible standard I was setting for myself. I was always telling myself that I had certain bad writing habits or that I was terrible for never being able to focus on things for very long and all of my projects were doomed to failure before I even started. But then I wrote my first like 8 chapter fic in the summer of my junior year and I was like... oh. that wasn’t so bad. Like. It’s okay to know your limits, but you don’t really know them until you start writing. Like I wrote an 8 chapter fic, and then a few one shots, and then I tried to take on a very complicated project that ended up being over 40 chapters and I had to put it down because I just wasn’t really at the writing level to finish it. I would advise against writing fics that take so long to write that you start hating the way you wrote the first chapter, basically lol. Know how whatever you’re writing is supposed to begin and end before you start writing it.

Nowadays I always have like. plot outlines in my head when I start a fic. Like okay this needs to happen here this needs to happen here etc. I like making lists if it seems to overwhelming when I’m writing something long, just to organize my thoughts. 

OKAY I JUST TALKED A LOT. SORRY IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO READ ALL OF THIS BUT I’M A LITTLE CHATTY IF YOU DIDN’T NOTICE.

Defo feel free to dm me if you have like questions or just want to chat about orv or whatever. I’m a lonely little man out here floating on my pile of words, and I’d love to hear what your fic is about!!