#the tags kept getting long I'm cutting myself off here but I have. many feelings and opinions on redemption arcs

[birb-reblogs]

Fans who preach therapyspeak abt forgiveness and learning and self-improvement, but then can't tolerate a character who did bad shit actually trying to do better or being given the chance to change

[adobe-outdesign]

Kung Fu Panda 4 Thoughts/Liveblog Thing

Just caught this at the theater for a grand total of five whole dollars, so I thought I'd do some quick opinions while it's fresh.

Non-spoiler opinion: It was Okay(TM), but the movies were considerably stronger as a trilogy. It's worth seeing one (1) time if you're a KFP fan (and really, who isn't), but I wouldn't bother paying full price for it or anything

SPOILERS FOR ALL 4 MOVIES UNDER THE CUT:

A list of things that slap:

The animation is stunning and fast-paced. Really loved the use of Chinese-style paint brush strokes to accentuate the action

Also I'll talk about the 5 later but I also really liked the animation change when describing where they are—all KFP movies have at least one animation shift and I'm glad this one kept up with it

Some of the fight scenes were super good, I liked the one that uses the tilting bar on a cliff in particular

(side note: the Missing Link did something similar, just on a ship. Go watch the Missing Link)

The Chameleon served straight cunt the entire time she was on screen and I kind of loved (almost) everything about her. Character design was incredible, voice was perfect, palace design was amazing, abilities were sick

Also the way she rides up chilling in a golden tree branch of all things? Fellas, we have no choice but to stan

Also I just appreciate the choice to both do a female villain for a change and to get a reptile in here after having only mammals and one (1) bird as villains previously

Speaking of character design there were a few really good ones in there, like a pangolin that moves Sonic the Hedgehog-style, a cool looking female boar, and a bunch of Komodo dragon henchmen. Good stuff

The jokes were a very mixed bag for me, some hit and some didn't. I will say that Zhen just going "that's great for you" in response to Shifu stating he's a red panda got me for some reason

If anyone hurts Po's gay dads I'm killing everyone in this room and then myself

Jack Black's cover of Baby One (1) More Time is unironically better than the original

A list of things that Do Not Slap:

Pacing/Plot:

This movie lacked a color scheme? KFP 1 was blue (also some gold), KFP 2 was red, KFP 3 was green. These colors weren't subtle either, there are entire scenes in each movie drenched in these colors and it was really obviously missing here

The whole first half the movie feels really breathless and too fast-paced. Apparently it was a studio mandate to have it not go over an hour and a half which is A) stupid and B) hurts the pacing

As much as I love Po's two gay dads we REALLY should not have been wasting time on their journey when the runtime is so tight

Also them tagging along felt off? Mr. Ping was worried sick about Po in KFP 2 but he doesn't tag alone because obviously he needs to let his son have his space. It's more in-character with Li Shan but it doesn't come across like he's talking Mr. Ping into it or something

In general there are so many plot points in this movie that feel under-developed. You could've made an entire movie out of the previous villains returning, Zhen and the Chameleon's relationship (see below), etc.

Po's Character:

People not knowing Po is the dragon warrior is weird, I'm pretty sure he would've been more well known than that

The entire thing with Po needing to give up his role as the Dragon Warrior doesn't really make sense? The Dragon Warrior is literally a made-up title. There's no need to have a Dragon Warrior because there is no such thing technically, it's why Oogway denied Tai Lung the title and then waited years and years to give it to Po. Like it's not a role that needs to be passed down, that's missing the entire point of the Everything

Also Po's only been like Dragon Warrior for a few years? I don't think we're ever given a time scale but it wasn't that long

The jokes about Shifu and Po having trouble with inner peace/mediating feels off given that was the entire plot of the second movie

It felt like Po regressed a bit character wise. He acts like he has no idea how to be a teacher in this movie but he already was a teacher by the end of the third, that was the entire point??

Also he seemed like he was more gullible in this movie but I could be wrong

Why is Po so impressed with Juniper city. He literally spent most of KFP 2 in Gongmen hello?? I think(?) Juniper is bigger but he shouldn't be acting like he has no idea what a city is

Zhen/Chameleon:

Zhen's character design doesn't match anything else, which is weird because most of the new characters in this film keep the distinct style in some form or another

Her wanted poster shows her with the bold markings KFP is known for and it looks SO much better

The plot twist with Zhen working for the villain was so obvious I did not realize it was supposed to be a twist at first

Also, the entire thing with Zhen was entirely unneeded? The Chameleon could've just just stood up and announced her plan to take over and Po would've shown up on her doorstep with the staff

I guess the idea is that Po needed to hand over the staff willingly for it to work? But if that's the case the Chameleon could've just impersonated Tigress or something and gotten it that way in like 1/3 of the time

Originally she was supposed to have kidnapped Shifu which would've been a much better plot point as it would've given Po extra motivation

The other problem with treating Zhen as a plot twist is that it hampers the relationship she has with the Chameleon effectively being her mom, which is FASCINATING. They had some really interesting chemistry together (the whole "stand up straight" thing as one example) and I could've seen it as a Mother Gospel from Tangled kind of deal, but we barely get any interaction between the two and it's like AAAAAAA

Fanfic writers fix this shit. I believe in you

I'll have to chew on it more but my pacing thought would actually be to start with Po finding out about the Chameleon's "take over everything" plan very early due to Shifu's kidnapping. He breaks into the lair like at the 1/3 mark or earlier and he meets Zhen inside which then leads into why she's doing what she's doing and the mother angle, etc etc blah blah

The Chameleon needed to just straight-up murder someone, comically shoving them down the stairs isn't good enough. I know stairs are Po's greatest enemy but I don't think that applies to everyone

Shen was allowed to stab someone on-screen so I think the Chameleon should be a allowed to strangle someone or something. as a treat

If violence was the concern just keep it off-screen like Master Rhino's death in KFP 2

The shapeshifter turning into a giant monster trope is overrated and I'm glad it was just used briefly here and not even for her defeat

Also the Chameleon's thing with her being rejected from Kung Fu because she's too small makes no sense b/c Mantis, which I'm pretty sure everyone's pointed out already. She does say "lowly" I think but was she ever poor? Could make a very interested parallel to Zhen if that was the case but it was never brought up again

I've heard some argue body image parallels w/ Po in KFP 1 but if that was the intent it's not explored, like, at all, which is a shame because it could've been an interesting angle

Also If they wanted a better excuse related to body image just say she was too frail instead of too small. I haven't owned chameleons but I've heard from people who have that they are very frail and very hard to keep alive, which would be a much better reason to turn her away

Cameos:

Yes I'm devoting an entire section to five second cameos don't judge me

I have mixed feelings on the Five not being present (save for the end cameos). On the one hand they are sorely missed but on the other hand they would've just made the plot bloat even worse

Lack of speaking was also bothersome. Part of me is glad they weren't recast with cheaper VAs because it's disrespectful to interchange them, but on the other hand that might've been better than just not having them speak and not paying anyone anyway

Tai Lung had all the best lines and was also the best used out of all the cameos, even if it would've been nice to have him on screen for longer. Also if they stuck with Shifu being kidnapped those two could've had some much-needed dialogue

Side note, while I don't think it contradicts anything from KFP 3 the spirit world having only kung fu masters in it feels off? It makes it seem so small and limited

Kai being there is weird. He's like. dead dead. Deader than dead. I guess you could argue that you can't kill something that's already dead but there's nothing even acknowledging this

Trying to take Shen's kung fu is really weird because the entire point of the fight with Master Rhino in KFP 2 is that he is not? a master?? like he's GOOD but he's not amazing, like if a master is like a 10/10 he's like an 8/10.

"The Chameleon has the powers of all my old nemesises!" WHAT'S SHEN'S POWER EXACTLY. HIS ONLY POWERS ARE GUN AND MOMMY/DADDY ISSUES

She does summon him way later than Tai Lung and Kai so maybe she was just camp spawning every single person she could think of regardless of skill level? she also uses his wings at one point so maybe she just wanted those, I don't think(?) there were other birds summoned

Though speaking of which she claimed she was using his wings but very clearly wasn't? not only were they black but they were raggedy and lacked the five longer feathers on the tips

Also Shen's model was super off, it looked way too fluffy and like an entire row of eyespots were missing from the edge of the train (which might have been a clipping error? unsure) it's been said the new models were made out of glue and popsical sticks and I believe it

Tai Lung has a habit of just like Grabbing anyone that's smaller than him and it amuses me

It's honestly really weird that everyone would just agree to go back into the spirit world willingly?

Like I think it works for Tai Lung because he's a noble person who just goes into a disassociative state and commits atrocities. Like I think he'd be willing to accept his death

Also it checks out for Shen because he killed himself and given his "dead belong in the past" mentality I can't imagine him wanting to stick around, he'd probably think it was unnatural

But Kai?? Kai was FURIOUS at being dragged back into the spirit world at the end of 3, like hell he'd just go quietly

Also I can see Tai Lung maybe respecting Po enough to bow to him but everyone else is pushing it unless they have therapists in the spirit world. Po offered Shen some nice advice at the end of KFP 2 and his response was to kill himself on the spot, I don't think him or Kai would be bowing

All of them were definitely in the middle of a mahjong match and were experiencing the equivalent of being woken up in the middle of a nap so they were just going along with things

Chameleon: I'm going to steal your kung fu

Everyone:

Misc:

I did like some of the more subtle callbacks. Stuff like Po seeing his reflection in the blade the way Shifu did or the "I can't even beat you to the stairs" scene were nice and not overly overt or in-your-face

If Po actively refers to himself as the "Kung Fu Panda" one more time I'm going to end it all

anyway that was not supposed to be a 12 page essay but it's too late now, goodbye

[bots-and-cons]

Arcee and the sniper femme: after a run-in with the cons, both of them have to stick together to survive until the Autobots arrive to rescue the two.

There are two previous parts to this, which are both HCs. You can find part 1 here and part 2 here. This time I wanted to do a scenario though and so I did, because I freaking can and I have enough energy left for it today. I decided to finally give the sniper femme a name, Ballista, because it’s the name of a sniper rifle and I feel like it just fits. So I guess another sort of OC to add to the list. I'm not gonna tag this with an OC tag, since I feel like she's just gonna be a reoccurring character for this specific thing, and I'm not gonna develop her outside of that

Arcee found herself separated from the team on a scouting mission, and while she was on guard she wasn’t really worried. The woods were quiet aside from the nature noises, and there were no decepticons on sight. Arcee was actually quite enjoying herself, but she knew she had to find the others, in case something did happen. She did realize her surroundings seemed familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.

Arcee saw something move next to her from the corner of her optic. It was silver and seemed to be moving quite slowly.

“Hey…” came a familiar voice.

“Are you following me?” Arcee crossed her arms over her chest as the sniper emerged from the woods.

She smirked and leaned against a nearby tree.

“What brings you to my part of the woods?” she asked, totally ignoring Arcee’s question.

Arcee realized why her surroundings had seemed so familiar a moment ago, she’d been there before. It was months ago, but it was approximately the same place, near that blown up energon mine.

“I’m on a mission…?” Arcee trailed off, not really knowing what else to add.

“Ah of course, you autobots and your missions, so busy” she snickered teasingly.

“Do you live here or something? Because I can’t come up with another reason why you would still be hanging around here”

“I’ve made a nice little hideout for myself nearby, it’s pretty cozy to be honest” the sniper said. “I’d offer you a tour but I think it’s better to be kept a secret for now. Wouldn't you agree, Arcee?”

“You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours, feels a bit unfair” Arcee noted.

“Oh yeah, that’s true” she nodded. “Then allow me to introduce myself, I’m the famous sharpshooter, previously associated with the decepticons, called-” she was cut off by the sound of jet engines above her.

“Not again” Arcee rolled her eyes as she prepared herself for a fight.

“Yes again. It seems we’re fated to get each other out of bad situations” the sniper smirked.

Her rifle wouldn’t be much help in such a close combat situation and as the vehicons dropped from the sky into the woods around them, she brought out her blades and readied herself for what was about to happen.

“I need back up at my coordinates, now” Arcee basically yelled into her comms, just as the vehicons surrounded the duo.

The two were standing back to back with each other.

“It’s Ballista, by the way” the sniper whispered to Arcee.

“Your name? Good timing you’ve got” Arcee shouted as the vehicons started coming at them.

The two fought well together, they were in sync and watched each other’s backs, covering each other's blind spots as best as they could. It wasn’t long before the autobots showed up to help, and the situation was completely taken care of. It’s not like Arcee and her sniper acquaintance were having much difficulty, but the numbers weren’t really in their favor.

After the whole commotion was over, Ballista didn’t disappear into the woods this time, Arcee expected her to, but she stuck around instead.

“So, you’re Arcee’s team huh” Ballista said as she let her eyes wander over each of them.

“A friend of yours?” Bulkhead asked.

“Sort of” Arcee rolled her optics, and gave the other femme a little side glance.

“I’ve saved your aft so many times that I should have earned a medal for it” Ballista smirked.

“You’ve saved my aft? I’m the one who saved you” Arcee argued.

“Yeah sure, let’s go with that” Ballista chuckled and grabbed her rifle.

“Disappearing into the woods again? That’s becoming a trademark for you” Arcee noted as the sniper started walking away.

“Call me” Ballista smirked mischievously as she walked backwards into the woods.

“Sure” Arcee rolled her eyes, but she was smiling anyway.

Ballista wouldn’t be able to get that smile out of her head for days.

[shoechoe]

I finished my rewatch of Stardust Crusaders. I've decided that I'm just going to dump my thoughts about it in this post. It will not be as organized or meticulous as my Battle Tendency analysis (link to that post here because Tumblr seems adamant about hiding that post... sigh), but it gives my general feelings on part 3 after my refresher. (word count: 1303)

 I have not kept it a secret that Stardust Crusaders has generally been my least favorite part of Jojo, only surpassed by Battle Tendency. With Battle Tendency, though, my dislike is due to specific reprehensible elements of the story that ruin it for me despite having things I otherwise enjoy; Stardust Crusaders is not like that.

 I think my biggest problem with part three is that I always get the feeling that it did not really know what it was doing. Its plot is a lot simpler than other parts, but it is very long, having about twice as many episodes as both parts one and two combined, which is much longer than it should've been if you're asking me.

 The part tries to give a "road trip" feel with its length and how the crusaders travel to different parts of the world, but just as road trips often are, it gets really tedious to watch. Multiple stand battles feel like they exist purely to stall for time (or to cram as many media references of things that Araki likes as possible). The story feels packed with unnecessary filler fights that make it far too long for such a simple plot. At multiple points, I went to myself "Do I really want to rewatch this all the way through?" I did, though, of course. (The only arc I skipped was the Alessi fight. I watched that once and that was one too many times.)

Perhaps paradoxically, alongside being too long, the thing I think the part is really lacking is... room to breathe. The plot is essentially fought through the entirety of the way. Every single episode minus maybe the first few have some intense fight to the death being the main focus. This is to be expected- it's a shonen, after all- but I really think the part would've done better if it cut out some of the more unnecessary fights and replaced a few of them with character episodes. How are DIO and his followers tracking the Crusaders on their journey? What do the Crusaders act like when there's no enemy Stand user about to jump them and we just get to see them chill? How's Holy and Suzi Q doing? Near the very end, we get a scene where Suzi visits the bedridden Holy and hugs her, and it's one of my favorite scenes in the part. I just wish we got more of that.

 Several times, the part attempts to change things up by messing with the status quo, but it just makes the story feel messy. Anne, a little girl character, shows up and tags along with the Crusaders very briefly only to get taken away after a few fights and never mentioned again, leaving you wondering what the point of her existence was supposed to be. Iggy is introduced halfway through to mostly be used for a few minutes of comic relief screentime and only becomes useful for about two fights at the end, dying in the second. Just like Anne, I fail to see the point of Iggy’s character, even though I didn’t mind either of them.

 Avdol gets killed off very early on and brought back eleven episodes later... only to do nothing particularly important and just get killed off again. Kakyoin is given some random injury and is written out of the story for the entirety of the Egypt part of their journey (even though I'm pretty sure the Crusaders have gotten far worse injuries than just getting their eyes lightly slashed and managed to heal completely by the next episode) only for him to basically eat shit and die at the end anyway too.

 It all feels less like a cohesive story and more like a bunch of "ooh, what if this happened? Then what if this happened? Then what if this happened?" combined with having a Stand fight every single episode (this getting especially bad later in, where every fight was a two-parter. Seriously, the Bastet fight did... not need to be a two-parter). Then you look back at the story as a whole, and it feels messy and bloated and leaves you with the question of what the point of all that was. Sure, there were points with fun moments in almost every episode, but was that... really worth sitting through all of its eighteen-hour runtime?

 Part 3's high point is easily the personalities and group dynamics of the Crusaders. Though I'd argue they do not have a ton of depth and their personalities are fairly simple, especially compared to characters in future parts, they're easy to latch onto, bounce off each other really well and have so many genuinely fun moments that they become endearing. I admit that I went into the part cynically, but despite my complaints, I came out still enjoying my experience, mostly because of the Crusaders themselves. I even found myself liking Kakyoin even though I’ve always found him to be a somewhat dull character that doesn’t really live up to the number of fans he has (sorry). This is another reason why I feel like episodes without fights would've really helped the part, because the group dynamic is one of the strongest aspects of it.

 One thing that I found surprising is the fact that DIO, before the very final fight, has very few appearances- fewer than I remembered. I get that he’s supposed to be shrouded in mystery, but I didn’t really like it. With how important he was in part one and the close relationship he had with Jonathan as his adopted brother despite them being practically destined enemies, him in part three being this distant powerful entity that Jotaro never meets and we don’t even see the face of until the end makes him honestly feel weaker than he was in Phantom Blood. I think most of part 3 DIO’s draw is the fact that we’re so familiar with him already; if you kept everything the same, but DIO was instead a character we’d never seen before, there’s a good chance people would find him underused and poorly written. His final fight was bombastic and ridiculous, and he's an absolute riot as a performance-based villain, but I really wished we saw more of him before all of that.

As for my favorite Stardust Crusaders character, I do have to say that it’s still Polnareff. Yeah, he’s terrible, but I always find him the funniest and most entertaining character- I can’t help but have him as my favorite. He’s kind of like how Joseph was in Battle Tendency without any of the strategizing skills and all of the arrogance (and he didn’t go through an arc where he hits on his own mom, nor did he befriend a Nazi). I know “Polnareff is the main character of Stardust Crusaders” is an overused meme, but it really did feel like he was more of a main character than Jotaro at times with how much attention he was given.

My favorite fight in the part is the Daniel J. D'Arby gambling arc. I found it to be surprisingly intense and well-crafted, making use of the "outsmarting your outsmarting" way Jojo writes its fights in such a perfect way. I really had fun watching it and D'Arby's complete mental breakdown at the end was a hilarious sendoff to such an initially menacing character. It ended up sticking out in my mind the most.

I don't think Stardust Crusaders is particularly well-written or has any intended, hidden complex themes to analyze. It's messy and has a lot to criticize, and the story it tries to tell is very simple. However... it is a lot of fun. I can very much see why people like it so much, and I enjoy it myself. There's definitely a reason that it's popular.

[snowsheba]

ALSO not to steal ur ask but at first i also wanted to ask you as many as you wanted to answer but your tags seemed so contemplative i didn't want to pry LOL but your ask has emboldened me so... any extras you haven't answered that you particularly want to share!

EHEHEHEHEHE

i love talking about myself. LOL. under cut to spare your dashboards

1. what's the fic you're most proud of?

"thanks dad, love hana" was a HUGE undertaking. kind of wild how far i went and how well i made it work looking back.

that said: i am most fond of my grand theft auto/aveyond crossover au. it's the exact brand of controlled chaos full of fun and angst and random shit that i crave, LOL.

2. what's a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?

answered!

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to?

answered!

4. what fic of your own do you read for comfort?

i wouldn't call them "fics," but i do have some long-form fic starring original characters that i wrote and read back pretty consistently because they are honestly excellent. i haven't posted them anywhere because they are super niche, but i can if people are curious.

5. what fic of your own won't you read?

LOL... the ones that remained buried in my external hard drive... they can stay there.

6. what's the hardest part of the writing process for you?

probably starting? this is why i start with writing the summary, because otherwise it gets weird when i start out. oftentimes i have like three or four false starts before i get into a groove that i like. (i save all the false starts, too! they often get reused and recycled later on in the story.)

7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

tdlh's success kind of ruined the whole thing for me in some ways. on the one hand, you get accustomed to HUGE amounts of interaction, so having no interaction feels weird. on the other hand, there is so much interaction that it is overwhelming, and it's not good when responding to engagement becomes a chore.

before i wrote tdlh i craved feedback and support because mental eelness and whatever. afterwards... it really put into perspective who i was writing for. most often i wasn't writing for me, i was writing for others. now that i'm writing for myself, i don't need feedback or support in the same way.

i mean let's be clear though i still LOVE to get engagement in general. it feels good when people like the stuff i write!!

8. does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

my immediate family does, in the sense that they know i write it (i don't share it with them lol). my partner does as well! but otherwise very, VERY rarely do i let irl people know i write fic.

9. what's your writing process like?

answered!

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?

writing saved my life! this is undoubtedly true. i would not be here if i hadn't started writing when i did for as long as i have.

these days it's less of a coping mechanism and more of a fun hobby, and i always feel good when i finish something off and post it. the satisfaction of a story well-written is wonderful.

11. Has a fic you’ve written ever caused issues/controversy?

BOY. OH YES. i learned a lot from the experience, too.

essentially: overwatch has two characters, one is [finger wiggles] hispanic and the other is white, the man of color is demonized and becomes this evil terrible terrorist (real original, blizzard) while the white dude becomes this righteous rogue vigilante. i kept these roles in the fic i wrote them in and people started talking about the racist implications of this. rightfully so because it IS racist. this isn't the only big thing, but this is the one that was focused on because people shipped these two pretty hard back in the day.

it draws an interesting line though - as a fic writer, i can change the canon and do whatever i want. but i didn't do that, because i wanted to stay true to canon. if you had asked me back then, i would have said that's a good reason to let it be, but these days, i would have if not addressed it directly then changed it as needed to both suit my purposes and also... not have racism baked in if possible...

it's tough when your source material is already problematic enough and its parent company is a literal shitshow of issues (here's a pretty good summary of events). i take responsibility for the harm that my particular rendition did, but i would be remiss if i didn't acknowledge that actively writing a fic that attempts to remain consistent with canon (i.e. i would change story beats 30 chapters down the line when new lore came out) is bound to be as problematic as the source material itself.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write?

answered!

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why?

i DO take pride in my writing. it also embarrasses me immensely.

i don't want to show my ass too much, but i grew up in a household where if i wasn't working on school stuff i'd get punished, so obviously my parents hated how much time i spent writing. there was a lot of shame that went along with it because of the whole "why does it even matter? it's not original fiction" thing as well, so i am very protective of my fanworks and don't advertise them at all irl. because it's embarrassing to explain myself over and over again to people who really don't care, LOL.

of course, these days my parents love to fawn about how good of a writer i am and make me write the yearly christmas newsletters and whatever, but that's parents for you!

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?

i think i used to, in the way that every kid aspires to be like a particular role model. these days, not at all - there's no point in it. i know my strengths!

15. How do you think your writing as improved over time?

i stopped using ellipses so much, for one. LOL.

in general, reading lots of books and being exposed to lots of different writing mediums has given me a lot of perspective. that's more valuable than anything else, imo. having more experiences to fall back on, more knowledge of the world around me, and a better understanding of people means that my written works have more depth and scope. i think in terms of technical skill i've plateaued to a point that i'm happy with, but when it comes to the actual content and its presentation (i guess rhetoric is the term here), there is ALWAYS more to learn. i've definitely gotten better at rhetoric over the years.

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to?

answered!

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work?

answered!

18. Do you only write when you’re inspired, or do you try and sit down at specific times and write no matter what?

these days i only really do write when i feel inspired to, but that's not because i don't think writing regularly is boring. i mentioned this in another post somewhere, but the majority of my high-volume writing output was during a time of deep depression - writing was an escape, and now that i don't need to escape anymore, it's hard to resume my previous schedule. moreoever, i don't want to, because that schedule was symptomatic of other issues for me. so just when i'm inspired! it helps that when i open a file and look at it, i often feel compelled to write a bit more as the ideals percolate in my brain.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

this changes day by day, but i looooooove a good banter. (what a shocker, i know.) i also love huge explosive emotions and the fallout from them. if a fic can answer the question of what it means to be human in some way, then it's ideal for me.

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?

friends! i've met so many cool people through writing and i continue to keep meeting cool people as i continue to write. it's a gift that never stops giving 🥰

[silentexplorer18]

Regarding the future of this blog

Hi folks! This one got a bit long, so I'm putting it under a cut.

TLDR: I've been really unhappy blogging for quite a while, so I'm finally embracing being a messy, multifandom blog that posts things without tagging them well, posts more personal things, mostly focuses posting my own fic on AO3, etc. If you're not into that, feel free to eliminate my presence on your dash. XO -Silent

When I started this blog a few years ago, I was essentially starting with zero knowledge of the social side of the internet.  Sure, I'd read stuff on tumblr blogs, but I’d never used tumblr or looked at anything besides what was listed directly on a masterlist.  I’d never used other social media sites, either.  So, when I started using things like tumblr and instagram and even discord, I was trying to follow along and do whatever everyone else was doing.  I tried to post clearly tagged stuff and keep my blog super organized; I posted cutesy photos with whimsical captions; I tried to find my footing in conversations that were hard to follow.  But I always felt like I could never keep up.  I was trying to follow the motions to make my online spaces what I thought they needed to be, but I never could do the motions quite right, so I kept getting more and more discouraged.

Why am I telling all of you this?  Because I think 2024 is the year something needs to change.

I started off wanting this blog to be super pretty and aesthetic.  I wanted my fics to be clearly organized and have easily navigable links.  I wanted to only reblog fandom-specific things.  I wanted to keep everything very on topic.  And I wanted to be active in fandom (interacting with other fandom readers, makers, doers, etc.).  But in trying to do all of the former, I’ve spent so much physical and mental energy that I don’t have the time, energy, or ability to do the latter.  I felt like if I couldn’t do all of that, I shouldn’t do any of it, and, well, that’s plain not true.

The truth is this: I’m messy, and I write slowly.  I like so many things, and I actually love to talk a lot.  Keeping tags organized is hard and it makes me tired.  Posting on tumblr (instead of just ao3) is hard sometimes because it makes me tired.  I like talking to people and reccing fics and gushing over art, but I can’t always make it picture-perfect or aesthetic or linked so it’s easily navigable.  Life is hard, and using social media should be something fun, not something to agonize over.

So, I’m making some changes:

I’m gonna be posting a lot more.  Rambling about life.  Sharing writing updates.  Making you all privy to my shower thoughts.

But the writing projects I have will still be long hauls.  Strap in, folks, ‘cause we’re probably looking at months-long to years-long updates.  (Nothing is ever dead, just, you know, aging like fine wine or something.)

I’m not sure how many writing projects will be posted here, either.  I enjoy posting on AO3.  I like the format.  I like the way it works.  I like that it organizes everything for me.  If I post something there, I’ll obviously share the link here, but I don’t know how many fics I’ll be posting here moving forward.

Also, I’m just gonna start reblogging shit like crazy.  Anything!  Everything!  All at once!  The tumblr is my oyster!

Despite reblogging more, I’m just gonna let this blog become more disorganized.  If I have the energy to tag stuff, I will, but I think I’m just gonna focus on sharing things rather than sharing things in a way that’s particularly organized.

I’m gonna start reblogging more fic recs here, too (and sharing ones from AO3!).  I will, of course, be keeping my fic rec blog, and it’ll get its own small update post, but the goal is to just give myself the permission to be less organized so I have more energy to enjoy and share fic.

Related: the blog might get a makeover.  I’m not sure yet because I’ve had roughly the same colors/theme/pfp for all the years I’ve had this blog, so changing it will be hard.  (And I have no idea what exactly to change to!) But we’ll see.  Ideas are welcome.

I feel a little melodramatic making this big, long post about this, but I feel like the folks that are still hanging around my blog (you lovely, few and far between, who are neither bots nor dead blogs, I adore you all immensely) are hanging around for a reason, and I want to give fair warning that the activity levels here will be changing, the tagging system/findability of things will be changing, the location of fics being posted will be changing.  It felt right to warn people so they could unfollow/block if they so desire.

But anyway, happy (late) 2024!  I hope this post finds everyone well, and I’m excited to see what the future holds!

-Silent

[cakesexuality]

Okay, so, healthcare update!!

Isn't entirely "estrogen is slapping" material but I'm using that tag anyway!!

I gave an update 2 days ago (Monday) for 8 months Lupron, 1 month add-back where I said the receptionist was gonna get back to me about who my anesthesiologist was

I called again yesterday (Tuesday) and found out I hadn't been referred to any specific anesthesiologist but rather to the pool of anesthesia doctors at the hospital and the hospital would pick a doctor for me rather than getting one my gynecologist had in mind (which, I've had this experience with psychiatrists before where I get referred to the department as a whole and the hospital assigns a doctor to me, as opposed to my GP writing a referral for one specific psychiatrist, so it made sense)

I got the call today (Wednesday) from the pre-admission clinic saying that they have a spot for me to do my anesthesia consult!! I'm going to the hospital in a couple weeks for the consult and hopefully they deem it safe for me to have a laparoscopy!!

I talked to my dietitian today about my ED and as well as about my Lupron

She's going to reach out to the first ED program I was referred to bc she's confused as to why they said the things they said (like weeding out the foods that make me sick before I'm allowed to start treatment) and she's concerned about them acting like I'm a one-off unusual case bc she says she has multiple other clients who have eating issues that come from the same place that mine do (looking for control in relation to a chronic illness), plus I signed a consent form for the hospital to contact my dietitian (who asked me to let the hospital know she wanted to be in contact with them when she found out I was referred back in February) and she never heard from them

Since I didn't start add-back until 7 months on Lupron and you're not supposed to be on Lupron longer than 6 months without add-back, we talked a bit about my bone density and I'm already taking a vitamin D supplement, so she wants me to spend a bit of time tracking how much calcium I eat in a span of about 3 days in order to decide if I need a calcium supplement too, and she said that if doing the math myself is too triggering then I can just take pictures of the nutrition facts to email to her instead

Literally one of the goals she assigned me is to order delivery!! She was happy to hear about a couple months ago when I kept getting overwhelmed with options while ordering food online one evening but pushed through and got myself a lil pizza treat and I was proud of myself for doing that, so she wants me to try that again and to challenge myself like that more often

Another goal she gave me is to have frozen meals in the freezer to help cut down on decision-making for times where I can't push through the overwhelm I might feel around having to create a meal

I also got a call this week from a 2nd ED program who had an assessment appointment for me for June, but then the receptionist realised I'm not able to get to their clinic in-person, so she's going to double-check with the intake worker to make sure there weren't mistakes about who they serve and to find out if I can do it either from home or from an OTN room in town here

ALSO today, I got a call from the hospital where I had a psych appointment go wrong a couple weeks ago where I spoke to the patient relations person as well as the head of Mental Health

The head of Mental Health tried to say that the doctor didn't want to give me a depot bc I have MDD and they're for people who have a hard time staying on oral meds but like... I have more than MDD, we don't know what exactly but clearly something else is there if I'm having psychosis outside of depressive episodes... and yes I am taking my oral meds but it's a fucking STRUGGLE to do so on too many nights (like, taking until as late as 2:30am sometimes to be able to convince myself and then my sleep schedule is all off from delaying my Seroquel for so long) and it just so happens that my AP is usually the most difficult one to get myself to take

And then I asked what the psychiatrist's receptionist meant about telling my diagnosis to a drug manufacturer and the head of Mental Health said that that's not a thing and there would be no reason to disclose that to a manufacturer and that the receptionist was making stuff up

I'm gonna be talking to my CMHA worker tomorrow and we're gonna work together on a letter describing my psychotic symptoms to give to my doctors to help them understand what I'm going through bc of the fact that my psychosis doesn't fit the way other people are telling me it is (like whether it's exclusive to my depressive episodes or how long each psychotic episode lasts) and I feel like I didn't explain it very well to my GP when I saw her last week bc I wasn't prepared to have that conversation and there were a lot of symptoms I couldn't immediately think of off the top of my head

[jackrrabbit]

frostbites /// Douma x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Mermaid AU] An ecologist studying a deserted island stumbles across a creature straight out of a fairytale…or a nightmare.

✧ open season thirsts but this one turned into a full fic so fuck my life [7–8/?] ✧

Request 1: Ooh can you write yandere mermaid AU’s?

Request 2: Oh my gosh. Okay, this is so exciting. Since I realized you write for Demon Slayer I've been itching for the opportunity to see anything from you about Doma. He's just. So awful and terrible. I'm trash, I love him. He's an actual monster with a saccharine smile. I'd love to see ANYTHING from you about him. Headcanons. A scenario of him with a demon slayer, or a demon, or just some pathetic human. Even just your thoughts on him would be a blessing, your choice. I’d just love to hear anything you have to say about him. Your writing is so beautifully unsettling, (your Oikawa piece Fanatic. That left me thinking about him for weeks.) So anything about Doma would be fantastic. But no pressure, if Doma isn't your cup of tea please don't force yourself. Honestly I'm just excited to see what you write from any of your requests. Thank you for being so lovely!

A/N: Combined these requests bc I feel like Douma was honestly perfect for this, and I’ve been holding off writing him until he gets animated but who knows how long that’ll take. Thank you so much, btw—I’m also Douma trash and I’ll absolutely be writing more for him in the future!

Is this yandere? It’s more like an origin story of Douma going yandere for cute ecology RA!reader. I haven’t written a scene like this in ages and it was really fun! I know I’m cursing myself by saying this, but maybe one day I’ll write more in this AU…no promises though ♡

Tags/warnings: yandere, mermaid AU but more on the spooky side (shoutout to @yandere-daydreams, the og yan mermaid fucker & a huge inspiration—thanks!!), fear, action, blood kink (?), mild violence, horror/beauty paradigm, size difference, animalistic, HEAVY predator/prey dynamic, one-sided sexual implications (reader is oblivious), ‘it’/‘the creature’ , hand kink, OSHA violations, there are many benefits to being a marine biologist, unfinished business…

You’ve never slept well in the cold.

Maybe you should’ve kept that in mind when you applied for a research assistant position on a tiny, uninhabited island off the Russian coast, but you thought you’d get used to it. You were sure—you were so sure, cocky little past-you—that you’d adapt to the below-freezing temperatures, that the worst part about the 2-month long field study would be the boredom of spending your days taking water samples and tagging birds with no cell service. But it’s not. The worst part is the cold.

So technically, one could argue that there’s a decent reason for you to be out of your bed tonight, yes? You couldn’t sleep from the stiff pain lancing through your sore muscles and the cold, so you made the (undeniably stupid, you’re now realizing) decision to leave camp and wander through the forest looking for…something. But by now you’re starting to regret it. You don’t think you’re far from camp, but everything feels sharper and stranger when you’re alone like this—the collar of your heavy jacket chafing against your throat, the crunch of hoarfrost under your boots, the thin beam of your flashlight catching the steam of your breath here and there before glancing over the surface of the water. God, you should have stayed in bed.

Even so many hours past sunset, the river that cuts through the center of the island is darker than the night and twice as cold. You haven’t forgotten the cautionary words the team leader imparted on your group before you came to the island: how easy it would be to get caught under the current, how quickly the icy water would seep into your limbs and your blood and your heart. You’ve been following the river because there are no paths and no markers, but you keep a safe distance—that is, until you see it.

A flash of light reflecting back from something under the surface. A rippling tongue of silver cutting through the black water. You start, shiver. You look again for the fish (how could it be a fish, though? nothing that big lives in the water here) but the churning waters are dark again. Just to prove to yourself that you’re being silly, you take a few slow steps closer to the bank—crouching low to keep your balance, shining your flashlight into the river, straining your vision to stare into the depths.

And someone—something—looks back.

You know about the fight or flight instinct, how the nervous system kicks into gear with the right stimulus; that reminder that humans are prey animals too. But you don’t run, and you don’t fight. Every muscle in your body stills, locks into place. You freeze. The thing in the river places its hands on the bank to rise half out of the water and tilts its head to the side; stares into your face. And you stare back at it. Behind it, in the river, you see hints of what caught your eye earlier: a silvery tail, like a fishtail but impossibly long, winding effortlessly through the water and keeping the creature’s torso afloat.

Your knees and the heels of your palms press into the ground. The ice underneath stings through each layer of clothing that was supposed to protect you from the elements, biting a little deeper with every second you spend sitting rigid and looking at the creature in front of you. Run. Run. Run, you think.

It blinks slowly, pale lashes shuttering down over kaleidoscopic eyes that your mind can’t seem to categorize into human or inhuman. You’re so focused on its face that you don’t see its hand move, don’t even know it’s reaching for you until you feel the icy weight of it against your cheek. Its lips part—those teeth, oh god, oh god—and it speaks something in a low, eerie voice that you know by instinct wasn’t built for human language.

(You don’t understand then—the version of Japanese he learned so many decades ago was too archaic and too heavily inflected by his unnatural manner of speaking for you to comprehend. Later, when you’re able to understand him, he’ll repeat what he said that first time he saw you kneel down by the edge of the water like a frightened doe: he’ll tell you he laid his hand on your bare skin and felt the beat of your heart and did his best to remember the human word for warm.)

But you hear different.

You hear the whispered, slithering curse of a monster from a nightmare—a beautiful one, but still. Your prey instinct thrills into pure terror, and finally a thought rips its way to the surface. You know—your brain knows, the logical part of you that you’re supposed to rely on—you know what you need to do. You have to get away. Heave your shivering body off of the muddy snow and force it into motion. You know this, you should know this, and yet the fear radiating through your body is concentrated not on your legs, but on the point where the—

—the what? the mermaid? the monster?—

—this thing is touching you, its fingertips resting delicately on your cheek. The body below the human torso resembles something between a shining fish and an eel, but the skin touching yours would almost feel human if it weren’t so cold. (Like a dead man. Like a dead thing, your mind tells you, and if every hair on your body wasn’t already pricked up in goosebumps, it would be now.)

The nails, too—not like a person’s nails you’ve ever seen—thick and long, tapering into points that could tear your flesh open like paper if the thing in the water decides to move them just a fraction of an inch down into the delicate tissue of your cheek—and because you can’t stop yourself, you don’t do the sensible thing. You don’t run. You release something that sounds like a choked scream (you can see the steam of it staining the frigid air white more than you actually hear it) and you force your stiff muscles to take hold of the creature’s wrist and try to drag his hand somewhere, anywhere it isn’t touching your face.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You’re going to die here, aren’t you?

The terrible, beautiful form before you flexes, rippling like a current’s passing down from where your covered fingers are feebly trying to pull at the cold, thick mass of its arm; in an instant, it’s lifting itself out of the black water to tower over you, and it—

Not it. Him.

The thing, the monster in front of you isn’t human, but from the waist up you can’t help categorizing it—him—as male in your head. Even without considering the dozen feet of his tail, it’s a body with power threaded into every centimeter of flesh: muscular, serpentine almost, and larger than a human man’s but unmistakably male, even if the slick contours of his abdomen, his pectorals, the V-shaped muscles framing his hips and disappearing into scales below would be better suited to a stone carving of a pagan god than any man you’ve ever seen in real life.

The wrist you naively thought you could move is so large that despite the added bulk of the mitten you’re wearing, your fingers aren’t even close to meeting around it; when he bows his head toward yours, forcing you to arch your own neck back to avoid another unwelcome touch, the pristine architecture of his face fills your field of vision. In the periphery, you see a few wet strands of silver-gold hair slip over his shoulder and onto the surface of your puffer jacket, dripping frigid river water into the nylon and the fill until it soaks through to your collarbone.

More important than that, though, is the way he’s looking at you. He’s surprised, or you’d think so if this were a human and you could trust your interpretation of his wide eyes and his head cocked to the side, the slight part of his mouth and the way it curls up at the corners—some mixture of shock and delight, like a child who’s managed to catch a bird in his hands and can’t really believe his good luck.

You feel the muscles in his arm contract and then the grip you had on him is inverted—it’s him squeezing long, agile fingers around your wrist, easily spanning the width of it even over the thick sleeve of your jacket, nails stroking over the fabric like he’s deciding whether or not to shred it to get at your skin.

After a moment of deliberation, where you scrunch your eyes closed and grimace away from the cold seeping off him in waves, you feel the synthetic texture of your insulated mitt slipping over your hand—he’s taking your mitten off? You chance a quick look over, and he’s already tearing through the thick wrist strap with a single swipe of his claw to pull the mitt over your hand and drop it limply to your side. It’s too cold here for bare hands—you instinctively try to draw your hand back, curl your fingers into a fist, but the creature doesn’t let you—a short hiss escapes his mouth, and then his own hand is flattening against yours, forcing your fingers straight so he can—

—it’s strange. Almost like he’s comparing the size of his hand to yours. But that wouldn’t make sense, would it?

With the damp cold of his palm aligned against the warm softness of yours, you can tell that his hand is enormous—each fingertip outstretches easily five, six centimeters past yours, even without the added length of his sharpened nails. The stillness, the strangeness of the comparison quiets the part of your mind that’s curled in on itself with sheer terror enough that the researcher in you can start making notes—skin resembles human’s but slightly…smoother? glossier? could be something covering the surface along with water—abnormally large hands but seem to correspond with body size—small amount of transparent webbing between the fingers…

The massive hand pressed into yours shifts by a few degrees, fingers finding the gaps between yours, lacing your hands together and applying pressure until, until—

You flinch, trying without success to yank your hand away from the source of the pain and you speak without thinking. “—stop—stop, that hurts!”

He stops, easing the pressure on your delicate hand, but only by a little. Curious eyes move back to you, lingering over the movement of your mouth when you speak. His own mouth opens, and you force your gaze back up to his multicolored eyes so you don’t have to look at his teeth.

“h—ur—hur—ts?”

You frown through the persistent ache in your wrist—did he just—? Is he trying to imitate you?

“hur—ts?” the creature says again in that low, slithering voice that still feels wrong somehow. “it—hurts?”

“Can you understand me?” you gasp, the words leaving your mouth so quickly that your breath in the cold air clouds his beautiful face for a moment.

His head dips into a fluid nod. “—can— un—under—stand.”

You’re marveling at the discovery—not only can this creature sort of…mimic human speech, it seems like there’s a chance he actually understands what you’re saying. Does that mean he’s met humans before? Is he part human—some kind of human hybrid, a species never before believed possible until you stumbled across it on a completely unrelated research project? What does this mean—for your team, for your career, for the world? Never mind that he’s still gripping your hand so hard that the bones are starting to throb with pain—for the first time since you spotted his tail moving through the water, your fear moves to the back burner. Instead, your mind is humming with the possibilities of this finding.

Which is why you don’t notice him leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“sm—ell— g—ood. smells—good,” he repeats breathily, the air exhaled from those unearthly lungs washing like a cold rain over the side of your cheek. His face—so much larger than yours—is nudging up against the place where your jaw meets your throat, breathing in your scent. You can feel the brush of his pale eyelashes against your sensitive skin.

“want to— t—taste—want to—eat—”

You’re so numb from the cold that you barely feel the razor-like edge of his claw slice through your bared skin, drawing a shallow cut from your thumb down the back of your hand to the bulge of the carpal bones in your wrist. It’s not deep—the pain isn’t even as noticeable as the strangeness of the heat you feel seeping from the injury a second later—which you realize, as the creature pulls back just enough to lick over it—is blood.

Your blood.

He’s lapping at your blood.

You try to scramble to your feet, boots scraping haphazardly against the slippery coating of snow on the ground only to pull him closer by his grip on your hand when you stumble back almost flat to the earth. You prop yourself up on your elbows and then he’s looming over you, nose almost touching yours, the bulk of his broad chest gleaming white like the snow underneath you.

He’s smiling—beaming down at you, eyes wide with joy, such an angelic kind of beauty that for a second, despite everything, your heart seizes up with longing—ribbons of metallic hair curl around his face as they dry or drip down over his chiseled shoulders like rivers of gold—his eyes shimmer in a million colors you couldn’t put names to, almost luminescent even in the scattered halo from the flashlight you discarded a few feet away without thinking—this monster, your angel of death staring you in the face, so beautiful it hurts to look at him—

Stop freezing. You have to run. You have to do something. Your adrenaline isn’t working right, it’s pinning you into the frozen earth just as surely as the creature on top of you. The weight of his body—the juncture between his human abdomen and the tail—settles between your knees, forcing your legs wider to accommodate the mass between them. His mouth moves and again you’re transfixed piecing together his fractured speech.

“you—taste good—soft— sw—sweet. want to—touch—feel. inside.” His low, raspy voice is laced with something besides pleasure—hunger? you can’t tell, you’re not sure, but it has to be—and his eyes drift closed happily as he speaks, one thick arm curling underneath your rigid body to draw it up against his. “let me—inside—? let me feel inside—”

“Get off me!” Do something. Now. You don’t know what he’s talking about (‘feel inside’? what the fuck?), but considering common sense is telling you that there’s a decent chance you’re about to be wolfed down like Christmas dinner, it can’t be anything good.

You struggle awkwardly against the pressure of his arm, but you’re nowhere near worming your way away from him when your bare hand scrapes roughly into the dirt near your leg searching out the pocketknife you keep zipped into one of your chest pockets. Somehow you have a hard time believing the 6cm blade you use to clean under your fingernails is going to do a whole lot of good against the literal monster that’s wrestling you into the snow at the moment, but maybe a decent slash over the face could distract him enough for you to get away?

It doesn’t matter, though—as soon as the back of your thumb makes contact with the rough fragments of ice littering the ground, your escape attempt is thrust to the side in deference to the line of fire screaming out from the cut on your hand. A mixture of clean and dried blood smears out over the dirty snow and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from whimpering like an animal.

The pressure against your chest lets up as the monster…sits up, or whatever the anatomically-correct equivalent position is, staring down at you with patronizing concern over his face. “it hurts?” he asks slowly, almost mockingly, but your eyes are fixed on the newly-reopened injury spilling a few final drops of scarlet into the white canvas underneath. So red, like…

The flare.

The fucking flare you were given, for emergencies only.

You’re an idiot.

Before the creature can resume its attack, your abused hand shoots to the thigh pocket where the flare is resting parallel to your leg—you can barely get your cold fingers to move to the right position but you force the stiff digits to grip the zipper and yank it open, bending a few of the metal teeth in the process. He notices you moving, but just cocks his head to the side again, waiting patiently to bat aside whatever pathetic resistance attempt you’ll mount this time—and then you have it—the long rod of the flare is resting in your hand and you slide it out of the pocket to point it out to the side as far from your body as possible—

his eyes narrow a little and he makes to reach out for you again, probably wondering what you’re holding—

your team leader taught you how to use these flares on the first day of the boat trip: hold it downwind remove the cap strike the lid like a match—and in the chaos you barely remember to turn your face away and close your eyes but you do and then—

Heat explodes through the icy air as the black behind your eyelids blooms scarlet from the light of the flare. You can hear it hissing and spitting—or is that the monster?—but more importantly you can feel it, the fiery warmth roasting through the darkness at the end of your arm. You thrust the flare upward blindly (careful not to let it anywhere near you but so desperate at this point that you’d take a nasty burn over being eaten alive) and an instant later you feel the weight of his body lift off you. You don’t have any time to waste—it’ll only burn for a minute, and with the frost still biting through your lungs you’re not going to be running as fast as you’d like—but hey, he’s part fish, right? So all you have to do is get away from the water. At least…you hope.

56 seconds left. You toss the still-burning flare to the side and roll in the other direction, squinting through the all-encompassing red glow to make out the plastic glint of your flashlight. You spot it, dive for it, and wrap your undamaged hand around the familiar grip, tucking the other into the pocket of your jacket for warmth. 49 seconds left. You can hear him behind you—growling or something in that creeping voice—but you can’t look back. Can’t look into those eyes, or you’ll be trapped again, pinned and licked and taken. You haul yourself to your feet and pick a direction—doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s away from the scarlet fire of the flare and the river and him. 43 seconds left.

Behind you, the growling has started to sound like laughter.

Run. Run. Run.

///

In the morning, you wake up cold.

You’re nested in your bedroll, but icy sweat is soaking through the fleece lining of your undershirt and your whole body is shaking trying to get you warm again. What a horrible dream, you tell yourself. Just a bad dream. You’re still wearing your outdoor jacket but that must be because you were so tired after the job you were assigned yesterday that you forgot to change into your nightclothes, so silly. One of your hands feels prickly and achy and it stings but that must be because you scraped it on something while taking samples. So careless of you. What a horrible dream, you tell yourself.

The morning light filtering through the tent is silver-grey, almost gold at some angles. You stare into the perfectly normal light, straight up into the place where the sun should be behind the fabric. There’s condensation collecting on the ceiling of the tent; when it drips down onto your bare face, you have this strange idea—that the sudden shock of cold water spilling down your cheek feels almost like…

…almost like the echo of a touch.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

The harm you do

anon asked: Hello! I'm kind of new here and I saw that requests are open so-If you feel okay with it, Can you make a headcanon with Female! Y/n who did a selfh#rm for really long time and didn't stop until she been noticed doing that by Luffy, Zoro and Whitebeard? Like how would they react to it?

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Hi anon and thank you for requesting with us! I don't shy away from these types of asks because I know for some, it is very cathartic to read, including myself. I do hope you enjoy!

>Admin T

Warning/tags: Explicit mention of self-harm, in detail description of self-harm, blood, and sadness. If you do not or can not handle these types of scenarios, please do not read this.

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Zoro

Zoro, I'd feel, would understand. Not the physically hurting oneself part, but the sadness, the self loathing part.

When he noticed the harsh, bloody line on your thighs, he knew that you had done it to yourself. Something so precise couldn't be an accident.

It would also make sense as to why you seemed less inclined to smile or be apart of the conversation.

It would explain why you seemed to stay in your room.

It would explain why whenever Zoro would train with his swords you would look at the blades with a sad longing. Zoro was never the type to want to put it his blades, or hide them from anybody, but the way you looked at them, made him want to throw them in the ocean, never to be seen again.

he wouldn't out right tell you he knew, nor would he outright say for you to stop.

But he would hold you stick close to you, make sure to cheer you up when you needed it most. Have you enjoy the things you used to enjoy.

He hoped it would make you feel better enough to stop, but only time will tell.

Luffy

He would be so confused. Why would someone willingly hurt themselves? Maybe for other people, he'd get, but this? No, he didn't understand.

But what he did understand that whenever he saw the thin red lines on your wrists, and how sometimes they would bleed when stretched too far, or when you were anxious you would go back to your room to create more, it made him feel useless and horrible.

He felt as if he had no right to keep you around, if he couldn't help you from whatever was going on, be it depression or anything else.

He didn't know what to do, when you kept going to your room to create more.

One day, before you would leave to put more lines in your skin, he grab you by the upper arm and pull you into a hug, telling he loves you, that you are wanted, that he doesn't want you to keep doing this.

It hurts him to see you so distraught and distressed. He will do anything to make you feel better, even if it was just a little bit.

He will stick by you, and will check up on you almost every ten minutes for however long it takes for you to truly feel the need to live once again.

Whitebeard

For as long as he lived, he has seen many depressing things.

But you hurting yourself was the worst thing he could possibly imagine. The bruises, the cuts, the blood, the utter darkness in your eyes.

It would unnerve him

I would give him shivers of anxiety, not wanting you to hurt yourself to the point to where you wouldn't return.

It makes him sad, because you are sad.

One thing he will do is call to you for some errands, keep your mind off of things, keep you busy.

And when there is downtime, he would tell you fun stories about his days on the sea, in an attempt to make you see that the future is worth living for, that life can be exciting and fun.

He would discreetly look, after some days, to see if there were any new marks, and to his surprise, there were only a few.

He would smile to himself, happy for the progress, for any progress.

And he hopes one day, you will be free from your own mind and really feel what it means to be alive.

[holycrimin]

It hurts to love.

Karl heisenberg x male!reader

Tags: Hanahaki and angst

SFW

(Note: In this au, none of the main events happen with ethan, as he is not in this story. Also SPOILER WARNING.)

(Warning: probably shitty plot, but i'm trying my best ok)

[Your pov]

It all started a year or two ago, when mother miranda had found me lurking around the village. As i was not a local, she deemed me suspicous. However, before she had the chance to kill me, She had a spark in her eye. As if she had an idea. And before i knew it she was using me as some sort of vessel for her daughter, Eva. Although i am a male, she had seen something special in me apparently. I had also found out that her daughter had passed away and she was determined to bring her back.

It failed.

The experiment... failed.

I was no longer deemed useful.

She had proposed me two options. become a servant or assistant to one of the lords, or die. A slow, and painful death.

Of course I chose to be an assistant.

She was kind enough to let me choose who to work for, thankfully.

Lady dimitrescu was very much intimidating. And from what I've heard, if you mess up even just a little while working for her, you will be sent to the dungeons. Never to be seen again. And she isnt really fond of men, so I wont be choosing her.

Next up was Donna Beneviento. She was nice, although her doll 'Angie' is a little... how do I say this... creepy. It doesnt help that i have a huge fear of mannequins and dolls, so I dont think i'll be choosing her anytime soon.

And then theres Salvatore Moreau, dont get me wrong he's a great guy but.. he might accidentally drown me. I might be overreacting, but the guy smells. Although, I feel bad that he's treated so poorly by the other Lords, but i think it's for the best if i stay away from him.

And.. i guess my only option left is Lord Heisenberg. I just hope that he wont be that much of a hassle, even if he IS kind of an asshole...

A day before i start working at the factory, Mother Miranda forced us to spend the day together. To 'get to know eachother' I assume.

Lord Heisenberg looked pissed off, he wasn't really fond of me. He was more pissed off at Mother miranda though. Most likely because he was forced to spend time with me. I quickly learned what he called the 'basics of him'. Basically, common facts. Such as, the fact that he can bend metal and his deep hatred for Mother Miranda. that was basically all that he told me.

The following day was my first day at the factory. As we were walking along the factory, he stopped in his tracks. "Listen pup, there's rules." He practically growled. "First of all, Don't touch my shit. Second of all, don't go around the factory without me knowing. And third of all, Don't try to get to know me, we're keeping a proffessional relationship, got it?" He said.

"Uh.. y-yes Lord Heisenberg." I very nervously stammered, lightly blushing at the nickname he gave me.

"Good, now let's get to work."

Present day

That was around a year or two ago, and while i have gotten closer to the other lords, i never managed to get to get close to Lord Heisenberg. And..

I'm an idiot who fell for him... And... I know he'll never feel the same way. I've tried getting his attention, impressing him, but... nothing's working. Every time i try to get close to him, wether it's emotionally or physically. I get pushed away, literally and figuratively.

It's my fault really. I fell inlove with a man who was emotionally closed off. His charisma, his voice, everything about him just makes me fall more and more inlove with him.

I know i wont have a chance, hell, i dont even know if he's into guys... Guess i really am an idiot, huh?

Later that day, Lord Heisenberg asked me to help him with something. I agreed of course, and during that time I tried to know him more. "Jesus christ, are you trying to get me to open up or something? Cause' that's not gonna happen, so give it up." He spat out, "a-ah... sorry Lord Heisenberg.." I stammered out.

A few minutes of silence pass. Suddenly, he grabbed my hands. "I- ugh.. Just- you're doing it wrong. Here, let me help." He said, while holding my hands 'teaching me how to do it right'.

Of course my face started heating up, the feeling of his slightly roughed up hands on mine... it feels nice. Although this is probably the only time i'll ever get close to him.

"Hey pet, you ok? Geez, you're practically as red as a tomato." He said, while still holding my hands. "Uh.. y-yeah..! Uhm... i.. i'm good.." i stuttered, feeling his breath on top of my head. He was bigger and taller than me after all.

"Well, whatever you say, pup." He shrugged as he continued his work. I got a little flustered on the nickname, i never got used to that..

After, he went and ordered me to get supplies fron the duke.

As i was walking along the pathway to the duke, a few lycans were following me. They didnt seem to be attacking, so i just left them alone. However when i reached the duke, the lycans were gone. How strange.

"Well well well, if it isn't Heisenbergs pet! What brings you here, young man?" He says, with a shit eating grin. "Ah.. well, i'm just here for some supplies is al-" i was then cut off with a series of coughs, "Oh my, are you alright?" said the duke, genuinely concerned. "O-oh i'm fine i ju-" i was then cut off by another series of coughs, but just when i stopped, a small white flower petal came out of my mouth.

"Oh dear, i hope this isn't what i think it is... Are you sure you are alright?" Asked the duke. "I.. i dont know," i pause and look at the small flower petal in my hand. "do you know what's happening..?" I questioned him, very much confused. "It may be something called the 'Hanahaki disease'. It was said to just be an urban legend. Where, if you were suffering from unrequited love, you would begin to cough up flower petals." He explained. "I didnt think it was real.." he muttered to himself.

"..." i was silent as i stared in shock and horror, I'm.. coughing up flowers..? Like actual, real flowers...?

From.. unrequited love.... i should've known, i... i should've known that he would never feel the same way.

How could i be so stupid, to think he would fall for a mere mortal like me. Or atleast.. i think i'm mortal. "Well," the duke spoke up, "luckily there are two ways you can get rid of the sickness." My eyes lit up, "the person you like, either loves you back," he continued "or, you can get surgery. Not only will it remove the flowers, it also removes all of your feelings for this particullar person permanently."

"Th-that's great! I can finally get this 'hanahaki' disease while also getting rid of my feelings for him-!"

"Him?" The duke asked as he cut me off, "do you mean Lord Heisenberg?"

"Uh-" as i think about him, i start coughing again. This time, blood was spilling over. And so were many petals. "Oh dear.. so just the mere thought of him triggers it..?" He said, concerned. "Uh... i'll just... take the supplies. Thank you though, duke."

"No problem, stay safe. But remember, the longer you wait around with the flowers still inside you, the worse your state will become." He informs me,

"I'll try to get the surgery as fast as possible duke." I said, waving him goodbye.

As soon as i walked out, those same lycans followed me all the way back to the factory. Strange isn't it? Anyway, when you finally arrived at the factory, supplies in hand, I hear Lord Heisenberg open up the door.

"Here, let me help you with those." He says as he starts taking some of the bags.

"...Why are you being so nice all of a su-sudden?" I stammer as i try to hold in a cough. "Would you rather not have me nice, pup?" he growled. As i opened my mouth to speak, i was interrupted but a fit of coughs. Blood spilt out as did the petals. Heisenberg didn't seem to notice as he was already far ahead.

I try to cover it up as much as i can as i try to catch up with him. "Jeez.. Finally, you caught up-" he cut himself off. "Why is there blood on your face?" He said, slightly concerned. I froze. "Uh.." that was all i could say. "Whatever.." he said as he wiped the blood away from my face. A faint blush spread accross my cheeks.

I excused myself to the bathroom as i felt another fit of coughs. More blood splattered out as well as more petals. God it hurts. I heard a knock on the door. "Hey pet, you've been there a while, you sure you're alright?" He said

"Uh- yeah, i-i'm fine..!" I said, trying to hold in my coughs. "Well just make it quick, we have work to do." "Yes sir..!" I reply back quickly, not wanting to upset him. I quickly cleaned myself up and walked out of the bathroom. "Took you long enough." He sighed, annoyed. He went ahead and grabbed his hammer, dragging it along the metal floors. It was loud enough for him to not hear you cough up more petals.

~later that week~

My condition kept getting worse and worse, to the point i was barely able to breath. I've consulted the duke, however nothing seemed to work. No matter how much medicine, herbs or other medicinal items i jammed into my body, it just won't go away.

I was asked to come over Lady Dimitrescus castle, i'm not exactly sure why. Maybe she heard of this 'hanahaki' disease?

As i make my way to the castle, lycans started to follow me. Even more than before, why was this happening?

I finally arrive at the castle, the lycans seem to be watching me very carefully. I hear the doors open, and out came a tall lady. "Ah, Y/N! I'm glad you came! Come in." She said, holding the door open for me.

I walked in and was immediately tackled with a hug. "Uncle Y/N! You came!" Exclamed Daniela, one of Lady Dimitrescus daughters. "Oh, uh... hello Daniela." I say, hugging back. I never imagined them to warm up to me. "Now now Daniela, me and your Uncle Y/N have something to discuss."

"Aww man... well, i'll see you around Uncle Y/N!" She waved goodbye to me. "I'll see you around, Daniela." I say as i wave back. As soon as her footsteps were no longer in range, i spoke up. "So.. what did you want to talk about..?" I carefully asked the tall woman, not wanting to be sliced to bits. "Well, as i said before, the duke has informed me of something related to your wellbeing."

"So... you've heard about this.. 'hanahaki' disease, i assume...?" I say as i tense up even more. "The duke told me about it, and when i asked why he was informing me about this, he simply stated it had something to do with you. So tell me, do you have it?" She asked me with a concerned expression.

"W-well.. I-.." i say, sighing. "Yes, as far as i know." I reply, not wanting to lie to her. "As much as i dislike that wretched man, Heisenberg, i must ask, is he the object of your affection?" I froze. "Well... uh-" i cut myself off as i break into a fit of coughs growing more and more violent than the last. "Oh dear- MAIDS!" She called out, panicking, as blood and petals fall out of my mouth. She patted my back as i continue to cough. "So... it is Heisenberg.. I am terribly sorry Y/N i did not know this would happen.." she said, apologetically.

"I-it's alright-" i break into another fit of coughs. But instead of petals, this time, there were fully grown flowers. "i.. i can't b-breath.." i say almost blacking out. The last thing i see and hear are the maids, Lady Dimitrescu shouting to get the duke, and the door opening to reveal... Lord Heisenberg..? "Goddammit, out of my way-!" Was the last thing i heard before blacking out.

•

•

°

.

.....

I woke up to the duke. I sat upright, "what... happ-" i was then cut off by the duke. "You're awake! Honestly, i.. didnt know if you would wake up.." he said sadly. "Thankfully, i was able to patch you up just fine. And after days and hours of research, i finally found an alternative to your hanahaki!" The duke said, switching from a sad, to a cheerful mood.

My eyes light up, "W-wait, really!?" I said as a smile creeps up on my face. The duke gives me a small bottle, "Here, take this. Free of charge!" He said as he smiles brightly. "Now, you should drink it as soon as possible. Lord Heisenberg is waiting for you outside."

"I will, thank you duke!" I said as i waved him goodbye. As I walked to the gates, I take the small bottle and drink it. Within seconds, the flowers were gone. I could finally breath again!

Walking out with a small smile, I saw Lord Heisenberg. "Oh, hey-!.. uh.. i mean, hey. You're awake, lets... get back to the factory..." he stammered out.

..

Was it just me, or were there tears on his face..?

The walk to the factory was silent, but as we walk up to the factory gates, he stops dead in his tracks. "Before we go in, I just uh.. wanted to let you know that the duke let me know about how you really felt about me." He said. "And.. after a long time of thinking about it.." he cuts himself off as his cheeks turn red,

"...I like you too." He confesses.

But,

I don't feel any different.

I don't have butterflies in my stomach.

I don't even feel my face heating up.

It was like...

I was never inlove with him in the first place.

"I... I'm sorry, Lord Heisenberg... but.. I dont feel the same way anymore. I think... it was that small bottle the duke gave me, but.. I am sorry, i don't feel the same way." "W-wait.. you're.. you're joking, right...?" I watch as his expression goes from flustered to heartbreak. "..." i grow silent.

"Let's... let's get inside... we'll catch a cold if we don't." I say, opening the doors to the factory, not wanting the situation to get more awkward. "...Y... yeah... just, gimme a minute.." he says as his voice was slightly shaking. "Alright.. just... please be quick, you'll get a cold." I said, walking in and closing the door on him.

[Heisenbergs pov]

"I... I'm sorry, Lord Heisenberg... but.. I dont feel the same way anymore. I think... it was that small bottle the duke gave me, but.. I am sorry, i don't feel the same way."

"W-wait.. you're.. you're joking, right...?" I say with my voice slightly shaking. Dammit.. god... fucking...

DAMMIT...!

Just when i thought i finally found the love of my life, he's stripped away from me.

"..." he was silent.

I could feel the heartbreak slowly filling me up.

"Let's... let's get inside... we'll catch a cold if we don't."

"...Y... yeah... just, gimme a minute.." i stammer while i try not to break down infront of him.

"Alright.. just... please be quick, you'll get a cold." He says, as he walks in and shuts the door. Heh.. it's cute how he still worries about me when..

Nevermind.

I need some time to thi-

My thoughts were interrupted when i started to violently cough. What i didn't expect though...

Was a flower petal.

"..."

"Heh..."

"So this is what he felt." I said, as i look at the bloody flower petal in my hand.

[rogue-durin-16]

HIS WARM EYES

Summary: Some members of the Order are reticent about letting in a Lestrange, specially after Snape's betrayal. Whilst taking Harry to the the burrow, an ambush has place. Everything points to Y/n, right?

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Lestrange!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, death

A/N: OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LONG AND BAD— I AM GENUINELY SORRY BUT I HAD TO

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Lestrange wasn't a good name.

It wasn't a good name in the streets, nor in close-doors, let alone amongst The Order.

That's why I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that they had accepted me— well, maybe 'accepted' was a strong word; they had let me in, reticent, weary, but still they had done it. Plus, after Snape's betrayal and Dumbledore's death, no one would think there was a vacant for a Slytherin and a Lestrange.

It wasn't until I found myself exiting the abandoned Grimauld's Place along with the rest of the volunteers to go to Privet Drive, that it dawned on me; they were short on people.

They were so short on people that the Order would have to swallow my name, my family and my House.

That didn't mean they would quiet down their opinions about me being there.

"I'm gonna say it." Fred announced, taking a spot in the living room's corner while Shacklebolt, Arthur and Lupin searched the place.

"Again?" Fleur groaned.

Fred had already spoken his mind about my presence before we reached Potter's house.

His and George's shocked looks had been on me since the very first moment I had walked into the old Black's home, which was understandable; last time they saw me I was joking about joining the death eaters.

Although the shock on their faces had been accompanied by very different emotions on each.

Fred's held reticence. During our school years, he had never liked me; I would dare to say he was scared of me, even.

George's gaze, on the other hand, held hope —maybe even excitement— which was comforting.

In our first year, I had managed to draw George's interest, and for three years he was adamant about Slytherins not being 'all that bad'.

George's friendship was the thread I was hanging on; he was the only thing stopping from taking the easy way and live up to my name.

The thread was cut after he asked his mother to bring me over during Christmas, which ended up in her forbidding him to talk to me. He, being George Weasley, ignored his mom's pleads and twin's scolding and still tried his best to stay close to me, so I did what was right and, at the end of our fifth year, I cut ties with him.

It hurt more than I would dare to admit.

After our drifting apart, I was forced to completely rely on Slytherins. And you see, Slytherins, as 11 year-old George would say, aren't all that bad, but the ones my name attracted were.

They were bad sort —the worst—, and keeping that company around after our sixth year wasn't the best record to have, but Merlin's sake, I was there, I had volunteered— people change.

"Son." His father warned Fred, well aware this wasn't the time, though he obviously wanted to side with him. "Don't start again."

"Someone has yet to tell me why is she here?"

"She has a name." I hissed, unable to stop myself.

"Which is why you shouldn't be here, Lestrange." The name rolled out of his tongue like poison. "She's not one to trust."

"Oi, she's willing to risk her life, isn't she?" George's words seemed to be meant to calm his twin's temper, though his warm eyes did land on mines with a reassuring look.

"Yeah but for whom?" I tried to stay quiet as Moody had asked me too, but Fred was making it quite difficult. "If something goes wrong—"

"Weasley!" Mad-eye's tone was dry as he bursted into the room. "Are you questioning my judgment?" Fred scoffed, but stayed quiet.

"If we're throwing in the surnames, you're gonna wanna know her mum's my auntie." Tonks spoke, folding her arms.

"But you're a Hufflepuff." He was quick to respond, giving me a disgusted look. "She's a Serpent."

"And you're still a mouthful, aren't you?!" I snapped, stepping forward, though Tonks gave me a lazy tug before I could get to Fred.

"Wanna fight, Lestrange?" He had taken a couple of steps in my direction already when George yanked his twins arm.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yelled, giving his brother a push. "She's here for Harry! She's helping! What else do you want?!"

"Oh my gosh, Georgie— get over your teen crush already, she's not on our team!" George's knuckles went visibly white, unlike his cheeks, which turned red.

"Are you done making a scene? The three of you." Bill questioned in a calm tone, resting against the window's bench. "I don't fancy the idea either, but we need help, Fred, so shut your mouth because we have things to do."

"Pity, I was enjoying the teen drama." Moody teased before grabbing his flask and the ones who would take the Polyjuice potion moved to stand in line.

"Y/n." George's hand brushed my hand, drawing my attention to him as we stood besides one another. "I'm glad you're here." He whispered with a side smile.

"Missed me much?" I couldn't help but grin back, bumping his arm with mine. I stole a proper look at him and thought I might as well ask before the mission. "So... Teen crush huh?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him, though I could feel my own face flushing.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't fancy George —could someone blame me?—, and the idea of those feelings not being unrequited was very appealing.

He only threw his head back and looked away, the half smile growing wider and more bashful. "We'll talk about it at the Burrow." He assured me, taking the flask with his right hand and squeezing mine with his left.

"If we don't die before that." I was joking, but fear was shaking me to the core.

"We won't." He looked at the potion disgusted and gave me a peeked at me saying, "You have to hear me embarrass myself first." And with a wink, he drank the potion and passed it to me.

Gosh, I couldn't get over the mission to hear him 'embarrass' himself.

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

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The first five minutes were calm, despite all of us being on edge. We kept checking on each other, dreading if we lost sight of someone, that someone would banish.

The storm came when we had to dive into the dark clouds.

Funnily enough, I did think it was a literal storm before entering; oh, what I would have given for it to be a literal storm.

Black, cloaked intruders flew among us, making us divide in the pairs we had been assigned to.

Lupin started casting protegos and hexes to everyone that got too close while I tried to take down as many enemies as possible.

A couple of yelled warnings were heard when both Moody and the real Harry had entered the ambush.

"WATCH OUT!" Tonks screamed, flying past me with Ron at her tail. "REMUS!" She made a signal to her husband "ESCORT!" I got the hint; we were supposed to clear Moody's and Y/n's way so it would confuse our attackers while Tonks and Shacklebolt made sure to get Harry out of there.

"ON MY LEFT!" Lupin shouted over the chaos, changing to my right for me to be by Y/n's side.

"WE'RE FUCKED!" She yelled dropping her flight to dodge an Avada Kedavra.

"WE'LL MANAGE!" I automatically dropped my flight with hers too, which was a bad decision, since we had gotten rid of the protection provided by Lupin, Mad-eye and Bill and Fleur.

Soon enough three death eaters came flying towards us.

"STUPEFY!" another Harry with the voice of Fred passed by us, closely followed by my dad.

"GO BACK UP!" Y/n was quicker than me following my father's instructions; when I did though, I realised the little formation we had going on was gone.

Suddenly, all we could hear were screams; it felt as if someone was missing but I blamed it on everyone flying around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Tonks almost crashed against me on her way down; Ron was nowhere near me, nor Lupin.

We were outnumbered, and instead of moving forward, we were stuck in the grey clouds, trying not to die.

It took me a hot second, a crash against a death eater and a couple of hexes to get to Lupin, and even when I did, it was a hard task to keep track of him.

I had just taken out someone in my way when I caught a glimpse of something my eyes refused to believe.

Snape.

Our bloody professor was trying to kill us.

I felt the need to laugh at the situation.

"GEORGE!" It was Y/n's voice snapping me out of it, although her actions shocked me even more.

Y/n casted a spell on me, pushing my broomstick to the left and consequently making me crash against Lupin and lose balance.

Then something happened, something my mind didn't quite process.

At first it felt like a slap, but the pain stung my side as if someone had sliced me with a blade.

I didn't hear my own cry, nor Lupin's desperate 'help'; I didn't feel his hands struggling to take a firm hold of me, nor my own shakily reaching to my side, searching for an injury I didn't want to find.

A second after that, everything was black.

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

FRED'S P. O. V.

As soon as my father and I apparated in the fields of our home, I ran into the house. For some unexplainable reason, it felt as if something wasn't right.

A couple of steps into the house were enough for that 'something' to strike me. George had been laid on the settee, barely conscious; blood was covering the side of his face, neck and left shoulder, making his hair and clothes stick to his skin.

I was left speechless at the sight, my eyes welling up while I dragged my feet towards my twin.

"Mad-Eye is dead." Bill's words, despite sounding far away, made the gears in my head turn.

Lupin was quicker than me, though, "I told you we couldn't trust a Lestrange!"

"Remus! we don't know—" Tonks tried to calm him down, just to be cut off by Bill.

"Mad-Eye and Lestrange traveled between us and" he gestured at our wounded brother, "Remus and George." His jaw twitching let me know that he was desperately trying to stay calm. "Mad-Eye is dead and my brother just lost an ear, who is it if not bloody Lestrange, Dora?"

"Bill..." Fleur held onto her fiance's arm in an attempt to ground him.

"Did you see her disapparating?" Tonks's point was logical and hopeful.

George would have sided with her.

My eyes fixed on my wounded twin again. He was as pale as a corpse now, and the absence of his ear was way more noticeable now that my mother had begun to remove the blood.

George would have sided with Tonks because he wanted to trust Y/n, and he couldn't even speak because of that same reason.

Since everyone was arguing, they missed the flash of someone apparating near the front door.

I didn't.

Before I knew it, I was running outside with my wand in hand, Lupin and Bill following me instantly when they realised what I had just seen.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Y/n's wand flew to my hand even before I could properly see her.

My rushed march came to a halt when I was a couple of feet away from her, making Bill bump into me; she was as pale as George, maybe more.

She took a seemingly calm, deep breath before attempting to walk.

Luckily, I saw the pools of blood on her shirt and stepped to reach her before she could touch the ground.

"Oh my..." Lupin covered his mouth with both his hands and Bill stood frozen at the sight of the girl in my arms. "MOLLY!!" my old professor yelled at the top of his lungs, going as livid as me.

We shouldn't talk on impulse, I told myself, rushing into the kitchen with Y/n in my arms. A series of gasps and regretful whispers broke the silence while I laid her on the dining table.

"Y/n?" George's trembling voice was heartbreaking, and, as my dad forced him to stay on the couch, I prayed the girl in my arms would survive.

"Oh Lord..." My mother muttered, examining her. It wasn't only her shirt stained with blood; her left leg and arm were too. "Oh dear..."

"She took the blow." Lupin ran his hands through his hair, understandably stressed. After a couple of seconds, her turned to my dad and commanded, "Get him up. Quick— go get him up." His eyes stared right into my soul and I dreaded the worst, but still obeyed and helped my dad drag George to the dining table.

I heard Lupin telling Bill something about Sectumsempra, and my heart sunk.

She took the blow.

"No..." George's murmur was close to a cry, but it was enough for Y/n's eyes to snap open.

"George." tears were effortlessly streaming down her cheeks at the sight of him. "You're... A-alive..."

"Please stay" My brother fell on his knees, reaching for Y/n's bloody hand with his own. We all looked away to give them some kind of intimacy, except from my mother, who was still trying to fix the poor girl.

I heard them both whispering sweet nothings with shattered voices until only one of them died out. I looked over to Tonks, whose eyes were gleaming with tears, and then to Lupin.

I couldn't bring myself to look at George.

After a moment of intense sobbing, my dad managed to pull my twin away from the corpse, and we carried him back to the settee.

I stayed with him the night, holding his hand and assuring him it was not his fault, but I knew my words would have little effect on his state; after all, he had been in love with Y/n for years.

All those years he had spent trying to convince all of us that Y/n was a good person, that we should give her a chance; all those years begging our mother to bring her over because she wanted to see our home.

Now her body was lying on our kitchen and I knew none of us would forgive ourselves for misjudging her.

READER'S P. O. V.

"Nervous?" A tall, redheaded kid appeared besides me; I supposed he didn't know my name by the warmth and curiosity with which his eyes stared at me.

"Aren't we all?" I replied with an anxious laugh.

He seemed to think for a moment before nodding. "Fair point, though I'll probably go into Gryffindor." He assured me with a proud smile, causing my head to cast down. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing," I shrugged, aware I would not be able to befriend that sweet boy with warm eyes. "I think I'll be sorted into Slytherin."

"Nonsense!" His intentions had been obviously to reassure me, but when he realised his response only made it worse, he added. "It'd be wicked to have a Slytherin friend, though." My eyes widened at his words; did he just— "I'm George, by the way."

"I'm Y/n."

"That's a very pretty name." Professor Mcgonagall led us into the Great Hall, and before I knew what was happening, George's hand was holding mine. "It'll be fine."

The lighting of the Castle changed once the Great Hall's doors opened; a bright, white light seemed to be coming out of it.

"Wait!" My hand gripped George's before he could leave my side. "Can you hold my hand? I-I'm scared." My voice no longer sounded like a 11 year old.

For some reason I didn't comprehend, my eyes were watery, making the view in front of me blurry.

"Don't be scared, darling." When I turned to George, I didn't see a kid; it was him, in the expensive suit I had seen him mere hours ago. "I'm here."

I just nodded and, swallowing my fear, took a step ahead, and then another one, and another, until I reached the Great Hall.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Twilight Facet [暮光之境] Date Translation (END 5+6: Heart-throb)

“I offer you my hand, my heart, my everything; are you willing to believe me?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *6✩ Inspirations have 6 Endings!! *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ✩Light & Night★

it was the perfect time for a lunchtime nap. I…

✩ E5 LIGHT: Ask about his other bedtime habits ✩

I leaned closer to Evan out of curiosity.

MC: Then, do you have anything else prepared other than the aromatherapy? Or… are there any other rules about this stuff set in place?

Evan pauses for a moment, not saying anything.

His eyes were bright, but also as deep as an abyss. It made me tempted to venture further into it, yet I didn't dare proceed any more than half a step.

After staying in place for a few seconds, I suddenly came to the startling realization of just how close I was to him. My body couldn't help but stiffen as I carefully retracted my neck as I inched backwards.

I leaned so close to him and even asked him such a personal question. Will he think that I'm…

Evan: Are you really that interested in these things?

MC: I just wanted to understand you a little more…

I was so embarrassed that I didn't look at him at all. I kept my head lowered, my face a burning mess.

Evan chuckled lightly. His voice was as deep as ever, and it felt pleasant to the ears.

Evan: Then, I'm glad that you're the one who's trying to understand me.

Evan: But, they're all merely small habits that have followed me through childhood. Take this for example…

He picked up the delicate, yet exquisite cup, shaking the red liquid within.

Evan: This here’s called Hereafter. I started drinking it ever since I was a kid, and it has stuck with me ever since. Now, I need this to sleep.

Evan: I wasn't willing to, at first;  but I slowly got used to it.

I nodded in understanding. After thinking about it for a while, I picked up the teapot and filled his cup with more of said drink.

MC: Then you should finish these off properly.

Evan: Very well.

He picked up the cup and took a sip before pausing. He looked at me a little hesitantly, a conflicted expression on his face.

MC: ...Why are you looking at me like that?

Evan: This is… a little too thick.

MC: Ah! I forgot to add water to it earlier. Sorry, sorry…

I quickly added hot water into his cup and stirred it before handing it back to him. However, his brow furrowed a little after just a sip.

Evan: It's a little too hot now.

MC: I'll blow on it for you!

I took the cup over from him without another word, blowing gently on it. It was only after I'd done it a couple of times that I heard a sudden laugh coming from him.

I froze, looking back at him in suspicion.

He was unable to wipe the smile off his face, leaning affectionately into the sofa as he observed me. His eyes sparkled with glee.

MC: ...You…

I looked at the cup and back to him again. Something clicked in my head.

Is he doing this on purpose?

He chuckled lightly, swiftly taking the cup from my grasp and gracefully downing it in one fell swoop.

Evan: Thank you. Now everything's in place.

MC: ……

He's DEFINITELY doing it on purpose!

I helped him close the curtains after he’d finished up his special drink.

MC: Is there anything else that you'd like prepared, Sir?

Evan looked at me, hesitating for a while before shaking his head.

Evan: That's all there is. Thank you.

I glanced at his dark red tie.

MC: How about I help you take off your tie then? I'm sure it'll be uncomfortable to sleep in.

Evan: ……

MC: ……

An awkward silence lapsed between us. It took some time before the realization that I’d just said something really inappropriate hit me...

I hurriedly averted my gaze away from his tie.

MC: Ahaha… What nonsense am I spouting now…

Evan: Sure.

MC: Huh?

Evan: I'll have to trouble you to help me get it off then. Thank you.

MC: ...Okay.

A warm smile slowly filtered into his orbs as he removed his gold-rimmed glasses. He slowly stood up from his reclining position and moved to stand before me.

He was tall and his shadow almost completely enveloped me. My breathing involuntarily stuttered.

I raised my head and reached upwards, carefully starting to work the knot out.

Looks like he did his tie with an exceptionally complicated knot today. I had a go at it for quite some time, but to no avail.

Evan: Is it hard to undo?

MC: A-A little… Erm, could you… bend down a little?

Evan: Alright… Looks like it was a lack of consideration on my part.

He gave an apologetic smile, moving closer to me and leaning further down.

That slightly smiling face of his suddenly drew up close. My brain blanked out, and I could do nothing but stare dumbly at him.

Evan: Will this do?

MC: ……

My breath hitched in my throat. I hurriedly averted my gaze, frantically nodding as I reached out to have another go at his tie.

However, the knot didn't budge at all no matter how hard I tried. It was almost as if the thing had a grudge on me. I couldn't help but feel a little upset at my futile efforts.

Evan: Looks like this doesn't work either. Then, how about...

The words had only just left his mouth when he suddenly reached over. He wrapped his arm around my waist and hoisted me up!

MC: !!!

I jolted. Startled by the sudden movement, I instinctively clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and earning another chuckle from him.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Carrying me, Evan retreated a couple of steps backwards. He seated himself on the side of the bed with me sitting sideways atop his thigh. He held my hand and brought it up to his collar which was already loose and dishevelled.

MC: Evan…

Evan: It should be much easier now. Try again?

There was a pleasantly warm smile on his face, but it was hard to ignore the firm chest pressed up to my palm, rising and falling in time with his breathing.

This is all to undo his tie, right? Still, this position is a little…

I bit my lip and tried to calm my rapid breathing. I tentatively moved a little, only to feel his entire body suddenly stiffen in response.

I stiffened as well, freezing in place. I didn't dare move an inch.

It was a few seconds later that his voice sounded in my ears again.

Evan: Are you going to start?

MC: ...Yeah.

I tried my hardest to shelve the wild thought that had taken refuge in my head as my trembling hands took hold of his tie once more.

After composing myself, I was soon able to undo his tie. I also helped him unbutton the first button of his dress shirt.

And just like that, his pretty and prominent collarbones were revealed to my eye. Going further up was his adam's apple that bobbed ever so occasionally. And going further down would be his chest, which my hand was currently pressed against, rising and falling with his every breath.

The muscles beneath my touch were firm but relaxed, rippling beneath his skin as if waiting for the perfect chance to come into play. This side of Evan was one unknown to me; one that screamed danger. Yet, it was still deadly attractive. I couldn't stop my face from flushing scarlet once more.

MC: Um… your tie's undone now… You can rest easy

Evan: I'm in no hurry. Besides, this makes up the last of my bedtime habits.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan: Now, how about you tell me about your bedtime habits?

MC: My bedtime habits?

I stared into his deep orbs. The ghost of a familiar melody sounded by my ears, soft and gentle.

It was the song that my grandmother used to sing to me before bed as a kid. Recalling these softened my heart and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

MC: My grandmother used to hum to me.

Evan: A lullaby?

MC: Yup! But not just lullabies! Sometimes it's a traditional folk song, and sometimes it’s a western nursery rhyme.

MC: I recall there being one with really odd lyrics about how a leopard fell in love with a foxface rabbitfish.

MC: The foxface rabbitfish asked the leopard if it wanted to go down to the sea and see how it was like. The leopard agreed.

MC: And then they both lived happily ever after together at the bottom of the sea.

MC: Strange, isn’t it? I mean, how can a leopard live under the sea?

Evan: ...What if it's possible?

MC: Huh?

I looked towards Evan. His eyes were slightly drooping, his eyelashes casting small shadows upon his features. I couldn’t read his expressions all that well.

It was a while before he looked back at me again. This time, with his beautiful eyes fully open, and the corners of his lips curled into his usual smile.

Evan: Can you sing it to me?

MC: Yeah… Sure thing.

I softly sang him that weird nursery rhyme of mine, again and again, in a never-ending loop.

I didn’t know how many times I sang the whole rhyme in succession; but just as I stopped once more at the part where the foxface rabbitfish asked the leopard whether it wanted to visit the sea, Evan’s head suddenly fell onto the crook of my neck.

MC: !!

The nursery rhyme came to an abrupt stop as my ears were slowly filled with another sound.

It was the sound of his long and steady breathing, gently sounding in my ears. Soon, it permeated through my thin clothes, melting into my skin. His hair was soft and a little ticklish as it brushed against my neck, making my heart pound in unrest.

Our surroundings were silent, with only the soft crackling of the fireplace and the intoxicating fragrance that wafted in the air.

It felt like it was going to be a long, long time before this nap was over.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

it was the perfect time for a lunchtime nap. I…

★ E6 NIGHT: Don't hold him up from his afternoon nap ★

It just so happens that it's the perfect time for a lunchtime nap now…

MC: Am I getting in the way of your rest? I'll wait for you out in the hall then. Have a good nap!

With that said, I moved to head out to the hall. However, I hadn't yet gotten a step further before Evan caught me by the wrist.

Evan: Wait.

The unique temperature of his body slowly spreads upon my skin. His touch brought about a slight coolness, momentarily freezing me in place.

MC: ...What's up?

I secretly peeked at the hand he used to hold onto mine. His fingers were pale and long, but there was an undeniable strength behind them. It unwittingly made people a little nervous.

Evan: I was just going to tell you that I don't intend to take an afternoon nap at all today. But what I do have, is an important document that needs my signature.

MC: Uh… I'll still wait for you out in the hall?

Evan: You can just stay here.

MC: Won't I disturb you?

Evan: You won't. I'm more worried that you'd find it boring here.

Evan: The other door in my room connects to my Study. You can go there and kill time if you feel bored.

Now that he mentions it… I do recall seeing a heavy wooden door on the other side of his bedroom…

MC: Ohh… I'll go check out your Study then!

Evan: Sure. I'll go look for you once I'm done.

MC: Okey-dokey!

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

A step into the study was all it took for me to be completely blown away by what awaited inside.

MC: Jesus Christ. These bookshelves span several walls… Who in the world has this many books in their study? It’s kind of amazing in its own right...

And it wasn’t just the bookshelves. There was also a large projector screen on the other end of the study that nearly covered the entire wall.

MC: I’d probably disrupt his work if I watch a movie here… Guess I’ll be better off looking for a book.

But rather than searching the shelves in search of a book, the thought of just what books he'd have in here intrigued me further.

MC: Wow, the bottom few shelves are filled with the biographies of famous people, mystery novels, travel guides… He even has picture books here!

MC: I never knew that he reads such a wide array of books. I wonder if the upper shelves will yield any new discoveries?

I took the stepladder that was placed not too far off and climbed up on it. I excitedly continued my perusal of what books his shelves offered. After a considerable amount of effort, I managed to pull out a thin and old book from amongst a couple of thick books on the history of music.

MC: “Jane Eyre”? Huh…? Was “Jane Eyre” supposed to be this thin, again? And it looks pretty well-thumbed too...

Curious, I opened it.

This was an incomplete copy of "Jane Eyre". There were thick scars on the spine of the book, formed from having its pages torn out. Someone had ripped out nearly ¾ of the book's contents.

Flipping it open, the very first page detailed the part where Jane Eyre wished to leave Thornfield Hall after learning that Rochester was about to get married. Conflicted with her turmoil of emotions, Jane walks to Mr. Rochester's orchard. She'd intended to sneak away as if she was never there, only to be halted by Rochester. And in the end, they finally managed to understand their true feelings for each other under the moonlight, in the eventide breeze that was tinged with the fragrance of jasmine interlaced with roses.

But why does this book start from here? What happened to all the content in front?

Evan: What book is it that has gotten you so engrossed?

MC: !

The low voice that suddenly sounded by my ear made my breathing hitch. Turning around, I hurriedly hid the book behind my back, just like how one would when the teacher found out that they were secretly reading a book in class.

Evan, dressed only in a white dress shirt, was looking at me with a smile that reached his eyes. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and the warmth in his eyes that were normally hidden behind the lenses now faced me in full force.

MC: ...You… You're done with work?

Evan smiled, reaching out to help me adjust the hemline of my skirt that had gotten slightly rumpled.

Evan: Yes. So, what were you reading?

MC: This.

I brought the book I'd hidden behind me back out front.

Evan: Jane Eyre.

His low and pleasantly smooth voice intonated, seemingly touching my very heart. It was like magic; one that miraculously made my heart race.

Evan looked back up at me after reading the title. He had a knowing look in his eyes that was soon disrupted by a flicker of mischief.

I didn't know why, but I didn't quite dare to look up at him right now.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan: “I believe you must leave now. I am sorry, but I believe indeed you must.”

MC: Huh? ...O-Oh, I’ll leave now…

Evan: “Exactly, precisely: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head.”

This… sounds like the lines I’ve just read in “Jane Eyre”...?

Deep down, Jane truthfully didn't want to leave. However, Mr. Rochester had already arranged everything for her departure.

Her job, her destination, and even her future to come.

Evan: “Do you like Ireland? ...You’ll like Ireland, I think.”

He spoke with a low voice, looking at me with a sort of seriousness that I’d never seen before.

It felt as if that line wasn’t from Rochester, directed to Jane; but rather, from Evan to me.

Confounded, I slowly opened my mouth to respond to him.

MC: “It is a long way off, sir. Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier—”

Evan: "From what, hm?”

MC: “From England and from Thornfield: and一 From you, Sir.”

The words had just left my lips when Evan reached a hand out, bringing it up to my waist. Just a little bit of strength behind his fingertips was all it took for him to hoist me upwards, pressing my upper body closer to him.

Suddenly, the distance between us disappeared. We were so close that our breaths intermingled.

Evan: “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you— especially when you are near me, as now.”

Evan: “Are you anything akin to me, do you think?”

He gazed at me, his breath brushing across my skin in a manner as intoxicating as wine, effectively sending my rationality out of the window.

I gaped in an attempt to say something. However, my words were eviscerated into nothing by the deep red hue in his eyes.

We stared at each other as we stood within the tall and large study filled with the scent of ink. It felt like we were nothing but the small minuscule dust particles that filtered in with the sun’s rays.

So small, so minuscule that it was almost non-existent; yet still able to hang onto the other, while adrift, fluttering all the same.

Evan: “I offer you my hand, my heart, my everything.”

Evan: “Are you willing to believe me?”

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

My heart thudded heavily in my chest. It felt as if time had come to a stand-still.

I lost myself in the moment, forgetting who I was or where I was. The only thing I wanted to do now was to entrust my heart to him in all its genuineness, and to stay in this beautiful and pleasant moment forever.

According to the story, this was when Jane and Rochester finally gained a mutual understanding of their emotions for each other, sharing a long passionate kiss.

Evan's eyes lowered, coming to a slight close. His fine lashes fluttered downwards as the pale yellow light illuminated his face, casting small beautiful shadows upon his features. He slightly turned his head, the breath that had been one with mine shifting. It brushed against my face, hot and ticklish.

My body seemingly loses the ability to move, and all I could do was stare dumbfoundedly at the face with well-defined features slowly advancing closer.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

At the very last second, I hurriedly covered my face with the book that I'd let rest against my chest in a desperate act.

And in turn, blocking off what could have happened; something that was capable of making my heart stop beating right then and there.

The air was filled with a moment of silence that was soon broken by Evan's laughter.

MC: You…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I slowly and carefully lowered the book that'd been covering my face. I watched as Evan lowered his head, leaning it against the crook of my neck as he laughed, shoulders quaking in his mirth.

MC: Stop… stop laughing at me…

Evan: Okay, no laughing.

Evan: ...I'm really happy, (Y/n).

Evan's laughter slowly died off, but his head remained firmly planted onto my shoulder. I quietly relished in the moment of intimate contact with burning cheeks.

MC: Erm… Why’s this book missing so many pages?

Evan: This belonged to my mother. It was already in this state when I first saw it.

Oh, so that’s how it is. Then… perhaps it’s because his mother liked how brave Jane was in this part of the story?

MC: She dared defy; she dared to love.

Evan: Yes. Although, I think my mother will definitely like you much more if she had the chance to meet you.

MC: But… I’m nowhere near as brave as Jane.

He gave a small chuckle before letting go of my shoulder, watching me with a profound look in his eyes. It was as if the Evan that had been reciting Mr. Rochester’s lines had made a comeback.

In the same manner, as Rochester would gaze affectionately at Jane… No. No, that wasn’t it… Those eyes, that gaze… It was Evan who was looking at me so.

Reflected within his orbs were twin silhouettes of me.

He patted my head, his low and intoxicating voice taking on a slightly far-away tone, yet still managing to grace my ears.

Evan: My liking you has absolutely nothing to do with “Jane Eyre”.

Evan: You are (Y/n), and I am Evan. Nothing more, nothing less.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Time flew past.

The glow of the sunset had begun to set in when Aunt Wang finally sent up my dry-cleaned clothes.

Seeing her so busy, I couldn't help feeling a tinge of regret at being the cause of it.

MC: I've brought so much trouble for them both… I should do something to thank them well next time!

Evan looked at me and closed the book in his hand.

Evan: They're usually the only ones here, so it'll do them a little good to be busy once in a while.

Evan: Having something to do would also make it feel all the more fulfilling.

MC: Mmhm… But I can't help but feel like they're already busy even without us, and now that we're here…

MC: Plus Uncle Chen looked like he was in a huge hurry when I took upon the task of sending the drink for him. It was like he was here for a moment, and gone like the wind in the next.

A flicker of doubt appears on Evan's face upon hearing this.

Evan: Is he truly that busy?

MC: Yeah, he is… He had to rush here to deliver your drink, and he also had to rush over to give the fireplace a change of coal.

MC: Plus, this is also one huge place. Even with the two of them here, they must be pretty busy keeping this place all neat and tidy.

Evan: They do have their work cut out for them, but…

Evan: I seem to recall that we do have scheduled professionals who come by to take care of the fireplace here, so there's no need for either of them to do it themselves.

MC: ...Huh? But he said…

A strange thought suddenly struck me, the realization making the words die in my throat.

Did Uncle Chen make me… bring Evan's drink to him on purpose?

I stared at Evan, absolutely dumbfounded.

He didn't say anything either, only chuckling lightly after a few seconds.

Evan: I suppose, sometimes, having a fireplace at home isn't all that bad.

He'd said it all so naturally, yet I couldn't help but feel like there was something a little off about it. Especially when it came to the word "fireplace". It unwittingly made me recall how oddly Uncle Chen and Aunt were acting… and their ambiguous smiles.

I silently adverted my gaze, biting on my lips as I spoke in barely a whisper.

MC: I'm definitely not getting a fireplace installed in my house next time…

Evan: Hm?

MC: Oh, nothing… nothing! I was just talking to myself!

Evan: That so?

Evan drew both of his arms up to his jaw, propping his chin on it as his heavy gaze fell upon my being.

Under the light of the setting sun, his expression was one of calm contentment and warmth.

He smiled, his voice a low baritone.

Evan: Your wish is my command. No fireplaces in the future.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose another Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]  

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 + 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ✩Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: Prologue

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“So that’s how you want to play this, love?" | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey My Lovelies! I hope all is well today! I received a request ages ago from @activist-af to do something like this, as you will read below. I honestly aimed to fit the movie night theme in there but it was swallowed up pretty fast! I only meant for this fic to be 3000 or so words but, as it always seems to do, it got away from me.I truly hope that you enjoy this, you've given me an unwavering amount of support these past few months while I was battling a major bout of depression and writers block. I can't repay all the kindness and love you've given me but I hope this is a start! Much love darling! And much love to all of you lovelies! Please have a fantastic evening for me! <3

Please read before continuing: I usually wouldn't write this much before my story but I wanted to add this: this story is my first full blown smut. I'm honestly not sure how well it will go over but I tried to make it as loving and healing as I could. I take my writing very seriously. I know sex for many is a touchy subject, and that truly pains me. I sincerely hope every single one of you reading this feels all the love and saftey I tried to incorporate into this peace. I wish you an eternity of love and healing. Be safe my loves!

Request: "Could u do a mikaelson boys x reader? Any plot really, but I’d very much love it if it was a bit more Kol focused. there’s just such a lack of content for all three of them and I love your writing so much. If u need any plot point ideas maybe a movie night kinda thing? I really hold him a bit higher than the other boys. Or something similar to the fic with the Klaus + Eli being injured? Fluffy ending please, smut is fantastic too 🖤"

Description: Y/n is upset that the boys won't let her come on their mission with them, feeling isolated and useless. Kol is supposed to stay behind and watch out for her however things get heated after she tells him off.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, mainly Kol and Elijah

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! This is a full blown smut, I honestly do not know how it happened, probably 4000/5000 words are pure sex scenes, also there's a bit of fighting/angst at the beginning of the first scene but it doesn't last

Word count: 5343 (I'm so sorry)

Tags: ANGST, SMUT (full on), FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

“I really don’t see why you guys are leaving me behind, again,” you run an agitated hand through your hair, huffing indignantly at the two boys in front of you.

Yes, boys. Not men. If they aren't going to treat you like the full grown woman you are then no way in hell are you going to give them any validation either. Even in your head.

“It’s too dangerous,” Elijah’s chocolate eyes are stern, his hands clenching at his sides, “I can’t risk the witches doing anything to you as a way to get to us. You’re too important.”

Your chest warms slightly at his words but it isn’t enough to break down your resolve. Three hundred years under your belt; they’re going to need to do better than that if they want to keep you away. There are only so many times you can stay away from a fight, only so many times you can watch them come home hurt knowing that if you had gone with them then maybe you could have prevented it. You’re a family and you’re tired of feeling like you aren’t pulling your weight.

You narrow your eyes at the tall boy, still not man, trying to peer through all the red you’re seeing, “I’m not a child, Elijah.”

He stares right back, not backing down, his face cut like marble, unwavering. Beautiful but harsh. Stone. He wears a white shirt, the first button popped and the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His veins are prominent and tempting. Elijah means business. You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing away the heat growing in your stomach.

“Love, trust me, we know you aren't a child. Any other time I would gladly rip you upstairs and prove it. Right now, though, I agree with him. You’re staying here,” Klaus’ softer voice pulls your attention from your staring match with the eldest Mikaelson.

He has a leather jacket on, the material clinging tight to his arms, ready to burst. He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his crystal eyes. He folds his arms neatly in front of him. He’s not going to budge either.

You scoff at him, shaking your head, “I want to come, Klaus. I need to.”

A new voice joins the three of you in the foyer, “I can make that happen, darling, but you’ve got to stay home with me if you want that.”

You don't even need to turn around to hear the smirk on Kol’s voice but you do anyway, meeting the youngest Mikaelson face to face. He has a grin on his lips, one that, in any other situation, would have you weak in the knees. He has a sweatshirt on and a pair of sleep shorts. He’s on babysitting duty, he doesn’t need anything else. You only roll your eyes at him before facing Elijah once more.

“I’m part of this family, too, you know. It should be my choice,” you have to will your voice not to crack, keeping your tone as low and as steady as you can, “I’m not useless, Elijah, as much as you’d obviously disagree.”

You rub your hands over your bare arms, fending off a sudden chill. You feel like there’s ice coursing through your veins. A traitorous tear tracks down your cheek but you make no move to get it. Elijah’s hardened face softens when he notices.

“Baby, come on,” he reaches to grab you but you step back, not allowing him to touch you.

He can’t do that, make the decisions for you. Maybe if you were still human it would be called for but now it’s not. Sure, you aren't a millennium like they are but you’re not a piece of glass either. You’re strong, whether they want to acknowledge it or not.

“Don’t, Elijah,” you back away further, your cheeks drenched but your eyes fierce, “I’ll see you guys in a few days. Be safe.”

You turn and walk away, ignoring all three brothers as they call out to you, heading up to your room before any of them decide to follow you. You close the door, not slamming it but not exactly shutting it gently either. You can hear Elijah sigh from the front hall and you know he’s tugging on his hair. Klaus swears, his frustrated voice floating up to your ears. More tears fall but you brush them away angrily, lifting a pillow from your bed and screaming into it. No doubt they can hear it but, right now, you couldn't care less. The front door shuts and your heart plummets.

You sit on the edge of your bed, gripping your dark comforter tightly. Usually you like being the one they take care of. You like being held, how small they make you feel. Right now, though, it’s too much.

A soft knock draws your attention to the door, Kol’s careful voice cutting through the wood, “darling?”

“Leave me alone, Kol,” you try your best to make your words harsh but you only sound tired.

“Not likely, love,” he presses, “you know I can go all night, now it’s up to you what that means.”

Your cheeks flush and, as if he can see you through the door, he chuckles. The sound echos through your chest, stirring the remains of anger and frustration and mixing them with something hot and untamed. You pull the door open, coming face to face with the smirking Mikaelson.

“Sorry you landed with babysitting duty, Kol, but I’ve kept myself alive for three hundred years now and I’m pretty sure I can handle two more days on my own. Why don’t you go help Elijah and Klaus, yeah? Seeing as you are the only three who can actually do any good. I’m clearly not strong enough to do anything so I’ll just sit here and look pretty and do absolutely nothing at all because I’m useless. Okay?”

With that you close the door in his face. Well, you try to but he wedges his body in the way so you can’t shut him out. Whatever smile had previously been on his face is long gone and in its place sits a deep frown. His brown eyes ice over slightly and he stands taller than he did mere seconds ago. You can feel a switch in the atmosphere and suddenly you’re face to face. You honestly can’t tell which one of you is more pissed off.

“So that’s how you want to play this, love,” he pushes closer to you, “you want to get angry, yeah? Alright darling, I can do that.”

You open your mouth to protest but before any profanities can fly out his lips are on yours, fierce and strong. He uses his foot to kick the door closed, slamming it into place. It’s done merely for effect. No one is home but the two of you. He spins you around aggressively, pushing you roughly against the hardwood. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, no doubt drawing blood. As if on cue a copper taste fills your mouth, drowning your senses in red. This time, though, the anger is mixed with a wicked kind of lust.

Your hands find his hair without your permission, tugging harshly at the roots. He groans into your mouth, a sound that makes you want to slap him across the face and wrap your legs around him all the same. His hand snakes around your waist, squeezing your hip with a fervour that will no doubt leave bruises that will take longer than usual to heal. He pushes against you, every single part of him rock hard.

“God fucking damnit, Kol,” his lips find your throat with painful ease, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth in a way thats just this side of painful over pleasurable.

Right now, though, you crave every bit of pain that Kol lays on you. In a sick way you’re proving that you can take it. That you’re strong enough to do the things that they do. Another flash of red floods your vision when you think of the other two Mikaelson's who refused to let you help. You drag one of your hands down Kol’s back, scratching hard enough for him hiss against your neck.

He jerks away from you quickly, only long enough to rip the sweatshirt over his head before he attacks your neck again. He sinks his teeth in at the same moment he rips your tank top in half, lulling you into that sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, hate and lust once more. His shoulders are deliciously toned under your searching fingers and this time when you drag your nails down his back you know you draw blood. Serves him right anyway.

“Fuck, baby,” he wraps a hand around both of your wrists, pinning your hands above your head, “that kinda hurt.”

You want to claw the smirk off of his face. Or kiss it. You can’t quite decide. His other hand is slowly sliding up your back, inching towards the clasp of your bra. His eyes burn into yours, the inferno behind them nothing less than intense. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so loud it’s almost hypnotic when combined with the tantalizing draw of his hand. It lulls you into a false sense of security, your eyelids heavy in anticipation. He stops moving when his fingers are about to undo the hooks.

He pushes his hips closer to yours, locking you between his body and the door. His stomach is hot against yours and cut like marble. Your fingers itch to feel every bump and dip with agonizing intricacy. Every inch of your skin is alight, every hair raised waiting for anything to happen. You can feel every breath he takes as if it’s your own, your covered breasts just barely grazing him with each rise and fall of his chest. It’s delicious torture.

“Before we go any further here, I need to know what you want. Do you want some quick fuck that’s going to leave you more angry when it’s done?” He rolls his hips against yours, sending sparks flying through your body at the first real touch you’ve had tonight, “or do you want me to make love to you like you know I can. And make all these terrible feelings go away. It’s your choice, darling?”

His words tangle and knot in the pit of your stomach, weaving through the white hot hatred that had been building in your stomach until it explodes. They hit you right at the source like missiles aimed with the utmost precision to destroy every bit of anger left in you. Tears prickle at the edge of your vision, your senses overloaded from the sudden loss of your fury. All that’s left in its wake is this gut wrenching feeling of not being good enough. It’s the original problem and he just effortlessly broke through to it.

“I,” you tug your bruised lip between your teeth, if only to keep it still, “make it go away, Kol. Please.”

“That’s all I want to do, darling.”

He releases your wrists, opting instead to haul your body into his arms and slamming his lips against yours once more. You waste no time running your freed fingers down his sculpted chest, admiring the way his muscles tense as he holds you up. You push yourself as close to his body as you can get, wrapping your legs around his taught stomach and clinging on for dear life. He kisses you slowly, as if drawing all the negative energy out of your body with his lips.

He walks the two of you backwards towards your bed, sitting on the edge, leaving you straddling his hips in the most delicious way. You push your hips to bring you closer together, wanting to feel every part of him that you can. He meets every movement with his own energy, wrapping an arm around you back to keep you pressed against him. Your body is warming up once more in his arms.

He pulls his lips from yours reluctantly, his hand snaking back to the clasp on your back, “this needs to go.”

You shiver at the light touch of his fingertips on your spine, arching with the click of the hooks coming undone. He pulls the lace from your chest slowly, his thumbs grazing down your arms, memorizing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. His eyes meet yours again and he drops the fabric on the ground next to your bed. His hands, now resting on your hips, trail fire up your stomach as they trace their way over your ribs.

“Kol, please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his chest so close to your own, “I need you.”

There’s a glint in his eye again but this time you don’t want to slap him. No this time you want him to do heavenly things to every part of you. You want him to take the last remains of this awful feeling and snuff it out with his mouth. His hands finally crest the remainder of your ribcage, his thumbs teasing the underside of your breasts with tantalizingly careful circles. Tears sting your vision again from all the pent up energy inside of you.

“What shall I do, darling,” his thumbs draw along the sides of your breasts, stoking the untameable fire in the pit of your stomach once more, “tell me how you want me to touch you.”

His fingers dance closer to their target, each stroke driving your brain further into it’s Kol induced frenzy. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell is the boy in front of you.

“Kol,” his name falls from your lips in a desperate moan, “please just do something, god.”

He chuckles, a sound that flows like honey and wraps around every inch of you like silk. His eyes sear into your own, daring you to break his stare but you don’t. You can’t

“Well I could do this.”

His thumbs roll over your hardened nipples, as if to punctuate his words, and you see stars. You don’t even try to stop the moans that tumble from your lips, turning to clay in his hands. You give him free reign to mould your body in any way he desires, as long as hands never leave your skin. He pinches each bud between his fingers gently, pulling more praises from deep within you. His eyes never leave your face, drinking in each expression with unashamed greed.

“Or maybe I could do this.”

You know what’s coming when he leans forward, It’s quite clear what his intentions are. However, what you aren’t expecting is for the first gentle nip to send you so violently crashing over the edge that you have to squeeze your thighs around him to avoid falling off the bed. He doesn’t stop when you cry out and you don't want him to. Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends you spiraling further into the sweet oblivion he’s created just for you. He rocks his hips against yours while his mouth assaults you, pressing the delicious hardness against you while you fall apart.

He detaches his lips from your lips when you start to come down from your high, kissing his way up your sternum, over your collar bone, before settling on your throat.

“So beautiful darling,” he pulls your skin into his mouth as if he didn't just get enough just moments ago, “so damn beautiful.”

You press down on his hard length again, pulling a groan from deep within his chest, “I want all of you, Kol. Please.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to flip the two of you over and lay you on your back. He kneels between your legs, hooking his thumbs in your plaid sleep shorts and pulling them off much faster than he had down with your bra. He’s more than warmed up now, something that excites you to no end. You’re left laying in a pair of black lace panties that match the bra on your floor.

Kol’s eyes go dark at the sight, a growl that hardens your nipples again rumbling through the air. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling the lace off of you once more and adding it to the growing pile of clothes. He kisses the junction of your thigh next, sending electricity rippling through your body. It restarts the heat once more and the familiar wildfire rips through your abdomen. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to stand many more orgasms if each one is to be like the first.

“Please just make love to me, Kol, I need to feel you.”

He lifts his head from your thighs, a sight that you will never grow tired of, and his eyes set ablaze, “I was made for nothing more.”

Your heart flutters rapidly in your chest, a warmth spreading like butter over your bones. He kicks his own shorts and boxers off quickly, moving back up your body to rest between your legs. You drink in the heat radiating off his body, allowing it to soothe the remaining ache leftover from your small throw down. His one hand slips under your head, lacing through your hair gently. The other reaches between you, lining himself up against your opening. The slightest touch of him against you is enough to have you mewling his name already.

He teases you slightly, taking his sweet time before pushing in. The first thrust is pure magic, filling you in the way that only Kol can. Each of you boys feel different. Kol lights every one of your nerves on fire with his slow movements. He makes you feel every deliberate movement. He makes you know that every circle of his hips, every time he joins you together is done to perfection exactly how he intends. Kol makes you aware of your entire body and just how much control he has over it.

He pulls back slowly before thrusting back inside of you hard enough to rock your bed into the wall. You clench around him without warning, pulling your name from his lips with mouthwatering ease and sending small shocks through your lower half.

“Christ, baby,” he rocks his hips deeper into yours, burying himself all the way inside you, “how are you so close again already.”

You giggle quietly from underneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips and rolling your own to meet his thrusts. Your hands glide over his shoulders, soothing the scratches you left earlier. You draw his face to your own, pulling his lips down to graze yours. You want him to feel every word you say.

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what you’re doing,” the end of your sentence is blurred with unrelenting moans.

His hand grabs your leg, pushing your knee to your chest before pushing you into the mattress with a world altering thrust, “you’re right darling, I just like to hear you say it.”

He closes the gap between your lips with another shattering push, your walls clenching harder than before around him again. You swallow each moan that slips from his mouth and into yours. His nutmeg scent clings to you and you know it will take days to scrub him off of you, not that you want to. You could very well spend the next century wrapped up in Kol in every single way possible.

He picks up the pace, slamming into you with controlled ease. Your hands lace through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. Your senses are overwhelmingly heightened, allowing you to feel every damned inch of him. You’re in serious danger of falling apart. The fiery ball in your stomach is at its peak once more. When he pulls your lip between his teeth, and you taste the crimson, it explodes.

This time you don't just see stars, you see the sun and the moon and every planet in the solar system. He continues to move in and out of you, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm as he rides his own out. You cling to him with everything you have, refusing to breathe anything but Kol. Everything in this moment is about him and the way he makes you feel. Nothing else matters anymore. Perhaps nothing even mattered before. All there is, all there has ever been, is this one moment.

When you finally land back on earth, he slowly pulls out of you, giving you one last taste of electricity before drawing you to lay on his chest. Your ears ring from the energy you just exerted at Kol’s mercy, your skin deliciously sticky against his own. You're completely and undeniably spent.

You don’t realize that you’re crying until you go to speak, “Kol.”

You feel the sharp inhale he takes rather than hear it. Before you can blink the fresh wave of tears away he’s flipped you around, laying between your legs again and propped up on his elbows. His face is pure concern, his eyebrows creased together in a way that makes you want to smooth every harsh line away. It makes you cry that much harder.

“Darling, talk to me,” he runs a soothing hand down your thigh, pulling you close to him, “what’s wrong baby?”

The tears pour faster at the gentle tone in his voice, drawing an answer to the surface before you even process what you’re saying, “Do they think I’m useless? Do you?”

Your voice is shattered, all the emotions from today coming together in yet another crescendo. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, drowning out the sounds around you. It’s probably the reason you miss the footsteps pounding up the stairs. You can feel Kol’s soft caresses but just barely. The only thing registering in your mind is the feeling of being completely and utterly weak. Why do they keep you around if you can’t even hold your own?

“God’s no, never. Not even a little bit,” just as Kol speaks, the door opens.

Well, the door slams open, hitting the wall with a crack that echoes through the large house. Kol isn’t startled. He should be but he doesn’t even flinch at the bang. You, on the other hand, tense underneath him, the pounding in your ears still as intense as before. A woodsy scent flows through the now open doorway, pine mingling with your already nutty skin. The pieces start clicking together, albeit at a slower pace than you like.

You’re almost certain you know who’s in the doorway but you look anyway to make sure, “Elijah.”

His name is a whisper and it gets lost under Elijah's own words, his dark eyes searing into yours, “Kol, do you mind giving us a moment?”

Kol glances down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. You plead with him to stay but this is Kol, he’s your hell-raiser. He places a soft kiss on your forehead before he stands, still completely naked, and walks out of the room.

He pauses on the other side of the door, settling a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “careful brother, she scratches.”

Elijah shuts the door when he leaves, much gentler than he had been when opening. Your boys, always the ones for theatrics. He leans against the frame, folding his arms over his chest. You stand from the bed, trying to meet his height but failing. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand but it doesn’t do much to clear the droplets. He tracks your every movement with a fire raging behind his chocolate eyes. You’re painfully aware of how much of your skin is on display for him; that is, all of it.

“What,” you pause when your voice cracks, stealing a moment to compose yourself, “what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off saving the day.”

He pushes off the door, taking a few steps towards you. You can see he's fighting back a lot of primal instincts. He's as affected by your lack of clothes as you are. His eyes shift rapidly between his usual brown and a deeper coal colour. Despite the situation, you can’t help the heat seeping from between your thighs. He stops a few feet in front of you. There’s no way he can’t smell you right now.

“I was needed elsewhere,” his eyes dip down momentarily, his jaw clenching, “by someone infinitely more important.”

You watch him squeeze his fists together, forcing his eyes to remain on yours. The determination in them is unwavering and fierce. He takes another step towards you.

“It seemed important a few hours ago,” you drop your eyes to your feet, breaking his stare.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him and, in turn, igniting your body, “I assure you it was not nearly as important as making sure that you’re ok.”

Your throat tightens, aching with the promise of even more tears. You wish you could just stop. You’re not afraid to cry but usually you can control it. Right now you can’t. Everything has been building, every little insecurity has pooled, and today was the chip in the damn needed to make the whole thing collapse. It’s too much.

“I’m not,” you wrap your arms tight around yourself, gripping your arms with bruising strength to try and hold back the tremors, “ I am not okay Eli. I feel so helpless. Everytime you come home bleeding and exhausted and where am I?” You run a trembling hand through your mussed hair, yanking at the roots, “Here. Always just here, useless, letting you and Klaus and Kol take it all for me. Am I really that weak? That I’m just extra collateral damage to worry about? What is it, Elijah?”

The words pour from you, each one making him flinch like he’s being hit by an invisible enemy. Every syllable is a bullet to his chest. His body tenses further, his eyes no longer holding any trace of their usual warm brown. Instead they're pitch black, the veins under his eyes a deep plum. The veins in his arms pop as well, his fists iron tight. He curses under his breath when you finish. His voice is gravelly and scrapes the deepest pit of your soul.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, whatever resolve he had been clinging to snaps. He pulls you towards him, wrapping his strong hands around your hips and lifting you against him, giving you a second to wrap your bare legs around his clothed hips.

“Elijah, what are you doing?” You cling to his chest, trying to avoid tumbling out of his arms when he begins walking you towards your bed once more.

He doesn't answer your question, laying you down against your ruffled comforter, “You aren’t collateral damage, baby.”

His voice is the lowest you’ve ever heard it, emanating from somewhere deep inside him. He opens the first few buttons of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head before making it even halfway down his chest. He drops it, much like he Kol had not long before, next to your bed. Kicking off his shoes, he kneels on the bed, coming to rest between your thighs. The heat emanating from you is now a furnace and it in no way goes unnoticed by him. His dark eyes swim across your naked body, drinking in every inch.

“Eli-” whatever you’re going to say is obliterated when he leans down and attaches his lips to the crook of your thigh, dangerously close to being exactly where you need him.

“You aren't weak,” he moves to your other thigh, nipping at the delicate skin and pulling unintelligible murmurs from your throat.

He kisses his way to your center, the anticipation growing like a knot in your stomach, begging to be unraveled once more. Even in the midst of falling apart you can’t get enough of these men. He lays a soft kiss against you, offering you the slightest glimpse of what you know his mouth can do. In the exact same way you had with Kol earlier, every part of you craves Elijah.

Your body arches willingly to meet the first swipe of his tongue, his name falling from your lips like a praise, “you aren't a burden to me, you beautiful creature.”

You cry out as he works his mouth expertly against you, his words humming ecstasy into your skin, melting away any trace of doubt in your mind. His arms wrap around your thighs, bringing you as close to his face as he can get you. The sight of him completely engulfed in your heat is almost enough alone to send you tumbling right there and then over the edge.

“You mean more to me than anything else on this fucking earth,” his dark eyes meet yours as he works you dangerously close to breaking before letting up once more, “and if I have to spend every hour for the next hundred years worshipping you to prove it then consider it done.”

He lowers his mouth against you harder, sucking your electrified warmth with renewed vigour. Your hands seek out his hair, tugging him against you and raising your hips to meet every pass of his tongue. The smell of pine trees and sex envelope you, brining you the closest yet to the kind of high only Elijah can draw from you. In this moment you’re nothing more than entirely his.

“I cannot lose you, baby,” he slips a few of his fingers inside you, “please let me protect you. I need to. Please.”

He curls his fingers just as the last syllable rolls off his tongue and into your core, shattering you into a million tiny pieces. Your hands fist his hair as your body clenches around his hand, pulling a delectable groan from his lips. Your third orgasm almost puts you to sleep on the spot, each of your muscles completely exhausted. Elijah watches you come undone the entire way through, nothing less than reverent awe locked on his face.

He wastes no time pulling your spent body into his arms, wrapping you as close to him as he can manage. You bury yourself against his neck, admiring how even the most unassuming parts of him have an undue amount of strength. He truly is your warrior.

“Eli,” you yawn into his chest, basking in the warmth of his skin, “I can protect myself.”

He tightens his arms around you, “I know you can, baby, but you shouldn't need to. I’ve been searching my entire life for a meaning. A thousand years of trying to be honorable. Then I found you and, all of a sudden, it all makes sense. All the searching and fighting and pain finally has a purpose: to protect you. Let me take it for you. Please.”

You’re speechless, there isn’t anything else to it. His words hit you with immense power, sinking into your skin and settling around your bones. You’re his, all of theirs, to watch over. You really didn't know he felt this strongly. You’ve always had to defend yourself. Perhaps you just aren't used to someone else being so willing to take on that task. Someone begging to take it.

He stands suddenly, with you still in his arms, and walks out of your room, starting down the hall. The faintest sound of rushing water fills your ears, lulling you into a welcome daze.

“Where are we going, Eli?” You have yet to open your eyes, stuck in the soft between being awake and falling asleep.

He kisses your forehead, resting his head on yours, “Niklaus said he wanted to take a bath, my love.”

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part two: Click here, bomburino tortilla pony horse.

Part three: You're here, my guy.

Part four: Click here, amigo

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

It didn't take long before I came home, my mother and brother was already dressed, and I was right, Kunal has been crying.

He immediately lightened up when he saw the bread, pushing the sleeves of my first reaping outfit (which was now his) back in order to munch on it.

"Don't worry, you only have your name once in the pile, you're safe," I reassured him, as I've done many times before.

I smiled, patting his head. My mother glanced at me, but I pretended to not notice. It's been long since we've talked, the last time was a disagreement, a petty one at that. About two years or so?

I honestly surpised myself, how can I go without talking to her for so long. . .?

Another trait my father passed on to me was a short temper, though I never lose my head and scream, but something about her words made me yell. Her face was full of shock when I did that, almost as if I've betrayed her.

"Don't be stupid like your father!" She told me.

My father isn't a stupid man, he was smart. Lady luck just wasn't on his side that day.

I took a bath, scrubbing the dirt and soot off myself. When I saw my clothing my heart stopped. It was my Father's.

It was simple, just as he liked. A white button up tunic, the hems made of elegant gold lace. The pants were loose, with garters securing on the hip and the hems, he never liked tight clothing, just like me.

My eyes went towards my mother, who simply nodded, "After you get dressed, sit down, won't you? Let me fix your hair," she said.

My mouth opened to protest, only to shut itself when she whispered a small, "please," My eyes softened, her voice sounded so guilty, she regretted her words, just as I did. She knew I could get chosen.

But I'm a coward, I don't like apologizing, something I inherited from her.

I nodded, and got dressed before I sat down, just as she told me. She began to braid tiny sections of my hair. I've never been good at it, really, It would always look messy when I did it. So I just looked messy everyday.

But her hands can do magic, it was like she was weaving silk, her hands full of grace and utmost care as she intertwined every strand of hair. I could feel her hand shake a little, as if scared with one wrong touch, I'd shatter like glass.

She used to sew clothing, make various artworks with whatever was in the house. Her hand was naturally delicate, soft to anything she makes contact with.

I bit my lip, none of us wanted to say it. We we're both thinking the same thing, though.

I never really liked cutting my hair, always kept it atleast neck length at best. I don't think short hair suits me at all, though it does get in the way while hunting from time to time.

Once she finished, without a word she pressed her chapped lips onto my forehead, she then walked away, leaving me with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

Such simple words, why can't I just say it?

I sighed, fixing my tunic and tucking it in, the garter snapping back, making me wince a little. It was stupid of me to let go.

I took a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I had to walk towards my brother, who has devoured the entire loaf. "Good?" I asked.

He nodded, a smile on his face, the crumbs falling down. I chuckled, wiping his mouth with my hand.

"You're like a bird, aren't you, little mocking jay?" I said, patting his head again.

He hummed, nodding aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down. I snickered, holding his head still with both my hands. I squished his cheeks together, making his lips form into a duck beak-shape. "Hey, Y/n,"

I rose my brows, humming. "I won't get chosen, won't I?" he asked. I sniffed, shaking my head as I linked our foreheads. "No, no you wont, Nal," I said. "If they call you, I won't let you go, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Of course,"

Soon it hit one in the afternoon, it was mandatory to attend this "festival", unless you're at death's door, that is. I found myself beside Gale, who patted my shoulder for reassurance.

Maybe it was obvious I'm stressed, tense. I'm not worried about myself, I'm more worried of them, especially Kunal. He's only twelve, yet he can still get chosen.

Some kind of festival this is.

I clenched my fists tighter, palms started to go white as I also clenched my jaw.

On the temporary stage stationed in front of the justice building was a podium, three chairs and two large bowls. The district is divided into two sections, jumbled across those two glass bowls, waiting to be picked up.

Twenty of them contained 'Y/n Greyback', one of them contained 'Kunal Greyback'.

There were also bright banners hung up, though I'm sure it was just there to taunt us, it sure worked for me. Everytime I look at it I start feel sick, hatred bubbling in my stomach.

The feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in as people piled into the square, the late comers having to just watch from a monitor instead.

"You alright?" Gale asked, nudging me. I gulped, sighing, "Course, I just —" I turned back, looking at my brother. "Worry of him,"

He gave me a sympathetic look, "He only has one entry, I'm sure he won't be picked," He said. Something I've been saying for such a long time, it didn't help settle my nerves.

"I know," I answered plainly.

We looked towards Katniss' place, beside her was Mardge, who gave me a curt smile and a wave. Out of politeness, I simply nodded back before turning back to the stage.

My hands grew colder each second, by two, when the mayor finally reached the stage, my hands were as cold as a corpse's.

Beside the mayor was Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. It looked quite ghastly.

Everyone murmured in worry, for whom was the empty third seat for?

The mayor stepped in front of the podium, beginning to tell the tale of Panem, how the twelve districts lost in the rebellion and now have to face punishment.

The Hunger games.

It was simple, each district would pick two "tributes" to this little game, and then they either kill like a hungry wolf or die like lost cattle.

I gulped, sweat forming on my forehead as I instinctively reached for the end of Gale's shirt. He held my hand, patting it a few times to let me know it would be alright.

He then began to read the victors in every hunger games. In the past seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.

Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair.

To say he's drunk would be an understatement.

The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, she began to talk. I could feel my blood boiling upon hearing her obnoxious, Capitol accent. I tuned her out, gulping as my hands somehow grew even colder.

Please don't let it be my brother, anyone but him.

"Let's have the first pick, shall we?" She said, her voice at the end of the sentence practically sky rocketing up. She pulled a piece of paper from one of the Glass bowls.

My heart pounded, as if trying to escape my chest. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in.

"Kunal Greyback,"

My heart stopped. Why couldn't it have been me? I had twenty, TWENTY entries.

I watched as my brother walked past me, his lip quivering, eyes glossy. Oh sweet, sweet Kunal, as delicate as a Lotus.

Kunal, the boy who gathers flowers every morning just for me.

Kunal, the boy who loves pulling on my braids.

Kunal, my dear innocent brother. Afraid of his own shadow.

I felt my own body move, launching myself forward. Gale called for my name, but I didn't care, no. I needed to get to my brother, I made a promise.

"NAL! NAL! NO!" I yelled, desperation evident in my voice as I pushed through the other people. "Y/n!" He screamed back.

Most of then gave me and my brother looks of sympathy, some gossiped. "Greyback," they'd whisper. "Another one bites the dust," they'd continue.

The peace keepers pushed me back, preventing me from reaching my brother.

No, not like this. He's still so young, he still wants to gather lilys by the front of our house, he still wants to create flower crowns for me to wear.

He still wants to breath, to live.

The mayor looked at me, recignizing me almost immediately. He didn't know me, no. Rather, he knew my father, the man he put under the execution block.

Oh mother, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It seems another one of your family members will die at the hands of the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" I gasped, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Word count: 1.6k

Tags:

@nin3s

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[itsadamcole]

arranged - pt.2

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and Drew go to America for reader’s surprises ...

word count: 5.5k+

warnings: prince!drew, just a lil bit angsty, definitely more fluff than part 1, smut :)

— and here’s part 2. enjoy —

part 1 || masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You and Drew land in Orlando. It's late January, and a huge temperature difference. It feels more like summer in Florida than it does in Scotland, where it's super cold right now.

A smile hasn't left your lips since you took off, and you're excited to see Candice.

Speaking of Candice, she waits by baggage for you. When you see her, you drop Drew's hand and your things before running over to her. You hug her tight and she says, "Okay, okay. Relax, princess. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too," you say, looking at her. "I haven't seen you since the wedding."

Candice laughs and says, "It wasn't that long ago." She looks at Drew. "Your husband has gotten handsomer since I last saw him."

You giggle and say, "It hasn't been that long, Candice."

She smiles and says, "So, anyway. Come on. The trainers and doctors want to give you a full physical at Full Sail to make sure you're cleared to be in the match this week on NXT."

Smiling, you say, "Sounds great." You look back at Drew. "Ready?"

He nods and says, "Of course."

Candice drives you both to Full Sail University, where NXT is broadcasted from. She asks questions about what married life is like, how Scotland is, and how it's been over there since you married Drew.

It's a short drive to Full Sail from the airport so she doesn't get to many questions in.

During the physical, the doctors and trainers make sure your in tiptop shape to compete. You've lost some muscle mass since you haven't trained in months but it's not that big of a deal. They do the whole work up.

After you've been medically cleared to compete, Hall of Famer Triple H finds you. He says, "Y/N, welcome to Full Sail. We're very happy to have you here as part of our roster in NXT, even though it's for a short amount of time."

You smile and say, "Thank you, Mr. H."

He hands you a black leather folder and says, "Inside, you'll find a part time NXT contract that will have you as part of the NXT roster for six months. Your husband says that after six months, you will no longer be able to compete. As a part timer, you're slotted to be in three matches, one match every two months."

Your eyes widen and you look at Drew before you say, "I thought this was a one match deal."

"I pulled some strings," Drew says before winning at you.

Triple H says, "As of right now, your matches will be against Candice this Wednesday at NXT, a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: London in two months, and a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: Glasgow in four and a half months."

Your jaw almost hits the floor and you say, "Takeover matches? Like, actual pay-per-view matches."

Everyone in the room laughs and Triple H says, "We wanted to make your last few matches memorable ones. I've spoken with William Regal about this and he's on board. Are you?"

Quickly, you read over the contract and sign it. "I'm on board," you say.

"Welcome to NXT, Y/N," Triple H says, holding out his hand.

You shake his hand and smile. "Thank you for this opportunity," you say.

He smiles and walks off. You look at Drew and he has a huge smile on his face.

"I haven't seen ya so happy about something before," he says.

You smile back at your husband and you say, "I'm living my dream because of you, Drew. Thank you."

Drew says, "I just got us here. Yer talent is the reason yer living yer dream."

"You've never seen me in the ring before," you say, giggling.

Your husband says, "I get t'see ya in the ring on Wednesday."

You smile and shake you head, leaving to go to the hotel to get some sleep so you can train all day tomorrow before Wednesday.

***

Wednesday gets here too quickly. You've brought your old gear with you to wrestle in. It's definitely more revealing than you remember.

You stand in your little dressing room and look in the mirror at yourself.

The shorts got tighter and shorter, and the crop top now tightly hugs your chest. Your cleavage is very exposed and you hope to God that you don't have a wardrobe malfunction while in the ring.

Now that you're the princess of Scotland, you have a lot to be conscious about.

Someone knocks on your door as you're tying up your boots. "It's me," Candice says. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you say.

The door opens and Candice walks in. She smiles when she sees you in your gear. "Damn, you looked good in the gear then and you look good now," she says. "Anyway, I was thinking. I want to cut a promo before our match tonight. Just a short one. I'll say how a princess shouldn't be in the ring with someone like me and we can go from there."

You nod and finish lacing up your boots. "Sounds good," you say. "I'm assuming that my signing has been a secret?"

Candice nods and says, "Yeah. Drew's being kept out of the crowd until our slot so it doesn't give it away too early that you're here."

Someone calls your name and Candice's name. It's time.

"I've never been so ready to get back in a ring," you say. "Ever since I left, it's been marriage and princess lessons. I'm ready to wrestle again."

Candice smiles as the two of you walk to the backstage area. "You better be," she says.

Several NXT superstars are in the backstage area. The Undisputed Era, Finn Balor, Io Shirai, Timothy Thatcher, Tommaso Ciampa, Rhea Ripley, Johnny Gargano, Indi Hartwell, and Shotzi Blackheart just to name a few.

You stretch out as you wait for your music to hit.

It's been too long since you felt this rush of adrenaline. Before every match and every promo for Ring of Honor, you'd feel a rush of adrenaline to get you pumped up. You last felt this in your last ROH match a few months ago. It's been too damn long.

Candice's music hits and she walks out. You listen to what she says carefully.

"Rumor has it we're in the presence of royalty tonight," Candice says. "Apparently some princess signed with us a few days ago? That's the rumor anyway. I don't think she even deserves to be in an NXT ring."

That's when you're handed a microphone before your music, I Like It Heavy by Halestorm, hits. Of course it's a clean version of the song because this is WWE but it's fine. You're making your entrance for the first time in months.

The crowd loses it as you walk toward the ring in your sparkly red and black gear. You step into the ring.

The music fades out and you're face to face with Candice. She smirks and asks, "Oh, did I hit a nerve, princess?"

You hold your microphone up and say, "I don't deserve to be in an NXT ring?" You scoff. "Please, Candice. I've fought to be here."

Candice says, "You're Scotland's princess. That's the only reason you're here."

These comments are hitting you hard, but you fight through.

"Listen here," you say. "I am a NWA Women's World Champion, a two-time NWA Women's World Tag Team Chanpion, and Impact Knockouts Champion. I deserve to be in this ring for my talent, not by my title."

Candice says, "Then let's go. You're dressed. I'm dressed. Let's get a referee out here."

The crowd cheers and you yell "bring it" into the microphone before throwing it down.

The match begins shortly after. You have Candice in a headlock and you're trying to bring her down onto her knees. She pushes you off of her into the ropes. You bounce off and hit her with a clothesline.

You say, "Oh, look. The princess is the only one still standing."

The crowd laughs and Candice hits the mat before getting up. You're locked in a grapple with her a few seconds later. After a bit of struggling, Candice knees you in the stomach. You cry out and clutch your stomach, falling to your knees. She hits you with a running knee to the jaw, and you sell it well. You fall into your back, knees bent with your feet beneath you.

Candice pulls at your hair to get you up, and the ref warns her of the hair. She says, "Get out of my ring."

You snarl, "Go to hell."

Then you elbow her hard. She backs off you, creating enough space for you to perform a spinning heel kick. She falls but you get her up into your shoulders into a fireman's carry.

You hit the Falcon Arrow on her and go in for the pin.

One. Two. Three. The bell rings and your music blares. The crowd goes insane. You spot Drew in the front row where he would mostly be off camera. He's looking at you in awe as he applauds. You smile as the ref holds your arm up, declaring you the official winner.

***

Days pass by since your match with Candice. It's all you talk about whenever you get the chance. Drew just smiles and listens as you tell him about the rush you felt being back in the ring.

You're driving to your hometown, a little suburb outside of Manhattan. It's been a quiet ride, and that's because Drew is asleep.

Timezones and jet lag have not been your friend during this trip, but it's easier for you to get used to the time change than it is for Drew.

You pull up to your childhood home and tap Drew's shoulder. "Hey, sleeping beauty," you say. "We're here."

He stirs and looks out the window. You smile and he says, "This is yer old house? It's so small."

"I didn't have much," you say. "My parents scrapped together what they could to pay for wrestling school when I was 14 until I was 17. I told myself then that I'd make it in wrestling and I'd pay them back for what they paid for me to go to wrestling school."

Drew looks at you and asks, "Can we go inside?"

You shake your head and say, "It was foreclosed. It belongs to the bank or something. It would be illegal to go in."

Your husband looks back at the house, which has fallen apart with age. It's a one story house. It has one bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and one room that holds the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas.

Drew says, "This while time ya were over here struggling, I was living it up as the prince of Scotland with my rich parents. I used to throw tantrums because they wouldn't get me the newest toy or take me on vacation with them, and your family couldn't afford either."

"We made it through," you say. "My parents live in a beautiful two story house in the nicer part of Manhattan. I paid them back right before I left for Scotland. Every story has a happy ending, Drew."

He smiles a bit and he asks, "Even ours?"

You smile and say, "Especially ours." You lean over the middle console and press a kiss to Drew's cheek. Your lips linger a little too long and he turns his head. You pull back a bit and meet his eyes.

That's when the butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart races in your chest.

Slowly, both you and Drew lean into each other. Your eyes flicker to the lips you've only kissed twice, once at your wedding and once at a public event right after the wedding.

One of Drew's hands moves and rests on your cheek. You instinctively lean into his soft touch a bit.

Your lips are centimeters away from Drew's. Your noses touch as Drew's other hand moves to cup your other cheek.

"Tell me to stop if ya don't want this," Drew whispers.

You nod a bit and say, "I want this, Drew."

Then his lips brush against yours. A feather light touch. It makes you lean in more because you want more.

Drew guides your lips to his. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss Drew. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he cups your face.

His facial hair tickles your chin and upper lip as the soft kiss continues.

It's like your first kiss all over again. Your first kiss was at your wedding in front of thousands of people. This one feels different. You never felt butterflies or your heart race when you kissed Drew at your wedding. You do now.

Drew pulls back and looks at you.

"How come ya never kissed me like that at our wedding?" he asks.

You say, "Because I didn't want it then. I wanted it now. I wanted the kiss."

He smiles and pecks your lips one more time before saying, "Show me yer favorite spot."

Giggling, you say, "I can't drive with you holding my face. Hold my hand if you wanna hold something."

Drew smiles and lets your face go. He takes your hand as you drive to your favorite spot.

Your favorite spot, or your safe spot, is a small park. You pull up, and get out.

The sun is setting, and you have a perfect view.

After taking Drew's hand, you walk over to a park bench. You sit down and Drew sits beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you both watch the sunset.

Drew says, "Ya don't have t'stay if ya don't want."

You look at him and ask, "What are you talking about?"

"In Scotland," he says. "Ya don't have t'stay. Being king isn't that important t'me if it means that ya don't get t'keep wrestling. I saw ya in the ring the other day, and it's all ya talk about. Ya love wrestling, and I don't wanna take that away from ya."

You turn so you're facing him as you say, "I'm happy in Scotland. Yeah, it was hard at first. I had to come to terms with possibly never wrestling again, and I did. Until you surprised me with this trip. I love that you did this for me, and for that, I'll help you become king and I'll be the best damn queen Scotland has ever seen." Drew smiles and you throw your legs over one of his legs.

You continue with, "Plus, I may or may not have fallen for you completely so I'm not going anywhere. Til death do us part, remember?"

There's almost a sparkle in Drew's eyes when you tell him that you might have fallen for him.

Your husband smiles and says, "I, uh, might've fallen for ya completely too."

You smile and lean into Drew. You kiss him slowly and softly. He kisses you back, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow and full of passion. Your heart pounds in your chest as your lips move against Drew's.

Drew pulls back again and he says, "Let's find somewhere t'stay tonight. Do ya have a favorite hotel?"

You nod and say, "Yeah, it's in the city. Let's go."

The two of you get up and head to your favorite hotel.

***

The San Carlos Hotel. It's a cute little hotel, and not over the top fancy. You rent out a suite for the next few days, and they tell you that your stay is on the house because you're royalty. Sometimes being a royal has its perks.

The suite is a one bedroom suite. A full bathroom and walk in closet. Plus a living room area with a couch and a flat screen, and a kitchen.

Drew smiles when you unlock the door. You both walk in and you say, "Home sweet home while we tour New York."

He looks at you and say, "I'm glad ya didn't take the out when I offered it, Y/N. I didn't know ya were happy in Scotland. Honestly, I thought ya were miserable."

Giggling, you walk up to Drew and say, "Scotland is a beautiful country. I'm happy to be its princess, and eventually queen."

Your husband says, "Scotland's beauty is nothing compared to yers, Y/N."

Your cheeks heat up and say, "You are one unbelievably cheesy prince, you know that."

He laughs and says, "I take good pride in that. It's a talent."

Laughing, you begin to unpack. Drew disappears into the living room.

Once you've finished unpacking, you walk over to the window. You cross your arms over your chest and look out over the city that never sleeps.

Cars are still on the road and people are milling around on the sidewalks even though the sun has set.

You smile and keep looking out the window, until a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders. You don't have to look to know it's Drew. You lean back into him.

"I'll miss New York," you admit. "The city is always buzzing. It's the city that never sleeps, you know."

Drew presses a kiss to your temple and he says, "Just because we're gonna be king and queen doesn't mean we can't leave the country. We're not locked down in Scotland when we ascend the throne."

You sigh and say, "I know."

The two of you stand like that. You both look out over the city for several minutes.

Drew asks, "So, I did good?"

Nodding, you look up at Drew. "You did more than good," you say. "This has been the best trip of my life, and I'm glad you're here with me."

Your husband says, "I hope we can actually try at the relationship thing. I have a lot to learn still and-"

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to Drew's lips to cut him off. He's caught off guard by the kiss but he kisses you back.

After a moment, you pull back and say, "We're gonna try at the relationship thing." You smile. "But I know that you know a decent amount about some parts of a relationship."

Drew says, "I know a lot less than ya think I know."

You turn in his arms and ask, "So if I asked you to, I don't know, take off my clothes, you wouldn't know how to do it?"

His face gets flustered as he stammers, "Well, I, uh, I know how to take off clothes, Y/N."

"I would hope so," you say, teasing him.

Drew smiles and says, "Listen, I don't know much about relationships but I know a lot about the physical parts."

You stare up at Drew and say, "Show me what you know."

"Y/N, we just talked about trying the relationship thing," he says, smiling. "I don't think we're ready for the next step."

A smile forms on your lips as you say, "We've already skipped a step or two. What's one more?"

Drew pushes some hair out of your face before he cups your face. He says, "I wanna do this the right way, Y/N."

You look up at Drew and you say, "There is no right way when we're in this situation."

He laughs softly and says, "Yer not wrong."

Leaning your head up, you say, "So show me what you got."

Drew smiles and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow at first, full of passion. You wrap your arms around Drew's waist, holding him close to you.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for access. You part your lips slightly. His tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest at the thought of Drew taking off your clothes. You've seen him without a shirt on, but he's always seen you clothed.

While you're busy thinking, Drew's fingers have started working on the zipper of the jacket you're wearing. He pushes the jacket off of you and you pull away from the kiss.

Your eyes meet Drew's and he asks, "Ya really want this?"

Nodding, you say, "I want this." You untuck the shirt he's wearing from his pants.

Drew smiles and picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks toward the bed. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck. You take out the hair tie that's keeping his hair in a ponytail.

"I don't want your hair up when we're together," you admit. "I like it down."

Your husband lays you gently on your back on the bed. He looks down at you and says, "Anything for my princess."

You giggle, "So cheesy."

Drew leans down and kisses you. Your fingers slide up into his long locks. One of Drew's hands roams your body over your clothes while you start to unbutton the button up that he's wearing.

Several months ago, you and Drew wouldn't even touch each other. Not even hand-holding. Now, you're underneath him on a bed.

Things have definitely changed for the better over the last few weeks between you and Drew. It feels like euphoria when he kisses you or touches you. You can only imagine how it'll feel when his fingers find their way into your pants or under your shirt.

You're barely able to control yourself as Drew's lips move from yours to your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and you run your fingers through Drew's long locks. His button up now hangs open after you got it unbuttoned.

Drew kisses and nips at the skin on your neck as you push the open button-up off his body. You run your fingers gently up his now bare arms until your hands cup his face. You bring Drew's head up, bringing his face out of your neck. You're breathing a little heavy as you meet Drew's pretty blue eyes.

You lean your head up and press your lips to Drew's hard. One of Drew's hands runs down the side of your body, grazing the side of your breast. You almost shiver with anticipation as Drew's fingers reach the bottom of your t-shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you. You sit up a bit and lift your arms over your head. Drew pulls the t-shirt off of you and discards it somewhere in the room. You're left in just a plain, black bra and pants. You didn't think you'd be doing this or you would have worn a fancier undergarment.

"God," Drew says, eyes wondering over your half naked upper body. Your cheeks get hot as he looks at you underneath him.

He shifts his weight so he's kneeling between your legs. He pulls your hips toward him. You feel the bulge in Drew's pants against your clothed crotch and you gasp slightly. Your husband sits on his heels as he looks at you.

You stare at Drew, waiting anxiously for him to make a move. Your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Drew hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off your body slowly. They join your shirt on the hotel floor. He leans down and starts to lightly kiss your belly. You giggle and look down at him. His lips trail up your belly until he reaches the bra you're wearing. He undoes the front clasp and the bra falls open, exposing your breasts to Drew. Your breath hitches as he uses a finger and plays with one of your nipples. He kisses the other breast before sucking on that nipple.

You bite back a moan as you slightly arch your back off the mattress. The hand playing with your nipple moves down your body. Drew's fingers slip into the waistband of your panties and you sigh. You lick your bottom lip as his fingers inch closer to their target.

Your husband's eyes flicker up to your face and he watches for your reaction as two of his fingers run through your slick folds. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile, grasping onto the blankets on the bed.

His fingers tease your clit and you say in a whispered tone, "Don't tease." Drew teases your entrance and you let out a quiet moan.

"That was the prettiest things I've ever heard come from ya're mouth," Drew stares.

You get all flustered and say, "It's not nice to be a tease, Drew."

He presses a light kiss to your jaw and mumbles, "Tell me what ya want, princess."

Almost begging him, you say, "I want to feel your fingers inside me. Please."

Gently, Drew starts to pull off your panties. The fabric is thrown to the floor and you pull off the bra. You're completely naked in front of Drew, and you feel comfortable. You trust that Drew won't do anything to hurt you. He's the kind of man to make sure that you're okay with something before he does it.

Drew runs a finger through your soaked folds before he pushes that finger inside of you. You bite your lip to hold back your moans. Drew's hovering above your naked body. His lips are on your neck again, nipping at the skin and definitely leaving marks.

His finger moves in and out of you. You let your lip go and let out the moans you were holding in. Then Drew adds a second finger. You gasp and moan, "Drew."

"Making ya feel good with just my fingers?" Drew mumbles against your neck.

You nod frantically and say, "I love your finger."

He smirks and says, "I can promise ya that they love ya too."

The speed of his fingers quickens and your hips buck off the bed. You moan his name and a few profanities. A knot forms in your stomach.

You're intoxicated with how Drew is making you feel. You love the feeling of Drew's fingers inside of you. His touch makes you feel euphoric and waves of bliss overcome you with every flick of his wrist.

Your walls clench around Drew's fingers and you cry out, "Drew, I'm about to cum!"

The Scotsman's voice drops a tone and he asks, "Ya gonna cum from my fingers, princess? Do I make ya feel that good?"

Nodding, you desperately say, "I need to cum. Please."

"Go ahead, my love," he says.

Your legs begin to shake as you release all over Drew's fingers. More than you ever have for anyone before. Moans pass your lips as well as Drew's name mixed with profanities. Your breathing is labored as you come down from your high. Drew kisses you as you try to catch your breath.

Your lips move feverishly against his for a few moments before Drew gets back on his knees. You sit up with him between your legs and undo the button on his jeans. You look up at him as you push the dark blue fabric off his body. He's left in his boxer shorts as he sits back. You crawl onto his lap, straddling his huge bulge. You run your fingers down Drew's chest and he looks up at you.

"I have t'get something if we're gonna do this, princess," Drew says, pecking your lips. "Unless ya want to start producing heirs t'the throne right now."

You giggle and say, "Let's wait a year before we start doing that."

He smiles and snakes his way out from under you. You sit on the bed and watch as he grabs a little silver package out of the travel bag. He walks back over to you and you move to the edge of the bed.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull them down. Drew watches you as his erect member pops out of the boxers. His big, and thick. You swallow a bit and look up at Drew.

He's smirking down at you before ripping the tiny package open and sliding the contents on himself. Drew pushes a piece of hair out of your face and says, "Be a good princess. Get on yer back and spread those beautiful legs for me."

You don't say anything, you just do as your told. You scooch yourself back on the bed and lay on your back. You spread your legs a bit as Drew crawls up to you, hovering over you between your legs. The tip of his member runs through your folds and you sigh.

"I've been missing out on a lot," you admit, looking up at Drew.

Your husband lightly kisses you as he says, "I have a lot t'offer."

Smiling against his lips, you say, "I can see that."

Drew props himself up on his arms, hands on either side of your head. You stare up at him before he asks, "Are ya sure ya want this?"

You nod and say, "I've never wanted anything more."

Then he pushes inside you. You gasp at the small amount of pain you feel before it goes away, turning to pleasure. He thrusts slowly into you, moving deeper every few movements. His length starts to fill you little by little. You're a moaning mess beneath Drew, nails raking up and down his back.

When he's fully inside you and you're adjusted, his hips speed up. He starts thrusting harder into you. Grunts leave his lips as moans leave yours. You wrap your legs around his waist so he has better access.

"Oh, fuck," you cry out. "Don't stop, Drew. Oh, faster. Please."

He listens to your wishes and he moves faster. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean your head up for the kiss and he pulls back slightly. You chase his lips and they barely touch his.

The tip of Drew's member finds your g-spot and you cry out. That's when he knows he's found the target, and he moves faster. His member slams into your g-spot over and over again. You scream out his name mixed with profanities several times as he fucks you into the mattress.

The same knot from earlier forms in your stomach as Drew builds you up to a second orgasm.

Drew's finally kissing you. Your lips move against his breathlessly and your nails dig into his sides. He twitches inside of you and you mumble, "I'm about to cum, baby."

"Me too," Drew says. "Together."

You nod. He moves a few more times before you both cum at the same time. You around him and him into the condom.

Drew kisses you messily as you both ride out your highs. Your hands are on his face as you messily make out with him.

He pulls out of you and pulls back from the kiss. You whine a bit as he ties off the condom, throwing it away. Drew helps you under the comforter before joining you. Drew spoons you from behind with one of his arms draped over you. You hold his hand as you press your back to his chest.

Both your breathing and Drew's breathing have returned to normal. He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder and a smile is on you lips.

"That was amazing," you say. "I really could've had that the entire time instead of fighting with you."

Drew lets out a breathy laugh and says, "I should've just talked to ya about everything sooner. We could'a done that a long time ago."

You giggle and say, "Now that we have done that, I don't know how long I can go before we do that again."

Your husband says, "Whenever ya want, princess. Hell, if ya wanted another go then I wouldn't say no."

Looking back at Drew, you say, "Calm down. You just made me cum twice within several minutes. I need some time."

Drew smiles and says, "Of course. Were ya seriously about that waiting a year before we start trying for a baby?"

"Of course I was," you say, turning and facing Drew. "I would love to have a baby with you, but I want to make sure that it's something we both want. I'm ten year younger than you, Drew. We have some time."

Your husband smiles wide and kisses you. "I am so in love with ya, princess," Drew coos against your lips.

"I'm so in love with you too, Drew," you respond.

Months ago, you hated the thought of marrying Drew just for him to become king. You never even wore your rings behind closed doors. Now, it's changed into something more. An actual relationship where you love Drew and he loves you.

That's all you hoped for when you said 'I do' to the prince of Scotland.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 15. Snowmen

A/N: So I had in mind something light and funny, some payback for past hurt if you will. It turned out to be quite deep in the end though and I really don't know what happened. But I feel like it was, good..?

Setting: The forest between Hogsmeade and The Shrieking Shack

Characters: Severus, James, Sirius, Peter, Remus, Lily (their 5th year at Hogwarts)

Word count: 1724

Warnings: Bullying, Retaliation, Past hurt, Broken friendships, Some funny stuff too

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

They had been taunting him, for so long. Snowballs, leg binding jinxes, ice under his feet - it just went on and on. Severus was at his wit's end by the middle of December. Everywhere he went they seemed to be, no matter where he tried to hide they seemed to find him, despite his best efforts to not let it bother him he was fuming. No matter what, the Marauders always seemed to get the last laugh. Well, not today, he thought as the visit to Hogsmeade was reaching its end.

He had found a jinx, intended for joy he presumed by the notes in the margin. But he had other plans for it. They were always four against one - but not this time. No, this time he would have backup. Just one more, he thought as he looked around at the four snowmen he had spent over an hour making. Just one more and I'm set, he thought again with something that resembled a wicked smile of hope.

He knew they would come, knew they were looking for him, knew they wanted to get one last laugh out of the Hogsmeade visit. He had known before they ever even went on the little trip. So he had planned and planned, hoped he'd be able to get some revenge that wouldn't get he himself into too much trouble. Hopefully, no trouble at all if he could help it. They always get away with the foulest of shit so why shouldn't I?

Just as he put the last head on the last snowman so they outnumbered the Marauders he heard snow being crushed under many boots. It was time. He hid behind a tree a little ways away from where he could see it all. He tensed when laughter reached him, James's laughter. An evil sound that made him shiver.

"Oh, what's this? Someone's built snowmen," Remus said with a curious voice and chuckles were heard. Severus looked at the Gryffindor boys as they walked closer to the snowmen. He kept his wand ready.

"Would be a shame if they were to, get destroyed, wouldn't it?" James chuckled and Severus saw the evil gleam in his eyes. It made his stomach turn.

The Marauders stiffened as the snowmen looked at them with evil grins of rocks and twigs. Their long arms reach for the snow around them and in an instant, they started throwing snowballs at the boys who seemed chocked. They got pounded by snowballs and Severus could barely contain his laughter as they fumbled around while trying to cover their heads. It was glorious.

Sirius laughed, Peter snickered and Remus seemed tired of his friends' shenanigans.

"Don't destroy them," Remus said but the others just laughed as they walked closer with determined steps. Severus flicked his wand and used nonverbal magic to make them come alive. With a single purpose. To throw snowballs at people.

James stumbled and fell backwards, Peter ran around like an idiot while Sirius skipped around in an effort to avoid as many slinging snowballs as possible while Remus - a bit more calm and collected - seamed to be the only one who even thought of using magic to shield himself from the onslaught. Not that it was enough. The snowmen surrounded the boys and snowballs came from all directions.

Severus saw Remus roll his eyes as he aimed the wand at the snowman closest to him. Fire burst out of his wand as he said 'incendio' but Severus had been clever. A fire repellent charm laid over the jumping snowmen and the look on Remus's face was unforgettable as his magic did little to no damage on the snowball-throwing snowmen.

Severus snickered as he peeked out from behind the tree.

"Do something!" James screamed.

"Like what?!" Sirius hollered back with a pissed off expression as his curly hair got whiter and whiter. Severus had to cover his mouth so as not to laugh out loud and reveal himself.

"Anything!" James screamed back as he crawled around in the snow on his hand and knees.

"It's not working!" Sirius shouted out.

"I damn well noticed!" Remus smeared back and they gathered in a lump in the middle of the snowman circle.

"Run for it!" James said with a frantic voice as the snowmen inched closer, the snowballs hit harder and they seemed at a total loss for what to do.

"Now?" Peter piped up.

"Now!" James declared as they all barrelled out of the circle, the snowmen instantly hot on their tail with bouncing jumps.

Severus laughed out loud and crumbled to the ground as the chaos ran away with shouts and ducking heads. He knew the spell would only last for about another minute but by Merlin did he hope they got thoroughly wet and cold in that time. Almost a shame they don't know it's my handy work, he thought as he wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes.

"I should have declared myself so they'd know I'm the one who got them hunted by snowball-throwing snowmen," he sighed out as he rose from the crouched position.

"Oh don't worry, they will."

Severus whipped around at those words, that voice. His eyes were met by an angry-looking Lily and he paled somewhat by the sight of her.

"Really, Severus? Snowmen throwing snowballs?" She crossed her arms over her chest and Severus shrugged. Even if it felt a little less fun now that Lily was angry with him.

"You could have at least added some snow spewing dragons while you were at it," she snickered out and Severus's eyes widened as Lily's face turned from sour to sweet. A little grin etched over her lips.

He chuckled as the idea formed in his head, the vision of dragons spewing snow while hunting the Marauders alongside the bouncing snowmen.

"Sorry to say I'm not that great a snow sculptor," he chuckled out as his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"You're, not mad?" he asked carefully. She blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes.

"I don't agree with the behaviour but all things considered you did payback in a good way, I suppose," she said on a chuckle, "I know they are mean to you and I'm sorry for that, but you shouldn't stupe to their level." Severus arched a brow at her words.

"But dating one of them is fine?" Lily's face hardened at that.

"Who I date is none of your concern."

"I know, and who I throw snowballs at with the help of some snowmen is none of your concern."

They glared at each other, Lily offended and Severus angered.

"You really know how to ruin a good time," he muttered as the joy he had felt mere moments ago disappeared.

"You really know how to ruin friendships," she countered with and her words stung. More so than any words ever said by the Marauders.

"It wouldn't be so hard to be friends if you weren't a bully lover," he bit out as anger rose in him. And hurt, hurt from her betrayal and all the times she just stood by as he was tormented for merely existing and being different. She gasped at that and fisted her hands by her sides.

"Well if you weren't so insecure you would have known I loved you as a friend despite it all!"

"Despite what?! Despite being bullied? Abused? Terrorised? Hunted by bullies you so dearly love?!" Severus roared with pounding heart and heaving breaths. She glared at him with a shake of her head as she apparently had no words to retort with.

He sunk to the ground. The joy from his retaliation had gone away and left was only self-loathing and fear. For he was truly scared Lily's words would be true, that he would be miserable and alone. Why did I have to say that? She was trying, by Merlin... He thought but his feelings were to hurt by her. She had cut too deep with her betrayal and even if she wanted to be friends again he could not forgive her for all the years he had cried and all the pain he had gone through every time she just let them bully him. Without a chiding word at them or a helping hand for him. All is not meant to be forgiven. Everyone does not earn forgiveness. He thought to himself as the memories flooded him with pain.

She walked past him and turned her head.

"They'll know, I'll make sure of that." Severus sneered at her.

"Go ahead, tell them. Let's see what happens after that. Who knows, perhaps this time they'll do it properly and finish me off. Wouldn't that be quite something?"

"At least it would be better than spending your life miserable and alone, 'cus that's what you'll be in the end, Snape," she said with venom in her voice, "I tried to be nice to you, just a moment ago. And look what it got me. Insults."

"There would have been no insults if the words weren't true." She huffed at that and stomped away without another word.

He wanted to forgive her, to move on and leave the past in the past but how could he do that when they were at every turn with their utmost efforts to make his life hell. When she held James's hand and laughed at his jokes despite the fact that James was a horrible person. How was he supposed to let it go and move on when he was hurting so badly? How was he supposed to tell her that the bullying was nothing compared to her indifference of his pain? How was he supposed to smile when it felt like a lie?

Perhaps he would indeed vanish one day and be rid of the whole ordeal that was life. Perhaps he'd just melt, like snow in the warmth of the spring sun. Perhaps he'd just stop living like the snowmen who, by now, was just snow, twigs and rocks again. Perhaps it would be so. But there was a chance that life had something else planned for him and he would hold on to that thought until the very end, even if it turned out to be mere dust in the wind of the storm that was unfulfilled wishes throughout eternity.

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Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction  @morphineisouthoney​ @setsuna-meiou31​ @snapefiction​

[Dec:2020]

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