#rear triangle

[blenselche]

zadrday's wrasslin' sketch was more mount less takedown so here's my apology

[bjjandbj2]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBi9829ldjA

[wistfulwatcher]

the sheer frustration of your ship barely interacting all season, only to be set up in the last minutes of the finale to be deeply entangled next season BUT you're also confident the show is going to get cancelled

[thinkingnot]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOO YOOOOOOOO 🙉

HE MIGHT BE A CRAB BUT HIS SKATEBOARD SKILLS AINTTTY

[fiemindustries]

Leading Reflex Reflector Manufacturer for All Needs

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[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 2-7

[warning for violence and dismemberment on this one. yes you read that right. as opposed to me who did not pay attention to this on my first read. lol.]

The group emerged back into the fields, after safely crossing the mountains. They hurried on their journey, heading towards the Pao Plains.

By Krin and Tyrin's calculations, they should be a day ahead of the monsters. If they could get the mercenaries at Pao and come back, they would be able to ambush the enemies at the mountain path that led to the plains. The devils wouldn't be able to escape a trap in such a narrow pathway.

In the forest, Karin replaced Randolf as the lead. Tyrin gave the general directions by her side, and she decided the exact path to traverse according to the condition of the plants and other forest signs. Bleu was speechless on how observant she was, not letting the slightest detail pass unnoticed.

Bleu struggled the most with the thick cluster of trees. Unlike Camallia and Karna, he didn't have the power to heal everyone's exhaustion either. He grew frustrated with himself. Once they got to a wider place or a road he'd be able to stretch out his wings. He did his best to put up with it.

Once the sun had gone down, the group had finally come out the end of the forest, reaching the road between Bustoke and the Pao Plains.

And there, their calculations failed them.

They ran right into the monster squad that had stolen the Manual. A sudden encounter, one could say.

"They shouldn't be here by our calculations, so why…" Krin complained about the unexpected turn of events, as she stared at the twenty or so monsters that had appeared in front of them.

The devils were just as shocked as them.

"Impossible! Why is there a Sacred Dragon here?"

One of the monsters, accompanying the squad of harpies and armed lizardmen, stared wide-eyed at Bleu, with empty eyes devoid of light. Those eyes caught sight of Camallia by his side. The devil then understood everything.

"So you survived. And you guided them here. It's always you, always… Fine, if you'll be this much of a hindrance, then I, Ziduur, will end you just like those pursuing mages."

The monster's fangs showed over the corner of his lips, and his two horns, atop his head like a moth's antennas, swung backwards in a menacing stance. Deep crimson hair ran from the nape of his neck to his back like a mane, bristling. As if answering to that, the lizardmen raised their slimy triangular heads, their bifurcated tongues flickering through their lips. The harpies let out ear-piercing shrieks.

"If you want this, come and take it."

Ziduur held a box made of ebony. It was full of intricate inlay decorations with a foreign feel.

"Sir Bleu, there's no doubt, the Manual is in there!"

With Tyrin's shout, the battle began.

"Randolf, Tyrin, take care of the girls!"

While shouting, Bleu bolted towards Ziduur, as if drawn to the Manual in his hands. Cerberus followed behind him.

"Wait, don't just rush in, it won't go well if we fight separated," Randolf hastily stopped Camallia, who wanted to jump ahead as well.

"Bleu, come back right now! Bleu!"

Karin's voice did not reach Bleu, and he began to fight the harpies in midair.

All his pent up feelings were unleashed at once. And at the same time, he had confidence in being the one who always broke through the enemy lines. With that amount of enemies, he believed he could strike the commander at once and end the battle with that. There was no reason to eliminate them all. Once he retrieved the Manual, he could just disperse the rest of the enemies. The shorter the battle, the less likely it would be for Karin and the others to get hurt. And by defeating all the monsters himself, he could prove his power to them. Maybe then the girls would stay behind without a fuss, Bleu thought.

However, his reckless advance did not go as he expected.

Superior to him in speed and number, the harpies put up a tough fight against him. Wanting to rush to Ziduur straight away, he had become isolated from his allies.

Randolf and Camallia shielded the others, facing the incoming lizardmen head on.

"Bleu, I'll burn down these enemies, get out of the way!"

Krin began chanting a Blaze spell, but Karin stopped her. If she cast the flames in a wide area, Bleu would certainly get caught in them.

"Krin, give up and target a single enemy," Karin ordered, while shooting down an enemy away from Bleu with perfect accuracy. Their lack of coordination was apparent. Karin bit down her anger at Bleu's stupid actions.

"I won't show mercy to any who interfere. Join the hateful corpses that sleep under this earth."

Ziduur took out a piece of a crimson jewel, and held it tightly within his left hand, as if squeezing it. Beams of light came through between his fingers.

"That light!" Camallia shouted, alerting everyone.

Ziduur punched the ground. Thin sparks of crimson lightning ran at once over the surface.

"What did he do?"

Karna watched in awe as the ground in front of her began to stir, and something jumped out from within.

"Eep!" She let out a strangled scream as she came face to face with a skeleton.

"Get down!"

Hearing that shout from behind her, Karna got down while covering her head with both arms. The end of a flail flew past her, sending the skeleton's skull flying like a football. As she pulled the weapon back, Camallia smashed its upper body as well.

In the brief moment where Karna breathed a sigh of relief, more skeletons jumped from below, one after the other. Those skeletal warriors, carrying all kinds of different weapons, were the warped forms of monsters once defeated in that land, and the travelers they once killed.

"Are we surrounded?"

Watching the growing swarm of skeletons and lizardmen around them, Randolf swung his Battle Axe once again. If the monsters attacked all at once, they certainly wouldn't manage to defend against all of them.

Karna shouted for everyone to get closer together.

"O benevolent ones who watch upon all, please hear our prayers. Gather the righteous light within our hearts, and make it into a shield of holy brilliance!!"

By her incantation, the faint shine of the supporting spell Boost enveloped the whole group from within. The monsters with no flesh nor blood were driven away by that light.

Not wasting the opportunity, Randolf and Camallia attacked. The mages covered the openings between them, Tyrin freezing the enemies to stand as shields, and Krin erecting walls of fire with her Blaze spells. They were doing their best to defend themselves, but the situation still wasn't good as they were outnumbered.

On one swing, Camallia's flail became entangled in another flail wielded by a skeleton. The resulting forces made both of them lose their grips on their weapons. Without delay, the skeleton took a short sword from the back of its shield, and charged at the now empty-handed girl. Another short sword was thrown at the skeleton as it did that. By reflex, the skeleton knocked it down with its shield. Camallia jumped at the fallen sword, grabbing it and swinging it at the skeleton's leg to cut it down. The monster fell down as it lost its balance, and Camallia stepped on its bony body from over its shield, using all of her strength to crush it.

"Thank you, Sir Randolf."

Picking up her flail, she stood back to back with Randolf, who had moved backwards. She extended a hand in his direction, trying to return his short sword that had saved her from her predicament.

"I don't mind. Keep it. Without a spare weapon, something like this might happen to you again."

Answering that, he swung his blade at another monster.

At that time, Bleu was also surrounded by even more enemies than before.

Sacred Dragons had tough bodies and powerful attacks, but were in no way invincible. Their thick hide was hard to penetrate with a blade, yet at some point he had been wounded, and it bled. While he had finished off many of the harpies, he had also hurt his wings. The injury was not severe, but it made him unable to fight the remaining harpies in the air. Having fallen to the ground, Bleu faced a concentrated assault from the group of enemies.

Sustaining minor injuries all over his body, Bleu had made a pile of corpses out of his enemies. Yet he was clearly exhausted. Taking a fierce blow to his chest, he began to cough violently.

In this terrible moment, a lizardman brandished his Large Axe. In Bleu's current condition, he couldn't dodge or spew out his lightning breath.

The monsters became agitated.

Steeling himself for the fatal blow, Bleu saw a silver blur pass through the corner of his vision. Fresh blue blood spilled by. With a deep gash on his torso, the lizardman turned around only to be cut again like a paper doll by sharp claws, this time on the chest.

"Zylo!?" Bleu exclaimed in surprise, seeing the werewolf that had showed up behind the fallen lizardman.

"It's been a long time, Bleu."

Zylo's eyes had the glint of a wild beast hidden within, and he narrowed them in recognition for an instant.

Taking that as an opening, the harpies attacked from the sky.

"Watch out!"

Faster than Bleu's cry, Zylo jumped to the air. He spun next to harpy like a gear, hitting it with a somersault, and knocking it down hard to the ground. The blood from the harpy's torn neck ran in lines across her dead body.

"Before worrying for others, worry about yourself. Honestly, what a pathetic fight you put up. Have you forgotten your past experience? I'll show you how it is to fight as a group. Watch and learn."

Zylo howled.

The lizardmen and harpies flinched at the incoming chants of beast hunters. From its direction came the rushing sound of rain. A merciless rain of arrows…

Once the synchronized barrage of arrows ended, Zylo had also disappeared. Too fast for Bleu's eyes to keep up, he ran between the disoriented enemies, cutting them down as he passed them by. One by one they fell to the ground.

Having broken through the enemies surrounding them, Zylo reached Karin's group.

"It's Zylo, the king of Bustoke."

Krin calmed down the others, who were on guard, unsure if he was a new enemy.

"We'll regroup with Bleu. Follow me without delay," Zylo ordered, and turned away from them without waiting for an answer. He spoke as if certain that they'd obey. Not forceful. Just showing unwavering confidence.

"Diane!!" He shouted. In answer, a squad of archers appeared from the forest shadows, led by an elf girl. Their bowstrings rang as they once again released their arrows in unison.

Diane's archers concentrated their assault on the skeletons. The ropes tied in their arrows perfectly wrapped around their enemies. The skeletons hit by them fell down and tumbled through the ground. It seemed as if they knew what enemies they'd be facing, which made Krin impressed, but also a bit suspicious.

"Let's go!"

Zylo dashed away, heading towards Bleu, who had recovered some energy and continued to fight on his own. The others ran behind him as fast as they could.

"Karna, Camallia, heal Bleu, quickly!"

As Zylo and Randolf took the surrounding enemies down, Karin immediately asked the priests to tend to Bleu. While the archers of Bustoke kept lending them support, Camallia healed everyone who had been injured with Aura, the high level healing spell.

"Thank you, Camallia. You too, Karin…" Bleu thanked the girls.

"There's no time to waste," Zylo urged Bleu. "Let's retrieve the Manual at once with this."

Led by the wolf king, the group split apart the confused enemies. Separated from each other, they had no time to recover, and were shot down by Diane's squad.

"Now. Sir Bleu, the Manual!" Tyrin shouted.

Spreading his healed wings, Bleu flew over the skeletons. The monsters were knocked down by the wings and the gust of wind.

Ziduur held up the ruby in his hand. His body was enveloped in red light.

"Like I'll let you teleport!"

The monster had jumped away, but Bleu sliced him with his claws.

Ziduur's arm was torn and sent flying, tracing an arc in midair, weighted down by the ebony box it carried.

Bleu had his attention drawn to the Manual for a moment. Ziduur didn't miss that, casting a Blaze spell in that time. Bleu crossed his arms in front of him as the flames burst in front of him.

"Bleu!!"

Karin and Camallia left the few remaining monsters to Zylo, and ran to the dragon.

He looked down bitterly at the space Ziduur had teleported away from. It shimmered like hot air, proving that a devil stood there just a moment before.

He picked up the box with the Manual, and Camallia saw that both his arms were bleeding.

"Are you wounded?" she asked, walking to him.

"It's no big deal. Just scratches."

"Even a small injury cannot be left alone."

While he insisted that he was fine, Camallia softly kissed his wounds.

Bleu suddenly felt eyes on him, and tried to pull away from her.

"Please stay still."

Camallia's warm lips moved over his skin as she said the words. Her hot tongue traced over his wound, licking off the blood. Her throat made a glugging noise as she drank it. Her lips continued to move over it, trembling with her incomprehensible chants and sighs.

She let go after a while, and no trace of the wound was left.

"Bleu, the king of Bustoke is calling."

Karin only said that before turning her back and running away.

To next part>

Translation notes:

"Zidur" is apparently a word of a power to summon one of the creatures in the Necronomicon by Simon. I know nothing of that book other than a cursory look so I can't talk much about it, but do you know how hilarious it is to google a Shining Force thing and come up with a pdf full of demon rituals and absolutely no other results? Unparalled experience. Also, the character's name does have a longer "u" sound so I reflected that in my translation as well.

I don't recall Ziduur being explicitly referred to as a man, but his speech manners are pretty rough and he'll eventually be using the rough and masc "ore" pronoun, so unlike Otrant I just made the call to use he/him pronouns for him.

Zylo's species in the original game is given as "wolfling". His base class however is "werewolf", so nothing wrong here.

Up to this point I had been calling the dog "Cerberos" because that's closer to the japanese reading and I didn't think to look it up, but I was recently reminded that the games use "Cerberus" instead. I'd rather stick close to the official translations when it doesn't matter so I've updated past posts and will be using the game romanization from here on.

[fallowfield]

i have an opinion that someone is going to have issue with. but the thriller novel genre has become the horror media equivalent of ya books. that being said i think they can be redeemed still. if we stop letting cishet white people dominate the genres with copies of copies of copies.

[yanderenightmare]

Nanami Kento

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, size-difference, captive darling, subjugation, none of readers holes are safe

AN: kinda a sequel to this - sex therapist ! Nanami

fem reader

In the morning, before breakfast, he expects you to take care of his morning wood. 

He says that’s what any proper young lady should do for a man. Petting your hair awfully leisurely while you clean up the sleepy mess – licking the half-wet half-dry glaze from his abs, sometimes needing to tongue it out of his belly button before moving down to his inner thighs and balls – lastly sucking him off for the rest of it. 

You’ll lie on your stomach between his thighs under the covers while he’s still resting his eyes – groaning out groggy praise, sometimes with a heavy yawn. “Good girl~”

You don’t get breakfast until his balls are empty, is what you’ve learned.

One time – after he’d shot all his worth onto your tongue, stroking your cheek with a finger while telling you to be his good cum-doll and swallow – you’d retaliated by spitting his it out. And he’d punished you with an hour of being bent over his lap – spanking your poor butt raw – making it welt with popped veins until there wasn’t any space left to punish with a mark. 

Then he’d put you down on your knees again and made you kiss his balls while apologizing to them – cuddling the heavy sack all teary-faced while begging for forgiveness. 

Once satisfied, he’d encouraged you to suck a new nut from his tip – one which you swallowed in full and thanked him for afterward. 

He’d also made you lick the first one up from the floor before cooing at you, wiping your tears with his roughened thumb with a slim smile – telling you that you were forgiven but that if you ever did such a horrible thing as wasting your food again, he’d have no choice but to starve you until you learned to appreciate all your meals properly. 

After you’ve done your duty, swallowing his morning wood, you’re allowed downstairs for your second breakfast now that you’ve earned it. 

But first, he’ll have you spread your legs so he can skewer one humming toy inside you. “It’s shameful for a lady to walk around with a dry pussy,” he says, and according to him, “you should always be dripping-ready with a twitchy coin-sized hole, happy to get pounded by a man’s fat cock, ever-grateful to receive his warm ball-juice in your womb.”

You iron his suit while he preps breakfast – rubbing your thighs together as they melt with trickles from your cunt – unable to keep yourself from cumming. 

One time you were so distracted you’d made a triangle-shaped burn mark on his blue shirt because of it – and he’d punished you by stuffing the toy inside your tight ass instead. 

He’d justified it by saying it was your pussy’s fault for being needy and selfish, and therefore it should be your pussy that’s punished. 

The whole day, he’d ignored the pretty pink hole and slammed your poor butt instead. Cramming inside the tighty with the help of spit and rubbing oil until it gaped and accepted his pounding while you were bent and bowed in a well-deserved doggy position – rutting into your rear in quick robbing jams with both your hands pinned to your back and his foot placed on your cheek – stomping your pretty face while you sobbed for forgiveness, excusing your tardiness.

The next day, he’d mouthed something apologetic into your cunt. Licking and sucking your clit while saying he was sorry that he’d had to be so rough on you – that he hopes you learned your lesson so he’ll never have to ignore your perfect little pussy ever again. Telling you how he’d breed you twice as much that day to make up for what you’d missed the day before.

But anyway. During breakfast, he makes you cock-warm him on his lap while at the dinner table – telling you to say ah so he can spoon-feed you your share of the plate in front of you.

The toy within you is part of it. He tells you that keeping your toys clean is important and makes you lick your slick off until it’s all gone – praising you with a kiss to your cheek. He tilts his mug and takes the last drops of coffee, finishing it with a loud sigh.

“Is your belly full, baby?” He’ll mumble against your neck, scraping his chin-stubble along the soft skin to place a sloppy kiss there.

“Yes, Daddy, thank you.” You’ve been trained to say.

“Good~” He’ll purr -  bouncing his leg, making you roost on his lap, feeling his meaty shaft sink just a bit deeper, curving out and making you bulge. “But this pussy is still starving, isn’t she?” He’ll keep a rough finger-pad on your swollen pearl while at it, rubbing tight circles into it, humming ruggedly from the squeeze it makes. “Want Daddy to fill her up, too?”

You’ll always shudder just a bit at the bite of his cock, bullying into your poor womb as you whimper out an ever so weak, “Yes, please, Daddy…”

He’ll prop you up on the table, making you just the perfect height. Sometimes on your knees – with one hand stationed at the small of your back while the other pulls your hair like a ponytail to keep you from crawling away while he pounds into you from the back.

 Other times you’re seated on your ass with your back against the table – one of his strong arms wrapped around your thigh – keeping you steady as he juts into with his heavy ballsack clapping against your ass – his other fist riddled tight around your throat.

Either way, he expects you to beg for it. Cry for his cum, saying, “Thank you for giving me cock, Daddy- it feels so good- please fill me up with your seed!”

After he’s fed and bred you for breakfast, he’ll leave for work. 

But before he goes, he’ll prop you with a chastity belt first. 

The crotch is fixed with a dildo sculpted from his cock – keeping you company. After all, he doesn’t want you to miss him too much – and besides, he needs something to soothe his homesickness while on the job – and knowing you have his cum and cock stored within you while you do your chores, thinking of him as much as he thinks of you, is enough to put a small smile on his face.

He’ll play with what vibrations to give you through the app on his phone – customizing his own rhythm. He’s decided to teach you morse code with it – talking filthy things by tapping out dots and lines – telling you how much his cock aches to feel your tight pussy soak him, how much he can’t wait to come home and give you the real thing.

[bumblesimagines]

Winner Takes It All

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Whether she can admit it or not, Rhaenyra has always been given everything she has come to desire. Except for one boy whose always been just out of reach. Envy and resentment rears its head when the boy becomes a man and marries their childhood friend.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, canon divergent/AU where Rhaenyra is crowned, minor suggestive/sexual content, alicent is finally happy but rhaenyra is not, uno reserve to my last love triangle ig

~~~

"Lord Jason is going to say something he believes is funny and Lady Ellisha will pretend to laugh behind her fan." 

Rhaenyra watched with a wide, eager smile as Lord Jason spoke and laughed heartily, obviously finding whichever jest he made funnier than the lady standing before him. Lady Ellisha raised her feathery fan to cover the lower half of her face, her eyes crinkling as if she were smiling but her red-tinted lips remained turned downward. 

"And now, she will excuse herself and he'll return to the other lords with the belief he's wooed her over." 

Lady Ellisha curtsied and spoke to the lord with a polite smile before whirling around on her heel and walking away from the Lannister with an exasperated stare directed toward her giggling friends. Lord Jason smirked smugly, just as predicted, and strolled over to the small group of men consisting of his twin and other eligible bachelors making use of the celebrations to search for a wife. Rhaenyra laughed when he gestured in Lady Ellisha's direction and the other lords gave impressed nods. 

"Truly, Rhaenyra, you will find all sorts of entertainment at these sorts of things." (Y/N) told her with a pleased chuckle, swirling a goblet full of wine while his keen eyes flickered around the room hosting a feast in honor of Prince Aemond's first nameday in search of other courtiers making fools of themselves. "The newly man-grown and widowed lords always offer the best sights. Lord Jason has irritated most of the ladies he's spoken to thus far. Rumors say the Westerlings may offer up their Johanna to him for a taste of that Lannister coin." 

"Poor girl." Rhaenyra shook her head and clicked her tongue, searching the crowds for the young woman with a head of brown ringlets until she spotted her standing near the rest of her family. "Lord Jason is..."

"Something."

The two shared a laugh and buried their noses into their cups when the other courtiers glanced in their direction, giggling like children and nearly choking on the wine when they accidentally inhaled some. Rhaenyra coughed into her fist and wiped a droplet of wine off her nose, her lips outstretched into a wide smile that made her cheeks ache and flush when others gave them questioning looks. (Y/N) shook his head through snickers and dapped at his lips with his handkerchief, his eyes drifting away from her and locking elsewhere. Rhaenyra barely had to glance in the direction to know who had captured his attention when his smile and gaze turned to resemble a lovesick puppy.  

Ever since the Freys had sent their son and heir to ward at King's Landing at the age of eight, his attention had been completely captured by Lady Alicent Hightower, even as the three of them grew and more ladies expressed their interest in becoming Lady of the Crossing. There'd been a time Rhaenyra had found his interest amusing, if not understandable, but when their trio became a duo, Rhaenyra found her heart fluttering each time they spent time together without the company of the newly made queen. Her amusement faded and twisted with bitterness when (Y/N)'s opinion of Alicent remained despite the glaring circumstances. 

When his attention lingered on Alicent enough to gain a disapproving frown from Otto, Rhaenyra clamped her hand around his wrist and tugged on his arm with a forced smile. She dragged him through the crowd swiftly and out into the hallway where few courtiers lingered, gossiping away from prying ears and taking in the fresh night air. Rhaenyra dipped into the closest hallway before they could be spotted together by them and ushered back where they'd be under supervision, her unrelenting grip forcing him to follow her through the halls of the Keep until she found a lonesome hallway devoid of any courtiers and servants.

"Come now," Rhaenyra laughed breathily, spinning around to face him with twinkling eyes. "There are... other ways to find entertainment, are there not?" 

His head cocked to the side and the smile she'd grown to love stretched across his face. "Certainly."

And despite his attention insistently lying elsewhere, she found joy when it focused solely on her. Especially when it involved her palms pressing into the rough, chilled wall with the skirts of her dark red dress pushed up around her hips and her dusted pink cheek brushing against the wall with each jerk of his hips; and whilst she knew despite the fact it was her skin he squeezed and her neck he kissed, the knowledge it was Alicent he likely thought about bitterly lingered in the back of her mind. 

A hint of metallic landed on her tongue when she dug her teeth into her bottom lip when he pushed within her fully, his shaky breath fanning against her shoulder. She released a shuddered gasp, feeling the bumps on the wall imprinted in her reddened hands as she pulled them away to adjust her dress once he slipped out of her. 

"You grow too emboldened these days, Nyra." He murmured, his hands working on straightening his clothes and ensuring nothing looked amiss. 

"You never complain." Rhaenyra peered over her shoulder at him with a cheeky grin, her fingers brushing the strands of silver clinging to her forehead. She turned on her heel and leaned back against the wall, her chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. "If it bothers you so," She continued, her tone threatening to shake with her words. "I'm certain Father would not be opposed to a marriage with House Frey."

His lips pressed together, the corners of his brows twitching downward into a furrow. "You know as much as anyone else that I do not desire marriage, Rhaenyra, not now. I enjoy the freedom of doing whatever I please with whomever I please."

Her jaw ticked. "Do you desire freedom or do you perhaps lie in waiting for Queen Alicent to desire you?" She questioned sharply, unable to contain to stop the flush of anger from passing over her. "She's the Queen now, (Y/N). She has duties to uphold for the sake of the Realm- Gods, she has children with my father! She will never look at you the way you desire."

"And what makes you believe I'll look at you in the way you desire, Rhaenyra? You promised this would remain as nothing more than ventures of youth, that we'd laugh about it when we grew old and gray. I.. I do not know what I feel for you but it compares little to what I feel for Alicent."

Rhaenyra's lips twisted up tightly and a watery glaze passed over her eyes that she furiously blinked away. "Why must it always be her?" She spat, grasping the skirts of her dress and storming down the hall despite his calls for her.

His fruitless hope had always been as pitying as Rhaenyra's but the Gods always proved to have their favorites. 

Sleep oozed out of his system slowly, his senses beginning to pick up the faint bustle of city life and the whistling wind. His eyes parted, vision focusing first on the intricate designs of the pillow smushed against his cheek before noticing his wife sat up on the bed. He released a quiet, tired sigh and licked his chapped lips, sluggishly shifting around to lie on his back before he reached out to press his palm into her bare hip, fingers tenderly massaging the flesh there.

"What is it?" He asked, still drowsy as he battled the urge to flutter his eyes shut. 

"Nothing, darling," Alicent slumped back into the mattress with a soft exhale, her auburn curls sprawling out around the pillow beneath her and her eyes flickering over the familiar stone ceiling. She crinkled her nose at the exhaustion still clinging to her body and lolled her head to the side to peer at her sleepy husband with a tender smile. "Good morrow."

"Good morrow." He responded with a yawn and scooted closer to her, her body naturally drawing closer to the warmth of his skin and the sweetness of his touch. His fingers grazed the side of her face, tucking back a frizzy curl and watching the way she leaned into his hand. "Sleep well?"

Alicent exhaled heavily, her bottom lip slightly jutting out. "With each passing moon, comfortability becomes fleeting." 

With a thoughtful hum, (Y/N) carefully moved and leaned over her, lowering down to press fluttering kisses down her chin and jawline to her neck and collarbone. She chuckled softly and ran her hands over his arms, sighing delicately when he pressed a kiss in the valley of her sore chest. The rest of her body ached dully, her ankles and feet especially, but the soreness and exhaustion would eventually fade, they knew that well.

Perhaps a little more eagerly, he moved further down and a twinkle passed over his eyes as he kissed her protruding belly. (Y/N) pressed his lips against the skin right below her belly button and waited a few moments before their little one rewarded him with a swift kick, his eyes immediately crinkling with glee. "Be kind to your mother." He scolded half-heartedly, his palms pressing against the underside of her belly. "She'll need all the rest she can get to welcome you into this world." 

She sighed again. "After this little one, I'm afraid I'll only be capable of producing one more. I grow weary of laboring." 

"Two is a fine number of children, and they'll hardly be lonely with their other siblings." He nodded, pressing another kiss to the belly and pushing himself upward to lie at her side once more. His arms curled around her, her strands of hair tickling his cheek and jaw. "Speaking of their siblings, Rhaenyra will expect us to speak with her after we break our fasts. Aegon must find his place in court before she loses her patience with him." 

"Mmm," Alicent's eyes fluttered shut and he chuckled. "Yes, yes... and there's the dual wedding for the twins and her boys as well as the discussion of who Aemond should wed; one of the Four Storms or a Lannister girl." She lifted a hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose, her eyes parting when he gently kissed her cheek. It oft' felt as if she remained as Queen rather than the future Lady of the Crossing with each letter and plea that reached them in the Riverlands. 

"At the very least, you will have enough time to spend a day with Helaena and her children." Her husband reminded her lightly, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips over her knuckles. 

She smiled. "Yes, you're right." 

Once they began their morning, the servants glided into their temporary apartments to begin their duties of bringing them food and helping them dress. (Y/N) drew his attention away from adjusting one of the rings on his fingers to peer over his shoulder, his eyes dragging over the gown Alicent wore in the muted blue color typical of House Frey. The tone brought out the auburn of her hair, making the delicate curls the servants carefully styled more apparent. A smile graced his lips and he cut the distance across the room to kiss the top of her head. 

Before he could speak, the doors to their bedchambers parted and a guard stepped inside. "Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Your Grace, My Lord," The guard announced, dipping his head and waiting for Rhaenyra to step inside before he, along with the rest of the servants, swiftly stepped outside to allow them privacy. 

It'd been exactly a year since either of them had laid eyes upon Rhaenyra; exactly a year since (Y/N) received Otto Hightower's begrudge blessing to wed Alicent without Rhaenyra's knowledge and announced his intentions before a council unaware of the tense stare he received throughout. The withering frown on her face when they departed for the Twins had been enough to keep him from visiting King's Landing, but with things having drastically improved between his wife and their old friend, he hardly wished to get in between their friendship. 

"Alicent," Rhaenyra greeted softly, dropping her intertwined hands and approaching them with a gentle smile. Alicent rose from her chair with unsteady feet and clasped her hand over (Y/N)'s arm, using him as her support as she twisted around to face her friend. "How good it is to see you again." Rhaenyra took her hands into hers, her gaze dropping down to her bump and brows lifting. "And in... quite a state. I am.. so very pleased for you both."

"Ruling becomes you, Rhaenyra," Alicent told her warmly, her fingers squeezing around her friend's. "I look forward to a long and peaceful reign, and I certainly cannot wait to see what grandchildren the twins will bring forth once they marry the boys. I hear Prince Joffery has already been arranged to wed one of the Manderly girls. It is a blessing to see one's children experience the love of parenthood."

"Yes, well," Rhaenyra chuckled, brushing away a strand from her face and briefly meeting (Y/N)'s eyes. "Jace is all nerves right now. He desires everything to be absolutely perfect for the dual weddings. I cannot imagine how he will be once Baela falls with child."

Alicent laughed lightly and retracted her hands to curl them around (Y/N)'s arm, her head tilting up to gaze at him. "(Y/N) was quite nervous at the beginning, were you not, darling? Baela will grow to appreciate it as I did, I think. It feels nice to be taken care of, especially by one's husband."

In an attempt not to wince, (Y/N) offered Rhaenyra a smile instead. "How is the search for a husband, Rhaenyra? I'm certain the council has been urging you to wed for some time now. I hear you've had many suitors, Marq Ambrose and Jon Roxton among them. Mother believes a strong consort would do well for the Realm." 

"I'm afraid most of the fine men have married and left the marriage mart looking rather bleak." Rhaenyra's tight smile made him bite his inner cheek. "I have little need for more children, regardless. I have named my heir and he will soon produce an heir of his own if the Gods are kind to us."

"I'm certain they will be," Alicent assured her, her eyes crinkled with fondness. "You should come with me to the Sept, Rhaenyra. We could pray to the Mother for the safe delivery of this babe and any future grandchildren we have." 

"I'll certainly attempt to make time for it, but I believe your current grandchildren are eagerly expecting you." Rhaenyra reached out, running her palm over Alicent's arm and smiling sweetly. 

With a gentle kiss to his cheek, Alicent bid her goodbye to Rhaenyra and strode past her, her once elegant and graceful walk now slow as she wobbled and kept close to the servants that quickly flocked to her side. (Y/N) watched her go, swallowing thickly when Rhaenyra flicked her hand and the guard shut the doors behind his wife. He turned his attention onto the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the very one whose hand he'd forced before the Small Council. 

"Alicent is right, Rhaenyra. Ruling becomes you." He spoke quietly, ears picking up the quiet scoff that slipped past her lips. "I know we parted on... uncertain terms but-"

"Uncertain? Is that what you call it? You gave me little warning, little time to process! When my father died, I needed you by my side but you were too busy courting a freshly made widow to pay me an ounce of care." Rhaenyra sneered, her long braid and dark red dress swaying with her movements as she spun around on her heels. "Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys were there but they were more keen on ensuring the coronation progressed swiftly and my ascension to the throne went without trouble; I needed you... and you weren't there."

His teeth caught his lip, digging and lightly tugging at the skin. There was a semblance of guilt in his chest, an acknowledgment that he had indeed ignored his duties as a friend to seek out Alicent instead. But he'd been worried an ascension to the throne would mean a marriage proposal between him and Rhaenyra would only be eagerly accepted by his parents. He'd used all the fuss over the coronation and ascension to keep himself out of Rhaenyra's sights, they both knew that well. 

"You have my apologies, Rhaenyra. I did believe you'd find comfort in your children and the Velaryons, however. I hoped you would, I swear it. I believed leaving you in their hands would have been better. Alicent had no one but scheming men and children grieving in their own ways-"

"Were you not a scheming man as well? How long did it take for you to realize no one would stand in the way? Before you crawled to her doorstep like a mutt." Rhaenyra questioned bitterly as she tilted her body to look upon him, the accusation lining her tone making his jaw clench.

"I did not seduce her or- or take advantage of a grieving woman, Rhaenyra. I offered her a shoulder to cry on, to release all she held onto these years. I asked for her hand in marriage, yes, but I asked her first before the thought of asking Otto Hightower crossed my mind. If she had rejected it, I would have left it at that, but she did not. She accepted my marriage proposal; she agreed to move to the Twins instead of remaining here; she desired to have a child." 

"I would have done all those things if given the chance!" 

(Y/N)'s eyes squeezed shut as her voice ricocheted off the walls of the apartments and likely spilled out into the hallway for anyone passing by to hear. He heard her quiet pants, the muffled chatter outside the walls, the orders from the courtyards drifting with the wind. He parted his eyes to look at her when she moved, the ends of her dress grazing the floor until she stopped before him. Her fingers flexed with uncertainty before reaching out to brush over his hands. 

"I waited." She said quietly, voice barely audible. "When Laenor died, I waited.. for a crow, a messenger, your presence.. I waited for you to return from the Riverlands and instead... you paid your respects and left it there. You did everything I desired from you.. but with Alicent. Why couldn't have it been me? What could she have possibly given you that I could not? You could have become King Consort! Your firstborn would have been a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms-"

"I am not Daemon, Rhaenyra, I do not care for what riches or victories one provides. Alicent is... Alicent is sunshine on a cool midday.. she is a cup of warm tea by the fireplace during the cruelest of winters.. she is a plate of freshly baked sweets or- or a tender embrace on a somber day. Rhaenyra, you are the lashing wind during a storm and waves bashing into rocks on a cliff. You are fun and exciting but I prefer calm over chaos. She is the calm to my chaos." 

Rhaenyra stared at him silently, her violet eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "I am not a child anymore." She whispered shakily. 

"You are Queen Rhaenyra of Westeros and mother to three excellent young men." His hand raised and pressed against her cheek. "And I will soon be Lord of the Crossing and father to the little one my wife is currently carrying. If I had desired to be King Consort or simply desired to be your husband, I would have pursued it years ago. It is best we leave this in the past, Rhaenyra. Nothing will come from it now."

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 ・b.c.

—During one of your cuddle sessions with Bangchan, you realize that your relationship shares an odd resemblance to Twilight—without the entire plot, of course.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・bangchan x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, established relationships // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・400 // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・twilight. that's all thank you.

𝐚/𝐧・I literally had this idea like a year ago and wrote this in like 20 minutes lol

There were plenty of things on Bangchan's bingo card, but comparing your entire relationship to "not the plot" of Twilight was certainly not one of them.

During one of your usual late-night cuddle sessions on the couch, Chan was inches away from slumber; that is, until you decided to jerk your head up from his neck and throw your legs over his hips, perching yourself above his chest in a jarring flurry of eager movements.

"Do you know who we're like?" you announce with alarming urgency. He digs a knuckle into his eye, trying to recover from previous sleep-induced shock. Annoyance fights to rear its ugly head into his mind, but as your lips quirk into a dorky grin, it all washes away, his mouth melting into a smile.

"Who, darling?" he rasps, snaking gentle hands inside the gap of your shirt, warm skin meeting the curve of your waist.

"Bella and Edward," you say, nodding before stopping, as if contemplating your entire existence; You decide, "Only except without the drama and the love triangle, of course."

Chan chuckles incredulously.

"We better not have a love triangle—I only have eyes for you, baby." You bite back a moan, leaning down to capture his lips. That is, before—you rip your face away, emitting a small gasp.

"And the whole vampire thing."

You really know how to throw a man for a loop.

"So... we're like Bella and Edward but without the entire plot?" he teases through breathy laughs.

"See, now you're getting it!"

"Nope, I'm so not." Chan fights back his amusement behind furrowed brows, though tiny giggles bubble out from behind his tight-lipped smile.

"Jeez, baby, catch up! We're like Bella and Edward but without the drama, love triangle, and the whole vampire thing," you state, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Chan concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"You know what? I completely agree." He brings his mouth to meet yours, pulling you into a tender kiss. He feels you smile before whispering, "I love it when you say I'm right." You press another soft kiss onto his lips. "Even if it's just to shut me up."

Bangchan could listen to you narrate the entire grueling series of Twilight and still manage to never get bored. So, with unwavering truth, he states, "I never want that."

cookiecreates owns this dont steal my shit. thank you.

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter fourteen || lights

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 7.4k.

edited but not beta-read.

a/n || thank you so much for sticking with me through this fic and please enjoy the last chapter. ♡

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || end ✓

Silence plagues you. Lately, the silence in your mind and around the campus is louder than a rocket taking off, than a crowd cheering, louder even than the endless rambles of your boyfriend. You know he does it to fill the space, though. You don’t dare complain because it helps- god it helps- and he knows it.

Even during moments of silence with no shared thoughts between you and the curse, there was a constant drone, a hum that you had never paid any notice to until it was gone. Every loud noise felt sharper, every quiet night threatened to drown you.

Satoru had taken to humming until he was certain you were asleep in his arms, and even during the cooler nights of early winter he would leave the windows open in hopes that the whistle of the breeze would soothe the mind-numbing feeling of silence.

The silence was surely a side effect of your grief. Although you’d finally gotten to lay Kento’s body to rest at a proper funeral surrounded by the faculty and made peace with his loss, you grieved for the loss of the constant presence of Miriko.

There was no funeral to aid with the loss, as the people who truly knew her were limited so heavily, and there was no body to bury. Still, it didn’t stop Yuji from holding a small event in her honor with you, Satoru and Yuta in attendance alongside him. It was thoughtful of him and though you could never blame him for what happened, you know he feels guilty.

It was a strange time for the school in general. With Miriko, Kenjaku, and Sukuna gone, most curses remained in the shadows, dormant for the time being. Any that dared rear their ugly heads were generally an easy job for the students alone.

You had expected the lack of missions to get to Satoru, but he seemed content. He busied himself with continuing to train his students and, most importantly to him, taking care of you.

You’re capable of taking care of yourself of course even without Miriko, and he knows that too, but you wouldn’t dare turn down his kindness. In the dead of night when you’re at your most vulnerable, it’s him that brings you back to earth and calms the mighty storm raging in your brain.

This is one of those many nights. Not the first, and doomed to not be the last, either.

You jolt awake when Taro hops on the bed, seeking your warmth. Letting out a breath, you try to relax with the pup between you and your boyfriend’s legs and the sorcerer’s arm draped over you. Yet sleep eludes you, and now that you’re awake, the still air grows increasingly loud, like a buzzing in your ears.

Even with the window open, the air is so quiet that it threatens to drive you mad. Pulling your knees to your chest as you curl up under the covers, you press your fingers into your temples. Anything to dull the feeling that drags at your chest and clutches at your throat.

You breathe as steadily as you can but your heart pounds and races until it’s in your ears. The pounding, the ringing, it’s all so much that you can’t handle it anymore.

Flipping the covers desperately off of yourself, you clutch at the wall as you race to the ensuite, shutting the door behind you and gripping the edge of the sink. You fumble with the tap, turning it on and focusing on the running water in an attempt to drown out the deafening noises plaguing you.

It’s not the first time Satoru’s woken up this way, with Taro accidentally pulling you from the gentle hands of rest and the covers flipped over him. The sound of running water tells him everything he needs to know as he gets to his feet, making his way around the bed and to the shut bathroom door.

He knocks on the door once, twice, three times, a rhythmic sound. The door cracks open like a ritual, something the two of you have grown accustomed to as he slips into the washroom and envelops you in his strong arms.

Your tired and distant expression examines him in the mirror. He’s just in black boxers and you’re in one of his T-shirts. It hangs off your body like a dress and you know the sight of you in his clothes drives him crazy in all the best ways.

Right now, no matter how much he adores the sight of you in his clothing, that’s not at the top of his mind.

Like clockwork, he knows just what to do to bring you back to earth. He kisses your cheek, parting from you to turn on the bath. The tap is louder than that of the sink as he runs his hand under it to check the temperature and you’re thankful for the way your brain seems to soothe as the water drowns the silence.

While you wait for the bath to fill, Satoru returns to your side, humming to you the first song that comes to mind. His choices vary wildly by the day, ranging from whatever pop hit he heard the second-years listening to earlier to a rock song he heard while passing Kusakabe’s office.

Today, his choice surprises you. You don’t recognize it in the slowed, mellow way he hums it gently in your ear as he slips his fingers deftly beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He’s soft and slow as he slides his hands up your body and slips the shirt over your head. Every movement is understanding, passionate, and filled with love.

No matter how tired he is, Satoru doesn’t blame you for waking him night after night. He doesn’t blame you for the amount of bath salts you go through. Which is a lot, by the way.

He doesn’t blame you for grieving. He had expected it to be similar to when you had awoken to the loss of Kento, but your grief came in a different form this time around. He knows it drives you crazy and he knows you feel guilty. You’ve expressed to him how weak you feel, although with his new insight into real strength, he would call you the strongest.

Carefully setting your shirt aside, he holds your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. His eyes have dark circles beneath them, something that not even his reverse cursed technique can fix, but he doesn’t mind. Not when he’s doing it for you.

When the bath is drawn, he leans down and fills it with lavender bath salts, a sleep aid for the both of you. He drops his boxers to the floor after testing the water once more and silently guides you to the bath. He lets you get in first before sliding in behind you.

Strong arms pull your back against his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder as he continues to hum a tune you still don’t recognize.

Taking a deep breath, you let your muscles relax in his embrace with warm water surrounding you, lashes fluttering as you stare at the ceiling.

“What song is that?” You ask him when your heart calms enough that you feel at ease for the time being. Your voice is hoarse, scarcely used for the past few hours and you clear your throat.

“It’s that Avicii song I really like,” he tells you. You tilt your head on his shoulder to get a better view of his face. His eyes are closed, but he still takes the opportunity to give you a little headbutt. He feels you smile against his cheek.

“The one that says ‘I could not live without you’, right?”

“That’s the one, baby cakes.”

You smile softly, shutting your eyes in turn as he continues to hum. His voice is always so sultry and you love the way it translates into his humming or even the way he loves to sing with goofy voices.

“Toru, I’m so-”

“Don’t even think about it, pretty girl,” he interrupts. “Don’t apologize for grieving.”

“I just feel bad for,” you gesture in the air at nothing in particular, “all of this.”

“You feel bad for giving me the time to have a nice bath with my gorgeous, wonderful, sweet, pretty baby girl?”

You can feel the way his lips pull into a grin against your heated cheeks when you can’t hold back a giggle.

Satoru can be… oblivious at times. For someone known across the world of sorcerers as the Six Eyes, he can be completely blind to very obvious signals from yourself and others. The same can’t be said when it comes to his attentiveness towards you.

While he may not always pick up on the obvious, he knows the subtle signals of your body like the back of his hand.

He knows the way your brow pulls together, knit with a look of pain and frustration when the silence gets to you. He knows the way your muscles loosen and your eyes light up when he drones on about some story that’s barely interesting, but you’re just relieved to hear something to ease your tension.

More importantly, he knows the way your body reacts to his every touch. He knows the subtle way you grind against him when you want something more. When you want a different form of stress relief.

He groans, hands moving to your hips to temporarily halt your grinding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? How’s your head feeling?”

“My head’s fine, just let me ride you,” you whisper breathlessly in his ear as he allows you to continue grinding against him. “I need this.”

Satoru’s head falls back against the wall of the tub, letting out a breath shaky with pleasure. He only lets you grind against him for a few moments before he turns the tables to put your pleasure first.

One arm snakes around your middle, holding you tightly against his broad and muscular chest. You can feel the way his breathing speeds up with his growing lust as it fans against your shoulders.

His other arm slides down your waist to your hip, before he squeezes a handful of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches when you feel his fingers lightly brush the puffy lips of your pussy. He kisses the shell of your ear lightly, repeating the movement.

You buck your hips, yearning for friction but he holds you tighter, keeping your hips still while he teases you with the tips of his fingers. You whine, gripping the edge of the tub as you wriggle against his grip.

Satoru’s warm and teasing chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Easy, baby. Le’me take care of you,” he hums, his voice low and honeyed like a sickeningly sweet tea. The effect his voice has on you drives you crazy as you moan his name from just his words.

“S-Satoru, please.”

His name on your tongue is like a drug that he can’t get enough of, a drug that sends him spiraling as he spreads your folds, desperate to hear it again. He drags his middle finger down your slit before sliding it into your entrance.

Your lips part in a silent cry of pleasure at the sudden intrusion, his finger dragging so deliciously and teasingly slowly that you arch your back until he sinks to the knuckle. He hums into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin.

His ministrations against your gummy inner walls are so slow that you can’t help the desperate whine you let out. Satoru takes that as his sign, gliding his ring finger in along with his middle finger. A sudden gasp cuts off your whine as your walls pulse and tighten, slowly adjusting to the additional digit.

“So tight, my love. Relax f’ me,” he hums against your skin, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. He pulls back to watch the way your jaw hangs slack, practically drooling with each slow curl of his fingers.

As he curls and shifts his fingers slowly, he knows he’s found your g spot when you cry out and arch your back so perfectly for him to drag his fingers at the perfect angle in your sopping cunt that you think you might just cum on the spot.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you teeter on the edge of release, only for Satoru to withdraw his fingers with a dark chuckle. “Not yet, my love.”

You let out a surprised yelp when he flips you to face him, your glazed over eyes and blissed out expression like a damn masterpiece in a museum to him. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you grind hard against his rock-hard, twitching cock in an effort to chase your release.

His breath hitches in his throat, his hands finding your hips to still your movements. “Shit baby,” he groans, exhaling as his cock twitches again. He has to remind himself that these moments in the early morning he always wants to focus on you, make them all about you. Your comfort, your pleasure.

He’ll chase his release through yours.

“Toru, please,” you whimper, having been so close to your release only moments ago.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he smiles cheekily, raising a hand to the back of your neck to pull you down for a heated kiss. You know from the sloppy way he claims your lips that he’s just as desperate as you are, and you use the moment to your advantage as his grip on your hips loosens and you’re able to grind your pussy against his hardened member.

He moans into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“Tsk. What’d I say, baby? Patience,” he hums in your ear, tightening his grip on your hip again as he brings his other hand down to your clit, circling it slowly and teasingly. You throw your head back, writhing desperately as your nails dig into his shoulders, raking his collar bones.

“S-S’toru,” you mumble, your words catching in your throat. His cock throbs against your pussy, pulling another whimper from your pretty lips. “Please- f-fuck- le’me ride you,” you barely make it through the sentence, holding his shoulders tight for purchase.

“Ngh, you- hah- make a good argument,” Satoru barely manages to tie his sentence together, unable to resist the way your swollen lips seem to pull him in, the way you beg for him. “You sure, baby? We don’t have a condom-”

“Baby,” you groan, nails raking his skin when the tip of his cock brushes your clit as he moves his hand to grip both hips bruisingly. Your knees press together on either side of Satoru, closing around him as you seek friction and it drives Satoru crazy, he’s never able to hold back, to resist you, when you make it clear what you want. “I’m on birth control, just-”

Satoru gets the message loud and clear, wasting no time as he pumps his cock a couple of times before lining it up with your entrance. “S’ fucking hot, ah-” his mind blanks when you move to slide down on his cock, tightly gripping at his shoulders. “Shiiiiit- So fucking hot.”

The drag of his throbbing length in your tight walls pulls a gasp from you as you take him in one slow movement, swallowing every thick inch of him. Your body shudders involuntarily when you reach the hilt, chest heaving as you both stare at one another through lidded, lust-filled eyes.

God, the feeling of the pulsing veins running along your walls raw as they clench around him already, it’s a layer of pleasure that makes tears prick in your eyes, the feeling so intense. You almost think you could unwind right then and there.

“S’ fuckin’ gorgeous riding me,” Satoru purrs, leaning his head back against the tub as he lifts your hips effortlessly with his built arms. The blues of his eyes are nearly invisible behind his blown pupils as he admires you, his gaze completely glazed over in pleasure, swirling with admiration and lust.

He’s slow and sensual, not moving with his usual zeal. He lifts your hips again, a deep moan parting his lips when your nails rake over his shoulders and collarbone as you slide back down on his length.

His grip on your hips grows stronger, more bruising, as it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to keep the pace slow, to focus on your comfort, your pleasure. He lets out a shaky breath, his baby blues flickering up to your blissed out expression as he leans forward, pressing tender kisses to your chest as he rolls his hips.

A breathy moan parts your lips when he sucks on your nipple, tongue swirling around the hardened bud before nipping the skin. His eyes never once leave your expression, drinking in the way you gasp, the way your fingernails curl into his skin. He hisses through his teeth, releasing your nipple at the sudden sting of your long nails, but wastes no time paying attention to the other bundle of nerves.

The stimulation of your chest has you growing more needy as you take it upon yourself to move your hips faster. Satoru’s lips stutter against you as he loses his ability to hold back at the feeling of your walls clenching around him with each movement of your hips.

“Fuck, p-pretty girl,” he growls against your tit, nipping fervently at the plump skin. His strong grip stills your hips, smirking when you whine at the lack of friction.

In one quick movement, he fucks up into you, thrusting his full length into you until his swollen tip reaches your cervix as he so skillfully brushes your most sensitive spot with each thrust. “Ah! S-Shit-” Your mewls become mindless babbles very quickly, brain turning to putty as Satoru moves one hand from your hip to rub little circles over your clit with his thumb.

He pumps into you fast and relentlessly, moving his hips at an unforgiving rate as he chases your- and his- orgasms. The sounds of the warm water that surrounds you fills the air with rhythmic sloshes like music for the moans that leave your lips.

Pressure builds in your pelvis as the knot at the base of your stomach tightens. When your thighs press into Satoru’s hips, he knows you’re close. “T-Toru-”

“I know baby. Tha’s it, sweetheart,” his voice is strained as his own orgasm rapidly approaches. “Let go f’r me,” he hums sweetly, still focusing on walking you through your orgasm.

Your legs tremble as your climax barrels into you, pulling a loud cry from deep in your throat as you cling to your boyfriend’s shoulders for purchase, collapsing against him as he fucks you through the high. Your chest heaves, sweat-slicked as it sticks to Satoru’s wet skin beneath you.

He holds your hips still as his pace increases. “Where d’ you want me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Inside,” you whisper into his ear, entirely too exhausted to even lift your head.

Like music to his ears, Satoru’s climax hits like a tsunami as he unloads into you, painting your walls with his cum. He keeps you still as your walls clench around him, milking every last drop from his leaking slit while his cock throbs within you.

Slowly, he releases your hips and allows your body to slump forward against him. His breath hitches when your walls clench again with the movement, brushing his oversensitive length.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers into your ear, holding you tightly to him. Your eyes remain shut as you bury your head into his shoulder, slowly coming down from your high.

When the white-haired man beneath you begins to regain some energy, he runs the soft pads of his fingers gently over your bare back. The sound of the droplets of water falling from his hand soothes the silence, keeping your mind occupied.

You’ve come to know that Satoru isn’t necessarily tender, he doesn’t always know what you need, but he’s willing to learn. He wants nothing more than for you to be happy. You reciprocate those feelings but he insists that he is happy, simply because you accept him as himself. You understand him.

You see him for who he is.

Your communication isn’t perfect still, but you’ve both gotten better at it.

“I love you, Toru.”

His heart accelerates rapidly in his chest, you feel it as you lay against him with heavy limbs. Smirking, you kiss his shoulder as your heart speeds up in tandem with his.

“I love you too, my princess.”

It doesn’t matter how many times either of you utter those three loaded words, they never lose their meaning. They never fail to make your heart falter in your chest while your stomach flutters.

Satoru hums contently, squeezing you once before he pulls you off his cock, swallowing hard at the feeling of your walls attempting to hold him hostage.

“What do you say we get you all cleaned up?”

You pull back to look at Satoru, nodding with a blissful smile. You both help one another up as Satoru drains the tub and turns on the shower.

You rarely get moments with him where he isn’t a ping pong ball of energy or cracking jokes and flirting left and right, but these early mornings have become somewhat of a common occurrence lately. You do feel bad that he’s losing sleep, but you also cherish these moments. Away from work, away from your doubts and your anxieties, just you and him.

Of course, he panicked the first time he woke up to find you holding your head. He didn’t know what to do, how to help. He knows you’re strong, knows you're capable, but he still fears losing you. You already nearly died twice, so even so much as a headache seems to find him in a panic.

Eventually, you found the middle ground. You told him what was going on and what you needed. Satoru fell into the routine quickly and no words could possibly be enough to thank him properly.

“Turn around,” he instructs softly, pulling you from your thoughts. He lathers your back with soap, sweetly kissing your nape as he does so. You rinse off and return the favor, running your hands over the peaks and valleys of his abs.

A small smile graces your tired expression, one that Satoru regards fondly.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases, that familiar lopsided smirk returning to his lips.

“If I am?” You respond cheekily.

He playfully squeezes your waist.

“Toru!” You yelp in surprise, “that tickles!”

Your pout doesn’t stop him from grinning, pleased with himself. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” His voice is low and sends electricity straight to your stomach that you choose to ignore as your legs still shake from the sex just a few minutes earlier.

You both finish rinsing off and shut off the shower. When the hum of the shower stops, Satoru mindlessly hums a tune, never once forgetting the reason you’d awoken in the first place. He tosses you a towel and grabs one for himself.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Satoru wraps a towel around himself, his humming coming to a halt as he stares at you.

“What’s up?” You ask curiously, tilting your head.

His smirk turns to a grin as he violently shakes his head like a dog, sending water flying across the bathroom.

“Satoru! Cut it out!”

He laughs wholeheartedly when you’re unable to contain your own giggles, unable to keep a straight face even as you reprimand him.

Using the back of your hand, you wipe the stray droplets from your cheek. “You’re such a menace,” you grumble, but your eyes shine with adoration even so.

“You love me,” he slips his hands beneath your towel, fingertips brushing your hips before he pulls you closer to him. His grin never once falters as he watches the way you try to contain your smile, but it spills over. “See? You looooove me,” he teases.

“Shut up, Toru,” you push half-heartedly against him, hiding your blush in his chest as you nuzzle into him when he doesn’t dare let you go. He envelops you in his strong arms, peppering the top of your head in kisses.

“Say it,” he kisses you again. “Say it,” and again. “Say-”

“Okay, okay!” You giggle, finally looking up at those eager blue eyes you’ve grown to love so much. “I love you, Satoru.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles affectionately.

You lead the way out of the washroom, slipping one of Satoru’s shirts over your torso before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Not tired?”

Your brow knits with guilt as you look up at him. “Not really.”

He nods, sitting beside you. “I thought I had ya all tired out,” he chuckles.

Early morning light filters through the blinds from the window above the bed. A cool breeze brings with it the smell of fresh frost settling on the grass through the crack of the window. You shiver as it grazes your bare skin. 

“You know,” the white-haired sorcerer hums, “I have something for you. It’s… not quite ready but-” he pauses, glancing at the window. “Y’know what, get dressed.”

You tilt your head at him, curious. “What is it?”

“Get dressed or you won’t find out.”

Exchanging Satoru’s shirt for one of your own, you throw on a pair of jeans and a jacket, following your boyfriend to the door. Before he can open it, you suddenly gasp.

“Wait!”

Before Satoru can protest, you dash back up the stairs, searching for his glasses or blindfold. When you don’t find either, you grab the bandages you know he wore long ago, bounding back down the stairs.

It’s his turn to tilt his head curiously now, understanding when he sees what’s in your hand.

“It’s not a big deal, love, I’ll survive without it,” he assures you, but he still kneels to let you wrap it around his head.

“I know, but I want you to be comfy.” You brush his hair from his face as he lets you delicately wrap the bandages over his eyes. You can’t see the way his eyes close as he practically melts into your touch, his muscles easing beneath your oh-so-gentle fingers. You adjust the bandages over his eyes, leaning back to take a look at your work.

With a satisfied nod, you press a chaste kiss to his lips and head back to the door. Satoru pauses for a moment before following you, his hidden gaze locked on you. He knows you can���t see the love pouring from his eyes behind the bandages, but he does know you’ve grown to be able to read his expressions effortlessly in spite of the covering. When you turn to see why he isn’t following, you demonstrate that exact ability when you spot his smile and your gaze fills with the same outpouring of love that Satoru’s has.

You can’t see it, but you know.

Hand in hand, Satoru leads the way past the forest clearing, further into the trees on the outer edges of the school’s barrier. You lean into his warmth as the trees block the early morning rising sun from warming you.

Peeking through the trees, you spot a structure but can’t quite make out what it is. Ducking beneath a stray branch, Satoru picks up the pace and tugs you along with him until the structure is in sight.

Before you, a greenhouse stands in a small clearing. The door has no hinges and there’s tools and tables everywhere surrounding it, clearly unfinished.

Gaping at the structure, you round the front of the building, your stomach fluttering as you see four flower beds all protected from the cool winter air. Satoru lifts the door out of the way before replacing it as he nudges you into the greenhouse.

Each flower bed has a collection of flowers you’ve shown your boyfriend over the past few months and alongside the two blooms that follow you everywhere are blossoms that mean nothing but love. Roses, tulips, carnations, each one carefully chosen to wordlessly show his adoration for you, as if the act of building you an entire greenhouse wasn’t enough. Every single petal practically oozes with his undying love for you. Even the flowers that are wilting from overwatering show just how hard he’s trying.

The butterflies in your stomach stir to life as you turn to face him, stunned to silence.

“Do you like it?”

You can barely manage to squeeze out a single word as you glance back at the flowers again. “Toru- I-” Your throat clenches as you try to hold back tears, cutting off your words in the process. Silent tears stream down your cheeks, unable to hold them back as you stare in shock again at the sight.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” He panics with wide eyes, cupping your cheeks as he wipes the tears away.

“Nothing, baby,” you sniffle, chuckling as you wrestle with your disbelief. “I just- you made this? You built this?” Your voice is smaller than you intend, shakier than you intend.

“Yeah! Well, sorta. I can’t take all the credit, I’m not very good at building. Or taking care of flowers for that matter,” he chuckles, glancing at the wilting flower beds, “Kusakabe helped to build it. It just needs hinges for the door.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you shake your head in his grasp, chuckling again. You had noticed that Satoru had been disappearing on occasion throughout the day, though you had always assumed it was work-related, not that he was being a massive goddamn sap. “Thank you so much,” your words come out unintentionally as a whimper, another tear slipping down your cheek.

Your boyfriend’s thumb wipes the tear away and he kisses your nose. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently. “I know you’ve been a bit lost lately without your technique and I don’t want you to feel like you need to be a part of-” he lets go of your cheeks, motioning to the school grounds behind you both, “-of all that, but I know you won’t go back to your cottage without me.”

You nod slowly, blinking as you take everything in.

“You know I can’t leave the school. So-” he inhales sharply. “I wanted to do something. For you.”

Your lower lip trembles, unable to tear your gaze from him.

Somehow, this man always finds a way to surprise you. Life hadn’t been easy since Miriko’s loss. Between the silence, the grief, and the loss of your ability to grow plants on a whim, you’d been feeling rather lost. Of course, it’s not like you couldn’t take care of plants the usual way, but losing something you could do after ten years had its effect on you, especially given that you didn’t have a greenhouse at the time and winter was approaching, killing your summer flowers in the process.

In the span of one day, you’d buried a past lover, lost a friend, lost your passion and hobby, lost your job, and damn near had to bury your current lover. How were you not meant to feel lost?

“I know it’s not super big or fancy, or-”

“It’s perfect, Satoru,” you interrupt him, glossy eyes shining as you pull him down to you for a kiss. Your lips move passionately against his, trying to say everything words failed to. His hands find your waist and he pulls you flush to his body, holding you tightly to him. When your lips part, you finally get a good look at the garden before you. “You’re overwatering them, my love.”

He groans playfully. “How can you overwater something in the ground? What would they do if it rained too much?”

You giggle, lowering yourself to the ground to admire his work. Many of the flowers are wilting, there’s patches throughout each bed of flowers and it’s rather uneven, however it’s clear that he paid attention whenever you spoke to him about flowers. Lilies and Peonies sit at the edge of the closest bed of flowers just as you always have them, followed closely by hydrangeas, your favorites.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you-”

“Y/n.” Satoru’s tone is firm as he tilts his head to look down at you. “My kids are alive because of you.” It’s rare he refers to them as his kids, but it warms your heart nonetheless. “Sukuna never got a hold of Megumi and Yuji is free from him, because of you.”

“But I’m alive because of you,” you insist.

He shakes his head, averting his gaze. “You know you were better off before I…” He trails off, not wishing to bring up how you ended up here in the first place.

“I love you, Toru. I don’t hold that against you.”

He grimaces, his adam’s apple bobbing as he sighs and plops down beside you. “I love you too.”

You know the guilt keeps him up from time to time. You’re sure it’s a part of the reason he seems to work overtime to impress you as though your heart isn’t already his to hold. It almost surprises you the tenderness at which he does hold your heart.

“Did you plant these all yourself?”

Tension seems to seep from his body as the air lightens around you and he details his endeavors with the garden until the sun has risen just above the trees. Although there’s still a pang of sadness that you aren’t able to use your technique on the flowers, you know you’ll get over it with time.

Eventually, his non-stop chatter begins to die down as he grows more weary from waking up so early with you and he pulls you into his lap while you tend to the garden. His chin rests on your shoulder as his strong arms hold you tightly.

His breathing gradually evens out and you’re positive he’s asleep until he whispers something in your ear.

“Let’s take a vacation.”

You jolt in surprise at the sound of his groggy voice, setting your shovel down. “Shouldn’t we stay here with Yuji and Megs?”

“They’re fine. We haven’t had issues with Sukuna gone. They have Kusakabe and Choso.”

You nod slowly. He’s right, a strong curse hasn’t been seen in a while.

“You can get on a plane now, right?”

“Yeah, I-” you hesitate, “-I guess I can.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“Is it?” You chuckle, given that none of the details have been discussed.

“It’s settled,” he yawns, weary body slumping onto yours again as he returns to his world of napping. You blink at him in surprise as he passes out on top of you, nearly toppling you over. You can’t bring yourself to move though, he looks too peaceful passed out on top of you.

A trip, huh? You can’t help but wonder where he has in mind.

–

A light layer of snow coats the ground beneath your boots, gleaming in the evening sunset light. The glimmer of the flakes that slowly fall before you is mesmerizing as you let Satoru lead the way through the Akureyri Gardens.

He seems to always find ways to surprise you, including when he had decided you would go on a vacation. You hadn’t expected him to choose Iceland in the middle of winter, but who were you to decline when he’d already booked everything?

It’s chillier than you’re used to, but it’s a good excuse to cozy up to your boyfriend and enjoy his body heat through the chilly nights. He’d booked a beautiful AirBnB isolated in the wilderness with beautiful glass panel ceilings to stare at the moon and stars before you slept each night.

Somehow, he never fails to find new ways to make you stumble over words as butterflies flap in your stomach.

He pulls you over a bridge, not missing the way your eyes sparkle as you glance down at the flowing river beneath you. It’s not cold enough yet for it to have frozen, and some small winter flowers still peek through the layer of snow that threatens their lives on the river bank.

He chuckles, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as you kneel down to admire the flowers.

“These are Lupine!” You smile at him over your shoulder, tips of your fingers gently sliding along the greenery. It has yet to bloom and though you long to see the beautiful purple flowers, you figure that gives you an excuse to come back someday. “They’ll be purple when they bloom.”

Satoru smiles wholeheartedly at you, the blues of his eyes filled with a gentle tranquility from behind his sunglasses. You return the smile, taking the hand he outstretches to pull you back up. He kisses your forehead languidly, clearly enjoying taking time off for what you can only imagine is the first time in his life. He moves slowly, with little regard for the world as the reality is that it’s just the two of you.

For the first time ever, it’s just you and him.

At least, he thinks so. With his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, enjoying the simple serenity of the Icelandic landscape, you don’t see the way his eyes flicker open. Over your head, something catches his eye as he stares down at the spot you were just sitting in.

Purple flowers sway in the breeze, in full bloom and Satoru second-guesses himself. Hadn’t you mentioned that they would be purple when they bloom? But that would have to mean they hadn’t yet bloomed, so why…? His brow furrows, deep in thought, before he comes to the conclusion he must have misheard you, because the other possibility…

No. He misheard you. That couldn’t be possible, not after all this time.

Brushing off the thought, he pulls back and smiles down at you, glancing at the setting sun and deciding the two of you need to keep moving.

“C’mon,” he tugs you gently along with him. It takes you only a moment to fall into step with him. “We’re almost there.”

“We’re going somewhere?” You had honestly assumed that, much like every other place the two of you had visited, you would just wander until one of you got hungry, but it seemed Satoru had other plans.

He hums affirmatively, rounding a small hill and hopping up a set of rocks, letting you use his hand as leverage to hop up. He repeats the action two more times until you’re standing before a small bench overlooking the entire garden.

A small gasp parts your lips. The view is absolutely breathtaking and as the last bit of light glimmers over the thin layer of snow on the ground below, the smile that plays on your lips is inevitable.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, pulling Satoru along beside you to take a seat on the bench.

He hums as he pulls you into his lap, enveloping you in his muscular arms. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles cheesily in your ear, not an ounce of tension or worry to be found in the man’s bones as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burn as you shoot him a sheepish smile. “You’re cheesy,” you giggle.

“Maybe,” he agrees, a dorky grin crossing his features. He doesn’t care how cheesy it is, he’ll spend every minute of every day telling you so if it means he can spend each of those minutes with you.

“Why were you in such a rush to get here?” You question, tilting your head to get a better look at the sorcerer. With a gray beanie adorning his snowy white hair, he has a sort of boyish charm to him that’s horribly endearing.

“So impatient,” he grouses playfully as he pokes your side. You yelp in surprise, wriggling in his hold in an attempt to return the favor but Satoru holds you too tightly. You pout at him when he grins victoriously. “Was worried we’d miss somethin’.”

You’re not quite sure what he means by that, but he’s clearly dead set on keeping the surprise exactly that- a surprise.

He hums softly in your ear, filling the silent air as he stares out over the garden with you. The silence gets more bearable with each day, but you’ve grown rather fond of his humming.

You’re not sure how long you sit together like that when suddenly, it happens.

You’re not sure why you didn’t connect the dots, but the conversation you’d had with him about vacations was so long ago you could barely remember. There was a reason, after all, that you had mentioned wanting to visit Iceland. A reason that Satoru had clearly held near and dear to his heart as he excitedly grins beside you, his arms tightening excitedly around your middle.

The sky becomes alight, very subtly at first, with gentle blue and green hues that fluoresce into purples and bright, brilliant blues like those of Gojo’s eyes.

Your eyes widen in awe, jaw slack as you watch in wonder as the sky dances before you.

“You chose Iceland in the dead of winter for this, didn’t you?”

Just like when he showed you the greenhouse, you want to cry. You feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you find yourself giggling happily in an effort to dissuade your watery eyes.

“You said it was your dream!” Your boyfriend insists, his eyes glimmering as they reflect the beautiful hues soaring through the sky.

“I did, I just- I didn’t-” You shake your head, wiping the tears from your eyes as you chuckle again. “I don’t know what to say.” Your voice is small as you stare up at the aurora that paints the sky colors you could only have dreamed. “This is a dream come true.”

You can feel Satoru’s cheerful grin against your cheek when he nuzzles into you. “My pretty girl at a loss for words again? I’m on a hot streak,” he teases. Twice now since the green house, he’s pretty proud of himself for that.

“You’re such a dork,” you grumble, your cheeks alight with heat, but your heart pounds in your chest. He never fails to find new ways to make you tumble and fall head over heels further in love with him, if that’s even possible. “What’s your dream, Toru?”

He kisses your cheek. “I’m living my dream.”

“C’mon,” you roll your eyes playfully.

To your surprise, his simpering demeanor sobers. “I’m serious. You know how I was raised.” His brow furrows slightly. “I never thought I would have the chance to do something like this.” His irises seem to swirl like galaxies under the vivid lights as he turns you slightly in his lap to meet your gaze. “This is all I could ever want.”

Your lips part again and you lean in, kissing him unhurriedly, embracing the languid nature of your vacation. After all, you have a lifetime of moments like these to enjoy with him. It’s all so domestic, so sugary sweet it threatens a cavity.

“I think I’d choose a beach next time, though.”

You smile against his lips.

“It’s cold and I have Infinity off so it’s also snowy.”

You giggle now against his lips. He follows suit, his chest rumbling.

“A beach it is.”

He leans in again, savoring the taste of your tongue when he swipes at your lower lip. You grant him access, enjoying the taste of the tea you’d had earlier lingering on him.

You suppose now that you have the opportunity to travel and take vacations, not to mention Satoru’s seemingly limitless sorcery money, you’ll have to tighten up your bucket list given you’ve now crossed off the only real thing of substance on it.

You already know the first item, anyway. A warm beach, somewhere sunny and tropical, with your boyfriend (shirtless, of course) dripping wet from spending time in the ocean.

Yeah, that sure sounds like a dream.

You hold back a giggle at the thought, smiling against Satoru’s lips.

“What’s up, love?” He tilts his head slightly as he catches the action, his eyes flickering open to give you a lidded stare.

“Thank you, for everything, Toru.”

“Mmm, I should be thanking you,” he hums, his eyes flashing a glorious green from the vibrant lights above.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || end ✓

a/n || WOW if you're reading this THANK YOU for reading my whole fic, it's been such a fun experience to not only write a completed fic but also to get to share it with all of you (who have been so kind and lovely, btw) and each and every single one of your comments make me SO happy ♡ i'm not even really sure what to say aside from thank you so much for reading and know that my inbox is always open, i love chatting with y'all

on that note i do wanna give a shoutout to all of the lovely people who have sent me some love whether that be via my asks, comments, or reblogs, know that i love you all and it means the world. shoutout as well to 🌻 anon, you are such a gem ♡

i have quite a few other long oneshots and short series planned, as well as some drabbles and a rockstar!gojo longfic so it'd mean the world if you gave me a follow and stuck around for those as well ♡ i've also got a very cute (in my humble opinion) sukuna oneshot that i'd love if you checked out if that interests you, link in my masterlist.

ANYWAY thank you and ily all ♡

[suppermariobroth]

One of the first major differences between Super Mario 64 DS and the original Nintendo 64 version of the game encountered during gameplay is that the front door of Peach's castle is locked. Yoshi needs to catch a rabbit to obtain the key to the castle. By using a glitch called "Quantum Tunneling", Yoshi can bypass getting a key and enter the castle from behind.

Top: by falling through the floor in an extremely precise spot with equally precise speed, Yoshi will clip between floor triangles, allowing him to "quantum tunnel" through the floor and land out of bounds inside the castle.

Bottom: from there, he can reach the hill at the back and jump to the rear side of the front door. Unlike Super Mario 64, where locked doors cannot be opened without the key no matter what side they're approached from, here, Yoshi can enter the castle simply by approaching the door from the wrong side. Note also the glitchy movement that occurs during this, whereby Yoshi slides off into the castle at a high speed.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Source: youtube.com user "Really_Tall"

[wrightingdungeon]

SDV Bachelors first time you press the go button

MDNI

Warnings: No Smut but turning the boys on, mentions of the zaaa *smoking the zaa*, I had fun with this, cursing

Alex: He laughed at you when you said you could fight him. He hadn't heard of grappling and assumed it was just like wrestling. He was wrong. As you both tumbled around his room, he struggled to get a grip on you while your giggles only served to frustrate him further. "Come on, big boy," you teased, which elicited a growl from him. He tried to pin you by your hips. "Sit still!" he demanded, his voice filled with exasperation. "Fuck that," you replied, slipping from his grasp with ease. Your legs swiftly wrapped around his head, pulling him into a rear triangle choke. His adrenaline surged, but his mind wandered, imagining a far different scenario. The sensation of your thighs tightening around his neck only added to his imagination. "Come on, tap, you ass," you groaned, the strain evident in your voice. Despite the constricting lack of air, he found himself oddly content, thinking that passing out here, might not be so bad, “Glory Glory what a hell of a way to die” after all.

Elliott: Elliott prided himself on his mature personality and appearance, not allowing childish whims to sway his mind so easily. When the two of you were hanging out at the Saloon, grabbing a bite to eat, it was just another ordinary day to him. That is, until he heard you gasp in shock and groan out loud. Looking back at you, he blinked slightly, a blush creeping across his face. You had been eating a burger, and the sauce had smeared across your face, dripping down to your chest. He couldn't help but stare as you licked your fingers, moaning out annoyed by the mess. If he could, he would have scolded himself for gawking at you like a teenager, but his mind was racing with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. “L-Let me help…” he stammered, grabbing a napkin and gently wiping the sauce from your chest, his fingers brushing against your skin now and again. “Thanks, El. I'll try to get it in my mouth next time,” you said, smiling innocently. His face burned brightly at your innocent joke, little did you know the effect you had on him.

Harvey: When he heard you had never flown a kite, he immediately bought you one and took you out in the sunny weather to fly it. The problem was, you weren't very good at it and couldn't keep the kite in the sky. "It's just the wind," Harvey chuckled, standing behind you and guiding your hands with his. "You just gotta find the airflow," he mumbled as he helped you. "Oh! Oh look, it's flying!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with excitement. Harvey smiled at your reaction and gently squeezed you in his arms. "See, it's easy," he said. As he looked at your face, he noticed how good your hair smelled, the way your body swayed with his and the flow of kite made you feel just right in his arms. "Thanks, Harvey. I guess I just needed your magic touch," you said, eyes locked on the flying fabric. Harvey blushed, straightening up and carefully letting you go. He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide his excitement. "Yeah, anytime you need help, I'll touc- HELP! Help you…" he stammered, flustered.

Sam: It started out as all fun and games. You had been trying to take his lucky pick, teasing him that you needed to borrow his luck for a day. That was how he found himself in his bed, on top of your bent-over body, trying to reach under you. “Give it back,” he whined as he fumbled around aimlessly, feeling your hands, arms, and body but not finding the pick. “Gonna have to find it,” you teased, looking back at him with a mischievous grin. Groaning, he looked down at you, his hands resting on your hips as he tried to think. And think he did. His eyes wandered, taking in the sight of your ass pressed against his hips, your face down in his sheets. His hands had just been all over you. “Fuck…” he whispered softly as his mind began to drift. “Giving up already?” you asked playfully. He watched as you rolled over onto your back, pulling the lucky pick from your pocket. “Looking everywhere but the pocket, Sammy.” Your teasing was lost to him though for Sam’s mind was elsewhere, lost in the overwhelming presence of you in his bed.

Sebastian: You had ridden on his motorcycle before, so why not take the time to teach you how to drive it? This was a horrible decision while you drove perfectly fine, the real issue was him sitting behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, and his hands absentmindedly gripped your thighs. The motorcycle's gentle vibrations caused your bodies to press together, and the smell of his leather jacket enveloped you. It was supposed to be just a quick ride, nothing to worry about. "Do you think we could go a little longer today? I think I’m getting the hang of it," you asked, having to yell over the motor of the bike. Sebastian couldn't help but agree, just a little longer wouldn't hurt. Would it? "You okay, Bastian? You were really quiet today," you asked, glancing back at him as you both dismounted the bike. You noticed Sebastian already heading inside, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, I'm good. Just want to lie down," he responded, his voice unusually soft. He couldn't look at you, not wanting to reveal his flushed face, using his body as a shield to hide his predicament.

Shane: He was allowed to blame it on the weed, right? He didn't mind assisting you with heating up the banger or dropping the dab in. But you had to be teasing him, right? The way you cupped the bottom of the bong, your hand sliding up the glass to grip the top, playing with the rim, and how your hand glided down as you moved to take another hit—it was driving him crazy. Your eyes locked onto his as you inhaled the white wall, then blew it in his face. "Don't gotta stare, you're next," you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts. He shook his head, trying to clear away the dirty thoughts that had crept in. "You take forever," he rebutted, defending his reason for staring, his blush deepening as your hands brushed when you handed the rig over. "Nothing wrong with taking your time," you replied with a sly smile. Shane groaned softly as he took his hit, his eyes never leaving you as he smoked. "It looks like you're sucking a dick," he deadpanned, Your comment mirrored the thoughts that had been running through his mind.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Heraldry

Heraldry - is about showing people who you are.

In England, it started in the later 1100s, when knights began to wear helmets, and they couldn't be recognised. So they began to paint unique combinations of colours, shapes and animals, called their 'arms', on their shields and banners. Only one person was allowed to use these arms. When people saw a knight wearing them in a battle or tournament, they could tell who he was.

It is the science and the art that deal with the use, display, and regulation of hereditary symbols employed to distinguish individuals, armies, institutions, and corporations. Those symbols, which originated as identification devices on flags and shields, are called armorial bearings.

Strictly defined, heraldry denotes that which pertains to the office and duty of a herald; that part of his work dealing with armorial bearings is properly termed armory. But in general usage heraldry has come to mean the same as armory.

The Colours of Heraldry

The 5 traditional colours are, with their heraldic names:

Red = Gules

Blue = Azure

Green = Vert

Black = Sable

Purple = Purpure

Plus the two 'metals':

Gold or yellow = Or

Silver or white = Argent

There are also 'furs', the most common being:

Ermine: representing the white winter fur of stoats, with their black tail tips.

Vair: representing squirrel skins, in blue and white.

If something (say a dog or badger) is shown in its natural colours, it's called proper.

Conventional representations of tinctures used when it is not possible to print the actual colors:

Heraldic Ordinaries

Ordinaries - the simple shapes used on heraldic shields, against a colour, metal or fur background. If you are making your own design, choose one of these main ordinaries:

Fess = horizontal stripe across the shield

Pale = vertical stripe down the shield

Bend = diagonal stripe

Chevron = like a house gable, pointing upwards

Cross = a plain cross

Saltire = a 'St. Andrew's cross'

Chief = bar across top edge of shield

Bordure = border round edges of shield

Pile = downward-pointing triangle

You can also divide your shield into two colours, either vertically or horizontally, or into four different-coloured quarters.

You don't have to use an ordinary, but if you do remember to never put a colour on colour or a metal on a metal. Try to remember this heraldic rule: colours don't show up well against colours, or metals against metals. This also applies to charges.

Heraldic Charges

Charges - emblems added to the shield, on the background, the 'ordinary', or both.

There can be one big charge, or several smaller repeated ones. Here are some of the common charges you could use:

Crosses - of many different types

Stars

Rings

Balls

Crescents

Diamonds

Flowers

They can be any colour, but remember never put colour on colour, for example a green star on blue, or metal on metal, for example a white flower on yellow.

Many knights also used animals as charges.

Animal Charges

Any animal - either one big one or several smaller - can be used as a charge. They can be shown in many different ways, for instance:

Rearing up (rampant) - like the lion and the hare in the pictures above

Standing (statant) - like the dog

For birds, with wings outstretched (displayed) - like the eagle

Walking along (passant) - like the other lion

If the animal is looking towards you, it is also guardant or 'on guard'. So the lion in the picture is passant guardant.

The ancient royal arms of England are 3 golden lions, one above the other, walking along on a red shield: or, in heraldic code, gules three lions passant guardant or.

Just to make things more complicated, lions passant guardant are also called leopards - but they don't have spots.

Choosing Your Animal

Animals symbolised different qualities. So for instance:

Lions = bravery

Dogs = faithfulness, reliability

Stags = wisdom and long life

Eagles = power and nobility

Badgers = endurance or 'hanging on'

You could also design your own animal charge.

For instance a cat, horse or other favourite pet.

Or you could choose a fabulous beast...

Fabulous Beasts

Though often used as 'charges', these fabulous beasts never really existed.

But some people believed they did, maybe because they'd heard about them in stories made up by travellers to distant lands, like crusading knights or merchant adventurers. Pictures of them also appeared in 'bestiaries', a popular kind of illustrated medieval story-book.

Here are some you could use:

Dragon: the earliest and most common fabulous beast, also used as a badge by Romans, Anglo-Saxons and Welsh. A brave and cunning defender of treasure.

Griffin: a combination of lion and eagle. Symbolises watchfulness and courage - and also guards treasure.

Cockatrice: a cross between a cockerel and a dragon, supposedly hatched from a cock's egg by a snake or toad. Could kill by looking at you, and symbolised protection.

Manticore or 'man-tiger': a fearsome man-eating creature with a lion's body, man's face, tusks, horns and a deafening trumpet-like voice.

Cadency

Cadency - the use of various devices designed to show a man’s position in a family, with the aforementioned basic aim of reserving the entire arms to the head of the family and to differentiate the arms of the rest, who are the cadets, or younger members.

Heraldic works in the 16th century refer to cadency marks as:

a label for the eldest son during his father’s lifetime;

a crescent for the second son;

a mullet (five-pointed star) for the third;

a martlet (a mythical bird), the fourth;

an annulet (a small ring), the fifth;

a fleur-de-lis, the sixth;

a rose, the seventh; and so forth.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[micamicster]

Super Rich Kids

Close my eyes and feel the crash...

I wrote this one on post-its on a trans-continental flight after my phone (where i was re-reading the raven cycle) died. 0/10 plane experience would not recommend but I did manage to entertain myself! And now hopefully you as well!

When Ronan pulled into Monmouth Manufacturing he knew Gansey wouldn’t be there. Adam Parrish was, though, sitting on the steps in the golden afternoon light, bike dumped to the side in dying grass. He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelid when Ronan bootlegged the BMW into an approximation of parking on the far side of the lot, which was fine because that’s how he would have parked the car anyway, whether or not Adam was here.

Ronan was pretty sure that Gansey had arranged a shift system with the other boys, to prevent Ronan from being unaccompanied on the rare occasions of his own absence. The idea of a babysitter should have rankled Ronan, but Adam did not seem particularly invested in his role. Small favors.

As he got out of the car he gave Adam his customary once-over, as brief as it was habitual. You could notice a lot in a single glance, if you were Ronan, glancing at Adam.

Adam was wearing long sleeves (his father? Or just because it was October?) and his faded camo pants, the ones Ronan said made him look like a jingoistic meathead. They had recently acquired a tear in one knee. Not in the stylish, deliberate manner in which Ronan’s own jeans were shredded, but awkwardly, in an L-shape, where they had caught on some jagged edge and given way before even careful Adam had noticed and unhooked himself. The tear gaped open at times, like it was doing now, revealing Adam’s knobby left knee and, worse, a triangle of his brown thigh.

Ronan looked away.

Ronan never allowed himself, even in dreams, to trespass beyond the carefully demarcated boundaries of Adam’s clothes. And Adam was usually helpful in the maintenance of this boundary. Unlike Gansey, who could be found working on his model Henrietta in boxers at all hours of the night, or wandering to and from the shower in a towel, absent-mindedly forgetting his clothes in bathroom or bedroom. Unlike the boys Ronan played tennis with, who stripped down casually in the locker room after practice. Unlike even Ronan himself, who’d never met a shirt he couldn’t rip the sleeves off; Adam was always fully covered.

This summer, foolishly, Ronan had imagined that this might change. Now that the hideous secrets Adam protected with his long sleeves were no longer his alone. But by now he knew what kept those sleeves in place, something that Adam had already understood: that knowing and seeing are two very different things.

For example: this. Ronan knew that Adam, like most people who walked around on earth under their own power, possessed thighs. Two of them, attached in the normal way to other body parts, such as knees and hips. To know this was one thing.

Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The way his knee bent, and the muscle above shifted as Adam made room on the steps for him. Ronan was looking away, out at the familiar, grounding, skid marks on the concrete of Monmouth’s lot, but he could picture in their place with deadly accuracy the hinge of Adam’s knee, the tanned skin of his thigh, scattered with golden-brown hair. He could dream about pressing his face against it.

He picked up a rock and hurled it. It glanced off the side of the soulless suburban and fell anticlimactically into the grass dying by the rear tire. It didn’t help.

Adam shifted next to him, subtly.

“What?” said Ronan. “Impressed?”

“Surprised, more like. I thought you were supposed to be the tennis star.”

“You think you can do better?” Ronan pried another hunk of gravel or concrete out of the dirt and tossed it in his left hand, tauntingly.

“I know I can.”

“But?”

“But,” said Adam, with some hint of exasperation coloring his voice, “I’m not going to sit here chunking rocks at Gansey’s car to prove it. My ego’s not that fragile.” His accent slipped out on chunkin’, not as if Ronan had pissed him off enough to forget to hide it, but as if it was a word he’d never used any other way.

Ronan threw his rock again. This was, if anything, a worse throw than before, and it skittered harmlessly across the suburban’s roof.

Adam made a small but contemptuous noise.

“Don’t give me that shit, man. You know he hates this fucking car.”

“That was for your shitty aim.”

“Come on then.” Ronan hefted another piece of gravel. “Ten points if you knock out his taillight.”

“It costs a hundred and five dollars to replace a taillight on that make and model. Plus tax.”

Ronan’s brief cheer was collapsing again. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to bust Dick’s lights.”

Adam blinked slowly, his dusty eyelashes obscuring the contempt in his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll leave.” (He wouldn’t).

Ronan dropped the rock. Next to him Adam sighed. Abruptly, he put out his hand. “Telephone pole. Six feet from the top.”

Ronan swept back up the rock and dropped it into his hand. Their fingers did not touch. His heart thudded.

Adam tossed the rock once, testing its weight while his gaze, cool and assessing, remained on the telephone pole. It was a splintered, tilting thing, shamed by his attentions. In one smooth, economical movement, he rose to his feet and let the rock fly. His leg went forward, knee jutting out of his clothes, his back curved, and his arm swept around in an arc, fingers scraping at the blue October sky. Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to know if the rock hit—he could see it in the brief hard satisfaction on Adam’s face.

Adam turned back to him, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to earn that hundred,”

Adam shrugged. The gesture was disinterested, but there was a quirk to his mouth that contradicted it. “I know nothing blew up, but…”

Ronan already had another rock in his hand. “West corner lightbulb. It breaks or it doesn’t count.” Adam rolled his eyes, but turned agreeably to watch Ronan miss.

“Would you like to get your tennis racket?”

“Eat me,” said Ronan. (Maybe).

They traded shots back and forth for a while, calling increasingly specific and complex plays.

“Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Get the government to pay for some glasses, Parrish, and then come back and try to tell me that wasn’t a fucking bullseye—”

“It wasn’t even close! You—”

“You calling me a liar?” Ronan loomed, and Adam, as usual, was unimpressed.

“Just because you don’t lie doesn’t make you right all the time! Like when you said that quote on Tuesday was Seneca. It doesn’t stop being Martial just because you’ve got a child’s sense of morality—”

“See, right there.” Ronan pointed triumphantly at an invisible scuff mark on the doorsill, marking where his handful of gravel had made impact.

Adam gave it a skeptical glance. His face was faintly flushed from exertion in the cold air, but his eyes were as cool and considering as ever. “What we need,” he said, “is a knife.”

Ronan was not allowed knives.

~

“Are you trying to stab each other in the feet? Why are your shoes off! It’s October!”

“Equal playing field.” Ronan wiggled his toes against the cold asphalt. “Parrish’s shitty knife is no match for my boots.” Over Gansey’s head, Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eye, to share a ‘can you believe him’ sort of look. Adam’s embarrassment over being caught acting irresponsibly meant Ronan could expect the look to be rebuffed, but he couldn’t help himself from trying it anyway.

Adam was bent over, eyes hidden. He carefully dusted off his socked feet one at a time before sliding them back into his shoes, as though the socks or sneakers could look any worse. A little parking lot crud might improve their appearance, actually.

Next to him, Gansey was still fussing. Without the pressure release valve of eye contact with someone who knew Gansey was overreacting, Ronan snapped, “Come off it, man, I’m not going to slit my throat while Parrish watches. He can’t afford that caliber of snuff film.”

Gansey’s concern transformed into revulsion, but underneath it he looked hurt, which was far far worse.

Adam straightened up. “We were just using it to mark where we hit. Honestly, we could have done it tossing a sharpie, but neither of us had one.” He sounded conciliatory, which pissed Ronan off. But Gansey was letting it go, returning the knife to Adam with an apologetic smile. Sorry for the fuss. Sorry for Ronan. Ronan’s bare feet were cold against the asphalt.

“Well? Are you going to throw or not, Parrish?” he said belligerently.

Adam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stooped for gravel and let one fly at Ronan’s open bedroom window, a shot he made easily.

Gansey whistled. “You’ve got quite the arm on you. How come you’re not on the Algionby baseball team?”

Adam shifted his feet, awkwardly.

“Please,” scoffed Ronan, “he’s not a team player.”

Gansey did not let it go. “Bet you’d have a better fastball than both our pitchers.”

There was a pause, during which Adam’s face clearly showed all of the thoughts he was trying to corral into a polite response to Gansey’s unconsidered enthusiasm. Ronan got there first. “Yeah, Parrish, why not hitch your wagon to the star of organized sports, like every other rags to riches wannabe?”

“Ronan!” said Gansey, Ronan’s offensiveness registering where his own had not.

“Hitch my wagon to a star?” Adam was unruffled. “I thought quoting Transcendentalists could get you excommunicated.”

“Who said I know it’s Emerson. It’s a sourceless idiom to those of us who aren’t sad little nerds.”

Adam smirked. The smirk said, I never said Emerson. His words said, “Gansey’s damning me with faint praise. No one’s going pro out of an Algionby sport team. Even tennis.”

“Ouch,” said Ronan, cheerfully. “Hit me where it really hurts. My school pride.”

~

Now that Gansey had arrived, his plans for the day took precedence over noble pastimes such as flipping pocketknives at each other’s feet. His plans involved comparing readings from various instruments and then placing said various instruments in various new locations, all of which were equally arbitrary (to Ronan’s eyes) and inaccessible. Gansey’s plans involved him waiting by the car to monitor the readings while people hiked with antennae to the outermost reaches of the signal. People, in this instance, being Ronan and Adam, Noah having mysteriously and silently fucked off, as he so often did when a job required carrying anything.

Ronan put his head down and trudged. It was brambly here, and slightly damp, and he was beginning to work up the kind of counter-intuitive sweat that appears from working in the cold, the kind that makes you colder later.

As the person leading the hike, custom would dictate that he should catch and hold the long clinging arms of the brambles for the following hiker. This presented a dilemma. Ronan compromised, and set about stomping the multiflora into the ground as he walked. Scarlet hips burst under his feet, invasive and beautiful, spreading their millions of seeds across the damp earth. Noxious weeds.

“It’s too unreliable,” said Adam, into the silence. “Sports. It all depends on… your physical condition.”

“And your condition is shit.”

There was Adam’s ironic smile. “Yes. So.” He shrugged. There was the part they weren’t saying, which was that his physical condition could always get worse. Unexpectedly.

“My dad hates baseball.” Ronan heard himself make the slip—hates and not hated—and a spark of fury burned through him, brief and inconsequential.

“My dad loves it.”

They marched on in silence.

Adam swore as a bramble Ronan had beaten down sprang up again, catching him right across the tear, where his skin was exposed. He bent to unhook it from the camo with deft, deliberate hands. “What?” he said, like he could feel Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan looked away. “Why not the military?” He kicked purposelessly at the bramble and heard Adam sigh. “And don’t tell me you never thought about it. Test scores like yours out in hicksville high school, you must have had recruiters hopping all over you like fleas.”

“Would you believe I had a moral objection?” Adam’s smile was self-deprecating. Ronan studied it.

“No.”

Adam shrugged. It, too, was self-deprecating.

“I think you had a superiority objection. You think you’re too smart for that shit.”

Adam blinked at him. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Ronan snorted. “Hell no. You can do better than getting blown up in a desert for the United States government.”

The smile, when it came, was small and stunning. “Damned by faint praise again.”

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 6

genre: 2024 Season AU

pairing: Romantic! oc x two people because y'all voted on a triangle ;). platonic! oc x literally the whole grid.

warnings: lots swearing, mentions of the accident and crimes, discussions about gangs, mentions of bars and alcohol. Paranoia and an argument. love triangle crumbs

context: Part 1 and Masterlist…

Comments: massive lore drop but I've tried to keep the story moving and interesting. I'm a sucker for small details so I hope y'all have good memories ;)

"I'm in a witness protection program."

Sadie clenched her jaw, unsure what else to say. Lando and Max were silent.

"What did you see?" Lando's voice was so soft Sadie barely heard him over the road noise.

Her right hand flexed on the steering wheel. "I can't tell you that."

"Why did you volunteer?"

"Because I love F1."

Max chimed in. "You said it's too public, too many cameras."

"What I reported happened after Melbourne and just before SIlverstone. I- I think it would be better if I just told you, wouldn't it."

"Yes," Lando muttered, not meeting her glance.

"Okay, well. I was working a bar in Sydney and witnessed a crime. I was seen calling the cops and..." She took a deep breath. "And let's just say that I had dobbed on someone dangerous. Someone influential and known to police."

"You snitched on a gangster?" Lando's wide eyes would have made Sadie laugh in any other situation. "A real life gangster?"

"I didn't know who they were! I was cornered in an alley the next day and after that I spent all of my money on a two week stay in England. From there, I reported the attempted assault and was told to stay in England for the two weeks. The police said they could use that time to get me into witness protection and set up the right safeguards, if I anonymously testify in court. It happened to be the Grand Prix weekend, so I volunteered instead of sitting around."

"Attempted assault?" Max stressed.

Sadie glanced at him in the rear view and her silence was answer enough. You don't need to know.

"Let me get this right. You snitched on a gang, were threaten and then ran to England?!"

"Yeah, pretty much." Her tone didn't match her racing heart.

"What happened to 'too many cameras'?" Lando toyed with his silver necklace.

"Obviously I didn't consider how dramatically you were going to break your ankle in turn, whatever it was. I figured, as a medic, I’d spend a lot of time in areas with very few to no cameras.”

Sadie glanced at the phone Lando showed her and, with one hand on the wheel, swung them left and down a small side street.

“You are right, though,” Max observed. “The reporters aren’t allowed in the medical tents unless they’re unwell themselves.”

“Is that why you’re in Melbourne? Are you from Sydney?” She could hear curiosity in Lando’s voice.

“It’s complicated.” Sadie grimaced.

“It’s seems like everything is,” Max muttered.

“Oh, shush,” she joked. She knew it had landed when both boys smiled slightly. “I grew up just outside of Melbourne. I’ve been working back at that bar since I was 18. I took some unofficial leave in June to experience working in another city while we had extra staff. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have chosen Sydney.”

The boys were quiet as Sadie explained her time working at bars in Sydney and enjoying the nightlife of another city. She talked about the move up there and the sudden disappearance to England. Some of her stuff was still in Sydney, including some personal keepsakes like a bracelet from her mother. Sadie explained that Lewis and Max knew about the witness protection, but nothing further. She’d only told them when they visited her in hospital the day after the accident and after some significant convincing. She answered questions about her leg and how it had healed, which had turned out to be quite well.

“How much physio did you have to do?” There was guilt in Lando’s question.

“Just some at home things, it was quite easy,” Sadie admitted. She didn’t want to elaborate on the facts she hadn’t done any official physio because she couldn’t afford it. Australian public health care was good, but not that good. “How well has the ankle healed?”

“It was slower than I wanted but I’m cleared for next season which is good.”

Max grumbled, “but he didn’t stop complaining about it for months.”

“I was in pain, mate!”

“I know! You told me every chance you got!”

Sadie smiled at their banter, glad they weren’t holding up walls of suspicion anymore.

As she pulled up to the Piastri Family home, she cleared her throat. “I- ummm… It was good to see you again Lando, and good to meet you Max.”

“Oh no,” Lando chided. “We’re not done, I am not letting you just drive into the sunset again.”

“It’s already dark,” Sadie pointed out. “And that’s not what happened the first time.”

“And on that note, I’m out,” Max exclaimed. “It was lovely to meet you, Sadie. Thank you for what you did at Silverstone.”

He jumped out of the car before she could say anything and practically ran to the red front door of a small, low set home.

Lando undid his seatbelt and turned to face her, pulling a leg onto the seat.

“Sadie, you vanished.”

Straight into then.

“I feel better seeing that you’re in one piece, and not hearing it from news,” she murmured.

“That’s what you have to say?” he scoffed.

Sadie pushed down irritation. She might struggle to stay in one place for very long, but she was a patient person who had drawers of calm, collected masks to choose from.

When she didn’t answer, Lando shook his head and closed his eyes.

“How do you think I felt?” he snapped. “Lewis told me you had stitches. How many? I know you can walk, but how long did it take for the limp to go away? Did you need crutches? Because you know that I did, and you know how long I needed them for.”

“How much did Lewis tell you?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thi-“

“How much, Lando?”

The panicked edge to her voice had Lando pausing, looking closer at her face through whatever haze was over his mind.

“Just that,” he breathed. “He told me you’d needed stitches but were okay. He wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

The fist around Sadie’s heart relaxed slightly as she sighed with relief. “Okay, as long as it was just that.”

“You’re scared,” he stated like he’d only just noticed. His watercolour eyes were lit slightly by a nearby street lamp. They appeared hazel in that light and it was a detail Sadie wished she hadn’t noted.

“I’m paranoid,” she replied just as curtly.

“I was scared,” he admitted, breaking the eye contact.

“That’s fair. If your ankle didn’t heal properly, your career might’ve been over.”

“No, that’s not- Well I was scared about that but I meant that I was scared for you.”

Sadie frowned. “What? Why?”

“I didn’t know if you were okay! You put yourself on the line for me, you saved my life and I didn’t know if you were okay!”

“I didn’t save your life,” she scoffed. “It wasn’t headed for your heart.”

“I rewatched the footage,” Lando confessed with a sheepish smile. “If you hadn’t put yourself between me and the track? The debris would have hit me and my career could have been over.”

“Your career, Lando. Not your life.” Her voice was the softest it had been all night. It even surprised her.

“My racing is my life, Sadie.”

“I-“ but he cut her off.

“I never got to thank you in person.”

“You can do it now.”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?” Her patience was slipping. She pulled another mask from the drawer.

“I think you’d take it as closure, or something. Then you’d leave and I would never see you again.”

He wasn’t wrong. She’d began to form a plan on how to give him the answers he needed, and then vanish again. He was a liability to her safety.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

She didn’t know what to say to that. Sadie couldn’t bring herself and meet the gaze she could feel on her.

“Max almost punched a reporter,” Lando said.

That had her looking up at him, a confused smile on her lips.

“What?”

“In the media pen, Max almost punched a reporter that wouldn’t stop asking about you.”

A laugh bubbled out of Sadie. Max Verstappen? Protecting the young woman who had ego-checked him at Albert Park?

“I’m serious!” Lando insisted, but his smile was widening. “The guy asked every driver, but Lewis and Max had already told everyone to say nothing. The reporter was so frustrated at getting ‘no comment’ from every driver. Max’s interview was second or third last and the reporter asked something so out of pocket. If you find the interview you can see Max trying not to hit the guy.”

Sadie laughed again, and she caught Lando grinning in her peripheral vision.

“I did make him swear on his championship,” she commented it.

“What?” It was obvious that detail was also new to Lando.

“After the incident, while we were still at the track, I made Lewis promise to hide me from the media. Max visited my hotel room a few days later, and I made him swear the same thing.”

“On his championship?” Lando was trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah.” Sadie couldn’t hold back her own.

They laughed for a few minutes at the absurd notion of Max swearing anything on his championship.

“Jesus,” Lando sighed. “That makes so much more sense now.”

“What does?”

“I tried to find you, after a month. Fuck, I even tried to rope half the grid into helping me find you, but Lewis and Max always shut it down. They never told my why, but I guess that’s it.”

“I’m not going to apologise for trying to protect myself.”

“You’re good at protecting,” he said.

It wasn’t the most random comment he’d made that night but it was the one that stuck out the most.

Sadie didn’t know how to reply.

She didn’t have a chance to think about it when she saw a shadowy figure moving toward the car.

“Lando, get out of sight,” she warned.

He was too shocked by the immediate change in demeanour and topic.

“What?”

“Just- oh. Nevermind.”

As the figure came closer, they stepped into the lamplight and Sadie recognised Oscar Piastri.

“It’s Piastri,” she breathed.

Lando wound down his window and waved.

Oscar leant down, rested both arms across the opened window and glanced between them.

“Hey, how are you?” He began.

“Could be better,” Sadie quipped with a joking smile.

“I’m trying to convince her to stay,” Lando explained.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Stay the night or-“

“No, Oscar!” Lando laughed and Sadie couldn’t help but like sound.

“He means in your lives. But I can’t.”

Oscar tilted his head sideways quizzically and some of his hair fell into his eyes. “Can’t or won’t.”

“Both.”

“You make it sound like you don’t have a choice,” he observed.

“She does,” Lando said at the same time as Sadie’s “I don’t.”

“Lando, I-“

“No, Sadie you do have a choice. Not every part of our lives is public.”

“I’m still very confused,” Oscar added.

Sadie’s patience slipped again. “Piastri, I fucked with some dangerous people, and I can’t let them find me. Lando, you don’t have a private life. If you’re not doing Formula One, you’re doing Quadrant; if you’re not doing Quadrant, you’re partying with Martin Garrix; and if you’re not partying, you’re posting something on Instagram. You live an incredibly public life, and that’s okay, but I can’t join that in any regard.”

Lando looked at her with stunned silence. Oscar was watching her with a very concerned expression. She pointed at him with an intense stare.

"You might think your life is fairly private, but when you post on social media everyone nit-pics at it because of how rare your posts are. And every sighting of you is scrutinised.”

A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth but he didn’t say anything.

Sadie pulled in a deep breath and pulled on another mask from the drawer.

“I’m sorry, to both of you, but I’m going to vanish again. I have to.”

“Are you in witness protection?” Oscar asked.

Sadie nodded with a frown. He’d put it together fast.

“When’s the court date?” Oscar’s deep brown were intensely focused on her.

“Wednesday, next week. I will be testifying anonymously.”

“So even if they have gang members who aren’t convicted, they won’t know it was you.” Lando pressed, catching onto Oscar’s train.

“Gang members?” Oscar’s went up an octave.

Sadie waved off the question and focused on Lando. “I see where this is going.”

“Then you can see why I’m right.” His eyes were set on hers, a hand set on the handbrake between them.

Sadie sighed and closed her eyes.

“All of the members who saw my face will be going on trial. A few of them have been convicted already.”

“So after next week, you won’t be in witness protection anymore.” Lando pressed.

“That will depend on whether they’re all convicted and how long their jail time is.”

As Sadie spoke, Oscar pulled out his wallet and an old receipt. He pulled a random marker from another pocket and wrote something on the back before handing them both to Lando. He took this hint and wrote something as well.

When he handed it to her, Sadie noted both their phone numbers and tiny signatures at the end of them.

“Text when the trial is over. Just a yes or no. A yes doesn’t mean that you’re going to to be thrust into the spot light. It’s a maybe.” Oscar said, running a hand through his brown hair.

“It’s a maybe I could thank you properly." Lando added. "A random dinner or a paddock pass to which ever race you want.”

That brought a small smile to Sadie’s face.

“Everyone at McLaren would want to thank you,” Oscar added, but there was a tightness to his jaw Sadie hadn’t noticed until then.

She caved.

“Alright maybe,” she said. “I’ll keep this but I'm not promising you anything.”

Oscar's soft smile said that's enough, but Lando's slight frown meant he wasn't ready to give up. Oscar noted it.

"Lando," he interrupted whatever the older driver was thinking. "Mum made chocolate cake while you were out and wants you to try it."

"She knows about our diets right?"

"She'll insist until you fly out."

Lando sighed with an amused smile and opened his door.

"I'm not going to say thank you, not yet. I'm not even going to say goodbye."

"It might be your only chance," Sadie reminded him.

Lando shook his head as he stood, brown curls waving in the small breeze. Oscar pushed his door shut gently and ducked his head back through the window.

They watched Lando walk away, oblivious to the fact Oscar wasn't on his heals.

"I saw it happen, at Silverstone," Oscar murmured. "I saw you make the choice."

"I didn't choose. I reacted. There was no choice, or thought process, or thoughts at all, actually. It was just an action."

"An action we're all grateful for, but-" His voice dropped, as if Lando would hear him if he was any louder. "- I want to thank you for making that choice, or doing that action, whatever."

"Stop," Sadie demanded. "Stop, Piastri."

He did. The first one to stop the first time she asked.

She pulled in a deep breathe and calmly explained, "I did what I did. It happened. I know you're all grateful, but it has to stay at that. This is not a movie, where a chance meeting leads to years of friendship."

"I wouldn't call being hospitalised for being a human shield, a chance encounter," Oscar noted dryly.

"You get my point," she replied.

"I do, and I think I understand." He stepped away from the car. "You have our numbers. Call us and we will be there."

Sadie smiled slightly but didn't give him any hope.

"Go, before Lando comes back out."

"It was good to meet you, Piastri."

"Good luck, Sadie."

With that, the handbrake was off, car in gear and she was gone.

----$----

I know y'all loved the Max/Sadie dynamic in chapters 1 and 2 so how about some more Max content next chapter? ;)

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Taglist; @snubug