#this could've been my moment....alas

[eastbluecrewed]

i cannot BELIEVE i didn't know it was luffy week i am devastated bc i can't draw this week . here's a bunch of doodles i have stocked up instead bc i'm physically incapable of not drawing him the instant i have the chance

[heartysworld]

Love across the finish line// OP81

Oscar Piastri x Reader

W. C: 2.5k

This one is a request!

MASTERLIST

It was during the small hours of the night when the Piastri family home echoed with celebratory screams and sounds of glasses clinging against each other. Earlier, the same day, some inexplicable force had made you cancel your plans for the next day and join your boyfriend's family to watch Oscar's race in Hungary. Now, hours later, you were jumping around Oscar's sisters and his parents as they hugged each other, celebrating their boy's maiden win in Formula 1.

You couldn't help but tear up as memories from years ago flooded your mind. Little specs from when you and Oscar would talk about different dreams you wished to achieve one day. They all changed and varied as the years went by. However, for Oscar, once of those dreams never changed - reach F1, win a race, and become world champion. There he was now, a decade later, having achieved two out of three of those, making you prouder than ever.

As you watched the trophy ceremony, you admired Oscar's smile, it being one of the brightest you've ever seen. Despite what happened during the last minutes of the race, he was up there in P1 as the winner. A gentle tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking up from your spot on the couch, you were met with Nicole's beaming smile.

"Honey, come take a picture of me. Can't let that moment pass without one!" She said, handing you her phone as she made her way towards the TV on the wall, waiting for the cameras to show Oscar again.

" Girls, I am happy to say we will not be attending our 6am pilates session. This calls for a celebration!" Oscar's mom said, earning a laugh from everyone.

You waited a few hours for all the commotion to pass alongside all of Oscar's post-race interviews and media obligations before you tried calling him. It took a while, and you were ready to hang up before your boyfriend's beaming face popped up on your screen, making your heart melt for the hundredth time in the past couple of hours.

"Oscar! You did it, love! I'm so happy for you! Oh my goodness, I still can't believe this happened!" You shouted, now in the confines of your own apartment where you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. " I'm so proud of you, baby! I never doubted your talent and determination to do this!"

"Thank you, baby! I still can't believe this happened. Oh, how I wish you were here." Oscar said, a tired smile nestling on his face.

" I wish I could've been there as well, baby, but you know how it is. Duty calls in hour of the day and corners of the world." You said, earning a chuckle from the tired man on your screen.

" I'll try to come home for a few days before Belgium, love. I need to see you as soon as possible. " Oscar said, his smile faltering a bit.

" I'll be waiting for you, baby, keeping warm hugs and kisses from when you arrive." You said, trying to lighten up the mood.

" I don't know what I'd do without you, love. I miss you so much, but I think I've got to get going. Celebratory dinner is impending. I'll try to call you again as soon as we're done!" Oscar said, blowing a kiss in your direction.

" And don't forget to ring your mom! Or she'll lock you out of the house the next time you try to come back home!" You added, returning hus gesture.

" At least I'll get to spend more time with you in your place then! I love you, I have to go now! " He said, you could tell he was in a rush now.

" Love you too, bye!" You said before hanging up and laying down on your couch. While your boyfriend celebrated his first win, you were in desperate need of a nap before the Piastri family rings your doorbell in a couple of hours to go celebrate Oscar's win as well.

You didn't expect to be woken up in the early hours of Tuesday morning, but alas, it happened. As you rubbed away the sleepiness from your eyes, you made your way to the entrance of your apartment, not even bothering to use the peephole first before swinging the door open.

At the threshold of your apartment stood your boyfriend, a goofy smile on his lips ,a suitcase in one hand, and a bouquet of white roses in the other.

" Surprise!" He said sheepishly, opening his arms to welcome your tired form.

"Baby..." You mumbled as your head found its way to the crock of Oscar's neck, your arms enveloping his waist as you pulled him in for a hug. " Don't think I'm not enjoying this, but...it's 6am in the morning."

" I couldn't wait longer to see you. I needed you in my arms, badly." Oscar said before placing a gentle kiss on the side of your head.

You lifted your head from its comfortable position, heading directly for his lips.

" I love you so much." You whispered, smiling gently as you looked him directly in the eyes.

Your tired ones were met with Oscar's, which were bubbling with love and excitement from the past few days' events.

" These are for you." Oscar said as your attention fell on the white roses he held in his left hand.

" Thank you, baby. They're beautiful, just like my Formula 1 race winning boyfriend. " You grinned as you accepted the flowers, their gentle fragrance touching your senses immediately. " You are the one who won a race, and still you are giving me flowers." You said, making him laugh

"Well, I had to make sure you knew how much I love and appreciate you," he replied, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"You're too sweet," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. The kiss deepened, filled with all the longing and love that had built up during your time apart. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, one of your hands now caressing the base of his neck, makjng him yawn at the soft touches. "But we should really get some sleep. You must be exhausted."

Oscar chuckled softly. "I am, but I just wanted to be with you. Let's go to bed."

You nodded, taking his hand and leading him inside. The bouquet found its place in a vase on the kitchen counter before you both headed to the bedroom. Oscar dropped his suitcase at the door, and you climbed into bed, finding solace in each other's arms. As you drifted off to sleep, Oscar whispered, "I love you," and you knew that no matter the distance or time apart, your love for each other would always prevail.

The next morning, the two of you were awoken by the soft light filtering through the curtains. You stretched lazily, turning to find Oscar already watching you with a content smile.

"Good morning, love," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face before one of his hands cupped your cheek gently.

"Good morning," you replied, smiling back. "I still can't believe you're here."

"Believe it," he said, pulling you towards him for a quick kiss. "But we should probably get up. I think my mom will kill me if she finds out I'm back and we didn't go visit her."

You laughed, nodding. "Yes, we don't want that. Let's get ready and head over."

After a quick shower and breakfast, you both made your way to Oscar's childhood home. The door swung open to reveal Nicole, who immediately pulled Oscar into a tight hug.

"You didn't call me after your win!" she scolded, but her eyes were full of pride and joy.

"I know, mom, I'm sorry," Oscar replied, hugging her back. "but I called the most important person first." he added, glancing at you with a cheeky grin.

Nicole laughed, shaking her head. "Well, I guess I can forgive you for that. Come on in, both of you. We have so much to celebrate!"

The day was spent in a joyous celebration with Oscar's family. Stories were shared, laughter echoed through the house, and the pride everyone felt for Oscar was palpable. As the evening drew to a close, you found a quiet moment with Oscar in the garden.

"Thank you for being here," he said, pulling you close. "I couldn't have done this without your support."

"You would have done it regardless, but I'm glad I could be here for you, even if "here" means on the other side of the world." you replied, resting your head on his shoulder as you felt Oscar chuckle at your response.

Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Oscar."

A few weeks later, the buzz in the paddock was different. You and Oscar made your way through the crowd. You had finally found a possible way to you to travel for a while and spend time with Oscar while still managing your workload.

As you walked past a group of journalists, one of them called out, "Oscar, what's your secret to staying so calm under pressure these days?"

Oscar smiled, glancing at you before replying, "I've got the best support system in the world. That makes all the difference."

He said as he lifted up your joint hands for everyone to see.

You squeezed his hand, heart swelling with pride and love. Together, you faced the world, knowing that no matter what challenges came your way, you would always have each other.

And as the race weekend continued, you couldn't help but smile at the whispered conversations around the paddock, all noting the same thing—Oscar Piastri was happier than ever, and it was all thanks to the love and support you shared.

The end of the race saw Oscar once again on the podium, and as he looked out into the crowd, his eyes found yours. He lifted the trophy high, dedicating hus success to you with a simple, heartfelt gesture that spoke volumes. It was a new chapter in both your lives, filled with love, triumphs, and the unbreakable bond you shared.

MASTERLIST

[0oolookitsme]

So Despicable

Type - A One-Shot (yet again!)

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - Uses of degrading slurs such as slut and whore. Do not read if that's not your cup of tea!

A/n - Legit posting this an hour late and I'm sorry! I just finished proofreading and am right away posting this. Not exactly my best, but it's good! Hoping you'll think the same hahah <3

Kinks - Sir Kink, Degradation Kink, Choking and Begging (if you squint)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

As she turned the lock of her house, Y/n felt like her knees would simply give out if it took one more second to get the door to open. On the final twist of the key, she pushed the door open and immediately swung her purse on top of the shoe rack.

Bending to undo her heels, she left them thrown there and walked further inside the house. She was confused when she didn't find Harry downstairs but nevertheless poured herself a glass of water.

If he weren't down here, then he must be up in their bedroom or his office. Dreadfully, she climbed up the stairs, her shoulders droopy and her back aching after the long day. "Harry?" She called out, hoping that he would hear her and come out. Alas, he didn't.

She looked around in all the rooms before going inside the bedroom, dropping her body onto the mattress right away. After lying in silence for no more than a few seconds, she got up and fished her phone out of her purse – pressing on Harry's contact before putting the phone on speaker and stripping her clothes.

"'ello?" He answered, his voice serious in a way that made her doubt if he didn't know it was her on the other end of the call.

"Where are you, H?" She questioned him right away, picking the phone back up when the only clothings on her body were her under garments. "Searched the whole house, didn't find you."

It was silent for a moment, and Y/n felt that something was off. "I'm in the gym, didn't hear you come in," he said in that same tone and it was starting to make her skin crawl.

"Oh, I didn't check the gym. When are you going to be done?" She asked, fidgeting with her fingers as her mind raced a million miles per second to come up with all the things that she could've done or said wrong.

Yet, she came up empty. Harry wasn't the one to go to gym after noon, it happened rarely – mostly if he had been out and about during the morning time. So, it was clear that he was avoiding her.

"Dunno, should be done in half an hour," he said and she could tell he was doing push ups or something else by the sound of his strained voice and heavy breathing.

"Okay, I'm going in the shower," Y/n told him before he agreed and cut the call.

Taken aback, she shut out the situation before jumping into the shower and letting the warm water wash away all the stress off her muscles. After rinsing her hair rid of the shampoo, she came out of the shower, water still dripping from the ends of her hair.

When she turned around, her hand immediately went to her chest on a sharp intake of breath. "Fucking hell, Harry," she exhaled deeply, heat creeping up the back of her neck once she realised how ridiculous it was of her to get scared by the sight of him seated on their bed.

She just hadn't expected him to be there, that's all. "I'm sure there's still water left, I didn't shower for too long," she told him while walking towards their closet.

"Drop the towel and come here," Harry said, his voice deep and low. She couldn't help but ask him to repeat himself, caught off guard. "I won't repeat again, Y/n. Drop the towel, and come here," he said again, this time weighing down on each word as he spoke.

His arms were crossed across his chest, the veins more prominent because of his recent workout session. One of his legs dangled off the bed while the other one was folded. Nothing but a white undervest covered his upper half, a short pair of shorts clinging to his thighs.

Hesitant but because of her trust in him, Y/n dropped her towel and walked to him. Uncertainty and anticipation caused her hands to start fidgeting again. Slowly but surely, she reached right where he was sitting on the bed, her hands seemingly frozen on her sides as she stood upright, unable to move any further.

"Lay across my lap," Harry said, unfolding his leg and laying it straight on the bed to make the spot comfortable for her.

Y/n did so, all of the silence and holding-back of Harry was causing her brain to spiral. But one thing she knew was that whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be very holy.

She felt Harry's cold hand grab her ass before he started massaging it. That's when she knew she had surely done something wrong, because he was punishing her.

His palm met her ass cheek with a sharp blow, causing her to jerk forward. "Count for me," he told her, kneading her other cheek before hitting it with the same blow.

"2," Y/n counted, her voice shaking with thrill.

Harry watched her bum jiggle at the impact, the skin already begining to grow red. He stopped kneading the skin by the fifth blow when he couldn't hear pain in her voice. Now, he was just spanking – one side before the other. He was going at a fast pace, his hits unrelentlessly hard as he finally began hearing despair in her voice.

He kept going, not giving the skin much time before slapping it again.

"P-please, Harry–" Y/n stuttered, stopping when he gave a especially hard hit on her ass.

"What do you say? Have you forgotten your manners?" Harry said, his voice sterner than ever and Y/n was beginning to feel like he was being unnecessarily mean to her.

"Sir – It's Sir." She blabbered, answering him as if he would give her a reward. Yet, she was met with another hard spank. "W-what-ever have I done wrong, Sir?" She asked desperately, still lost on the cause for this side of him boiling up to the surface.

"A pathetic mess already? Can see your cunt glistening," he mocked her, swiping one of his fingers through her folds. "What have you not done wrong today? Cut my calls, answered back in short answers as if I were wasting your time, didn't even tell me if you were going to be back for the night or not," he answered her, massaging her bum.

"Didn't even apologize to me," he said, his eyes fallen into angry slits as he slapped her ass harshly.

He pushed her off of his lap and watched her roll over, unable to balance herself and get up. "Can't do anything right, can you?" Harry said as he pulled her up by her shoulders and sat her on her bottom.

She moved around, her bum hurting too much for her to sit on it. "Hurts," she whimpered, the corners of her eyes moist and wet hair sticking to the skin on her back, neck and forehead.

"Of course it does. Wouldn't have done it if it pleased you."

Both of them knew it pleased her. And if they didn't, then her juicy cunt would have surely given her away. She sat on her calves in front of him, her hands in her lap as she looked anywhere but in his eyes.

"Still, you aren't apologizing." Harry pointed out, causing her to flush. But before she could say anything, Harry pushed at her chest so she would fall on her back on the soft mattress.

Her legs immediately fell open in order for her to get comfortable, and just as she took notice, Harry's hand had already met her pussy in a harsh slap.

"Instead, you're pathetically dripping out of your hole," Harry sneered, slapping her puffy pussy again. A wet noise came from the impact and when he brought his hand back up, the string of her arousal connected them.

"So despicable you are."

Y/n jerked each time Harry hit her cunt, her thighs aching to close and protect her core yet she knew better than to do that. She counted each hit and once she counted the tenth slap, Harry dragged a finger across her dripping hole and covered her clit with her own arousal.

"I've been punishing you over here, and you've done nothing but drip out of that needy hole and blabber out the shit I've asked you to." Harry said as if he were disgusted. "Can't think of anything else with that dumb little brain of yours, can you?" He tsk'd at her, shaking his head.

He pinched her clit, laughing hoarsely when she instinctively closed her thighs shut. "Hook your hands under your knees," Harry instructed her and once she had done that, he was glad to have full access to her pussy.

He pinched her clit again, this time not releasing the hissing hold. With his other hand, he filled her hole with two of his fingers right away – sliding them in and out with great ease due to her wetness.

"Such a poor little thing you are, getting off on being a pretty whore – on me being mean to you," Harry crooned.

When she started to moan, he took her panties that she had taken off of herself before going into the shower, and stuffed them into her mouth. Pathetically enough, she hadn't stopped moaning even with the cloth in her mouth. The noise came out muffled, which Harry seemed to enjoy.

He then created an unrelenting pace, his back crouching in order to give all his strength in fucking her. He was still pinching her swollen clit, a grin plastered on his mouth as he heard the wet noises her pussy was making.

Her clit had grown red in colour due to his harsh pinch that didn't seem to know how to release its hold. "Fuck – fuck , sir. Sir I'm coming, I'm coming I'm so close –" Y/n stuttered as her body shook violently, her face scrunched up in pain and pure ecstasy.

Her body burned and her pussy pulsed as Harry continued fucking her with his fingers mercilessly. "What do you say?" Harry cooed at her, impossibly increasing his pace. "What do you say, my darling slut?"

Her eyes glazed over at the slur, tears springing in her eyes as she felt the knot begin to lower in her tummy.

"Can I please– please cum, Sir?" She said with great strain in a voice, like she was holding back.

"Why are you holding back? Not going to comply with your sir, hm?" Harry asked her his voice shaking due to his violent movement. "Guess I'll just deny you the permission, then."

Harry got off on dominating her. After all, she dominated all of the people around her, especially the ones in her office. She always had a hunger to control people, so the fact that he got to control what she would do or not do, dominate and manhandle her, and be mean to her like she was to most of her employees who deserved to be fired, he felt absolutely euphoric.

"Can I please cum," she cried out, her body shaking vigorously. "May I – may I please cum, Sir?" She cried again, repeating her request until it turned into beg for him to let her cum.

"Please, Sir!" She yelled, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hold back. "Please – please, let me come Sir," she kept on begging.

"Ah okay okay, don't need to be so annoying about it," Harry rolled his eyes, watching in amazement as she became a shouting mess.

He felt as her walls clenched around his fingers, and pinched her clit a bit harder. He heard her let out a final cry before she finally gushed all over his hand.

He maintained his pace as her cum spurted around due to his force. She arched off of the bed and pushed into his hand while heaving gibberish. "Fuck – fuck," she stammered, when he stopped and put his mouth on her – lapping at her as if he hadn't quenched his thirst all day.

"P-please, sir – sensitive," she whimpered, now trying to pull away from his mouth but unable to do so because of the position he had put her in. Her legs ached, but his palms laid flat on the back of her thighs as he sucked at her clit.

Harry finally detached his mouth from her and rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his clean hand. He put the hand that was covered in her juices in front of her mouth, and ordered her to suck.

When she licked his hand clean, he wrapped it around her neck in a choking manner and weighed on it when he leaned down to get closer to her.

"See? You can be good, too." He grinned, pecking her cheek as she turned her face away from him to hide her rosy cheeks.

"God, I love you no matter what you be – my pathetic slut or my pleasing little darling," he chuckled, nipping at her jaw.

[sockmeat]

hmm Angel Dust you say? What if his boyfriend bakes him a cake for his birthday? Or maybe give the spider boy some massages cause god knows he needs some love.

Also hihi, I hope your day is great my friend!

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

✼__________________________________________________________✼

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐂𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 (𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 710

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Angel comes home from work, you greet him with his favorite cake

(𝐀/𝐍): Helloooo my day has been going good :) I hope yours has as well!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Reader's still a hunk, some sexual talk, felt a little crazy and wrote some scenario (don't get too excited it's like 5 paragraphs), gave angel's bedroom a table so they wouldn't sleep on the food lol

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Charlie had already organized a birthday celebration, but you wanted to make a more intimate celebration for Angel after that one

♡ Charlie's plan was similar to every other event she's planned, it had a lot of group activities, corny decorations, and a cake

♡ While you knew Angel would appreciate it all the same, you wanted to shower him with attention meant specifically for him, not just made for him and the general public (the hotel)

♡ So while the others buzzed around to get his party ready while he was away at work, you did your own thing

♡ The very first thing you did was pick up a custom sleep gown you got for him. You knew he'd love it because it was pink, dramatic, and had a tasteful amount of fluff on the edges of the sleeves and skirt. You also got a pair of babydoll lingerie that matched with it

♡ (^ Talking ab the one in that meme that's like "your otp" and one is a grandpa gown with a candle and the other one is an extravagant pink one but I can't find the image for the live of me)

♡ Then, you went to the local bakery and picked up Angel's favorite dessert, tiramisu, and some strawberries with chocolate dip

♡ You knew Angel would have had his fill of decoration and attention by time he got to your gifts, so you decided to let your gifts speak for themselves

♡ The celebration itself went well, just as expected

♡ Angel was pleasantly surprised with the party, he had a blast playing the games Charlie planned and getting drunk with his beloved boyfriend and friends

♡ The whole time he was hanging off you, whispering in your ears and asking what you were going to do to him later for his gift

♡ Of course, you'd just give him a kiss and tell him he'll have to wait and see. You couldn't just spoil the surprise!

♡ It kept him on his toes until the party finally ended and he practically hauled you to his room

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

Angel sprints up the stairs and through the hallways like a desperate man, completely forgetting about his fatigue. "Slow down!" You laugh, but he doesn't listen. No man could've possibly felt as much excitement as he was in that moment.

You're almost blown away he was going so fast, but alas, you catch Angel before he reaches his room and slow him down. He opens the door with a bated breath and coos at the display.

His bed is made as it usually is, but displayed on it is a serving of tiramisu, a plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries, and two pink articles of clothing. Fat Nuggets greets Angel with his usual enthusiasm.

"Baby," Angel whispers, letting of your hand and scooping Nuggets into his arms to look at the array of items closer. For a moment, he stares in awe. He only breaks his ogling when you wrap your arms around him. "All this for little ol' me?" He teases, bringing a hand up to your face.

"Of course," you hum. "Who else, if not my gorgeous boyfriend?" You peck his lips and hand him one of the strawberries. He bites into it with a delighted (and slightly exaggerated) moan, subtly eyeing you, though he could barely keep his eyes open. He wavered where he stood while he finished the strawberry.

Snickering, you come out from behind him, taking Nuggets out of his arms and setting him down and moving his gifts to the small table in one fell swoop. As you are, Angel scoops the tiramisu into his mouth and slides under his mountain of blankets. Almost demanding, he lifts his hoard and slaps the mattress next to him, cheeks puffed as if he was a squirrel. "I'm coming, I'm coming," you hurry yourself under and scoop your boyfriend into your arms.

Angel sighs, melting into your chest the second you make contact. "You're so good t'me," he mumbles. You smile adoringly and rub circles into his back, paying close attention to his more tense areas. It doesn't take long for Angel to fall asleep and begin snoring.

"Goodnight," you kiss his forehead.

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

[mayajadewrites]

Could've Been You (Aizawa x Fem! Reader, Hawks x Fem! Reader)

chapter thirteen

I'M BAAAAAAAACK! sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to be sure to provide you guys a good chapter that will help keep the story going. i'm probably going to change this more to aizawa x reader, since keigo has one foot out the door lol I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

✦ story synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: none

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

comments are ALWAYS loved and appreciated <3

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie @skazewrld @crimsonsaki @@smarty0029 @bokunokamijiro

"She's here, isn't she?"

There he was, Keigo, standing in Aizawa's doorway with a scowl on his face.

You keep your face behind the door, pressing your ear against the door hoping to hear more.

Shota is not one to back down from anything, especially when it comes to you. After all, he waited years to have you.

"And if she is?" Shota crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps pressed against the hardness of his chest.

Keigo looks at Shota, eyeing his stature, as if sizing him up. He puffed up his wings a bit, looking inside the room. "I need to explain to her what happened, that I-"

"You can save it, pretty boy."

"She moved on that quickly, hm? A shame that you had to have my leftovers."

"Leftovers?" Shota's voice got louder, and you can sense the tension in the room. "She isn't a piece of meat. Is that how you think of her? Since you slept with her, you think you own her?"

"I'm just saying - I've had her, and now you have too. I see those bites on your skin, I've had those too."

Shota was starting to get enraged. The thought of you, sleeping with Keigo before him makes his blood boil. No, you weren't together, but in his mind - you're his. He doesn't need a reminder of who's been inside you before.

You pull on a pair of Shota's sweats and a t-shirt, walking out of the bedroom quietly.

Your heart rate increased as you stepped into the living space. If looks could kill, you'd be dead from the look on Keigo's face.

"There's the woman of the hour." Keigo looks at you, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Keigo, please leave." Your usual strong persona was not present. Your arms are across your chest - you're uncomfortable.

"Not without me explaining myself. You can't just sleep with another dude because I left when you were sleeping."

"Sleeping with Shota wasn't a spur of the moment decision, Keigo. Actually, you were."

His face slightly changed, no longer with a proud smirk on his face.

"I've known Shota since we were in high school. We had a falling out, but he's always been a part of my life, a part of me."

"So our nights together meant nothing, hm? I was just there as a placeholder?"

You sigh, your hand pressing to your forehead. "No, I actually liked you. But when you left me without a word, something in my gut told me to leave you alone. And my gut was right."

Shota is leaning on the doorframe, watching you speak with a slight smirk on his face. Damn, that's my girl.

"I'm not the one for you, and that's okay. You need a woman that will fuel that giant ego of yours. More of a fan girl."

Keigo's face turned a bit red as he looked down at the ground. He's embarrassed, no doubt, but you had no choice.

Without another word, he turned around and walked away. His face was full of... hurt. Possibly embarrassment.

How could she want him instead of me?

His insecurities were starting to seep through his cocky exterior, which made him flee.

Shota closed the door, looking at you once again. He brought his hands to each side of your face, squeezing your cheeks gently as he looks at you. "Look at you standing up for yourself." His voice is soft as he caresses your soft skin.

Your hands wrap around his wrists, looking up at him as you stand on your tippy toes to eliminate any space left between you.

Shota's lips mended with yours, moving slowly as his thumb grazed over your cheek. "Are you sure I'm what you want?"

Your eyes flutter open as you look into his, nodding slowly. "There's no one else for me. Just you."

Months went by as you and Shota rebuilt your relationship. Almost like getting to know each other all over again, this time without the angst.

You basically live in Shota's apartment, yours almost untouched a couple of doors down. You spend your days teaching the next generation of heroes, and at night you belong to Shota.

"Kitten, can you pour me a glass of wine please?" Shota's on the couch, reading the newest novel he picked up from the bookstore.

You nod, finishing washing the dishes and grabbing him a stemless glass, filling the cup with the sweet liquid.

After pouring yourself a glass, you plop down next to him and hand him his.

"Thank you." His lips press against your temple, your body curling next to his as you press your chin to his shoulder.

"Your book looks boring." You sigh, skimming the pages.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to bring up to you." He closed the book, his attention now on you. You straighten your posture as you look at his face - this is definitely serious.

"There have been more villains around. And... I was thinking, you and I could be a part of the team that protects the city. I think both of our quirks would work-"

You freeze. The last time you and Shota fought a villain together, you ended up in a coma. Your friendship with him was done.

Shota could sense your anxiety, and his hands anchored you to him.

"Hey, I'm right here." His voice is soft as he caresses you.

Your whole body felt like it was frozen. Like there was absolutely no way you could move anytime soon. Your anxiety was palpable.

"Shota..."

"There are lives at stake, darling. This isn't a training session. I'm... I'm worried."

You force yourself to look into his eyes, your heart sinking as you watch him.

This might be the beginning of the end.

[ranbitteeth]

More subby Mizu!! 👏👏

Had this idea for a while - I don’t imagine Mini being the type to go down on his wife, so what about soft!dom reader eating her out for the first time? Just gently talking her through it, taking the time to just make her feel good.

Pussy Eating, a Delicate Art...

A/N: OP you genius you. Not sure if this aligns well enough with your vision, but alas, viola!

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Tags: Pussy Eating, Ambiguously Gendered Reader, Uses of the word c*nt in reference to pussy, Fingering, Dirty Talk if you squint.

Fill my inbox! I have plenty more where this came from.

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“You think I could?”

The idea had been planted in your mind long before you made it known. When exactly, you couldn’t say. Maybe when you and Mizu first showered together and she shied away from spreading her legs. Maybe it was after a long day of work that you watched her come home, silently groaning to herself before she wordlessly nestled into the soft cushions of your bed. However, you could very much pinpoint when this desire evolved into an insatiable, soul-crushing *need.*

Every month, the two of you made it a point to spend time together. Be it inside the house, on a date, movies, park, with friends. You wanted Mizu to know you loved your wife. You crushed every doubt she could have.

The last month, about a week or so ago— the two of you had reserved a ravishing dinner in a wealthier part of town. It was fun to play dress-up with her, to act and look the part just for the night. You expected her to be wearing her usual slacks and blouse when she asked you “What do you think?”, as the answer was so ready to slip past your lips and sing her praises. It was only when you actually turned around and *looked* that you could see she surprised you with a rather short slip-on dress that reached just to the middle of her thighs. Her long, shapely legs were only accentuated by the heels she decided to match that night. You could've dropped the reservation just then and there to take the night entirely for yourself, but it’d be an embarrassing amount of money down the drain. You’d much rather enjoy the sight, let the world see what they couldn’t have. The delight you relished in seeing Mizu’s legs was short-lived, however, as in the middle of dinner, she had asked to borrow your coat and begrudgingly placed it over her lap. Oh, well. As long as she was comfortable.

You’d think back to that night nearly every day that followed. Of course you’d see her nude, that wasn’t the point. The point was that the sweet thing had conspired behind your back and planned to wear a dress to surprise *you*, and you had been rocked to your core. It was impossible not to imagine running your hands up her legs, spreading them apart and pushing her underwear aside. You wanted those thighs wrapped around your neck, you wanted to hear her voice break with want. Soon enough, you offered this— and Mizu only blinked at the ceiling before pinning you with a questioning stare. *Woof.* Her previous husband had only done the minimum, as was obvious by her aversion to anything besides missionary and the standards.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, toying with her hair as she visibly contemplated the thought. “And even then, we can stop whenever you feel like it. No one will get mad.” No, you couldn’t imagine resenting Mizu for anything. She realized this, it seemed, as she had finally relaxed after a tense moment, nervously looking between you and her lap.

“Do I..?” she began to wonder aloud, awkwardly spreading her knees apart before you huffed out a laugh.

“No, no, you gotta ease into it,” you say, leaning in to close the space between the two of you and languidly pressing your lips against hers. This, she knew, and responded back beautifully. Her lips parted, allowing you access into her mouth before her hands made their way over your face— your heart swells. You break the kiss before you decide to descend onto her neck, though not without a parting peck. Your mouth trails up and down her slender neck, delicately marking up the pale skin of her collarbones until you hear her breath hitch. You pull away to look up at, her hand in yours as your thumb caresses a knuckle.

“All good?” You ask, to which she nods in return.

“I’ll let you know…” she says lowly, pupils blown. You grin at this, relieved she wasn’t forcing herself before you continue. You gently raise the hem of her old tee over her chest, gently cupping one of her breasts in your hands before you take the bud in your mouth. She makes a noise at this, the one you're chasing. You can feel her muscles tense beneath you and take it as a sign to descend further down until your hands slide over her waist, holding it firmly as you begin to pepper innocent kisses everywhere your lips could touch skin. She seems embarrassed at this, averting her gaze while her expression grows into that of feigned boredom and irritation. You knew better. You always did— no way could she be mad now.

“Relax, I’ll get to you soon enough. What if I just want to kiss your tummy the whole night?” You tease, though you eagerly begin to adjust your positions now knowing Mizu’s eagerness to continue.

“Then I would’ve stayed in the dojo.” She responds gruffly. You make a feigned noise and motion of being shot in the chest, to which she only rolls her eyes and shoots you an unimpressed stare, though you smirk in response. You see her lips, her eyes— you know she’s fighting a smile with every muscle in her body.

Slowly, you begin to pull her underwear off her hips, pulling them down past her thighs and over her ankles, allowing her to kick them off herself as you take a place between her thighs. You make a noise in the back of your throat as you’re suddenly face to face with the object of your desires and fantasies for the past few days. Your warm breath fans and tickles over her core, but you can’t be bothered to start yet, too enraptured in the lovely quality about her. What pained you is that she didn’t even *realize* this, didn’t even realize how stunning she was.

“If I wanted to be stared at all night I would’ve—nngh-?!”

Her bratty little retort had been cut short by your tongue suddenly pushing its way past her folds and into the fleshy warmth inside. A strained, awkward noise was heard— though it was not discomfort. Far from it, by the way Mizu’s eyes went impossibly wide, hips jutting forward and greedily chasing the pleasure your mouth provided. One hand instinctively flew over her mouth while the other was entangled in your hair. Oh, now this just wouldn’t do.

Heartlessly, you pulled away from her, pinning her down with a quirked brow and a tilt of your head.

“If you want me to keep going, you’ll do me a kindness and take your hand away from your mouth.” You say evenly, squeezing the soft skin of her thighs as you spoke. “I need to hear you.”

Hesitantly, she obeys, her trembling palm now living away from her face and down to the sheets. You hummed in response, muttering a quick “good girl” that made her stomach flutter.

Slowly, you began to work your tongue around her cunt again, languidly rolling the slick, warm muscle against the insides of her folds before you found her clit— obvious by the startled, sexy little noise Mizu made, forced to air it out into your space. *There,* instead of mercilessly attacking the lovely little bundle of nerves and sensitivity, you grace circles in the surrounding area, massaging and pushing, *sucking* on her flesh and drinking up the arousal that began to coat your lips and chin. Mizu’s shy, strained, and awkward noises slowly began to bloom into unabashed, almost *girlish* moans and whimpers. Rarely did she ever sound this way, being so accustomed to lowering her voice and acting as an intimidator for most of her life. You soaked up these noises like the demon you were, taking it as a sign to continue to relentlessly flick your tongue over and inside of her. Mizu took this all beautifully, arching her back and moaning out your name in a way that awakened something primal in you.

“Mmf…fuck…” you groan into her pussy, enjoying the way she twitched against you. “You taste amazing…” you begin to babble, grabbing her by the hips and pushing her further against you in a way that made her openly gasp.

“(Name…!)” she grunts, fighting against every instinct in her body that urged her to hide her face and noises behind her palms.

Wordlessly, you bring one of your hands away from holding her hips and down to where your mouth met skin, easily pumping your digits inside of her thanks to the gushing quality of her pussy.

“God, Mizu, you’re soaking up the sheets..” you scold teasingly, making her face grow hotter than it was. You look up, noticing her eyes glazed with unshed tears as her body trembles. You coo at the sight, your fingers still relentless.

“Aw, you’re close, aren’t you?” You say, voice light and adoring. You’ve never seen her in such a wreck, but a cruel, primal side of you adored the sight and hungered for more, hungered to keep her desperate and begging for hours— to tear her apart…

But the saner, better side of you was reminded that Mizu could only take so much for her first time, and there would always be more time.

“I got you, baby..” you mutter before you begin to eat her out with far more conviction than before, now desperate to milk out an orgasm that would blind her with pleasure. Your finger massages her deeper, and Mizu’s breath hitches. *There.* At the same time as your tongue, your finger attacks Mizu’s most sensitive areas before you feel her thighs clench around your head as she arches her back and *cums,* voice breaking in all her desperation as she sobs out your name. Greedily, you drink up the arousal that was dripping out of her pussy like a person deprived of water. By the end, you’re both out of breath, bodies slack and lazy against each other. You made haste in readying a warm, damp towel as you cleaned up your wife, making her sigh in contentment. You’re both eventually back beneath the warm covers of your bed, but you’re staring, unashamed and adoring at Mizu’s giddy expression. It was a subtle thing, but everything with Mizu was subtle. The slight squint beneath her eyes, the upwards curve of her lips, the flush over her cheeks.

“I didn’t go too rough, did I?” You ask, now fidgeting with the cloth of her raggedy tee.

She chuckles at that, adjusting herself so that she could face you until your foreheads touched, a warm flush across her face.

“If that was rough, gentle wouldn’t be enough, now would it?” She says, pinning you down with those eyes that drew. you towards her in the first place.

“So I can go again?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes going wide for the slightest of seconds. You resist the urge to laugh.

“Tomorrow.”

[ashkgray]

Y'know... It's the fact that in spite of everything he is, Frank did love Margaret. It shows he has the capacity for it and the capacity for change. This was probably the most if not the only entirely sincere expression he's made during the whole run of M*A*S*H.

He was a complete dick about the break-up: stingy, clingy, sticky, refusing to let her be and constantly asking her to cheat with him. But when the true moment came where he could stunt her happiness by a few minutes, at the wedding during the "speak now or forever hold your piece bit"... he doesn't fucking do it.

I know part of that can be attributed to his fear of Donald wrecking his shit, I understand. But it's also because, at the end of the day, he knows he can't give this particular thing to Margaret. Marriage was never an option between them. Maybe it could've been in the early seasons but not anymore. By the end of this season, he genuinely knows he'll never get to be with her again. It's a simple fact. And for one moment... Frank seems to have accepted something. Only to then completely and entirely crumble back into his regular sniveling self and go too far with it.

For one moment there, with that "Bye, Margaret" and that "I've nothing to say," we got a glimpse into what could happen if he grew: how he would look. It was shattered, yes. He regressed immediately, yes. He's still a little bitch, yes. But my god was the season 5 finale something for him. It almost makes me wish for a more dignified ending to his presence on mash. But, alas, a character that exists without dignity going without dignity pretty much tracks.

[photogirl894]

Hello! I saw you wrote my request. 🥰 Thanks so much. Could I request another one? This one is a bit angsty: 29 & 30 with Wrecker x Fem reader. I’m wondering if this could be a challenge bc I just don’t see Wrecker getting into an argument with his s/o. Maybe his brothers, but not his girl.

Thanks!

Aw man, you're killing me with the Wrecker angst here, my friend 😜 But alas, here it is!!

"Not Ready"

29. "Shut up!"/"Make me!"

30. "Don't walk away from me!"

Pairing: Wrecker x fem reader

***

"What were you thinking? I told you, you weren't ready!"

After just narrowly finishing a mission, you found yourself being reprimanded by Wrecker. Lately, he'd been teaching you how to disarm explosives and you'd come across one on the mission that you honestly thought you could disable on your own, even though Wrecker had warned you against it saying you weren't quite ready yet. You thought you'd had it, but things had gone wrong and you'd made the countdown go faster. Wrecker had to quickly grab you and rush you to safety just before it exploded. Luckily, you and the rest of the squad had made it out okay with the intel you needed and you were on your way back to the Marauder...but Wrecker was definitely not happy with you at the moment and neither were you.

"And I told you, I had it handled!" you said frustratedly back to him, stopping to turn back and face him.

"Which is why the countdown started speeding up?" he asked back.

"Okay, that was one mistake," you spat back.

"One that almost cost you your life," he responded.

It was then Echo came between you two and said, "Look, that's enough. We still got out of there with what we needed."

"We wouldn't have had I not stepped in. Her not listening to me could've ruined the whole mission," Wrecker stated, growing increasingly mad.

"Ugh, shut up!" you shouted, getting angry.

Then he bellowed back at you, louder than you'd ever heard from him before, "Make me!"

The booming volume of his voice startled you and you instinctively took a step back, your eyes widening at how almost frightening he sounded. Wrecker had never yelled at you or even raised his voice at you like that. It scared you and that's what hurt even more. You weren't scared of Wrecker; you knew he would never hurt anyone. His heart was too good for that. This, however...it was different and you hated how it made you feel. Tears sprang to your eyes and, taken aback by the whole thing, you whipped around and sprinted away from the group in a different direction, hearing the others calling after you.

Wrecker realized too late what he had done just before you ran off. His face fell and his heart dropped at seeing how frightened you were. He hadn't meant to yell like that, but he had just gotten so frustrated...now he deeply regretted it.

"You shouldn't have yelled at her like that, Wrecker," Hunter lightly scolded him.

"I know," Wrecker replied sadly. "I don't know what came over me."

"You need to talk to her and apologize," Hunter told him.

Wrecker simply nodded and ran off in the direction you had gone.

You had stopped to quickly catch your breath and wipe the tears away from your eyes when you heard Wrecker's thunderous footsteps coming. You figured he had followed after you to just yell at you some more, so you went to move away.

"Wait, don't!" he cried out, making you halt. Then you heard his voice tremble slightly as he pleaded, "Please don't...don't walk away from me."

You turned over your shoulder and saw Wrecker standing just a few feet away, a look of regret on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled at you or said all those things. I care about you a lot and...I got worried when that bomb nearly killed you. That's why I want to make sure you're fully ready when it comes to explosives...and I'd hoped you would trust me when it came to them."

You hung your head in shame. He was right. He was the demolitions expert for a reason. "You're right. I should've trusted you," you admitted. "I just...really thought I was ready and wanted to impress you."

He walked over and put his hands on your shoulders. "You have impressed me with how quickly you're learning," he said to raise your spirits. "But if you jump the gun too quickly with explosives, things could end badly. That's why you have to be extra careful. You got it?"

"Yeah...I do," you replied. "I'm sorry and I'll be sure to listen to you better in the future."

"And I'll be sure to not get too worked up if things go wrong," he promised. "I'm just afraid of losing you."

You reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. "It'll take a lot more than a bomb for you to ever lose me. You can count on that."

With a comforted smile, he wrapped you up in his strong and warm embrace, just happy to have you there in the first place.

Photogirl894's Angst Prompts

Photogirl894's 1000 Followers Fics

[rizsu]

to you, my woman al haitham + kaveh.

sum. royalty au, not with genshin lore, and a COMPLETE brainfart omg i just needed to get this out

i. first impressions always count | 3.4k words

the lies and the truths: two terms that bind together to make balance. the reflection of the water in the basin mimics you. the wavering ripples and droplets that yelp each time your hand moves in it. a cold morning is what it is. eyebags that couldn't have been more protruding, a frown that holds every unspoken emotion, eyes that rid themselves of numbness — a sickening morning. you're alone, thankfully. amidst the sun's warming beams holds a dull you.

the day you've loathed has come. at the last supper, where a few envoys from the land of the righteous, sumeru, had arrived on the queen's note to deliver her qwords. it was but a slight favour on your side; hidden in her handwritten letter, she offered a deal: marry your daughter to my son. such can benefit both, if you permit. the answer lay in your palms — choose wisely, king.

her offer — or rather, her threat—held her attitude throughout. compared to your father, she's someone to worship. like a fool to a tyrant, your father had no choice. each day by the hour, does your blood seethe with hatred. annoyance for your family, hatred for your greed-ridden father, revulsion for everything that dawns in this damned kingdom. 

from the second you were born, they've placed their wants on you. praising you, forcing you, making you their pure goddess. within enevis's dome was the saying "she who borns shall become she who reigns." it's derived directly from the gods that once served these grounds day and night. sitting boldly at the temple's front, the transcript reads words that were shed from the mighty himself to the new goddess. ever since that moment, to her people who live, each time a woman has been blessed into the royalty, she shall be called 'the goddess' descent.' 

just pure tomfoolery. what is a deity to a man? a nobel to a peasant? a dream to a non-believer? you've been dragged on as a saintess all your life. controlled like a puppet by its master. a sing-song tale of marionette to her box; she's stuck in a neverending loop, unable to grasp free no matter the attempts. almost like you, who once tried marriage to set yourself free. at the very least, you loved him.

he wasn't anyone special — an average man, is what he was. compared to your status as enevis's sole princess, he was a pedestrian, at least. a farmer on the outskirts of town, producing homegrown crops for the capital's people (not that he earned much anyway). the first time you laid your eyes on him was when you snuck out through the window. it was idiotic, truly, but alas, it gave you a sense of peace. you had to pay off the guards that stood at their posts. one could only pray that your gold was enough for them.

nights of sneaking out turned into marriage. a marriage that wasn't approved of, no matter the pleas. nevertheless, you were a grown woman. you made your choice, even if it angered your mother.

parallel to euphoria, a six-month run was well lived. you couldn't quite clear your status as a princess, but you could've lived with him. a husband and his wife, both living quietly at their home. it wasn't the extravagance you were shaped into, but it felt comfortable. such dreams can only last a minute, unfortunately.

had you known. had you only known that your father wasn't going to let you wander off through his grip. He was enraged at your marriage. "was your vacation enough?" he asked, using your husband's chest as his sword's stand. your father looked at the victim in disgust; he never expected your vision to be so low. so vile, so impure. a shame is what you've become. running around with this peasant while holding the royal name was something the king wouldn't tolerate.

he lacked care for you — hell be damned, he never cared for you. the words write a she but a he is what your father craved. a son, a copy of himself. listening to his wife's words, he believed the sour dream of you becoming him. but alas, you showed him that a vulnerable woman will never be fit for the throne. your father did not a care for you. he didn't bother to retrieve his sword, nor did he bother to comfort you. if you wish to grieve and weep for some random, then so be it. as long as you were back by the moon's descent, he didn't care for your horrors.

quite pitiful, really. it's been hardly a week since that occurred. you weren't given time to grieve — after all, royalty never crumbles. your so-called wedding with al-haitham is due the following week. preparations will take a week. from enevis to sumeru takes roughly two days, granted that the sea is gracious. lost in your train of thought, you mindlessly sink your gaze into the mirror, hoping that soon you'll regain everything.

"my lady, have you completed your morning?" three knocks on the door awaken you. behind the porcelain door stood your lady-in-waiting, adila. aside from your nanny, she was your closest person in the entire palace. 

"just a moment, adila," answering her, you scatter across the room to wear your robe. truth be revealed, you didn't do anything but splash some water around.

you walk towards the door, paying close attention not to just give up and run back to your bed. oh, how tempting giving up sounds! turning the knob, you open the door until it reaches your shoulder, preferring to just peek your head out. such actions were totally not done to observe if any of the other maids were nearby. confirming adila's sole presence, you wrap a hand around hers, pulling her into your room before locking the door.

"must i really go to the dining room? seeing their old heads will fill me with nothing but rage!" you immediately begin your complaints. although it is true that you were in slumber, you cannot deny that you overhead the maids talking about new guests that came to dine.

adila softly laughs. to her, she enjoys moments where you spew words of anger day to night. it's not often you get to speak with such freedom — even your maids are ears for your father. your every movement will be recorded. he cannot afford another shameful action from you.

"it must be done, my lady. what can we do against his majesty's order?" maneuvering across your chamber, she attends to your bed, working her hands to smoothen the silk sheets.

"to hell with him!" 

───

throughout the silent hall, your heels clacked with each step, producing some sort of sound in the deafening silence. at both sides stood two maids — you don't know them. you've avoided learning of any maid the second you learned of spies planted in your palace. sickening and vile. you lack even a sense of comfort in your own wing. the stifling feeling never left; it's as if there's a constant hand pushing down your throat, preventing any particle of air from entering.

slowing your steps, you stop at your palace's entrance. they don't need to follow me. you turn your head to the maid on the right. raising your hand, you notify them both, "you need not follow me any longer. carry on somewhere else." 

"but princess —"

"you need not."

"we understand," bowing slightly, they made their exit. you don't care enough to look where they're going — to hell with him and to hell with them.

mindlessly strolling through your garden, you allow your hand to glide through the rose bushes, not caring about the thorns that pierce your skin. if you were deemed impure then who would give care? 

the walk from your palace to the main palace took roughly ten minutes. you can only wish that it lasted longer. entering the palace, a nauseous feeling grabs hold of you. you've only touched a centimeter in yet it's still disgusting. memories never leave — to be more exact, those memories never leave.  

"are you okay, princess?" a worker, who you couldn't be bothered to learn his position, questioned about your wellbeing. his eyes observed your physical appearance. you were standing upright, like a true royalty, however the evidence of negativity dawned. your unfocused eyes tell more than your words.

"do not worry about me, i am fine," giving him an answer, you focus your vision on him. is he a chef? you wonder. his suit varied from the other male staff: a simple marine blue suit, a lengthy coat that ran down to his mid-calves, white velvet gloves that stopped at his elbows, and a chef's cart standing in front of him. from the dishes standing in it, it seems as though he's going to the same destination you share.

"are these for the morning dine? with the envoys?" you inquire. if it's the truth, you'll enter with him.

"ah, yes, it's the appetizers as the main brunch has yet to finish," he gestures to the top dish before he continues, "would you like to join me to the room, princess?"

"that'll be appreciated," nodding, you both continue on to path that leads south. hopefully one angers the gods and they send two lightning strikes down as a lesson, if that'll ever happen.

arriving at the door, the guards announce your entrance as it opens from the inside. 

too bright, you think.  

small, hesitant steps were taken as you tried hard to focus on your practiced emotions. you did not suffer atrocious lessons to falter at the sight of a damned family. 

"good morning, all. may her rays shine gold," you greet everyone at the table. prefering to not say another sentence until it's over.

"have you slept well?" your mother asked, placing two extra breadsticks on your plate.

"i did. thank you for asking, mother," you replied, opting to not look at her or anyone.

resting his palms flat on the table, your father interrupts to begin the brunch, "let us begin the feast."

───

quite some time has passed, judging from the multi-colored clouds that decorates the sky's canvas. you're all in the main garden, discussing the final actions that'll take place in enevis. well, that excludes you. you fear that you've long blurred out their conversation — it's uninteresting and draining. 

another thirty minutes has passed and yet they've failed to finish their conversation. if you're not given freedom anytime soon, you're going to start malfunctioning.

"it's been decided then. y/n, you'll travel to sumeru today," your father speaks, signing off his signature on the scroll.

"pardon me? today?" you're taken by surprise. maybe you should've kept up with at least the schedule. looking around, you begin to worry about your luggage, "and about my belongings? i don't believe they're bagged already."

"they are."

"oh, alright then," sighing, you sit back into the chair. since when did they do that? you think. 

───

two days have gone since you've left enevis for sumeru. the sea was graceful, thankfully, but it didn't cease the sea sickness.

sumeru is a beautiful kingdom — you cannot deny. it's laced with greenery and architecture that symbolizes its history. unfortunately, leisure time is what you lack. preparations for the wedding will swallow every millisecond of your time. even in your slumber it'll haunt you. the carriage ride to the central city was quiet. you only took your lady-in-waiting to this trip as you do not need more eyes to lurk on you.

you don't remember much from the journey — in all honesty, you blanked out. heavens be cursed you don't even know how you got in this room. it appears to be his office. the ornaments and funiture deprive it from being named a relaxing room. his desk was the messiest of all; multiple layers of scrapped paper, crumbled balls of different colored paper, pens and pencils alike scattered across and last but not least, him. he isn't your soon-to-be husband, but he seems like someone important.

his aura is soft. aside from his shirt having the top three buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearm, his coat long abandoned to the side couch, hair tied in a messy bun — is that a straw? well, it looks like someone has been sleeping out in their office.

"please, forgive the mess. i've been slaving for the new building," he speaks up, hands moving with pace to make him and his desk presentable.

"do not worry. take your time, sir," reassuring him, you gift him a genuine smile. at the very least you can be at ease in sumeru.

a smile dawns his face as his shoulders relax. seems like he swore you would've been a rude individual. finishing his... routine... he reaches a hand out to you as he greets himself, "call me kaveh. i'm the marquess of sumeru, head of the architect ministry."

accepting his hand, you follow suit, "i am y/n l/n, first princess of enevis, second to the throne."

"forgive me if i offend but are you not supposed to be the first to the throne?" kaveh asks, his confusion is more than obvious.

"i would've, however, i do not care for the throne. the archduchess is in lead for it," you explain the throne-tree to him. your answer was only half the truth — while it's not a lie that you do not care, it's also the fact that you're too lazy to rule an entire kingdom (but no one needs this knowledge).

kaveh's mouth shapes into an 'O', he nods at your answer as he sits back down. offering you some cookies, he begins once again, "whenever you are ready we can head over to his highness."

"i understand," your curiosity about the prince was immediately quelled without having to say a word. bringing a cookie to your mouth, you hold a hand under your chin for any fallen crumbs.

"heavens, these are delightful!" complimenting the cookies, you hum at the sweet taste.

"they truly are! collei made them. she's a student at the ministry of agriculture and medicine but she's an amazing baker," kaveh rambles. he's quite happy that you truly aren't a "stuck up" princess.

after some time relaxing and listening to kaveh's rambles, you've decided that you'd go to see his highness. don't get it wrong — you adore kaveh and his voice is soothing but you also wish to see your husband.

on the path to al-haitham's wing of the palace, your sense of joy return as your conversations with kaveh never ends. he's a comfortable energy to be around. much different from the sour ecstacy that drowns your home. he's a talker and you're a listener — a combination crafted by the heavens, if you will.

the stroll hadn't past more than fifteen minutes — that itself isn't the accurate time... due to kaveh's excitement to plaster your attention on the details of each pillar. according to his sources, he spent eons delicately crafting every design, paying heed to incorporate historical transcripts and symbols. you both were content with your conversations but to your dismay, all things must come to an end. that and your soon-to-be husband awaits your arrival allegedly.

"we're here! i'll escort you up to his office. he should be there alone," he speaks, holding one hand out to guide you along the staircase.

his hands are soft.

accepting his offer, you gift another smile, "thank you, sir kaveh."

"just kaveh is fine, princess."

"then so be it. call me by my given name as well."

oh, kaveh thinks. to say he's captured by surprise would be a hellish understatement. times like these are where he wishes biology never worked the way it did. the soft pink overlay at the tip of his ears surely didn't go unnoticed.

deciding to refuse, kaveh stumbles on his sentence, "i — i cannot do that, princess."

an expected reaction. you must allow him this, it's only fair as he allowed you.

"please do, kaveh. it is only fair."

fuck, he swears that he isn't this easily flustered. a simple sentence — nothing about it should be this heart-racing. is it because you said it? maybe he needs to visit the nearest hospital.

covering the lower half of his face with the back of his free hand, kaveh continues to escort you to his highness' office. unfortunately for him, he'll have to leave right after. being a marquess and a minister is not an easy job.

───

tense, awkward, and boring. what an uninteresting individual is he. you will not deny, he's quite the eye-catcher, however, he lacks the personality. the minute you entered his office, he greeted you and went back to his paper work. you cannot say he's rude — you were technically disrupting him but is it hard to give you two minutes of his time?! well, the conversation-starter lays in your palms.

"your highness, would you like a cup of tea?"

"no."

okay, rude.

clicking your tongue, you decided it'll be best to leave it in his hands... not.

it's been hours. if another minute passes, you'll give into the urges and slouch. a princess must never lose her composure but this princess might just! the time you've spent observing and making mental analogies of this prince, it is safe to assume that you hate his guts.

a princess that despises awkward situations and a stoic prince. it'll end well, right..?

"accept my apologies, i prefered to finish my documents before attending to you," al-haitham speaks, finally arising from behind his desk and to you.

"it is all right, prince," you lied.

al-haitham walks around his desk, adjusting his cuffs while he made his way to you. compared to kaveh, his energy is dull; he seems as if the light of life had been vacuumed out of his body. you keep your gaze on his figure — he's lean, to say the least. as he sits, you dash your eyes to look somewhere else.

such eyes are too intimidating — it reminds you of your father. al-haitham on the other hand, he calls for a maid to bring in delicacies and such. he will not tolerate leaving his guests deprived of food.

"would you like to discuss the wedding? everything else such as the coronations have been handled prior," he speaks up, educating you on the details you've missed.

"i don't see a reason not to," you replied, smiling at the maids as you whispered a "thank you" to them.

al-haitham leans forward to the coffee table, raising the tea cup to blow the steam.

"well, i'd first say that i will not be bedding you the first night."

"that is quite all — excuse me?" your automatic answer was cut short. just how high is his audacity? how rude to think you'd bed a man like him!

"please, take no offense. i would rather not bed anyone. it is not you, princess," clearing you from any suspicion, he continues to not pay you any mind.

"that is not — anyway, prince, i believe we should set some boundaries?" you suggested, trying your best to calm the twitching vein under your right eye.

"i'll see it done. is a written contract okay with you?" he replies. better than hearing you speak. he may be rude but at least he's tolerable. hopefully.

"yes, i do not mind." with your answer finishing the marriage conversation, you two continue on with casual topics. he's a talker, all right. it seems like he's the person to continue on once you've introduced a topic of his liking.

fortunately, all bad things come to an end. as the moon illuminates, al-haitham decided to end it here. though, before you make your leave, there are a few words he must say.

"i'll see you at the banquet. my staff will send over a gown — it matches with my suit. please do wear it," notifying you about his absolute god-sent kindess (he was forced to.)

al-haitham walks with you to the exit. a blessing of relief washes over him once his eyes landed on someone that appears to be your lady-in-waiting.

"my lady!" adila's steps fasten towards you. she smiles and then stops. who is this peculiar individual? deciding the give a bow of respect, she greets al-haitham, "goodnight, sir who i do not know of."

a chuckle was heard at the right of al-haitham's side. it appears to him that you find this amusing.

"just 'prince' is fine."

"yes — PRINCE?!" adila's eyes display her exact thought process. it's evident that she's thinking something along the lines of "dear heavens, i hope they don't behead me."

"pardon my intrusion, i will leave now. see you at the banquet, prince," you interrupted their conversation — knowing adila, she'd stumble on her words and unleash a train of apologies.

"oh, yes. let us go, my lady!"

ii. banquets, fake impressions and hateful actions | 1.1k words

it's alluring. a gown parallel to the morning sky, diamonds littered around its collar. silver accents adorn its front, reaching down to its very center. ruffled patterns accentuate the back, creating more volume than you could ever ask for. perhaps al-haitham has more to him than a robotic personality.

you're in awe. of course, you've had beautiful gowns before but this — this is just gorgeous. the reflection in the mirror captivated you like no other. your hands slid down the front, adoring the way it complimented your body.

"you look wonderful, my lady. sure to be most explenditurefous!" adila complimented. she busies herself with dusting off your heels as she's the only maid left in your chamber.

"explenditurefous?" you asked, rather confused about the sudden unknown word.

"no word can describe your beauty, so i made my own!" she cleared.

earning a smile from you, you softly laugh at her logic. adila's truly someone you can't live without.

"thank you, adila."

───

the banquet.. is definitely a banquet..! you're not sure if it's because you're in a different kingdom, but they sure do things different to enevis. for the past hour you've held your stance to the side; more comfortable with the option to sit back and lurk rather than to be the main attraction — which is foolish. you, a kingdom's princess, can never hide. your gown matches with that of sumeru's crown prince. only a fool can miss that sign.

swirling your champagne glass, you hum at the difference in people that decorate the banquet's room. they all look beautiful — especially kaveh. looks like he knows how to appear alive when he isn't cooped up in his office.

the music changed? you wonder, carefully listening to the soft, sensual rhythm crafted by the chior.

"my lady, would you care to do me this dance?" someone asks, bowing slightly as he holds out his hand for yours. you don't know him — it's also rather unfortunate that he isn't your type.

"oh, my ap—"

"move along. do not try to dance with her."

well excuse me, you think. it's obvious by his tone who the voice belongs to. a stoic voice for a stoic man, sumeru's crown prince, al-haitham.

he towers over the stranger, eyes oozing of annoyance and authority. al-haitham himself doesn't know why he's so irritated by someone trying to dance with you. is it not basic etiquette? dances shared with others are nothing but a noble's etiquette. nothing more, nothing less. so why must be seethe with rage at the image of you dancing with someone else at the center of the room?

"you, come with me," sliding his hand to your lower back, al-haitham guides you to a deserted room. whether you like it or not, he has business with you.

"heaven forbid! must we walk so fast?!" complaining, you came to a complete stop.

somewhere in the building's balcony, you two stand. the moon's light rains a soft, dim light across both. there's a soft wind that blesses the night. it's romantic — if you weren't stuck with him. you're annoyed that he takes action without — at the very least — talking to you.

and al-haitham? he's lost. physically, he looks bored. mentally, he's panicking. curse his mother for summoning such a breathtaking woman, really.

"you've been blatantly ignoring me ever since the universe was shaped," frowning at him, you poke at his chest. you'll do whatever it takes to show him your annoyance.

"have you any idea how sickening that is —"

huh — why is he — what's going on?

you, him, and a kiss. al-haitham's hand moves from its position at your lower back to your waist. one hand busies itself playing with your gown's jewellry as the other focuses on resting on your cheek. not that you are complaining — actually it's quite the opposite; contrast to your hatred for his attitude, you do not mind getting physical with him. he is, indeed, quite the appetizer.

pulling away, al-haitham's eyes remain in yours. it takes him a few seconds to recollect himself before speaking, "my apologies."

at times like these do you wish adila was here. you're completely out of any sensible answers. fiddling with your fingers, you decide it's to keep it short, "it's fine — but were you not the one who said "no physical contact" prince?"

fuck, forgot about that, cursing himself in his mind, he refutes with a "smart" reply, "think less of it. simply consider it practice for our wedding."

was he not — okay.

"you're a funny guy, you know," succeeding in preventing yourself from malfunctioning, you continue, "a horrible liar too."

"refrain from such assumptions."

"no!"

───

making your grand entrance at the banquet's room, you immediately shuffle away from al-haitham. the buffet calls for you — he can practice patience. sneaking to the buffet, you mentally drool at the sight of different desserts gracing your view. so many to eat, so many to taste. if the goddess permits, you can plan a robbery with adila and send her to your chamber with hidden desserts.

"what're you doing, y/n?" another familiar voice speaks, slightly scaring you in the process.

"who — oh, kaveh!" you beam at him. you've noticed that every time kaveh comes into the picture, your energy immediately restores. perhaps it's just his default power.

engulfing you in a small hug, kaveh snickers at the hidden yet loaded plate that sits behind you. using the clues, he can tell you were having the time of your life.

"you look magnificent," he compliments, completely taken by your appearance.

"you, too! your suit makes you look quite appealing, if i must," returning his compliment, you can feel yourself get giddy over his words. unlike al-haitham, kaveh's somewhat a sweet-talker. but what he lacks is what al-haitham has: boldness. contrast to him, al-haitham's quick with his actions. he acts on command but lacks to verbal confidence.

kaveh clears his throat. as sumeru's marquess, he mustn't show any signs of blushing — especially when he can feel al-haitham's stare digging two holes behind his skull. kaveh, more than anyone, knows sumeru's prince. having grown up with him, he can tell that the intense one-sided eye contact either means 1) get away from her or 2) find yourself here now. and to kaveh, he believes both options hold the same amount of truth.

"well, i have to go before he shoves me to the underworld. i'll see you around, y/n," saying his goodbyes, kaveh hurriedly shuffles through the crowd.

unable to speak due to the cupcake occupying your mouth, you wave at his running figure before returning your attention to the food.

looks like it's going to be a rather rough time being stuck between a prince and a marquess.

[whumpshaped]

would you ever write a vampire with catholic beliefs? Who is struggling between his beliefs and his reality? 🍬🧠🍬🧠 I forgot my zip mouth emoji...Idk where it is...

so originally i wanted to write about isabella, but well, she's not a he, nor is she catholic (she's lutheran). so have this sad wet cat

tw vampire whumper/whumpee? i'm not sure what this man is- death, murder, religious themes, religious trauma, religious guilt, suicidal ideation, (self-imposed) starvation, self-blame, memory loss, abandonment, lady whumpee, noncon drugging, dehumanisation (of self)

It was cold when he awoke. The winter breeze bit into his twitchy body and made him curl up for a moment, but it paled in comparison to the ruthless hunger gnawing at his stomach.

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar scene, but recognising the terrain wasn't necessary for him to follow the scent of blood. It was all he could focus on, torn clothes and the cold long forgotten as he struggled to his feet and began following the trail.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He wanted it. He needed it. He had to have it, no matter the cost.

He didn't have the presence of mind to stop and wonder about his heart that was no longer beating, nor the speed with which he was pursuing his prey. He didn't think about the fact that he could see all too well despite it being the middle of the night, he didn't even consider that normal people didn't usually hunt. Not in a town. Not like this.

He pounced on the man without hesitation. He pumped the body full of venom so he would be silent, then drank and drank and drank until–

"Holy shit," someone said quietly. Then, louder this time, "Holy shit. Vampire! There's a fucking vampire–"

He bolted before he could've heard the end of it. He didn't think about the man he left behind. He ran back to where he'd woken up, collapsing to the ground as soon as he got there. He felt exhausted, he felt... dead. More alive now that he'd had something to drink, but...

He lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest. Nothing. Of course, this should've been more than expected, having drained that poor man dry–

Oh dear. He'd likely killed someone.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't remember a thing from before waking up, but the past few minutes had already thrown him for a loop on their own. He was dead, a dead man walking, and he'd just killed someone. And another human had even seen him do it!

He tried to take a couple of deep breaths to ground himself, but the taste of blood in his mouth negated any effort he put in. He was a monster. He was a murderer. He was going to be hunted and killed.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The scent of blood clung to him like a ghost, and he desperately wished for a warm shower to get it off. Alas, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a discarded coat on the ground. He should at least look through that to see whether he could piece together who he used to be. He didn't even... remember his own name.

And where was his sire? The bloodthirsty monster who turned him into one of them? Had they not even waited for him to wake up? Had they not cared at all about the life they'd ruined?

Touching the coat brought back memories of his last minutes, the way the vampire had slipped it off his shoulders and threw it on the ground. He remembered being dazed and helpless, baring his neck for the demon to feast on. At the time, it seemed like the most important thing in the world, to be able to feed them.

He looked through the pockets and found an ID for Jude Flanagan, born 1998. The picture was... him? He gingerly touched his own face, as though his fingers could ever work as well as a mirror. Was he really the Jude on the card?

He was. His fingers brushed against the cloth of an eye patch, the same one the man on the photo was wearing. More memories flooded his mind: his mother calling him, his father yelling for him from downstairs, the priest scolding him.

Priest?

He found a Bible in the next pocket, a small one. He dropped it out of fear, afraid it would burn his hands like silver, but nothing happened. The book seemed harmless, apart from the implications it brought along.

He used to be a man of God.

"N-no... No, no, no, no. You were supposed to protect me," he choked out, picking up the Bible again. "How could You let this happen? How– how could a vampire– why would You let a vampire..."

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

"I killed a man!" Jude cried. "First You deny me Heaven, and now– the temptation was all I had! I couldn't control it! I didn't see a way out!"

He curled up with the book in hand, sobbing like he was the one to be pitied. Like he was the victim and not the murderer, like he was deserving of any kind of sympathy.

"I didn't see a way," he repeated brokenly. "I didn't... I don't... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Please, forgive me..."

-

Jude never quite managed to get used to the hunger. Nor the isolation.

The abandoned shack he'd found was good for shelter, but it was not a luxury abode, and the little money he managed to scrape together every other evening while disguising himself as a human beggar was not enough for much. The coat had become his most prized possession along with all the treasures it held: the Bible, the rosary, and the wallet with all the documents.

He bought new things, too. Some soap so he could wash himself well enough in the river, some candles to combat the suffocating darkness. Every little thing was precious, bought with the goodwill of humans who didn't care to look too hard at the creature they were giving their change to.

Jude could've charmed them. He could've tricked someone into inviting him inside, and he could've enthralled them to let him stay. He could've lived a more comfortable life, with a soft bed, a clean bathtub, and a belly always full of the warmest blood.

But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to take any of it.

He'd thought about getting a stake and finishing the job his sire had started. He wanted so badly to be put out of his misery, to be greeted with kindness and compassion at the pearly gates before being allowed in — but he didn't deserve that either. His life wasn't his own to take, and nor was his unlife. God would make that decision when He saw fit, and until then, Jude could do nothing but atone.

He took no blood from humans. He lived on the blood of pests and small woodland creatures; roadkill sometimes, when he got lucky. He hated killing anything, but at least it was allowed, or... or he hoped it was.

Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.

God had given the creatures to the humans, not the wretched monsters of the night. He could only hope and pray that his past humanity was something to be taken into consideration.

He was kneeling on the floor with his elbows resting on his borrowed bed, hands clasped together in prayer, when he caught the scent. A human. Was this the night he would finally be purged from the Earth? Or was the human the real owner of his makeshift home?

His stomach rumbled as the scent got stronger and stronger. His mouth was watering despite his best efforts to keep a level head, and he buried his face in the covers, trying to tune it out.

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

Jude was shaking by the time the human reached the door of his temporary dwelling. He stayed on his knees and listened to the sounds of the lock being picked, preparing himself for the blessing that would be his permanent death.

If only he hadn't been starving. If only the human hadn't smelled so good.

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.

He lunged like a wild animal as soon as the door was pushed open. His fangs sank into the poor woman's neck easily, and she let out a groan as the venom took hold. Blood, so much blood, fresh, delicious, rich, so much better than the squirrels and rats–

Jude pulled back with a start, eyes wide with terror. No, no, no, not again, not again. He wiped his mouth and even his tongue with the back of his hand, trying to get rid of the proof of his sin. The woman was still alive, letting out soft sounds of satisfaction as she lay there.

Her neck was still bleeding. He ought to close the wounds.

Jude licked his lips, then took a step backwards. No, he wouldn't lick her. Hadn't he done enough damage? He could– he could find something to bandage her with–

In truth, he didn't trust himself. There was no telling whether he'd have the self-control to stop for a second time, were he to get that close to her neck again.

"Don't you want a little more?" she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I'm still bleeding so much... You don't want to waste it, do you?"

There was a mask covering the lower half of her face, and judging from that and the all black attire, she must've been a hunter. This woman could've staked him. God had given him an out, and he'd let himself be blinded by his selfish hunger.

"I'm s-sorry," Jude stammered, quickly rummaging through all his belogings to find at least a band-aid. "I'll, I'll help you– I'll patch you up, I just need a moment–"

"Can't you lick the wounds closed?" She got to her feet and ventured further into the cabin, grabbing onto the back of his shirt to steady herself and making him flinch. "There's so much blood... Is the flavour not to your liking?"

Jude spun around, and found himself trapped between the wall and his victim. She pulled her mask down and gave him a smile, eyes sparkling with unabashed want.

"You don't want this," he choked out. The smell was so strong. She was so close. She was offering, if only because of the venom, but she was offering nonetheless.

"Oh, but I do. I want it so badly."

Jude stopped breathing entirely, closing his eyes for a moment to think. "What's your name?"

"Pia Gravenor, Master."

"D-don't call me that, please."

"I can call you whatever you want, sir, if you just spare me one more bite..." Jude's eyes snapped open when she grabbed his hand and guided it to the wound, pressing his fingers against her skin slick with blood. "The bleeding isn't stopping anyway..."

He swallowed hard, and her smile widened. She was so desperate for just a bit more venom. He could give that to her, and close the wound after. He could take just one more sip. Just one more.

He was leaning in before he could fully process that he was doing it, lapping up the spilled blood trickling down her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and kept him there, murmuring soft reassurances and pleas for him to bite again.

Please, forgive me. I'm so hungry. I've been hungry for so long.

Let me have a full meal, just this once.

~

link

[dgaftilwedie]

SCOTT PILGRIM TAKES OFF WAS FUCKING NUTS AND I WANNA BE ANNOYING N TALK ABT IT BC I LOVE SCOTT PILGRIM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT OBVS XD

OKAY SO??? THE FACT THAT THEY LITERALLY SET UP THE FIRST EPISODE LIKE IT WAS GONNA BE JUST LIKE THE COMICS N THEN SCOTT "DIED"????? literally had me questioning fucking EVERYTHING i was watching that episode with the most quizzical look on my face?? also the fucking funeral scene was hysterical bc the way rammy n knives were abt to have a verbal face-off n envy's bitchass shows up n steals the whole show?? i have such a love-hate relationship with her.............

also lucas lee is fucking adorable and i love him :33 rammy becoming friends with roxie n making up with her after everything was something i really needed to see. cuz like for as much as i loved the movie n the comics, i feel like they could've done their relationship so much better. like seeing ramona take responsibility for hurting roxie made me so happy and im so glad they got a redemption arc.

ROXIE IS LITERALLY ME BTW??? her whole interaction with ramona n kim at the end kf the episodr was so silly N THE LEG LOCK HELLO????? also the way she walked off singing the HAMSTER DANXE SONG I LOCE HER

the toddlace thing was also so unexpected but holy shit?? i loved it. bi todd has been my fav headcanon for YEARSSSS and seeing jt happen right in front of my eyes?? WATCHING THAT EPISODE WAS SUCH A TRIP THO I CAN'T STOP QUOTING WALLACE'S "LINES? TRAILER?" BITS BC THEY'RE SO FUNNY

uhmmmmm what elseeeee OH YEAH young neil is a fucking goof n i love him, i really like that gideon (gordon ig 🙄) became like this not evil guy who just lived with julie n kicked it with lucas. the old scott stuff kinds fricked with me but i think it's cool that he became chill with the twins

LMFAOAO THAT SCENE AT THE END WHERE SCOTT'S TRTING TK FIGJRE OIT WHY HE CAN'T KISS RAMONA N HE TRIES TO FIGHT THE TWINS AND THEY'RE LIKE "our robot says we become bros in the future, so we have no intention of fighting you. see ya bro ;)" WAS SO SILLY

obligatory matt mention i love him he's so dumb i love that he took over gideon's entire empire only to turn around and change his mind :3 glad he got his broadway moment....... silly pirate headass

knives n stephen becoming the best brother/sister duo ever was so dope bc like. knives had someone to look up to n make music with n they had a lot of chemistry both personality wise n musically wise

my only critique is that i wanted more lisa ;^; i know she probably would've been out of place but it would've been cool if kim mentioned her to ramona and ramona interviewed her just like she did with her exes yknow :P she was one of my fav characters in the comics n she wasn't in the movie AT ALL so i was hoping she would've appeared in the anime, but alas 😞😞 i also kinda wanted to see where kim's love life went...... i know she's not the focus but she had undeniable chemistry with knives and that moment with roxie... i love that she's totally very queer and open to the idea of experimenting with girls n i wish that would've been expanded upon like how todd n wallace had their moment :33

other than that, i LOVED the anime. i love how we got baited into thinking it was just like the comics and i love what was done with it :3 it was such a goofy show and a lot of it was so jaw-droppingly surprising that i couldn't believe it, but it also had some really sweet, serious, n heart-warming moments which is something i really appreciate in a show :33 it's hard to keep watching something for so long but i binged the show in one day xD i'd give it a solid 9/10 (deducting points just for the sake of what i think was missing and how i don't recommend it for like "beginner" fans)

oki rant concluded!!!!!!! ^___^ there's so much more i wanna say but this is already sooooooo long as it is xD

[xenrui]

My One and Only

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader (Fluff)

Warning: None (unless there is, pls let me know)

Summary: You heard a few people talking about your relationship. Causing a rift in your mind, but your gf is there to soothe you

A/n: Based on real events ;)

~~

Your head was buried on your girlfriend's pillow. Quiet muffled sobs could be heard around the room, tears soaking the pillow.

Upon hearing the front door open, you quickly sit up, wiping the tears from your face. Quickly getting your phone to look as if you were busy on it, and wasn't just crying a few seconds earlier.

"Darling, I'm home" The Principle of the School you worked at called. Although you didn't respond, because you knew your voice would crack and she'd notice something wrong the moment she hears your broken voice.

"Darling?" She called out once again, but got no answer. Panic starts to rise in Larissa's chest and her mind goes to all the possible things that could've caused the silence that she got as a response.

She shakes her head lightly to remove those unwanted thoughts, placing her bag and coat on the nearest chair. Then going around the house to try and find you.

Once reaching the bedroom, she opens the door. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as she finds you safe and sound, but confusion clouds her face as she questioned why you didn't answer her. Surely you could've heard her? This isn't normal of you to do

"My Love, why didn't you respond to me?"

"Just tired.." You tried your best to not let any tears come out of your eyes, focusing on the phone not wanting your lover to grow worried. But alas, your voice betrays you as the tone came out the way you didn't want it to go out, and it cracking a bit. To this, Larissa quickly goes to sit next to you and holds your chin to have you look into her eyes.

"My Love, what's wrong? Did something happen at work? Is someone harassing you? Tell me" Larissa's voice covered in worry as she scans your face for whatever caused this tone in your voice.

Gloss started to form in your eyes and Larissa's eyes widens, hugging you tightly, not wanting to force you to tell her something she wasn't sure you were comfortable sharing.

"shh.. It's okay, I'm here. If you don't want to tell me, it's perfectly fine" She caressed your hair, but the tears were already running wild. Your cheeks started to become stained with tears and some even fell on her blouse.

You sniffled as you try to find your words. "I overheard them talking about me and you.." You sobbed, causing Larissa's heart to ache at the state her lover was in.

"what were they talking about?" She asked, not prying on who it was.

"they said that I don't deserve you and that.. that you should find someone better." To this, your sobbed harder. Just being reminded of what you heard and saw earlier making your brain go over board.

Larissa was shocked, she knew Y/n hasn't been in town for a while so she was sure it was from work. She whispered sweet nothings to you trying to calm you

"Do you.. do you still like me?"

Larissa, to say the least, was surprised at the sudden question as it came out of nowhere

"Why yes of course My dear, I still and will always love you dearly." She states, her tone being sharp as to bring her point across

It was silent for a few minutes before you spoke again, with another question

"But what if you found someone better?"

"And what exactly is better?"

"you know.. Someone mentally stable, and smarter, pret-"

"Y/n. No one is better than you, you are the best I've ever had and you always will be the best. And if it isn't you then no one else will be able to replace you. I don't care what other people think and you shouldn't too, the only thing you should care about is what you think." Then placing a soft kiss on your lips

"..But why?"

"why?"

"why do you like me?" You finally asked the question that has been lingering your mind for a while, she was too good to be true for someone like you.

"Because, you're you. Your smile is the most adorable thing in the world, your laugh is like music to my ears, your face is the most prettiest thing I've ever seen, your wits, your Personality, the way you can comfort me whenever times are tough, how you get shy and flustered whenever we make eye contact accidentally, and so on. I can't even imagine living a life without you."

She continues. "You don't have to ask those questions anymore because I already have what I want, and she's right in front of me. And if you still don't believe me, then I promise to show you until you reach the end of the altar with an 'I do' and whatever happrns after." She kisses your forehead as she strokes your back with one hand and holds your hand with the other

"I love you Y/n L/n" she says, as she backs away a bit to see your face, now smiling with tear stained cheeks.

"I love you too, Larissa Weems"

[ruden404]

Some of my thoughts of the last episode of secret life :)

You really can't know for sure if being lonely is good or bad in life series. Lizzie died first. Scar won. The two loneliest people; who tried to team up, but alas of Secret Keepers HATING Scar's ass; ended up in the complete opposite of places. That is wild.

Also. Did you notice at the very end both of the duos had one winner. Scott and Gem, Pearl and Scar.

So crazy that what could've been a wholesome and heart wrenching moment, with Pearl giving herself away to Scar to win, Scar just called that "lame". He just did that. He didn't think he deserved her life and he wanted to fight alongside her. Well, Scar didn't really care with who he was fighting alongside of. Respect and understand that.

He almost died at the end, by that zombie. Kinda thought he would just... let it kill him. And then he got away with half a heart.

I was stimming so hard when I finished his video. Holy fuck. My boy, my blorbo, finally won :D

[stromuprisahat]

Whenever I saw The Darkling falling head over heels for Alina,it often was too much for my suspension of disbelief. Alina was way too obnoxious,bland and stupid for me to buy said obcession - even while taking his mommy issues and loneliness into consideration. Like,what did he see in her? I consider it even worse than Alina's fixation on Mal,because at least there was a history there.

He's been lonely for way too long.

We were counting his age, and got to cca. thousand years... of hatred, loss and failure of various levels...

Even spending half of it thinking "One day. One day my soulmate will appear. They'll be equally immortal and powerful and they'll help me to change the world into accepting place for our kind." would make him less objective.

When he meets Alina, sure, she's immature, but she's SO much younger and he's never been good in understanding children (and teens). He's never had childhood, at thirteen he was expected to act like an adult. She's seventeen. She's been in the Army! Who would've expected ~that~?!

Once she shows her true colours, he's far too gone for the idea of her, for her potential, for the person she could ONE DAY become (and there are moments, where even reader sees the glimpses, alas... *insert LB with her dumb stick and Grisha-purging lobotomy*)...

He saw her prejudice, but he heard her snark. He learnt about her fixation on past, but he witnessed her openness already. He found her amusing, surprising in positive sense, refreshing in her utter disregard of his semi-legendary status... until she proved TOO stubborn in the worst aspects possible, too trusting... when his mother decided to interfere, too selfish and uncaring and worse, but it was too late for his melting heart.

He saw what he could have, what she could be (and she could've been glorious)...

He never gave up on making Grisha safe, how could he give up on his one true equal?!

[cassandraevans]

Some other grievances I've had with the 911 show. I just wanna get these out and be done with it. I wanna just sit back and love the characters without caring about the writer's choices but alas. Hopefully this will be all of my rants about this show and I'll be able to post only what I love about it from here on.

I know I've been very critical of Eddie so far and angrily so. But as much as I'm criticising him for being a very bad and careless romantic partner, i really really hope that when it comes time for him to get together with Buck, he will have learned from all his mistakes and matured and learned about his shortcomings and where they stem from and I hope he'd have worked on himself enough to not put Buck through any of the bullshit he put every one of his romantic partners through. Buck doesn't deserve that.

While I absolutely love Buck, I also have a problem with how he just kissed Lucy while being in a relationship with Taylor where everything was finally looking good, I knew from the moment Lucy was introduced and the way Buck looked at her, and the writers make him cheat on Taylor and ask her to move in as a way to deflect from that. Yes he tells her later, yes she forgives him and I was hoping they would last a little longer but no, the writers just kept her around long enough to make her do something bad to break them up, so then it wouldn't be his fault.

It's like the writers don't think cheating is that bad at all, you cheat? No worries, all forgiven, your partners love you too much to leave you over that. The question is, do the ones that cheat love their partners the same? Because when Hen cheated on Karen I was so pissed, like the lady did not deserve that, I'm glad they didn't break apart over it but still it was not a simple mistake. And then Buck cheated on Taylor and then the writers made her use a private conversation for a news story and stab Buck in the back. Like if they were going to break them up they should've done so when he cheated or let them remain together, I hate it that the writers made Taylor forgive Buck for CHEATING but Buck breaks with her over the first mistake she made in the relationship, I'm not defending Taylor's choices and I was angry at her for it, she could've gotten Buck in so much trouble which he didn't deserve but I hate it that she made one wrong choice and the relationship is over while Buck cheated and he was fine. I hate the writers for trying to dismiss cheating as no big deal.

I was also mad at Hen being all pissy when Karen was grieving the loss of her embryos and Hen had to feed Denny, and do some other things around the house that Karen usually does, I get it, Hen comes home late from her draining shift and it hurts to see that nothing's done but the that's the least you can do for your wife, not to mention one who left her opportunity to become an astronaut to raise a child with you as a family, when she's grieving the loss of your potential children, but Hen keeps complaining and gets mad at Karen for grieving instead of performing her motherly duties, like I feel like the writers of this show have a problem with women taking some time to themselves, whether it be to grieve, or go take care of your dying mother and then grieve, or having postpartum depression, the women are the villain for wanting, no, needing a break, mostly because of things they had no control over, if they deviate from their motherly/spousal duties because of any tragedy, they're not the victim but their partners are, [(I know chim tried his best and didn't deserve to suffer, but neither did Maddie. Chim's storyline after Maddie left literally made me bawl and I'm so glad they're back together, they need each other, I wish they never broke up) so I'm mostly talking about Eddie and Hen here.]

The writers just had to make it all about Hen, when Karen was grieving and staying in bed, all Hen did was complain about HAVING to do the things Karen usually does, Hen looked at it all like an inconvenience. The writers then made Hen accidentally kill that cello girl and justifiably Hen was wrecked with guilt and fear and didn't know how to handle it, can't blame Hen at all for the way she took it but I can blame the writers. Karen put aside all her heartbreak abd grief from her lost embryos and stood by Hen throughout, and I love her for it, Hen deserved Karen to be by her side at such a time, but just before that incident when Karen needed Hen to stand by her and support her emotionally, all Hen did was be impatient and basically tell Karen to wrap it up. The writers made a new emergency tragedy to make it about Hen and tossed aside Karen's grief and made her never talk about it again like it never happened. I hate the writers for that.

Again as a note, these are my opinions about the show, you're free to have your own opinions. I'm just trying to vent out my frustrations with the show on my blog. Don't come at me with your angry anonymous asks and justifications because at the end of the day it's a fictional show. I haven't spoken about what I love on this show yet that doesn't mean i hate it, I'm frustrated by some of the characters' choices because I love them. Viewers will have vastly different opinions about it, to each their own.

Do recommend similar shows to watch while we all wait for new episodes. Lone star is on my watchlist next.

[distant-velleity]

Stay With Me

Summary: Santiago and Chrysos have a lot of feelings to work out. Spoiler alert: they still don't confess. Word count: 2.6k Warnings: major character not-actually death (this is my Boxing Day gift to you all) A/N: I wish I could've put Major Character Death as a real warning. Alas... such is life. Anyway :) I'm super done with writing this, I don't wanna keep going insane, I'm just gonna post it as is. It's actually pretty tame for angst on my part. Enjoy!! Tagging: @thehollowwriter (finn mention!!!) @kitwasnothere and @nahelenia as my top 3 murderers <3

-

When Santiago comes to, groggy and lightheaded, he’s greeted by the watered-down sun filtering through the seas of Octavinelle above him. Bird and sky separated only by the glass and several gallons of water, his limbs sure feeling as distant and heavy as the ocean.

Ah, he thinks, ever-intelligently. How did I end up here…?

He can’t quite remember. All of his recent memories are escaping like soap bubbles in the wind. 

While he racks his brain trying to figure it out, someone approaches and kneels next to him. A single glance at the person’s blonde hair and red eyes tells Santiago all he needs to know.

“Sorry about that,” Chrysos says, monotone as always. It’s hard to tell if the merman really is sorry or not. “I usually don’t get normal customers involved when 86’ing nuisances.” 

Santiago can’t help the smirk that comes to him all too easily. “Are you sure I wasn’t the nuisance?”

“Hard to say,” replies Chrysos with an amused huff. He stands back up and offers Santiago a hand, to help him stand up.

Something about it feels off—maybe because Chrysos’ gaze seems so benevolent, that he seems so unbothered about gently helping someone he’d normally be too embarrassed or proud to. Still, Santiago laughs and sits up. “Tight-lipped as always,” he comments, and reaches for Chrysos’ hand, pulling himself up to stand.

They hold hands for a moment longer than they need to. It feels, if he dares to admit it just to himself, nice—

“Hold it.”

As if he’s been burned, Santiago jumps away from Chrysos at the sound of Azul’s voice. Approaching them are the Octavinelle housewarden and his entourage of three. 

Santiago notices, with a distant sense of dread, that he’s never seen Chrysos look so furious and disappointed upon seeing his upperclassmen. 

“Get back, Parrotfish,” Floyd warns. “That’s not the right Lionfishie to be getting all buddy-buddy with.”

How odd. Why would Floyd, of all people, go out of his way to warn him?

Santiago glances at the Octaquartet, then at Chrysos, whose expression is steadily darkening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chrysos says coldly.

“My, my.” Jade conceals his magic pen, clasped tightly in one hand, beneath the other. “There’s no need for that frigid tone. I’m sure we’re already on the same page.”

“No?” interjects Santiago. “No, we’re not. What’s going on?”

Finn looks him dead in the eye and then cocks his head towards Chrysos. 

Santiago turns back around, and everything changes. 

Where Chrysos was just standing as normal, there’s suddenly inky shadows surrounding the Octavinelle freshman. His eyes flare red-and-yellow as the ink (no, blot) viciously wraps around him in strands to form a cocoon of sorts. Santiago staggers back when the cocoon contracts, a dark purple haze spreading throughout the area and blocking out the sun. The whole dorm is plunged into a deep-sea darkness.

It’s Chrysos and a towering Phantom now, him hovering a little too close to the glowing pendant around its neck for anyone’s liking. 

“We’re running out of time,” Azul says grimly. “Our fight from earlier didn’t do anything—”

“I’ll help fight him if it cuts down on time,” Santiago immediately declares without missing a beat. “If it saves his life.”

“Of course you would. Well, stay sharp, then.”

And Santiago tries, of course—

—but it doesn’t stop him from misfiring at some point, trying to hit the Phantom, only for it to grab Chrysos with a sickening crunch of his ribs and hold him up in range of the destructive fire spell. Santiago can only watch as it strikes Chrysos indiscriminately. 

The resulting wail of agony is bloodcurdling and unbearable, but not nearly as much as when the Phantom moves a thrashing Chrysos closer and closer to its chest, a gaping hole like a beast’s maw forming there, the pendant dangling right before it.

“Wait—”

It’s what all the teachers warn about when they discuss the occurrences of Overblots. Defeat the Phantom, and the victim will come out unscathed. Take too long to destroy it, and the Phantom will… will…

Chrysos is brought to that gap, drawn in like an object near a black hole.

Santiago can’t breathe. 

He can’t bring himself to close his eyes either. Even when a sinking feeling blossoms in his stomach, gripping him with all the force of a predator’s claws.

The ‘hand’ of the Phantom squeezes, another crunch of body parts that shouldn’t be breaking—

“Don’t you dare take him—let him go—” Santiago begs, but it’s useless.

The Phantom simply. Tucks Chrysos away in itself like nothing. Ignorant to his furious, fearful screams. 

The hole in its chest closes over with viscous blot. 

Santiago can’t look away.

“Ah… Ahh…”

He 

can’t 

look 

away—

“AAAAAHHHHH—!!!”

A guttural scream tears its way out into the open from Santiago’s raw throat, burning and hoarse and painful. Still begging for a life not his own, his eyes fly open as he sits up in a grieving frenzy. “Chrysos, please, don’t leave—!”

“I’m right here,” calls a familiar voice from beside him, miraculously free of its terrifying Overblot overlay. It’s melodious and soothing, easy on the ears, just when he thought he’d never hear it again.

“You—” Santiago’s hand shoots out without thinking, clamping down on Chrysos’ where it was gripping the edge of his blanket.

…his… blanket…?

Only then does Santiago realize, half-delirious, that he’s on a bed in the school infirmary. He’s not in Octavinelle, he’s not surrounded by torrents and mists of pure blot. The air is clear here, and the sun is shining bright and pleasant through the windows like it does through the forest canopy back home. Although his lungs still burn a little, everything’s okay.

And, looking at the boy sitting right next to him—Chrysos is okay. He’s alive. 

In silent awe, Santiago squeezes the cold, ungloved hand in his a little more tightly.

He’s alive.

Chrysos bites his lower lip and pointedly avoids looking at their joined hands. “What a nightmare you were having,” he says, false indifference in his tone. “Screaming like that… You’re lucky the nurse isn’t in right now.”

Santiago blinks. “A nightmare?” 

“Yes. You were trembling and crying out in your sleep. If it weren’t the first time you’d shown any signs of movement in days…” Chrysos trails off, brows pressed tightly together.

Putting aside the fact that it was all little more than a bad dream, thank the Great Seven— “What do you mean, in days?” Santiago echoes disbelievingly. “I don’t even know how I ended up here, and you’re telling me I’ve been unconscious for days? Hello? Way to hit me with the double whammy.”

It was an attempt to lighten the mood for both their sakes, but when the corners of Chrysos’ mouth twitch downwards and his lips thin in a stressed frown, Santiago immediately realizes he’s said something either really wrong or really stupid. Or both.

“You don’t remember what happened at the SDC?” asks Chrysos. “Weren’t you there? You know, for Schoenheit’s Overblot, like Yu said…”

Santiago’s eyes widen. He only slightly loosens his grip on Chrysos’ hand a second later. “Oh, you mean—”

Toxic purple mist surrounded them, reeking of a sickly sweet concoction. 

More saccharine still was the smile on Vil’s face. Even as blot dripped down his snow-white face from beneath his elaborate crown, he still found it in himself to pursue being the fairest one of all. 

Showing simultaneously all and nothing of his burning jealousy and bitterness.

“—yeah, I remember,” he continues, letting out a laugh with no real humor in it. “I even remember getting a faceful of poisonous mist and then passing out right after the awards ceremony ‘cause I tried to act tough.”

“At least your brain wasn’t permanently damaged. That’s good,” remarks Chrysos with a half-hearted smirk. “Maybe you’ll be out of here sooner than I thought.”

No, there was definitely a screw knocked loose if Santiago was imagining Chrysos Overblotting in place of Vil… much less sobbing desperately at the possibility of his death…

…Santiago swallows, mouth suddenly dry for no good reason. “Uh-huh? I don’t know, I still feel a little off.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Chrysos suddenly leans forward, hand subconsciously moving at lightning speed to place itself on Santiago’s wrist. “You still feel off? You’re not messing with me, are you?” he asks, voice demanding with a hint of… something else. “I swear, I will have the nurse over here faster than—”

“Whoa! Don’t get your boxers in a twist, jeez!” Santiago exclaims, and Chrysos halts immediately. “Am I still dreaming? Did you just gaslight me into thinking this is reality? I mean, seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worried about me.”

“I’m not worried,” retorts Chrysos, although the watery look in his eyes as he tries to meet Santiago’s gaze says otherwise. And where there would normally be an underlying bite to his tone, it’s totally absent. “Isn’t it fair to ask questions when a certain someone has been unconscious for days?”

Nevermind, I’m definitely not still dreaming.

“So you’ve been worried about me. Got it.” Hopefully that isn’t giddiness bubbling up in his chest, despite—or because of—the way Chrysos sputters out another denial, because it sure as hell is conflicting with his sense of spite. “Why don’t you save any of it for yourself? You’ve been a resident here way more often than me.”

Chrysos stiffens, before puffing up a little; chin lifted indignantly and gaze judgmental. Santiago wouldn’t have it any other way.) “I was conscious all those times and did not actively inhale dangerous toxins made by a very powerful mage.”

Seriously, this guy… Santiago shakes his head. “Dude, I heard you nearly turned yourself into sand that one time, also because of ‘a very powerful mage.’ I saw for myself when you could’ve died fighting Jamil or Overblotted at the same time and had to stay in the infirmary for a very lengthy check-up. You know, you—” 

died in my dream because of me and I would never forgive you or myself for that matter if that actually happened,

“—are a grade-A idiot getting hung up on the wrong details,” he decides to say instead. “One of these days, you’re gonna end up back here and I’m gonna get to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Hmph.” Chrysos scoffs and turns his head away. To anyone else, it might look aristocratically prim and stuck-up in the way his hair tosses slightly. “You wouldn’t come running to my bedside crying out my name, then?”

It’s Santiago’s turn to stiffen, feeling called out in too many ways. “...fuck, I forgot you heard me talking in my sleep. Well…” He pauses, searching for an appropriate response. “I would if you wanted me to.” He doesn’t have time to appreciate how smooth that was on his part before his traitorous mouth moves faster than his brain, going right ahead and saying, “And I’d still do it even if you didn’t want me to, ‘cause if you die on me I’m absolutely going to—”

Crap! Backtrack, backtrack, backtrack!

He shuts up immediately before he can incriminate himself any more, pursing his lips and watching carefully for signs of a negative reaction.

Almost too neutrally, Chrysos glances back over at him from the corner of his eyes, the piercing look in his irises only partially hidden by his lashes. “...You really would be that concerned?”

“Maybe,” Santiago answers, pasting on a nervous smile.

“‘Maybe’ isn’t an acceptable response.” Chrysos looks him straight in the eyes. His hand feels warmer, for some reason. “Don’t be shy. What would you do?”

Santiago huffs defensively. “Fancy that, you telling me to not be shy—”

“Santiago. Stop messing with me already.”

That tone, desperate and curious and impatient all in one, is singlehandedly more commanding than any other order Santiago has ever gotten in his life. 

The beastman slumps back against the headrest, being sapped of his will to argue. He already knows it’s pointless. It’s kind of hard to beat around the bush when the bush has already slapped you in the face with a very thorny nightmare. “Miss you, probably. I mean, I dreamed about it, but…” 

He thinks about the way he screamed and forced himself to wake up because that scenario had seemed so real. Probably can only begin to describe whatever he was feeling.

“...Well. You’re the only person who’s ever gotten me, y’know, so don’t die because you couldn’t help yourself. I don’t wanna have to cope with my dream becoming reality. Please,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh.” Chrysos stares blankly at him for a moment, then at their hands. “...oh,” he repeats, in a much quieter ‘sudden realization’ sort of voice.

Santiago squints at him. “Dude. What kind of guy tells his buddy to open up about his feelings in such a pleading tone and then is surprised when he actually opens up about it?”

“The one right next to you who was expecting his buddy to dodge the question again.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Santiago replies, rolls his eyes. 

Chrysos worries his bottom lips, gaze shifting to the side suspiciously quickly. It looks like he’s considering something.

“...Are you taking that literally?” Santiago wants Chrysos to take what he said literally, to be honest, but that’s beside the point.

“Because you’re so dense, yes,” Chrysos snaps back. His free hand comes up to tug one of his curls closer to his face in that bashful way he always does. “If you died like you could’ve from Schoenheit’s poison, I would march right over to the afterlife and drag you back into the world of the living. Then I’d beat you into the ground for hurting me like that. Your ass is not leaving this life until I say it’s okay to. Does that make enough sense to you?” 

“I don’t remember the story of the musician and his muse being this violent,” mutters Santiago, feeling incredibly touched despite the brash nature of that admission. Or maybe because of it.

Chrysos’s cheeks flush as red as the ends of his hair. “You asked. I delivered. Look who’s being a hypocrite now.”

“Touché.” 

It feels like something between them has… changed, when they both fall silent for lack of things to say. Not in the terrifying way Santiago’s surroundings shifted during his nightmare, but a change for the better. Like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders, making the silence bearable.

“I… think I may need to go,” Chrysos says, a dusting of pink still on his face. Maybe because he’s spoken too much, or at least by his own standards. He stands up, letting go of Santiago’s hand. “Culture fair and. All that. You know how it is. I’ll see you—”

“Wait a minute.”

Santiago reaches out and, instead of just grabbing, intertwines their fingers. His longer ones settle perfectly between Chrysos’ knuckles as if they were meant to be there. 

The merman goes still. 

“Hypothetically,” Santiago begins, “if I asked you to stay a little longer—would you say yes?”

Chrysos’ mouth opens, freezes, and then closes. When he next speaks, it’s slow and cautious, like he’s testing out how the words actually feel. Testing the waters. “In this hypothetical scenario… I could be convinced to stay. Possibly.”

“Cool. So don’t run away just yet. Stay here with me.”

They make eye contact.

“...How persuasive. Well—” Chrysos sighs and sits back down, before offering Santiago a small smirk. Barely noticeable, but there. “It seems like I’ve actually got plenty of time to spare all of a sudden.”

Santiago can’t help but smile too.