#this is...a chunk of a chapter?? over 4k???

[qserasera]

title: Remontoire pairing: magistrate astarion/tav, astarion/original female character, past!vampire ascendant astarion/tav rating: M

chapter: 3/??? warnings: canon-typical violence, other warnings in author’s notes summary: His colors coordinate well with hers—Ancunin colors.

An intentional choice, he thinks, by Grandmother—a united front.

"Into the fray, then," Astarion says. He extends his hand. "Let us hope for the best that some entertainment will happen—the worst social cut I may expect if this all falls flat is to be thought of as a host who bears the terrible crime of holding a single dull party."

"I'll do my best to meet those expectations," Aeliana says. Her eyes meet his for a moment. Waits for a breath before she drops her hand into his open palm. 

{{READ ON AO3 HERE}}

Past posts here { ch 1 || ch 2 }

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing On Golden Stars [1]

Welcome to Teyvat

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?)

warning(s)!!!: tenryou samurai being rude lmao (good cop/bad cop situation)

chapter w.count: 4k

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of my isekai, kamisato ayato series! buckle in buckos, it's gonna be a long ride c:

The final chime of the bell attached to the convenience store door rang as the shift lead more than eagerly crossed the room to lock the entrance for the day. Letting out a collective sigh of relief that the day was finally done, you both slump into less-than-ideal postures. You're left leaning over the counter, your company-issued polo feeling way too hot and uncomfortable from the amount of sweat it had soaked up from your last-minute rush of people who just had to wait until almost closing to do their shopping. Popping open a few buttons, you look up to see the shift lead heading back in your direction doing the exact same thing. 

“Thanks again for agreeing for the last minute cover,” the lead, who’s name tag read Max, comes to the counter and turns so his back is against it to lean and soak in the newly acquired quiet of the store. Max was a pretty good guy, taking college courses online on top of working himself to the bone for a company that would probably never remember his name if not for his badge. 

“It’s not like I was busy, so it’s fine,” you reassure. It wasn’t a lie anyway. Genshin had gone down for a 5 hour maintenance that day, and while you could’ve done something else to pass the time like watch a new show or even go out and walk, an extra shift for bringing in money didn’t sound like such a horrible pastime. Straightening out from your slumped over position on the counter, you direct your eyes to the flickering digital clock hanging on the wall that really needs new batteries soon. 

10:07 PM

Perfect. 

“I’ll make sure to have Sam cover for you tomorrow since she was the one who was supposed to work with me today.” Normally, this would be something you turn down since an extra shift would typically push you into overtime, and like it or not, that was more extra moola in your pocket. Still, the facts at hand were that the maintenance was finished and new stories and quests had been added to Genshin. And the kicker? New banners had just begun to run and you hadn’t been saving up for nothing!

“That’d be nice. I have some plans that take place far into tomorrow morning.” 

“Pulling another all-nighter on that one game you play?” 

“Yup,” you ashamedly admit. It wasn’t a secret that a big chunk of your down time went into your games. Why would you feel ashamed about something you like? Be it a game or tv show or anything else. It made you happy so of course, you’d work around it as much as you could. Besides, it wasn’t the only thing you did- you weren’t a complete shut in. It was also the middle of winter, so being outside wasn’t on your agenda. “The servers were down today, but it should be back up now. I’m going to be playing through some new quests.” 

Standing fully up, you stretch and start making your way to the back room where your bag and jacket sit patiently in a locker with your name on it via a tacky store-bought (and customized) magnet. You can hear Max’s footsteps fall in step with your own. You were sure he was eager to get home too. 

In the back, while you both gathered your things, mindless conversation that held no real topics came and went. Asking about how his classes were and if he had a paper due soon that he’d have to rush home and complete. He was more of a social butterfly than you, so he took the reigns on most conversations he found himself involved in. 

“Do you need me to walk you back? You live in a pretty nasty neighborhood don’t you?” 

“Oh, no, don't worry about it. I don't live anywhere sketchy like that.” You chose to leave out the fact that even if you don’t live in a sketched-out part of town, you do have to walk through one to get to your apartment though. If you told Max that, there’s no telling the lecture you’d get as he marches with you back home without argument. Besides, you’ve walked it hundreds of times back and forth already since you moved and got this job… and it wasn’t like you didn’t have pepper spray and a compact stun gun on you anyway. “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Be careful!” He calls as you start the normal trek back home. Normally the only weirdo’s out at this time were drunkards you could easily kick in the groin and give a harsh shove into a wall to make a quick getaway. When someone comes rushing around a corner of an alley, you yelp at the sudden appearance. Their shoulder checks into yours and from the sound of their (his?) gasp, he didn’t expect someone to be around the way either. 

Both of you stumble, and you feel him grab your bicep and yank you so you don’t trip off the curb into the road. His fingers catch onto the strap of your bag that rests over your shoulder and in the midst of making sure he wasn’t going to start yanking you around some more, you neglect to see the small object drop easily into the pit of your bag. 

“S̶o̵r̸r̴y̴” he mumbles before he’s rushing off away from the scene. You stand there on the sidewalk for a moment wondering what that was all about and what his deal is. And why his voice sounded so... fake to you.

‘Is it me, or did he sound kinda… weird?’ You stand bewildered for a moment longer before dismissing it all. Thinking about it would only make you nervous, so shaking the thoughts away was the best course of action. You promptly spin on your heel and with a little more speed to your steps, high tail it home. 

Your desk chair never felt more welcoming. You drop your bag on the floor beside your desk and promptly sit yourself down to boot up your computer. The game resources would take a few minutes to download, so while that was running, you rush to get a few snacks and drinks that would make an all-nighter easier to pull off. Shutting off your main light, you flick on the desk lamp you kept beside your monitor. By the time all was said and done, you remembered you should probably text Max that you made it back safely. He would go full ‘big brother’ mode on you if you didn’t. 

Digging around your bag for your phone, you pull it out, and with your action, a small item flings out of your bag with it. Hearing it dully hit the ground, you push your chair back and see a small hard object under your desk. Dragging it closer with your toes, you pick it up and examine it under the desk light. 

“A piece of candy? No, maybe a trinket or… charm? Where did this come from?” Looking around your room, you look to see if maybe this small item- which with its colors of blue and lilac weaved together looked oddly familiar- had fallen off something you forgot you owned. Coming up short with theories on the origin of the piece of (possible) candy or knocked loose charm, you shrug it off and toss it ceremoniously in the trash bin under your desk by your legs. “Whatever,” you roll closer to your desk and after a click of your mouse, that familiar entry door into the game appears and allows you entry. 

Instead of immediately starting to pull on the now-running Kamisato Ayato banner, you decide to knuckle down on some quests and dailies for just a few extra primos to up your chances of that beautiful, easy, golden 5-star man. 

Ayato’s banner was one you have been waiting for. Playing through Inazuma (as painstaking as it could be) and meeting Thoma and Ayaka made you excited to meet the head of the family, Ayaka’s older brother. Playing through his character story, you were happy to see that he was as appealing as you hoped.

A cheeky and clever man who has been through more than his fair share of situations that try to lessen his imposing image. Being able to come up with plans that can not only put him in the place of playing ‘villain’ but also not directly involving himself was appealing. A man with the means to put together such a ploy and solely devote himself to the role- Teyvat better thank its lucky stars that he wasn’t an antagonist. Of course, it helped that he was a looker to boot. An exceedingly beautiful man if you’ve ever seen one. 

“I’m getting him, come hell or high water,” is the mantra you keep repeating as your grind session continues until almost 3 in the morning. Feeling the creeping of about the hundreth yawn in your throat in the last 20 minutes, you lean your elbow on the desk before opening up the Wish menu. Curling your hand, it pushes into your cheek as your eyes droop dangerously close to shut and you yawn... again. 

“Why am I so tired?” You mumble. Normally, pulling all-nighters wasn’t too hard for you. You could usually last until around 6 the next morning on a good day. Maybe work wore you out more than you bargained for since it was an unexpected shift.

You feel yourself slipping further into your palm as your head feels heavier by the second. Your finger clicks for yet another round of 10-pulls. You could hear the sound effects of the transition screen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pry your eyes open again. A golden color lit up your room behind your eyelids but you were already far past the point of wondering if the five-star screen was always that bright or if maybe your lamp was about to explode from some random burst of overheating- even if it never had any issues before. Nothing else registered in your mind before you were completely falling asleep. 

It was noisy.

Your mind wakes up before your body does, and that is the first thought you have. The noise. It was so loud. Way too loud for your bedroom that you know you just fell asleep in. You were playing your game, so maybe you were hearing in-game sounds and ambiance. Of course, that didn’t explain why you were on your back. 

You could feel the hard surface of the floor against you, and while still only half-conscious at this point, it still crosses your mind on why it didn’t feel like your bedroom floor. It was like planks of wood were digging into your shirt and threatening your skin with splinters like anxious tiny spears against a giant. 

Maybe you had fallen off your chair. If you had though, surely the fall would have woken you up. You weren’t so dead tired from working that you could stay asleep through the tumble of the chair to the floor. Not to mention you must’ve slept through the last few hours of the night because you could feel the sun warming your skin to a near-uncomfortable degree. It almost felt suffocating with the misty humidity hitting your face and assaulting your senses. The sound, feel, smell- all of it felt like you were washed up on some wharf. 

Either you were lucid dreaming, or you had sleptwalked into the bathroom or something where you somehow turned the shower on. 

Still, there was one thing you could try and rule out, and that was the occasional rough prodding of something solid jabbing into you every few seconds. A jab to the shoulder. A jab to your stomach. A jab to your leg. Even a nudge to your head that tossed your forward-facing position onto your cheek and hit that same wooden surface you feel under your back. Then the shouting starts to finally register in your eardrums. 

“..up… ‘ey!” It sounded like a man? What was a man doing in your house? A police officer maybe? But that still didn’t make sense.  For the first time since your consciousness started coming back to you, you groan. Your sideways resting head twitched and somehow you found the strength to swivel it back to face the sky. Eyes wrinkling at the bright sunlight behind your eyelids. 

You feel small vibrations before hearing accompanying footsteps along the floor before another voice starts speaking. It was much closer than the one you could barely make out before. 

“Miss.. ‘ear me… ‘llo?” It was softer, almost nicer to try and listen to. Good cop, bad cop sort of vibe. 

You manage to crack your eyes open for just a moment before the closed-eyed warmth of the sun turns into a blinding flash bang that assaults your retinas. You hiss, chest jumping as your shoulders and arms twitch and tighten. The first signs of movement must’ve startled the people around you since you could feel their rushed steps in startlement through the floor.  Moving your head slowly, you rock it from left to right trying to will a cloud over the sun; or if you were actually in the bathroom, for someone to draw a curtain or something. 

You got your wish of shade when something hovers over your squeezed eyes. When the shade persisted with no signs of slipping away from you, you try once again to crack your eyes open. 

Your vision was blurry. You could barely make out shapes, the world just a blob of converging colors and textures that started to register in your mind like code being processed.  You must’ve hit your head way harder than you thought if you fell off your chair. Groaning was all you could do to communicate how uncomfortable you were in the current moment; that and the small shuffling movements of your limbs you could finally start moving. 

The way the world shifted from blobs to shapes then into objects was astonishingly quicker than you expected and soon enough you were narrowly looking at a face you hadn’t seen before. Though, this stranger’s clothes looked oddly familiar to you. A cone-shaped hat that tied under his chin with a symbol on its front. Dressed in a uniform consisting of shades of dark purples- parts of it almost resembling armor. Laying on the floor- which you now see are planks of wood outside, so more so laying on the ground- next to him was a long spear-like object. 

“Wha…” is all you can articulate at the confusion personified in front of you. The shade you had gained was given graciously by the man beside you lifting his hand to cover your eyes from the sun. 

Your lethargic state was quickly swatted away by a sudden and painful jab to the stomach. Lurching up with a choked ‘Oomph!’, you jump into a coughing fit. Your arms come to fold over your gut as your body positions itself into a semi-half sitting-up angle. One of your arms comes to perch behind your back, holding you up and keeping you from flopping back onto the wooden ground as coughs scratch up your throat. You were parched. 

“What are you doing?!” The man who had been crouching beside you this whole time had not only said a full complete sentence that you could actually understand but had shouted directly next to your ear. His bickering aimed at a man who had the same uniform and weapon as him. The standing guard- Bad Cop you’re guessing- had apparently grown restless and impatient as he lifted his spear and hovered it over your stomach before letting the butt end of it jam you in the gut. Hospitality was in the negatives with Bad Cop. 

You felt Good Cop’s hand come to rest on your shoulder and you instinctively shrug it off. The realization of something being wrong finally starts to dawn on you. Maybe Bad Cop’s little assault was a good wake-up call after all… even if it was a jerk move. 

Eyes wide with a fully functioning brain and processing intuition, you look beyond Good and Bad Cop and all around the area you were in. It was a dock… a port? On the edge of a small little town, there was a starting crowd beyond the wooden dock. Far off to the left up atop a cliff was a statue, one that was carved into the shape of a person, and even farther and higher than that were the beautifully pink and purple sparks of what seemed to be a shrine rising above all else. 

With a yelp of recognition, your legs kick out and scurry your body back until you're dangerously close to toppling into the water at the edge of the dock. 

“No way… there’s no way,” you mutter to yourself. “This has got to be some freaky dream. There’s just no way..!” That was clearly your denial talking. You’ve felt your fair share of pain- although none of it was lasting- to know if that this is a dream you would have woken up well long ago. Bad Cop, with a click of his tongue, stomps towards you and bends to snatch your arm in his palm before yanking. His rude attempts to get you on your feet are met with well-deserved resistance. 

“On your feet! You have some explaining to do!” His voice boomed in your ear like it was bouncing off the ocean waves and back again. “Who are you? Where did you come from!” 

“Let go of me!” His grip wasn’t gentle and you could feel your skin pinching painfully from his grip between his gloves. Since he had at least brought you to your feet, you plant them as firmly as you can into the wood beneath you before yanking back. He must’ve underestimated a washed-up person’s strength because you had ripped free easily, but all that power you put into your backward retreat lands you back on the ground. You hiss as you land on your side and scrape up your elbow. You could feel the burning sensation of broken skin and probable splinters making a new home in your arm. 

You look back up to Bad Cop and your eyes shine with a glossy frustration. 

“I don’t know how I got here! And what’s with your attitude! I’m not telling you anything with the way you’ve treated me- someone who's just as confused as you by the way!” That was a partial lie. In your heart of hearts, you know you’re in Inazuma. You have no idea how or why or what the hell is happening, but you weren’t about to tell him that.  Good Cop- who had been anxiously kneeling with his arm barely outstretched in a poor attempt to mediate? Maybe. At least he was more or less kind. If not a tad whimpy.

“Outsiders are not permitted within the boundaries of Inazuma by demand of the Sakoku Decree! Now, how did you end up here!” 

“I. Don’t. Know.” 

While you and Bad Cop face off in the most pointless round of shouting roulette, there was a buzz circulating from the crowd that had fully gathered to witness the whole debacle. You took no notice of it or the person who had emerged from that buzz to step confidently onto the dock along with the three of you. 

“Ah, good morning!” A bubbly, warm voice breaks the extremely tense atmosphere of the argument between Bad Cop and you. Shattered it so much that you were both rendered speechless for a moment before setting your sights on the newcomer. You choke back a gasp since any form of recognition was strictly off-limits unless you want Bad Cop to pick up on it and thus pick another fight. 

In front of you, behind Good Cop who had finally risen to his feet with a relieved expression, was the ginger haired Thoma. His happy and friendly smile was present on his face like it was natural to break up fights on the street (on the dock?) with his hand raised in a relaxed, quick greeting. The Fixer himself had somehow come to your aid... you hope. 

Being harassed by the Tenryou Commission and having Thoma show up and hopefully save your butt? You’re really getting the Traveler Treatment. 

Thoma struts up to the three of you and claps his hand on the shoulder of Bad Cop, a small signal of ‘back up my friend, let's talk about this’. His quick glance towards you finally makes your shoulders slacken- you weren’t aware of just how tense your body was.  Even your jaw started to ache from all the clenching you were doing. 

“Let’s start from the beginning. Now, what’s the situation?” Bad Cop goes through the trouble of explaining- in his harsh tone- the sequence of events. They had shown up to the harbor for regular routine checks, and had found you unconscious on one of the wooden docks. They had tried waking you up, he leaves out that he had used his spear on your gut, and that when you woke up you started verbally attacking them. 

“Now, hang on!” You almost screech when he finishes his spiel. His glare is overshadowed by the quizzical look of Thoma’s. “I did not ‘verbally attack’ anyone! I'm just as confused as you are and you slammed your stupid little spear into my stomach to wake me up. Remember that? It hurt you know! Of course I’d yell at someone so hostile!” 

As you both started bickering once again, Good Cop anxiously tried to get a single word in, that was always drowned out while Thoma just watched.  He couldn’t see a trace of deception on you; your face was the dictionary definition of confused and scared. Sure, you were full of fire at the moment, but given the opportunity to calm down maybe you’d realize just how you're really feeling instead of being so fired up. So, he saw no reason not to help you. 

“For the time being, why not take them into custody of the Tenryou Commission?” Thoma pitches and your jaw drops in betrayal. Prison? You? Before, you could open your mouth to defend yourself, he starts again. “If they really have no memory of how they got here, then the safest place for them is a monitored location defended by guards. Right?” He looks at you and your jaw shuts with a small clack of teeth. 

“You… might have a point.” A stupidly good point. “Fine,” you relent. There was no point in drawing it out. You really didn’t have anywhere to go, so at least a cell is a roof and protection from the elements. Bad Cop was fighting back a smug smile, you could see it tugging behind his teeth. “I’m not going anywhere with Ba- I mean, this guy though.” You cross your arms adamantly and mutter, “he’s been enough of a pain in more than one way.”

At your attitude, Thoma laughs. Even though it’s amusing, the calming atmosphere doesn’t deter him from the slight trembling of your hand tucked under your crossed arms. 

“Of course. You can have your other Tenryou friend here escort you there,” he gestures to Good Cop and you nod. You can get behind that plan. 

With little conversation left to be had, Bad Cop leaves the dock, Thoma speaks privately to Good Cop for a moment, and then soon you’re ushered off to Tenryou property where you’re expecting to be good friends with iron bars for an unforeseeable, undisclosed amount of time. The small wave Thoma gestures at you to come over has you walking cautiously his way. Once at his side, his back curves down as he cups around his mouth to your ear. 

“Just bare with it. I’ll help you the best I can.” 

He straightens back up and with a pat on the back, sends you off. Your first morning in Teyvat- as absolutely asinine as that sounds- is ending on a pretty low note. Jail time.

|- prev. / INDEX / next ->

a/n: its a slow start but you hAVE to trust me gang

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (23/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4k

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11-20 | ch. 21 - i wouldn't marry me either | ch. 22 - burn all the files, desert all your past lives | ch. 23 - i've still got love for you

Some text in this chapter is lifted directly from ACOTAR book one.

I am also over the moon and insanely honored to share that there is now ART OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS FIC!!!!! It's by the love of my life Amnevitah, and you can go make heart eyes at it and tell her she's wonderful over here on her tumblr (warning that it's mildly NSFW).

Read on AO3 or you can find the twenty-third chapter below the readmore.

It was nearly midnight when I made my way to Nesta's bedroom in a borrowed nightgown, late enough that the servants were gone and Elain was sound asleep. I knocked on the door once, and she ushered me inside without a word.

Like the rest of the manor, Nesta's bedroom was full of furniture fit for a palace and utterly devoid of personal touches. It might as well have been a guest room.

I hovered near the door and watched Nesta open a hidden compartment in the writing desk near the window. She pulled something out and placed it on a side table. I stepped closer to get a better look.

A chunk of wood. The edges were rough, as if it had been ripped from something. I started to ask her where it had come from, but when I spotted the tangle of vines I'd painted on it, I understood.

"I had to watch as Father and Elain went from sobbing hysterics into nothing. I had to listen to them talk about how lucky it was for you to be taken to some made-up aunt’s house, how some winter wind had shattered our door. And I thought I’d gone mad—but every time I did, I would look at that painted part of the table, then at the claw marks farther down, and know it wasn’t in my head. So tell me everything and leave none of it out," Nesta said quietly, sinking down into the chair by the desk.

My heart broke to think what she'd gone through—what Tamlin had put her through. His lies to me might have been in service of saving his people, but there was no reason for my sister's sanity to be collateral damage. Tamlin had paid my father off, then washed his hands of the matter without bothering to ensure that his glamour had worked.

It was sloppy and thoughtless, and not for the first time, I wondered how many people ultimately would have died if I'd stayed in the Spring Court a moment longer.

I sat on the bed, tucking my feet under me, and started at the beginning. The very beginning, fifty years ago when Rhys had gone to that damned party and Amarantha had taken over.

I'd barely gotten a few words out when Nesta was already interrupting. "Is your High Lord too stupid to employ poison-testers?"

"I…I don't think any of them do, actually."

"It seems Prythian is ruled by idiots, then. Perhaps that explains why this Rhysand married you."

"You know nothing about what Rhys has been though," I hissed, clenching my teeth so I didn't yell the words and wake up Elain.

Nesta waved a hand, an elegant, dismissive gesture. "Then continue."

So I did. And to Nesta's credit, she listened intently, her lips pressed together in a thin line, as I described the curse, my arrival in Prythian, and those early days in the Spring Court.

Somehow, it calmed something within me to tell the whole tale again now that I knew everything. I wasn't used to having a confidant, and I couldn't remember a time before this that speaking to Nesta had felt like a lightening a burden.

It was strange, but not unwelcome.

I braced myself when I started to describe my first meeting with Rhys on Calanmai. Nesta had once sneered at me for rutting in the barn with Isaac Hale—I was sure she'd have some choice words about a mating frenzy that had taken place in a cave.

But she merely furrowed her brow and said, "Your marriage was….arranged, then? By the stag?"

I nearly snapped and told her no—I'd specifically told Rhys not to marry me, after all. And Nesta knew he wasn't my husband. But…she'd never feel the pull of a mating bond for herself, and the concept was completely foreign to her. Perhaps this was the way to make her understand.

"By the Mother herself. The stag merely…cleared our path to each other. I'm not sure what would have happened if it didn't, but I think it probably saved us quite a lot of heartbreak, in the end."

"That's such an odd way to speak about a man you've been shackled to against your will," she said, shaking her head.

The Inner Circle had also been horrified when they'd realized I'd accepted the bond without knowing what I was doing. If even Nesta was worried about it…perhaps there was something wrong with me for not being more distressed. But even though I'd had to go Under the Mountain for Rhys, I still felt profoundly lucky that everything I could possibly want had just been dropped into my lap on Calanmai.

I shrugged. "There's no reason to be upset when I would have chosen him for myself anyway." That was the truth at the center of everything.

There was a flicker of understanding, and—if I wasn't mistaken—relief in Nesta's eyes. "And I take it he feels the same?"

"Yes."

"Good." There was an edge to her voice, and I wondered what she would have said if my answer had been no.

There was still so much to tell her, so I continued, describing my arrival at the Night Court—though I didn't mention Velaris, merely said that Rhys had directed me to a warded home. Nesta didn't ask about the tattoo the magic had given me, just scowled at my left hand. She said nothing about my immortality either, instead interrogating me about the Inner Circle and their ranks and roles and relations to Rhys.

They were, perhaps, the sort of questions I should have asked on that first day. But unlike me, Nesta knew how to get the lay of a land in a noble court and assess her place in it.

If my eldest sister were dropped in the Court of Nightmares, I had no doubt she'd be running it within a day.

I hadn't spoken about Under the Mountain at length with anyone but Rhys before that night, and getting the words out under Nesta's uncompromising steel glare was difficult. My sister and I weren't linked through mating bond and shared experience. My voice shook, and at points I felt faintly sick, but I managed to tell her everything.

Even with Rhys…I'd needed to hold back. My own few weeks Under the Mountain paled in comparison to his decades there alone, and I knew on some level, even though I'd never voiced it aloud, that he'd had it worse than me. Without even realizing it, I'd been carrying around a prickly sort of guilt over that.

Once, I would have spent several days with a paintbrush in hand until I'd gotten those feelings out, but since I could barely stand to look at a canvas anymore, it all had been festering inside of me.

So to my immense embarrassment, I cried in front of Nesta.

For once, she didn't say anything harsh, just wordlessly handed me a handkerchief. I didn't mind—it would be strange for her to coddle me. Instead, she pretended nothing was amiss as I wiped at my eyes and finished the rest of the story, all the way through my trip to Illyria and the Weaver's cottage and the attacks on the temples.

At the end of it, Nesta merely said, "This is all the more reason you shouldn't come back here again."

I could see her logic, but that didn't make it any less a kick in the teeth. "Elain and Father deserve proper goodbyes."

"It's too much of a risk," she said, eyes flashing dangerously. It would be ugly if I tried to fight her on this; Nesta, who had once put herself in front of Elain and left me to the beast that broke into our cabin, would always protect our middle sister, even if that meant casting me aside.

I should have been used to that by now, but it still hurt.

"Then at least allow the sentries around the manor to stay. There are far too many fae who would wish us harm, and their numbers will only increase if war breaks out like we fear."

"As long as the sentries keep their distance."

They would, but of course Nesta had no reason to be sure of that. A thought struck me. "They answer to Cassian, Rhys's general. I could send him to meet with you and discuss the specifics, if that would ease your mind."

I expected Nesta to balk at interacting with any more faeries, but she asked, "Does he listen to orders?"

"He will if you give them. My position as Lady of Night makes you and Elain something akin to princesses in Prythian." Mor had explained it to me once, though I wasn't interested enough to remember the details about ranks and noble titles. It would matter to Nesta, though.

She nodded once, then stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "Thank you," she said, a bit more softly, "and for what it's worth, this is easier, knowing you've gotten everything you deserve. After that beast took you away, it's a relief, truly, to know that Rhysand loves you and is keeping you safe."

I stilled. It was beyond a doubt the kindest thing Nesta had ever said to me. I hadn't thought she'd cared at all what had become of me in Prythian.

"Elain said—said that you tried to visit me," I said, my throat so tight I barely got the words out.

"I got to the Wall. I couldn't find a way through."

“You trekked two days there and two days back—through the winter woods?”

“I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.”

“You did that—for me?” Rhys was the only person in the world that I'd truly believed would bother, and no matter how much he loved me, a mating bond made everything different. Mor had tried to soften the truth on my first day in the Night Court, but even she had admitted the Inner Circle was duty-bound to protect their High Lord's mate, and I'd only become their friend later.

"What Tamlin did to you—it wasn't right. None of it was right."

Nesta finally met my gaze, and for once, the fire in her blue-grey eyes wasn't intended to burn me. We weren't drowning anymore—the lifeline of her anger was unnecessary now, and she knew it. In her darkened bedroom in a too-clean manor, we'd found just enough safety that she'd let me know she cared.

Underneath it all, Nesta cared, more deeply and loyally than I'd been able to comprehend.

There were no words for that. I launched myself at her, and Nesta went stiff in my arms as I embraced her. She didn't hug me back, just…patted my upper back awkwardly after a moment. I didn't mind—that was downright affectionate from her.

I pulled away and said, "If I'm unable to return here, will— will I at least be able to write?"

"Is there a way to ensure your correspondence stays private?"

I caught the meaning behind that—Nesta was confident in her own ability to keep a secret, but she knew too little about my own situation to be sure I could do the same. It wouldn't have crossed my mind—after all, I hadn't even learned to read until Rhys ensured I was taught—but my sister had been expected to marry a prince one day. She'd been trained for a life where sensitive letters falling into the wrong hands could cause a reputation-ruining scandal.

She was right to ask, though, so I explained how paper spelled to vanish was used to pass messages across Prythian. And by some miracle…she agreed to let me leave some with her.

"Rhys can deliver it tonight, if that's alright," I said; I'd feel better knowing it was in her hands when I left. Nesta nodded her assent. "Give me a moment to ask him, then."

Ignoring the grimace Nesta made as my gaze went distant, I gave the gentlest tug on the bond I could. I was still met with a wave of blind protectbitemaimkill panic the moment Rhys's shields dropped. He hadn't expected to hear from me until morning.

All is well, I said, reaching for the beast. I could feel its hackles rising in the back of my mind.

With a mental hand, I scratched a sensitive spot on its chin, right under the maw with its rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth, the thing that threatened to gobble up sleeping fae in their nightmares. Its eyes closed at my touch, and it purred like an affectionate cat.

Nothing's amiss. I just have a favor to ask, I added.

Anything. You know that, he said. I was dimly aware of a spiral of anxiety—some sort of fear that I didn't know that. Stroking the beast's flank like it was a nervous horse, I kicked the worry away.

If it's not too much trouble, could you please bring us some of the enchanted paper you use for correspondence? I'd like to make sure Nesta has a way to contact me directly.

Talons shifted into fingers that gently tucked an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. There's no such thing as too much trouble where you're concerned. Call for me again when you want me there.

Thank you. Just as I'd kicked away his concern, I felt his claw shred my lingering discomfort at asking him to do something on my behalf.

His mind began to pull away from mine, but he stopped halfway. Are you sure you're alright? The emotions on your side of the bond seem to be…churning.

I hesitated. There was no point in lying, but I was tempted to say we'd talk about it later. I didn't want him to worry any further, either. For now, I could give Rhys the bare minimum. I learned that Nesta tried to go to the Wall and bring me back after I was taken. She wasn't able to get through, though.

An image flashed across the bond before Rhys could stop it—a female with his pointed ears, violet eyes, and massive wingspan. She was standing on one of the footbridges that spanned the Sidra, her head thrown back in raucous laughter and the lights of the Rainbow sparkling behind her. A happy memory, but at the same time, it felt like looking at a painful, howling void.

Another younger sister whose elder sibling hadn't been able to save her. But unlike me, she didn't have a mate who'd eventually swooped in and brought her to safety.

I'll see you soon, Rhys said, then dropped his shields before I had a chance to respond.

Nesta quickly pinned her hair up and changed into a gown, but I didn't bother. Regardless, it gave Rhys time to pass through the Wall again. When she assured me she was ready, I gave another light tug on the bond.

Rhys appeared with nothing more than a gust of night-kissed wind so gentle it barely made the curtains flutter. He held a small, black-and-silver box in one hand, identical to one I'd seen holding blank paper on his desk in the House of Wind. He'd had the good sense to hide his wings, and the leash on his power was tighter than I'd ever felt it.

Even when he subdued himself, Rhys still felt too enormous and otherworldly for this side of the Wall. Between the night still clinging to him and the width of his obnoxiously broad shoulders, he seemed to take up the whole room.

And yet, as if he were an entirely normal person and none of the current circumstances were bizarre, he pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek and said, "Hello, Feyre darling."

To her credit, Nesta didn't flinch. Or hiss at him. Which already meant this was going better than I'd anticipated.

Before either of them could make this worse, I said, "This is my sister, Nesta Archeron. Nesta, this is my mate, Rhysand."

To my shock Rhys bent at the waist and bowed—actually bowed—to my sister. Polite and graceful, his upbringing as a crown prince on full display and all signs of the Illyrian warrior hidden.

Nesta's face was frozen in a mask of cold indifference. "No surname?" she said, and those two words were enough to let a nasty implication hang in the air—that Rhys wasn't pedigreed, despite being a High Lord.

His mother had been a seamstress, after all. If I didn't know better, I would have thought Nesta could smell that on him.

Rhys didn't blink. "Archeron. Or at least, it will be when we're ready to make the mating bond public knowledge."

It was a small miracle I caught myself before my mouth gaped open in surprise; he hadn't told me he'd intended to take my name. A glimmer of wicked amusement and a twinge of pride floated down the bond towards me.

Nesta, however, just cocked her head like she was sizing up an opponent, almost exactly the way Cassian did in the training ring. "I won't be mocked in my own home. You can leave."

"I'd rather be known as Feyre's mate than my father's son," Rhys said, picking invisible lint off his tunic in a gesture that was clearly calculated to look as nonchalant as possible. "I'm not mocking you. Feyre is an infinitely better person than he ever was."

Nesta went quiet. I wondered if it was as strange for her as it was for me to hear someone call me good and mean it. Rhys glanced at me, his expression melting into something soft for a moment, and Nesta tracked his movement like a hawk.

Before the silence stretched long enough to become awkward, Rhys held the box of stationery out to her and added, "This is for you."

Nesta flicked her hand towards the writing desk, an imperiousness gesture of a queen directing a servant. "Top drawer on the left," she said. An order, not a request.

She was testing him, I realized. Or had thrown down a gauntlet. Maybe both. Whatever was happening between Nesta and Rhys was some sort of courtier bullshit I was too feral to understand. Rhys did as she said, and I wasn't sure if that meant he'd lost or conceded something.

Regardless, there was no reason for Rhys to linger—and I suspected my sister would bite his head off if he tried. He said something blandly polite to Nesta about it being a pleasure to finally meet her, kissed my cheek again, and winnowed away.

When he was gone, I looked at Nesta expectantly and braced myself for whatever cutting remark was coming. She was already grimacing as if he'd tracked mud all over the floor.

My chest squeezed. Not that I needed anyone's approval, but as mates, Rhys's and my coupling had been had been quite literally blessed by the Mother herself. And I'd spent years shrugging off Nesta's scornful comments about damn near every choice I made.

I shouldn't have cared what she thought. But…for whatever reason, in this matter, I did.

"You two are so besotted with each other, it's disgusting," Nesta spat. It was congratulations enough.

I smiled. "You aren't the first person to say that about us."

There wasn't much else to discuss after that. Nesta and I sat in silence together as we burned the chunk of wood from the table in the fireplace in her bedroom. I felt something settle between us as the last piece of the cabin that she'd been holding onto was reduced to ash.

I returned to my room and managed a few hours of sleep before slipping out of the manor before dawn without saying goodbye. Before bed, Elain had said to bring the paints that she'd bought for me back to Aunt Ripleigh's, so I took them with and left her the first thank you note I'd ever managed to write by myself.

It was easier to go without facing either of my sisters again.

When I met Rhys in the woods, I threw myself at him so forcefully that he stumbled back a few steps and nearly hit a tree. "I missed you too," he said, hooking an arm under my knees as he scooped me up to fly.

Something about being in the mortal lands again—or if I was truly honest, being around my family again—had reawakened that stupid, childish part of me that wanted to cry out until I was fussed over. A bit embarrassed, I pressed my face to his chest and wished I could scent him like a faerie. But instead, all I could smell was the laundry soap we both used. Maybe that was better than nothing.

"It was a long night," I said, and he pressed a kiss to my temple.

The world faded to smoke and shadow, and then I felt that peculiar sense of being torn in two for the space of a heartbeat as we passed through the Wall. Rhys could have winnowed us again, but he continued flying above the sea for a while, probably to get the practice in to strengthen his wings.

Being cradled, his warmth and nearness, the rhythm of wingbeats, the salt air…it soothed me. Dawn was breaking, turning the sky and the sea golden. Rhys, painfully beautiful as always, was positively glowing in the light; his skin was returning to a healthy brown, the unnatural paleness from years underground almost gone. I wanted to paint it.

"With Nesta, why were you so…" I said, then trailed off, unsure of the right word. Rhys's whole demeanor had been subdued, but there had been more to it than just that. Now that I thought about it… "You didn't smirk once. That's not like you."

His face was solemn. "If my sister had inadvertently accepted a mating bond, I'd expect her mate to have his tail between his legs when she brought him home to meet me."

Once, I would have scoffed at the idea Nesta cared at all about how a man or male treated me. But she'd tried to save me. If Rhys had seemed at all like a threat, then…Nesta would have faced down the Lord of Nightmares to get me back.

I still didn't quite know what to make of that.

"Would you have tried to get my father's blessing if he'd been there?"

"Cauldron, no. You're your own person and make your own choices." He sounded affronted I'd even suggest it.

"Then why be so restrained around Nesta?"

"I don't like being thought of as an ill-mannered brute."

I could imagine how often insults like that had been flung at him for being Illyrian, probably from people just as adept as sneering down their noses as Nesta was. And yet, even though I knew Rhys well, it was still a bit strange to hear from a faerie when so many of his kind considered humans to be half-wild beasts below their notice.

Strange, but…not unwelcome.

"For what it's worth, you're not all ill-mannered brute at all," I said, smiling, "but you are a prick, though."

Rhys's wicked grin was the only warning before he gripped me tighter and tilted us into a barrel roll so swift and dizzying that I would have emptied the contents of my stomach if I'd eaten. I screamed, but the wind tore the words away.

He laughed, and it was impossible to snap an irritated response when the joy was so plain on his face. We settled into a smooth glide.

"We need to winnow the rest of the way back soon," he said once the roaring wind died down. "Cassian wants to spar, and if you're late for training, Az will ensure you pay for it."

I wouldn't expect anything less. We faded into the morning mist, and when the Night Court materialized around us, I'd never been happier to be home again.

[mamaestapa]

The Argument, The Date, & The Disappointment

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•chapter summary: You and Joe enjoy a morning together that gets ruined by an argument. Joe tries to make it up to you, but you have other plans

•word count: 4k

•warnings: fluff, arguing, language, mentions of sex, jealous and sad joe, ANGST 

series masterlist

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November 4, 2022

You put on your red oversized University of Arizona sweatshirt and went out to the kitchen to make your morning cup of coffee.

You have the day off of work today, so you figured you would stay home and do some cleaning. Joe had some of his teammates over after practice a couple days ago and the apartment was still a mess.

You cant even remember the last time this place was properly cleaned. Gross.

You pulled a coffee cup from off the rack next to the coffee maker. You put the cup underneath it and prepared the coffee grounds. As the coffee started to drip into the cup, the bathroom door swung open and Joe walked out, clad in his black gym shorts with a tucked in black long sleeve that had the bengals logo just above his left pec. Towel in hand, he walked down the hall towards your bedroom. Well he wasn't going into your room, right across from your bedroom was the laundry room. He threw the towel into the laundry basket designated for towels and walked back into the kitchen.

Joe smiled at you as he walked into the kitchen, "Morning Y/n."

You smiled up at him as you grabbed the coffee creamer, "Good morning Joe."

He opened the fridge and pulled out the egg carton, a diced green bell pepper, chunks of ham, and shredded cheddar cheese. As he put the ingredients on the counter he spoke, "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty good," you said with a nod, "you?"

"Good until my alarm went off," he replied, chuckling lightly.

"You didn't want to work out at five A-M with Ja'Marr this morning?" you asked with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

"It was actually seven this morning."

"Oh, wow seven?"

Joe nodded as he walked over to the stove and got a skillet out.

"Can't believe he let you sleep in?" you said, shaking your head, "Usually he's pounding on the door if you're not out by five."

Joe and Ja'Marr have a very weird work out schedule. Some days they're up before the sunrise, working out for almost two hours before their all day practice. Other days they're up at a more reasonable time, working out for longer.

Joe chuckled, "He was feeling extra nice this morning I guess."

You smiled and let out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess so."

You went back to preparing your coffee as Joe started making his breakfast. As he was whisking the eggs together, he turned to you as you put the coffee creamer away.

"You want any eggs?"

You shook your head. "I'll stick to my coffee for now. But thanks."

He nodded and turned his attention back to making his breakfast. You stood in the kitchen, sipping your coffee and watching Joe make his eggs. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet above him and set it down on the counter, sprinkling cheese over the eggs and letting it melt before he put a large portion on the plate. He turned the stove off and grabbed a fork, setting it on his plate. He walked into the small dining room that was just off to the side of the living room. You followed him, deciding to keep him company as he ate his breakfast.

You and Joe have actually started to get along. You think it's safe to say you’re actually becoming quite good friends. You have learned a lot about Joe and you’ve realized he isn't as bad as you thought he was when you first moved in with him. It's easy to see why every girl loves him.

He's a really nice guy, he's extremely humble, and he has a great sense of humor. And you have to admit, he's not bad looking, at all. He's actually very attractive...

But, you don't have a crush on him, you swear. You’re really happy with how things are going with Evan. The two of you have agreed to take things slow and not rush into anything. Both of you have talked about a possible relationship, but for now you’re just happy with each others company.

You sat down on the chair across from Joe, setting your coffee cup down in front of you. The two of you sat in silence as Joe ate his breakfast. You grabbed your cup and took a sip of your coffee. As you sat the cup down on the table, your stomach let out a loud growl. You clutched your stomach, making Joe chuckle. He stood from his chair and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a plate and filling it with eggs. He grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer and walked back out to the dining room. He set the plate down in front of you.

"Here. Can't go to work on an empty stomach."

You looked up at him, feeling just the slightest hint of butterflies from his kind action. He smiled down at you before walking back over to his side of the table and sitting back down.

You smiled, "Thank you, Joe. I don't have work today though."

He shrugged, "Doesn't mean you can't eat breakfast."

You and Joe made small talk as you ate your breakfast. You have to admit, Joe is a great cook. You don't know what he did to those eggs, but they were delicious.

You and Joe got up from the table and went in to the kitchen to clean your plates off. As you set your plate in the dishwasher, your phone went off. You pulled it out of your leggings and smiled when you saw it was a text from Evan. Your eyes scanned the chat he sent you, your face instantly turning red as you read the words. Joe closed the dishwasher and looked at you as you smiled down at your phone, thumbs quickly typing away.

"What's got you so flustered?" Joe chuckled, running a hand through his damp blonde hair.

You shook your head, "Nothing that concerns you."

Joe clenched his jaw and nodded slowly, "Sooo, it has nothing to do with shooter?"

You furrowed your brows in confusion, "Shooter?"

"Evan."

You shrugged, picking up your coffee cup and taking a sip of the hot liquid before you replied. "Maybe."

Joe crossed his arms and just looked at you with a deadpan gaze and clenched jaw. It almost seemed like he was jealous?

"What?" you laughed, "would it be a such a big deal if it has to do with him?"

Joe scoffed and let out a laugh of disbelieve, "Yeah it would."

"Oh come on, no it wouldn't."

"Yes it would."

You rolled your eyes, "Fine. Why would it be such a big deal?"

"Because he's my teammate, Y/n! I told you early on that my teammates are off limits."

Oh.

You forgot all about that chat the two of you had after you met Logan and Ja'Marr that first week. After the guys left you mentioned something about thinking Ja'Marr was hot and Joe gave you this whole spiel about how his teammates were "off limits for you to hit on". You told him you understood because you truly did see where he was coming from. Coming home to see your roommate making out with your teammate would be extremely awkward.

But it's not going to stop you from talking to Evan. You care about what Joe thinks, but at the same time, you want to be happy here in Cincinnati. And you know Evan can make you really happy.

"I never said I was going out with him." you said, shrugging your shoulders, "we're simply just talking to each other."

Joe rolled his eyes, "Oh don't bullshit me Y/n."

"Excuse you?"

Joe scoffed, "I'm not an idiot, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that. I have a name."

"Fine. I'm not an idiot, Y/n."

You crossed your arms and kept your jaw clenched as Joe spoke.

"I think you're forgetting that Evan is my friend and my teammate. I see him basically every day of the week. I hear the things he says about you, Y/n. I see the posts on your stories, I hear about the text messages, I know about everything, You're not just talking to him! And I specifically told you not to get with any of my teammates. And what did you do? You got with one of my teammates!"

"You are unbelievable."

"Oh I am?"

You scoffed and let out a laugh of shock, "Yeah, yeah you are! It's none of your business who I date or who I talk to. You don't control me, Joe."

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, "I never said I did!"

"It shouldn't matter to you if I date Evan or not! Don't you want him to be happy?"

Joe stayed silent, clenching his jaw as you spoke. You rolled your eyes and shook your head in annoyance. He was being so unreasonable.

You decided to hit him where it hurts.

"And," you continued, "It's not like i'm going to bring him over here all the time and have sex with him when you're here if that's what you're so worried about!? Because unlike you I have respect for my roommate."

Yep. You’re referring to that time when you walked into the apartment and saw Joe hooking up with a girl on your couch.

He rolled his eyes, "Oh my god," he mumbled under his breath, "that was one time!"

"Yeah, one time too many!"

Joe shook his head and huffed out a sigh of annoyance. He looked at me and crossed his arms, the look on his face was extremely hard to read. He seemed annoyed, but almost disappointed, too.

"You know what Y/n? Fine, you win. You wanna date Evan, go right ahead. I thought maybe you'd respect my wishes, but clearly I was wrong. Wrong about you."

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. All of your anger towards Joe turned into confusion. What does he mean wrong about you?

"Joe, I-."

He shook his head, "Save it."

"Joe, just let me explain-."

"Just get out!"

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking up at him with concern. You gulped as you struggled to find the right words to say to him. You opened your mouth slightly, trying to think of what to say. You struggled to form a sentence as tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so confused. Where was this coming from?

"Go be with Evan or some other guy on my team. Clearly they're all pretty important to you."

You shook your head, trying to hold back tears. You grabbed your phone and stormed out of the kitchen. You quickly slid your tennis shoes on and grabbed your car keys. You needed to get away from here for a bit. You were hurt and extremely confused. Joe has never spoken to you like this before.

And here you thought the two of you were starting to actually become friends. Clearly you were wrong.

You grabbed your keys and as you opened the door to leave, you turned to face Joe who was still standing in the kitchen with crossed arms and a clenched jaw.

"Screw you." you said to him, rolling your eyes and slamming the apartment door behind you.

~time skip~

"Maybe I'm just being dramatic, but I don't get it. This came out of nowhere?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air as you ranted to Macee, who was folding and displaying new t-shirts.

After storming out of the apartment, you decided to drive downtown to CincyStyles to talk to Macee. You knew she'd be able to give you some advice and talk you through the situation with Joe.

Macee frowned. She knew why Joe was being harsh, but she knew she couldn't say anything.

"I'm sorry hun," she said, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder, "he shouldn't have made such a big deal over something so small. So what if you date one of his teammates? He should be happy! You're a wonderful girl, any of those guys would be lucky to have you."

You smiled, "Thank you Macee. I guess I see where he's coming from. I did promise him I wouldn't go out with any of his teammates."

"Well I mean, technically you haven't gone out with any of them, right?"

You shook my head, "No."

Macee smiled softly, "See? He's just being dramatic then. You didn't go against your word."

You grimaced slightly, thinking about how to break the news to Macee. You did go against your word to Joe...

"I'm going on a date tonight. With Evan." you said, pulling your lips into a straight line. Macee's eyes widened as her mouth fell open in shock.

"Like a date, date? Not just a get together at the gym and work out kind of thing?"

"Yeah, like a date, date."

"Y/n," she beamed, "that's awesome! Aren't you excited?"

You were very excited for your date with Evan, yes. But after the argument with Joe this morning, something just feels off. You almost feel a little guilty? You get butterflies just thinking about your date with Evan, but, you have this other feeling that you can't quite explain. You feel guilty for going out with Evan, but you don't why.

You know you shouldn't feel guilty, but you do.

You shook your thoughts away and smiled, feeling your cheeks burn at the thought of your date later, "I'm really excited. Evan is such a great guy."

"He is, isn't he?" Macee asked, a sweet smile on her face. She walked over to the rack of jeans, re-organizing the sizes as she continued speaking, "You didn't hear this from me but," she paused, looking over at you with a playful smirk on her face, "Evan's got a pretty big crush on you."

"Yeah, he does."

You turned around at the new voice that had joined in on the conversation.

"Hey Alisa!" Macee said with a smile as she hugged the brunette woman.

"Hey! Trey and I were out, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi." The woman, Alisa, said. She turned to you with a kind smile.

"You must be Y/n?"

You nodded, smiling at her. She held her right hand out and you shook it, the two of you introducing yourselves.

"I'm Alisa, Trey's wife. You're Evan's girlfriend right?”

Your eyes widened. You were not expecting that.

"Oh, uh," you let out an awkward laugh, "No, we're not dating."

She covered her mouth with her hands, pulling them away to say, "I am so sorry."

"You're okay, don't worry about it," you smiled, "you're technically not wrong. We aren't official yet, but he and I have been seeing each other, I guess?" you said with a hesitant tone.

You don't really know what you and Evan are. You guess that's why you’re going on a date tonight. To figure out what label to put on your relationship.

She smiled, "Evan is a sweet guy and I've heard he has nothing but good things to say about you, Y/n."

You blushed as Alisa said that. You have nothing but good things to say about him, too. Macee, Alisa and you continued to talk for a bit until Alisa decided to meet back up with Trey. You said goodbye and you and Alisa exchanged phone numbers. It was good to have another friend here in Cincinnati.

Once Alisa left, Macee decided to close the boutique for the night.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. We never close early, especially on a Friday.

"Why are you closing up?

Macee smirked, "Because you Miss Y/l/n, have a date to get ready for," she grabbed your hand, "so come on. I'm going to help you get ready."

meanwhile

Joe's pov:

God you're such an idiot, Joe. I thought to myself as I let out a heavy sigh.

I really didn't mean to start some stupid argument with Y/n. I just let my jealousy get the best of me.

I want her to be happy, I really do, but not with one of my teammates. Hopefully you all don't think I'm crazy and you can see where I'm coming from when I told her my teammates are off limits.

I just don't want things to be awkward. I don't want to come home one night and find my roommate on the couch with one of my best friends. Am I so crazy for NOT wanting that to happen?

I walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. I couldn't shake the guilt that was building up inside me. My mind wandered to the moment before Y/n walked out. It broke my heart to see her upset. Especially since I was the one that caused it. I said things to her that I shouldn't have said. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to her.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and cursed to myself as I saw it was Ja'Marr. (Ja'marr is in bold, Joe is in italics).

Hey Ja-

Burrow, where the fuck you at man?

What?

I'm at Hubbards, we're waitin' on your ass to get here

Shit, *sigh* I totally forgot that was today

Man how the hell did you forget?

I'm sorry! My mind has just been elsewhere today.  Y/n and I got into a fight and-

Oooh, trouble in paradise

Oh, shut up.

*laughter* I'm just messin' with you man. What'd you get in an argument over?

It doesn't matter

Uh huh.

Look, I need to come up with a way to make it up to Y/n

That bad huh?

Yeah.

Hold on *silence* Hey Joe!

Hey Emma

Ja'Marr said you needed my help with Y/n. 

What do girls like as an “I'm sorry gift"? I’ve never fucked up this bad before, Em.

Well, anytime Sam and I argue we usually just have make-up sex and then -

Yeah nope.

*laugh* You didn't let me finish. Sam will get my favorite takeout and we stay up late watching our favorite movies. That always gets me to forgive him, maybe you should try that with Y/n?

Yeah, I think I can do that. Thanks for the help, Em.

Anytime, Joey. Good luck!

Thanks.

*silence* Aight Joey B, you comin' with us or...?

No, I've got a movie night.

With?

Who do you think?

Lucky you. *smirk* Don't tell shooter

*Eyeroll* Whatever. Well, I gotta go. You and Sam have fun, but not too much fun.

I should be saying that to you. We don't need Joe and Y/n babies .

Good lord...see ya Ja'Marr.

Bye Burrow, be safe while you fuc-

I ended the call and put my phone down on the couch with a sigh. My mind wandered to Y/n. It's been a couple hours since she left. I knew she had to come back at some point, but I wasn't sure when. I wanted the takeout and movies to be ready when she got here, so I figured I should get everything prepared now.

I remembered Y/n telling me that her favorite takeout is bar food, so I ordered a variety of appetizers from my favorite bar in downtown Cincinnati. I'm confident that she will like it as much as I do.

As for the movie, I rented her favorite: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. RomComs aren't my favorite, but I'm willing to watch it with Y/n if it makes her happy.

I don't ever get nervous. I like to think I'm a very confident person. Right now though, I am very nervous just thinking about Y/n coming back. I never get this way, about anyone. It feels foreign to me.

But now, all I have to do is wait and hope Y/n will forgive me.

Wish me luck.

~time skip~

Joe's Pov:

I was sitting on the couch fiddling with my thumbs when I heard the apartment door open. I stood from from my spot, gulping when I saw Y/n.

She was wearing black leather pants with a red tank top. Her lips matched her shirt, and her curled black lashes made her Y/e/c eyes pop. Her Y/h/c hair was softly curled, framing her face perfectly.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

No, NO. You cant think like that. I scolded myself internally. I sucked in a breath and stood from the couch, giving her a soft smile as I looked at her.

"Hi."

She smiled, "Hey."

"I uh," I cleared my throat, knowing that my cheeks were now slightly flushed, “you look nice."

"Thanks Joe."

I nodded. It was somewhat tense as Y/n and I just stood looking at each other.

"I'm sor-."

"About earl-."

I chuckled as she let out a laugh.

"You go first." She said, gesturing to me.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I overreacted and was a complete dick. I'm really sorry, Y/n." I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly as I continued, "I uh, I rented some movies. You're more than welcome to join me, if you don't have other plans."

Y/n frowned, "I have a date Joe, I'm sorry. I just stopped by so I could grab my heels."

I felt my heart drop. I tried my best to hide my faltering smile at the news.

She was going out with Evan.

“No, no that’s okay,” I shrugged, “I was going to watch movies with Ja’Marr anyway so…”

She smiled softly and nodded, “Well, have fun.” She walked past me and to her room, grabbing her shoes and then walking out of the apartment.

“Yeah, you too…” I frowned, disappointment evident in my tone.

I could tell she was still upset about earlier by the way she was quick to leave the apartment. I sat down on the couch, exiting the page that had How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days open. Y/n didn’t even notice the movie on the TV or her favorite takeout sitting on the counter with a note.

So much for my movie night and takeout apology.

hey loves!!

i apologize for how long this chapter is, i got a bit carried away lol

poor joe, right? he’s trying so hard :(

i hope you’re all continuing to enjoy this book!! i’m having a blast writing it!

also, prayers for anybody that has been affected by the severe storms that went through the midwest<3

i love you all and thank you for much for your continued support with this book! more updates coming soon:)

tags:

@jackharloww @ilovejoeburroww @dandelionwrites8 @ijustcrypretty @sinners-98-world @a-moment-captured @stainednailpolishremover @spooky-stoner

[aerequets]

Hello again!

I was wondering if you had any spy x family fic recs that are twiyor centric? AUs? I’m having trouble finding ones that are what I’m looking for. Ratings don’t matter. Anything from G to E would be appreciated! Thank you!!

boy oh BOY do i have twiyor fic recs !!!! it's like basically all i read LMAO and i am always on a hunt for more. i feel like i have read through a good chunk of what's on ao3 and i still feel starved. there's always my bookmarks you can sift through for twiyor fics, but for some more curated recommendations (and this is not gonna include all the ones i've lost my mind over, that's far too many, this is just what i can remember off the top of my head):

the living blues by @nire-the-mithridatist

GOD it would be such an understatement to say i am a huge fan of not only this work but EVERY WORK by this author because SHE HAS A WAY WITH WORDS OKAY. i avoid angst like the plague but i saw the happy ending tag to this fic and IT DIDN'T DISAPPOINT (chapter 6 is gonna be an epilogue)!!!!!!! AUGHHH this isnt even a good review im just yelling but yeah this is really good and also pretty much everything else by this author, i'll say it now so this list doesn't have numerous fics by the same person just do yourself a favor and read through what she's got if you haven't already

rated T, 5/6 chapters, currently 14k words

(edit: completed!)

With Kid Gloves by crownofrosegold on ao3

4 words: Mr Darcy Hand Flex

rated G, 1/2 chapters, currently 2.5k words

(edit: completed!)

the most yearning, pining, longing fic ever with the least physical touch ever. loid traces yor's gloves in his pocket with his thumb and its somehow intimate. yeah

it's been a hot minute since it's updated but the first chap can kinda be read as a standalone (to me) which is why i rec, even though i personally only go after finished fics for my own sanity :^) also its just too darn cute how can i not

How to Be a Supportive Husband by @nemaliwrites

rated T, 1/1 chapters, 910 words

short and sweet drabble of the most simpiest loid post reveal. what more could you want

MISSION: Bottom Feeder by SilverSupa on ao3

rated T, 2/4 chapters, currently 9.5k words

this one is just too good and funny LMAOO yor and loid are Peak Stupid and also Peak Attracted To Each Other so it's just. mm good mix. this one's also been a hot second since it's last update but i love it too much so its on this list

even when we're not together (will you stay with me?) by JaMills on ao3

rated T, 1/1 chapters, 4.5k words

gosh this is another one of those super good reads that make you sit and think after you're done. soulmate AU where they swap bodies as children until they meet. personally i'm not the most dedicated reader of aus where yor and loid meet as kids, but the way its handled here is just so good and adds to the story. it's also part of a series and the next installment is equally as good. this is another one of those authors that has a lot of quality stuff (although there's a good dash of angst which i keep my distance from JKFHISDH) so look through their page!

Enough by Frotu on ao3

rated T, 1/1 chapters, 4k words

EHEHE THIS ONE HAS ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET FR it is soooo cute. typical thing of yors coworkers getting into her head, she asks loid if what they have is enough, and... well.... you can read what happens from there ;] (spoiler: it's very cute)

a dream in charmeuse by selfetish (@selfetishizing ) on ao3

rated T, 2/2 chapters, 12k words

oh gosh, the prose in this is just?? so insanely good??? its such a pretty read. this is twiyor, yes, but it's also a deep dive into femininity and yor's understanding/rediscovery of it. i remember the first time i read it the opening scene of the first chapter was just so GOOD to me, i was like OMG i am not gonna forget this this is so iconic AND IT IS!!!!! i love me a good yor centric fic. we usually get more of twilight contemplation (i mean he has got the whole mission thing going on and hes our resident overthinker so, understandable) but this was such a nice look into yor's..,, like, fundamental building blocks?? if that makes sense?? its just good ok read it

"The Five Times Loid Forger Went Topless In Front of His Wife and the One Time She Reciprocated" Or “Bare-Chested in Berlint” by Talik_Sanis on ao3

rated M, 6/6 chapters, 17.5k words

that title should tell you all you need to know right LMAOOO it's just yor being incredibly horny, like embarrassingly so. she lacks a grip

again this is just 8 fics, where my bookmarks list are over 200 (yeesh) so feel free to look through those. i've also got some fics, most of which are twiyor lmao (brainrot i told you). and don't forget to show these awesome authors some love!

[alpydk]

Red on You (Part 6) - "Death of Peace and Mind"

Gale x Rugan - ZhentWeave Shenanigans

Longer chapter today (4k words, it escaped me) - Chaos carries on - Some angst and some loving. - Thanks to @judasiskariot for the song recommendation for this chapter.

Ao3 Link

Don’t suppose you’ve got any more of those spells up that sleeve of yours?”

Leonidas stood on top of the Flagon Dragon, Darnys next to him, who looked unimpressed at the half rescue that was taking place. The fly spell had run out just short of the academy and, despite the fireball spell having taken out a chunk of the shambling creatures below, more had filled in from the Dock and lower Castle Wards.

Gale could barely hear the question over the sounds of the droning below them, the undead again hitting the walls and main gate that struggled against the constant forward waves. He looked down over the streets, knowing another fireball wouldn’t be enough and the fly spell could only be cast if they were close enough.

“Head down through the building, use the hatch in the basement. Hatch to sewers will get you to the academy.”

Hearing the sending spell in his head, Leonidas nodded in understanding, grabbing Darnys and motioning her towards the edge of the building.

She initially struggled, confused at what he was doing. “Wait, isn’t he going to help us?”

“He is helping us. There’s apparently a way under the building to the academy.”

“Of course. Couldn’t just be easy. Guess this is the point where you should just follow me, then.” She took charge, looking down the corner of the walls and tossing her legs over the edge. The drain lay beneath her feet and though her eyes tried to focus on the dizzying sight of the horde beneath them, she reminded herself of the orders she had been given. Follow orders and you’ll live to follow more.

“You know where we have to go?”

Nodding, she threw herself over the edge, her arms and legs holding onto the pipe as she shuffled down it towards an upper window of the tavern. This was no different to any other heist, she thought to herself. Yes, it was in broad daylight, but the guards were as mindless as they ever were, albeit rotting, and the goal was still the same: to break in and claim an expensive item for their own.

---

Watching as the pair retreated in through the tavern window, Gale now found himself alone on the roof of the academy. The day had been passing slowly before them all, and he felt as the weight of his body seemed to overtake him. When had he last truly slept a full night? It certainly hadn’t been last night as he’d drank kaeth and then conversed with paladins, and nights before had been interrupted by Rugan and drunken shenanigans.

Thoughts had largely been about the present danger, but with the moment of reprieve now came back the worries of Gale’s relationship. The plan had been to end things the moment he got back to his tower, but that had been before the risk of death had faced him. Was Rugan even safe? Was he shut up in their tower, surrounded by magical wards with an unlimited supply of scrolls and other artefacts at his disposal, or had he decided to be the self-destructive idiot that Gale knew and loved? He kept in mind that his last sending spell had been received without issue and that was enough to calm him momentarily. A note was made to send another message in a few hours to check in and then go from there. For now, making sure the others survived was the priority.

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath at what was the come. He’d await Leonidas’ return, gather with the paladins and Lissa and then come up with a strategy to get them all out of there alive. Leaving the roof, he went in search of a quiet corner, one where he could collect his thoughts without the interruption of the moaning in the streets or the odour of decay. In a short while, they would all get out of there alive and find a way to deal with the problem, once and for all.

---

Gale, Seems I’m here with the noose around my neck again. Sort of serves me right really for pissing about like I have been. Wasn’t your fault though, never was. Look, I’ll keep this sweet, you know me. Never been much for conversation.

Rugan put down the quill and sighed. He’d been over every eventuality of the situation he’d found himself caught in, trapped in a wizard’s residence less than a kilometre from the academy. He’d somehow climbed up the guttering and got through a window into an attic, finding that the row of houses had all been connected by various wooden beams suspended over the upper rooms. Using some nimble footwork had got him to the household closest to the school’s tower, but on descending through the stairwell, he’d caught the attention of what was left of the residents and ended up barricaded in a small study. Books lined the walls, parchment and quills had been left abandoned, a bottle of Chultan Fireswill was now completely empty, his nerves having been calmed. He eyed up a crossbow on the wall, wondering if the adorned arrows next to it could even be fired. After hours being there, he could still hear the undead outside the door, no longer banging to get in but shuffling lifelessly upon the rugs, waiting for him patiently, he felt.

He wanted to say words of love, of goodbye, wanted to be poetic in the same manner Gale was with him, but the writing kept failing him. Rugan wasn’t articulate or educated. He’d just picked up what he’d needed as he’d gone ahead in life. He was charming in his own rough way, and that had been enough to woo the odd lass. Everything else he’d just paid for in one way or another. But with Gale, it was all different. Feelings were involved, a heart full to bursting was involved, and most of all, love was heavily involved. He picked up the quill again, dipping it into the inkwell.

There should be an earring with this, white gold with a sapphire stone. It’s to replace your goddess’ tag old one that you don’t use anymore. Don’t worry, didn’t nick it. Bought it. Astarion’ll vouch for me. If he’s made it, that is.

It’s why we were out so much. Were making money, so I could get it for you. Figured I could ask you

He lifted the quill again, frustrated at how difficult this was. Why couldn’t he just say it? He knew he would’ve had to eventually. Marry me, marry me, you idiot. Come on! Just fucking write it.

Scratching at the parchment, he continued, the desperate thoughts kept to himself.

Just know I love you. Don’t go locking yourself away in your tower whilst I’m gone, yeah? Meet some nice lass…or lad, your choice. Just get over yourself and me.

Going to miss your cooking...

R.

--- 

Blankets and covers were not what Andora expected as she awoke in a small bedroom, her blood-soaked robes removed and replaced with a grey button-down shirt, her blonde hair set into a loose braid over her shoulder. All the curtains had been closed and candles had been lit around her, casting the room in an orange glow. She sat up slowly, the feeling of wool under her fingertips welcome after the cold tiles and grime she’d been sitting in for hours earlier.

“Finally, she graces us with her presence.”

The voice was that of the pale elf from the sewers, perched on the edge of a desk to the right of her, a silver goblet in his hand and his scarlet eyes pinned on her.

She gasped, fear overtaking her, and she backed herself away from him, the sheets gathering in front of her as she tried to scramble from the bed.

“Now, love. Calm down.”

Flashes of the scriptorium shot in front of her vision, her high priest’s pustuled flesh, his hands bloodstained, reaching out for her. Her breathing quickened, and she pushed back, falling from the side of the bed and clamouring to the floor. As she lifted her head, she found the elf stood above her, his footsteps too quick and silent to be that of something natural.

“Get back!” She held her palm up, ready to cast a spell, any spell that came to mind, if it meant her escape. “I’ll do it! I’m not scared of you.”

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed in front of her, sipping his drink, a deep red tinge left on his lower lip, which he licked away slowly with his pointed tongue. “Obviously.”

Andora realised how exposed she was, huddling on the wooden floorboards at his feet, her legs bare and the shirt barely covering her hips. “Where are my robes?” she asked cautiously, one hand still put forth, prepared for an attack, the other tugging at the hem of the grey cotton trying to cover herself. 

“Well, despite the fine material, they’re currently in cinders in the fireplace. You may not have much knowledge about blood, but I do, and whatever was upon them was not something we wanted with us.” 

She lowered her arm in tentative acceptance of his answer, bringing her hand to cover her legs to give herself some decency, her dark eyes still focused on his movements.

He averted his gaze away from her. “There are trousers in the wardrobe, I’m sure.” Vaguely gesturing across the room, he stepped away from her, giving her a moment of privacy to collect herself up.

She was alive. She could feel no sense of fever or pain in her body and in this room for a moment, it felt as if the calamities that had befallen her had vanished.

“Name’s Astarion,” he spoke calmly, patiently waiting for her to change into something more comfortable.

“Andora,” she replied, getting up and searching for something to cover her lower half, still trying to piece together everything that had occurred. “You were in the sewers with me, weren’t you?”

He gave a dry chuckle, straightening the ruffles of his shirt at his pale wrists. “I was. You fainted on me, quite rude an introduction I have to say.”

“And where are we now?”

“From what I can tell, it’s a tavern near the marketplace. I carried you for quite some time and eventually came across a hatch into a basement. We’ve been holed up here since.”

She approached him, leather trousers hanging loosely from her frame beneath the shirt. Something about him made her curious, his calm demeanour, the way he spoke as if he were a rich red flowing into the goblet he held. “Why didn’t you just abandon me there or stay underground?”

Astarion shrugged at her question. The honest answer was that he’d felt some deep stirring emotion, not felt since he’d last seen Tav at the campsite party so long ago. He felt as if he needed to protect her. “I needed to wash all the remains of those creatures off me. Leaving your pretty face just seemed like a waste.” “Well, I appreciate it. I thank Ilmater for your intervention.” Andora bowed her head to him. She could see how he was no longer stained with blood, causing him to appear more dashing than he had previously. She felt the blush in her cheeks as his gaze seemed to pierce right through her and so she turned away, walking towards a window and pulling the curtains slightly apart. The sunlight streamed in, casting a beam up through the room behind her, her imposing shadow thrown up the wall.

“By the hells! What are you doing?!”

The impatient shout was met with the dive of Astarion to the floor, trying to escape the light that hit his features. She spun with the noise, releasing the curtain from her grasp, letting darkness fall over the room again with nothing but the candles to help her see.

“Astarion?” She peered around, not noticing where he had vanished to.

Dusting himself off, he returned to his feet, an irritated look on his face at what she had done. “They are closed for a reason. Keep them that way.”

She was confused at what the purpose of it was. They were a few floors up from the ground where they couldn’t be seen unless they stood by the windows, bringing attention to themselves, and yet he wanted them all shut. It was then that she remembered how he had looked underground, the pointed fangs, the comment of how he had been bitten. Her mind raced through the teachings of the clergy, of curses and creatures of the night, of undead and lycanthropes, of blood rituals and vampirism.

“You’re a...” The words would not come to her, as if saying them would sign her death sentence.

“A vampire. Yes, darling. And one that right now is incredibly tired and hungry, so I suggest you do not turn this into anything too dramatic.” The revelation had been quicker than expected, much quicker than it had been travelling with Tav through daylight hours. He glanced over the arch of Andora’s neck, seeing the way her jugular pulsed with the quickened beat of her heart. He couldn’t deny his hunger, not right now after hours of running and hiding in gloomy alleyways and grungy sewers.

“Are you going to hurt me?” It was a fair question, her experience with vampires severely limited. She’d heard of them during her childhood on the streets, of friends and family selling their bodies to feed spawn, but she’d never come across one herself. He had now pulled her from the sewers, saved her from the disease that had coated her clothing, even braided her hair. Were the stories from the temple wrong about these monsters?

He stepped closer to her, noticing how her body language had changed, more confident, as if this were a hallowed ground she knew how to tread. Fear in her eyes had become something else, something he’d seen in Tav on one distant night under the Sword Coast stars. “Not right now. No.”

“When did you last feed?”

Her question took him back. Was she trying to calculate how much time she had before he turned on her out of desperation, or was she trying to work out when he would be at his weakest so she could stake him and escape? “A day ago. I dared not take a chance on the rats beneath the city.” He answered, not being entirely honest. It had in fact been longer with the travel to Waterdeep and everything with Rugan, and the idea of shit-stained rats was becoming very tempting to him.

She nodded, leaving the safety of the window, and approached him, pushing her braid aside so he could see her neck fully. “Then you need to drink soon, right?” Sacrifice was what she was made for, something she knew how to do without thinking, something she could finally control after all the chaos that had happened. There was also something she couldn’t explain: how she was drawn to him. Attraction? She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to care for him. A fear lay behind his eyes that she knew all too well: prey in the eyes of wolves.

“What are you-” Astarion unexpectedly backed away, her directness something he hadn’t considered.

“Ilmater requires of us that we should be willing to help all, give all we can to help those in need, even if that involves a sacrifice of ourselves. If you need sustenance, then drink of me.”

He batted an arm away from her, not accepting her words. He knew the gods all too well, having tried his luck with all of them in his two hundred years of servitude to Cazador. Anyone who devoted themselves to them was clearly deranged. “My gods, you’re insane. Out of all the ones to find...”

“Astarion. I believe he led you to me so that we could help each other. You have helped me. Let me help you.”

The words felt like a dagger blade to his cold, dead heart, words of comfort and kindness before she had even grown to know him. His mind clashed with the ideas of sating his hunger or leaving her entirely in the room they’d found themselves. He wasn’t that desperate, and yet there she stood, eyes innocent, skin pure and unblemished, offering herself to him without hesitation. “This isn’t what you want.”

She smiled, her hand raising delicately to touch his icy cheek, a connection both of them didn’t want to fight. “But it’s what you want, what you need. Ilmater protects me, so do not worry.”

He could feel the warmth of her hand as it touched him, hear the beat of her heart merged with quiet breaths. Hunger drowned out all his logic. Want and need drove him forward as he bit sharply into her neck, her blood thick and sweet upon his tongue. She tasted like sunlight would. Honeysuckle, vanilla, summer days spent lying under drifting clouds. Each drop of her cherry nectar to his senses.

“Astarion...” she whispered, her body pressed flush to his, Ilmater’s teachings repeating in her mind. Until I can bear a fraction of your burden, Sufferer, I shall.

The beating of her heart slowed and Astarion returned to his senses, pulling his lips from the arch of her neck but keeping a firm grasp of her in his arms. Her deep brown eyes reflected in the red of his own, and he saw a warmth he had only known once before. The quiet thud between their chests reminded him she was still alive, more alive than anyone he had met before. She was more than sustenance; she was an evening with loved ones, postcoital bliss on a picnic blanket in spring, life itself filled with all its wine and dancing. He brushed his lips upon hers, her taste having him crave more. She did not flinch, did not breathe out the words of her lord. Instead, she pulled herself to him, giving herself in full.  

 ---

Going to miss your cooking...

R.

Rugan felt as if he were trapped in the Gnoll cave again, death coming to claim him as it had tried to so often. He’d written the letter, but waiting the hours for his death was proving overwhelming. The walls felt as if they were closing in on him; the darkness spreading into his veins. There was no escape, and the apprehension was becoming too much to ignore. If Gale were here... Deep down, Rugan knew he had messed everything up. If he had just been honest with his intentions, then it could have all been done differently. He was no changed a man now than he was a year ago when he claimed himself as an ex- Zhent, and it ate away at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to show differently.

Can’t take the Zhent out of the man... Maybe Astarion was right. Maybe that is why Rugan was repeating the same mistakes, going in circles like a dog chasing its tail. It was in his blood to screw up, after all. Isn’t that what his father had done, followed the coin at the bottom of the bottle, just as Rugan was choosing? He didn’t want to die that way, didn’t want to die trapped in bottle nor cave. He rubbed at his stomach; the scar of Alchemist’s Fire underneath irritated by the leather he wore. He didn’t want to die trapped in the study of some posh prick either, and it was this thought that removed the fear that had been plaguing him.

Zhentarim completed jobs. They not only got into places, but they got out of them too. And he had been a master at getting out of so many situations. He wouldn’t be the softened-up boyfriend living the life of luxury as he had been for the last year. Now was the moment to pull himself together. He checked over the room, the ornamental crossbow hung on the wall, thankfully not as ornamental as he’d initially thought, and he made his choice. Pocketing the letter and taking a deep breath, he unlocked the study door.

---

Lissa stepped towards the paladin Lucius, her white hair glimmering under the dancing lights above her. The paintings of the academy’s previous professors lined the walls, and she felt the gaze of each one on the back of her pale blue neck as she walked forward.

“Excuse me. Are you alright there?” She was quiet, cautious, the body of his ally lying near him with the now dried blood staining the carpet beneath them both.

Lucius hadn’t been aware of his environment for some time as he’d sat on the floor of the halls watching the lifeless body. In his mind he’d been on the battlefield, his men falling around him, screams and violence in a world he could not escape. There were no soldiers to command, no enemy to bring justice to, no battle to win. There was only defeat. “Leave us...”

Her hand drifted to the silver dagger at her side on hearing his voice. He was cold, resigned, not the mighty commander that had broken through the main door. “Can’t do that. Not in the situation we’re in now.” She reached forward, placing a hand on the armour of his shoulder. “Your men need you.”

“My men are dead!” He spun on her, sword drawn at the ready, illusion and reality merging as his head pounded with fever. He stumbled forward as she stepped away from him, watching as she backed up over the muddy field of corpses, the paintings now faces of the gods, watching how he’d led his troops to death.

“No, your men are at the door. Darius has been organising scrolls, Leonidas is on the roof with Gale. Remember?” Lissa continued to step backwards, observing him, drawing him to the main hall where she hoped to get protection from his subordinate.

Mud and death entwined with scarlet rugs and oak, past and present combined, tearing his mind in two. “They…they died in the halls...”

She shook her head. “No. They’re alive. They’re here.”

He saw the face of Darius emerge over her shoulder, alive and well.

“See, all fine.”

Lucius calmed before her lilac eyes, and she drew her hand away from her dagger, falling back behind the soldier that awaited her. She watched as the two paladins approached each other slowly, a relaxed smile creeping up on her lips, as Darius gently pulled the face of his weakened commander towards him. She exhaled, her shoulders lowering. “Thank the gods. I thought we were going to have a-”

Lucius’ head snapped forward; a deep bite placed in the neck of Darius, tearing at the supple flesh available. Blood spurted from the wound as he ripped himself back with a growl, skin and muscle caught in his teeth, his mouth already filled with the fetid taste of pus and rust.

“Fuck. Inveniam viam.” Lissa cast the spell calmly before she could be grabbed, a quick misty step taking her to a room near the main door of the academy.

Lucius’ head twisted at a disjointed angle in search of her, a broken snarl released from his now dead lips and with it came a joined moan as Darius twitched and spasmed on the floor, corruption flooding his system. Lissa frowned unenthused with the situation and entered the room behind her, the undead more an inconvenience than a threat.

Locking the door with a spell, she relaxed and glanced over the study’s contents, taking in the tomes and comfortable furniture that awaited her. She ran a hand through her long white hair and sat down in the large leather red chair, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable.

She spoke, her voice soft and almost a whimper. “Gale, paladins have turned. Trapped by the main gate. Help me, please. You’re my only hope.” She sent off the sending spell before opening the drawer of the nearby desk, pulling out a bottle of Dancing Maiden and smirking to herself. Guess I just wait then…

[oneshotdepresso]

WIP Weekend

thanks for the tag @sepetajmikolikomehoces <3 <3

tho technically it's a tuesday on my end, send me an ask abt any of these WIPs and i'll gladly answer w a snippet :3

slap at the face that eats me: it's uh, going! the second chapter is veryyy bare bones rn but i do have a few key scenes laid out in the document. currently distracted by another wip especially bc of a certain ruisrock crossover 😭

Sunny Side of London: mito and i have a good chunk of the next chapter done for A While now, but we're both currently busy w our lives that we havent had the time to patch up the remaining scenes, plus im planning on doing a comic page for that chapter too. but trust that we're still keeping at it 💪💪💪

insane robot bojeroost roommates au: this is the au that's been distracting me from many things LMFAO it's gonna be weird and quite cartoonish, but it has my brain in a death grip and i hope it'll do the same to u guys,,, Soon.

bojere boba tea date: very old WIP (all the way from june of LAST YEAR) that's 4k+ words of jere drinking boba tea and going insane because the tapioca pearls remind him of bojan's eyes, along with other boba tea related innuendos. i'd say about 80% of it is done, but also bc the entirety of that 80% is jere's internal yapping by virtue of his undiagnosed adhd. maybe i'll finish it when i get over my own undiagnosed adhd

i have a Lot of WIPs laying around but these r the most complete and the ones where im not bound to any secrecy ;]

no pressure tagging: @occhi-verdi-come-il-mare @breaddo @forever-unanonymous @mitchellmack @devilspenguins

[daryascurse]

𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕: 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩

Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader // ♡ follow #ULSukuna for updates ♡ // n.sfw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: semi-dominant reader, dominant Sukuna (kinda, you'll see), submιssive(passive?) Gojo, oraI, fιngering, sex, degradιng language / threats, terrible trauma coping mechanisms. Perhaps an accurate summary would be, after getting thoroughly dιckmatized by Sukuna, the only coping mechanism is to use Gojo in turn. Chapter length: 4k

His kisses aren’t the same as Sukuna’s. His hands move too soft, even when he squeezes and slaps just as you beg him to. His words are dirty, but nothing filthy enough to make you run hot between your legs.

But in the dark, you can roll your eyes back and remember Sukuna and pretend.

In the dark, the returned memories are manageable.

Tonight, you splay over him and let the memory overtake you. You sit straddling his hips with hands exploring down his smooth chest, and beyond the darkness of your room you can practically see Sukuna again, four eyes sparkling rubies up at you with malice.

Read after the jump or on AO3 // set the mood

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned.

Epilogue.

Time had passed so strangely in the Domain; but here, back in reality, it’s achingly – well, real. The minutes tick in digital glowing succession, the days roll by without room for error. It’s easy to forget, of course. Sometimes you don’t know if it’s Tuesday or Friday. But unlike with Sukuna, here you can measure the passage of time. Find a calendar, a newspaper, cell phone screen. And it’s Wednesday.

It’s real here, and you said that to your newfound houseguest once. He turned his head around the gleaming linoleum of the kitchen and spread his hands as if to say – well, of course?

But he bit back the words, and for that you were grateful. He’s tried to explain it, but your head still swims with too much to fully understand. That the mythological Ryoumen Sukuna of folklore was in fact real. That he was more than just present in your nightmares - that he was still present in the world through twenty preserved fingers. Yes, twenty, for, you see, said that white haired guest – a little impatiently, the sixth or seventh time you had asked him to tell you the full story again– he had been a shaman of sorts. This guest is claiming himself a shaman too. He was drawn here to your home by what he calls “cursed energy." Such a finger hidden within the building’s foundation has been oozing this energy, bringing more “curses,” more darkness, to this physical place.

The memories are what make you trust his words, even if you don't fully comprehend them.

“It’s like this,” he had said after a week when you still gave him blank, quizzical stares during his original explanation. “Venus flytraps, right? They secrete nectar to attract bugs, flies, any food they can. You know, if you keep one as a pet, you can even feed it meat. As carnivorous plants, they can digest the protein. But sometimes, other stuff falls in, like rocks, or a chunk of hamburger too big to digest. The flytrap doesn’t know what to do with it.”

He had paused, and you’d nodded, understanding so far.

“These fingers are like that. Instead of nectar, they exude cursed energy that brings other curses, and it’s how I and others in my profession can find them. We need to destroy or contain curses. And if a cursed spirit eats Sukuna’s fingers, they grow stronger.” He paused again, tilting his head at you. “But you don’t have a very strong level of cursed energy, nor did you actually eat the finger. You just lived really close to it. So you must have just… fallen in, like a pebble, just irritating to him but not useful.”

He lifted a finger, correcting himself before you could object. “Maybe I shouldn’t say irritating, actually,” he said, and his tone had been too measured to discern. “Closer to entertaining, if he was able to make a Vow with you and take you in and out. From what you can tell me, you’ve been returning to his Domain for at least weeks, if not months. And who’s to say how many times it was? Who knows how much time you actually spent in a subliminal space.”

“But how did it happen to me? Why not anyone else - a neighbor or something? What happens to stuff in the flytrap that can’t be digested?” you’d asked.

He scratched over the thick band covering his eyes, right at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know,” he’d said. “I don’t actually know how plants work.”

“And the Venus flytrap eats bugs. But you say it’s the other way around, that Sukuna’s fingers are eaten. And if you need to destroy a plant, isn’t it easy to just - I don’t know - pull it out? Weeding?”

He had made an irritated noise. “I’ll think of another analogy,” he had said, and excused himself from the room to make a phone call and shriek at someone named Nanami.

Every day you wonder if it’s possible to measure just how mad you must have gone. You can’t understand half of what he says no matter how he tries to explain it. And still the memories continuously come, Sukuna’s scathing parting gift, and you have headaches even without dwelling on them. You’re nauseous. Your stomach hurts. It’s overwhelming.

The white haired guest will be here in your home only a little while longer. He introduced himself at first, but you’ve forgotten his name and haven’t asked again. The finger has, unseen to you (and you didn’t want to see it) been retrieved from somewhere in the building’s bones. He says there should be no more residue, that Sukuna’s physical trace is gone at last. He says he still has to keep an eye on you just a little more, to ensure that it is in fact a resolved situation. No longer than a month all in all. You don’t know if you can’t wait for him to leave or if you want him to stay forever. You’d find it hard to tell him either way.

What you absolutely can’t tell him is the reason you squirm when night falls, when there’s no more distraction as his talk ceases, when the darkness surrounds you and the silence hunts with ghostly claws. You clutch the blankets close, and hot, stinging tears prick at your eyes because fuck, fuck, fuck - you miss Sukuna’s nails down your spine, tongue against your skin, breath mixing with your breath. You can't admit it, you can't say that ludicrous truth out loud - that you miss him.

He’s heard you cry.

He stopped sleeping on the couch several days ago.

“It’s unprofessional,” he murmured the first time he came running at your cries and you lifted your hands, wrapped them around his shoulders, and kissed the side of his neck. His jaw. Right at the edge of his blindfold, still wrapped around his eyes even in the dark. But his hands, locked around your wrists, hadn’t pulled you away. He moved down your arm, dropping them to your waist, and when you lifted your kisses, the next one was his mouth on your own.

His kisses aren’t the same as Sukuna’s. His hands move too soft, even when he squeezes and slaps just as you beg him to. His words are dirty, but nothing filthy enough to make you run hot between your legs.

But in the dark, you can roll your eyes back and remember Sukuna and pretend.

In the dark, the returned memories are manageable.

Tonight, you splay over him and let the memory overtake you. You sit straddling his hips with hands exploring down his smooth chest, and beyond the darkness of your room you can practically see Sukuna again, four eyes sparkling rubies up at you with malice.

“Put in the work for once, you lazy little whore. Ride my cock.”

You hear those words as loud in your mind as if Sukuna was growling them once more. You run your hands up his chest, and dance down again, tracing imaginary black patterns that you remember so perfectly over his collarbone and stomach.

His hands – the hands you pretend are Sukuna’s - yes, yes, Sukuna’s hands - slide up your thighs, squeezing gently at your skin. You rock your hips. He tightens one hand to anchor you there above his body, the other lifting and touching right where you need him most.

In your memories, Sukuna’s moving roughly. His thick fingers push you apart, withdrawing for a moment, and you gasp at the teasing touch. “You’re already wet, already waiting for me, as always,” he says, the words floating deliriously through your mind. In the blue light of the shrine, he lifts his head, raising his fingers to his mouth and spitting messily. “I can feel you writhe and clench at the slightest touch. You’re so desperate to get fucked, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out into the silent darkness, and the hand curves back below you. His finger extends across the length of your slit, palm pushing up into your cunt. You whimper as he bends his middle finger back, and straightens again, just barely pushing into you. You move your hips in circles, chasing the pressure of his hand against you.

Wetness drags across his skin. The addition of his saliva glides through your own arousal with a lewd sound and you roll forward at it, feeling yourself throb – just as he knew you would, just as he always knows every inch of your body better than you do yourself.

“Yes,” you say again, and his fingertip shifts angles against your entrance as he brings his thumb up to your clit. The pressure is firm, slow, teasingly measured to keep you shaking, thighs straining as your knees dig into the bed - no, into the shrine floor, the shrine, you insist to yourself and close your eyes.

If his hand wasn’t bracing against your thigh, you might have collapsed down onto him when he dips his finger back into your entrance. It’s one shallow pump, before withdrawing and pressing back in with both middle and index finger. Your legs still lower despite yourself, and you let another anguished moan spill as he begins to stretch his fingers inside you, curling faster. You begin to fall forward onto his chest.

“No,” comes Sukuna’s ghostly voice in your ears when you blink. You close your eyes again and he’s glaring up at you from the shrine floor, free hand clapped with splayed fingers right below your throat to force you back up. “I told you,” he says, anger seeping through his voice at the need for a reminder, “you have to put the work in, you stupid bitch.”

You lift your hand to your own throat, half-expecting to feel his long fingers knit against your own, to feel the prick of his blackened nails when you press your hand against your clavicle.

The Sukuna of your memories pushes his hand higher. You follow, fingers trembling in loose lone embrace around your throat.

“I know what you want,” he says in that grating growl, and the hand at your cunt tightens, curves to the side, something to balance between your thighs and grind against frantically. He pushes, the pressure just at your clit and down hard, hard. “You want to toss your head and let your spine curve and your back bend, you want me to claw at your skin and fuck you hard. You want me to lift your hips, to pull you off my cock when you clench on me and slam you back down. You want me to use your body like the toy you are.”

You whine, thigh muscles tensing anxiously. An ache begins to spread from your knees in this frozen pose.

“But I’m tired of it all, you fucking whore. This time, you fuck me.”

He lets go of your throat, the hands sliding to lock around your waist.

“If you want this cock, put it in yourself.”

You let your hands fall to his chest again and down to rest against his stomach. The body under your fingers shudders under your touch, but behind your closed lids, Sukuna regards you coolly. His breath hisses evenly from his nose.

You lift your thighs again to hover over his cock and lower yourself slowly, your hips already jerking forward at the first aching stretch. The fingers were a teasing taste that lured the arousal from you. As you sink down, throbbing and wet, he pushes against you, leaving you feeling so full your legs tremble and you can’t bring yourself back up for a moment. You groan, a soft, “fuck,” and let your hips rock in a clumsy grind over his cock, bringing him to every perfect, snug angle.

This is where the memory can’t perfectly erase the reality, even if you closed your eyes so tightly you saw stars dancing across Sukuna’s leering face. This pleasure isn’t the same as what you hunt so desperately for, even with his hips flushed against yours and cock ribbing within you with every slight shift. You whimper.

Leaning forward to find the angle that feels most like him, your hands climb across his chest once more to press right above his heart for balance.

“Go on, my little bitch,” Sukuna snarls at you through memories, a sound sharp enough to drown out any other voices. You raise your hips to slide back down him, a slow sinking, and back up again. There’s no rhythm to it yet, and you shiver at the memory of his growl, thinking of him smashing you against the floor in that rash impatience.

“I’ll slap your face raw if you falter again.”

But despite the impatience Sukuna won’t fuck you back, wouldn’t ever fuck you back like this, even if you were to beg and plead at the unsteadiness of your legs. So the hands that come to your hips are wrong when they curve to grip your ass and command your movement. Your breath catches and your head spins - wrong, wrong- and you roll your hips against him, finding the strength in your muscles to jerk back up on your own. You hear yourself echo words of Sukuna past, down to the man below you. “Don’t- oh-,” you say, your voice strained, and you grind your hips up and down again to fuck him faster.

He thrusts his hips up just as you drop down, and it pushes right through to you. You arch your back, and here the rhythm begins to form, your hips curving away and crashing down against each other. Your thighs shake. Sweat begins to prickle cold against your back, your fingers curving and nails beginning to carve into his chest.

Below you, he shifts, canting his hips at a new angle and you cry out when it pushes inside you. A hand slides to your belly, lower, lower, feeling right where his cock hits deeply with every buck of your thighs. He presses into your skin, feeling himself stuff you. It feels like he could be driving even deeper with that pressure of his hand finding himself through your body.

“Fuck,” you cry again in anguish, leaning your body into him and throwing your head back. His hand braces you, thumb just stroking over your skin, enough to make you writhe at the touch.

You want to scream his name - Sukuna, Sukuna - and you bite your lip until you taste blood to silence yourself.

The pain is delicious, the missing pain, and you press your calves into the bed to revel in it. In the memory, in your miming echo, you dig your nails into his skin, scraping down his chest. You jerk your hips and ride his cock harder. The whines slip from you louder, wordless, panting as desperately and frantically as your body does as it crashes into his with hands viciously pushing him down.

You take what you need from the man below you, letting his groans and sighs fall out of his voice and into Sukuna’s tones as they reach your ears. You fuck him as his head lolls back, your eyes opening for a moment and closing again to see Sukuna, chin hard and angled up at you with a glint in his four eyes.

“Ah,” Sukuna says, in caution. “Don’t get carried away.”

Now is when his ghostly hand comes to the side of your hip, sliding into place over the grip so firmly already there.

“Don’t think one night being on top means you’re in charge. Get off.”

He sits up, the body below you shifting up as well, and he kisses the side of your cheek softly as you still your motions. In your mind, Sukuna kisses your neck instead, open mouthed, teeth scraping down your skin as he bites. You turn your head, meeting lips in a sloppy, wet kiss.

“Get off,” Sukuna says again.

“Sit back,” you say breathlessly aloud.

“That’s right,” Sukuna says, the poisonous silk weaving through your brain. You lift your knees shakily, moaning softly as it leaves you empty, aching, the slick still sliding from you without his cock to keep it dripping to your thighs.

The bed shifts in the darkness.

“Suck it,” Sukuna says in the back of your mind. For a delirious moment the memory is reality and you see him, drawing himself up against a pillar of the shrine, the dip of his Adam’s apple when he swallows and lets a sharp breath through his nose. “Come on, suck your taste off my cock.”

You search blindly forward, crawling on your hands and knees closer to him. With your eyes closed, your hands don’t slide against the bedsheets but cool, hard stone. You reach forward to wrap your fingers around his cock, stopping at the remembrance of Sukuna’s hand. His own fingers curled at your wrist, a band echoing his black strips, and his voice floats back:

“I said suck it. Don’t use your hands.”

You lift yourself closer, opening your mouth around the tip of his cock and letting your tongue run over the head. The gasp that you hear is too sharp to be Sukuna’s, and you have to open your eyes and roll them back again as you sink lower on him, to bring the memory back to clarity. There Sukuna is again, and he isn’t convulsing at your touch over his sensitive, swollen cock, slick with your own arousal. Your tongue curls as you lick it from him.

“Yes,” Sukuna rasps, crashing into the “yeah” of the man above you. His hand comes cupping at the base of your head, gently, so gently, pushing you down further over him. Saliva floods from the back of your mouth and right under your teeth, sliding, slurping, over him as your head bobs back and forth. It slides down his shaft and drips to the bed, no, no, to the shrine floor, over your hands clutching helplessly at your own fingers over him.

Your tongue strains, wraps around his cock, your head dancing up. You close your lips around the sensitive head and suck. He groans, and you glide your tongue easily into the slit, twisting in a small circle and flattening again around the tip.

“Like that,” says Sukuna through hissing, wet teeth. His hand slides, just as the man’s hand slides now, straight down your neck making your shoulders shiver. He presses into your back as he traces down your spine, and it’s your turn to groan in response at the sensation of nails digging into your skin.

The hand drops away, and the body beneath you shifts in tandem with the ghost of Sukuna as he sits up higher. He leans forward, his sternum pressing into the back of your head as his chest keeps you down against his cock. He reaches the hand out again, curving against your waist and under your stomach to find your cunt.

He fingers you messily, fast, moving two fingers between your folds just enough to tease out the slick even more. Your hips buck eagerly as he pushes past your pain of overstimulation, the ache becoming warm and addicting the more you rock into it. Tears sting at your eyes again, and now when you blink, they roll fat and hot down your cheek. His cock is thick at the roof of your mouth, each breath strangled.

His hips are moving up hard now. He pumps his cock down your throat, fucking your mouth. You moan, muffled, strangled, around him. Both of your bodies throb anxiously close to release.

“Fuck!”

He begins to tighten in your mouth, Sukuna’s strong fingers rubbing fast against your clit and harder still. Your tongue finds that long pinching vein, and slides over it. You close your lips around him and suck again. It’s what does it, his hand turning back, sliding up against you as he leans back and comes down your throat with a harsh cry. This taste is more sour, somehow thinner, than the flavor of Sukuna’s cum.

No, he doesn’t taste like Sukuna either.

But he can do as you need, with more attention than Sukuna did. When you lift your sore mouth from his cock, his hands are gentle as he turns you on your back, kissing your forehead, swinging a knee over you to lower himself in turn. “Let me,” he whispers. The voice is too kind for Sukuna’s memory to mask, as his hand finds your cunt again and pushes back in.

You whimper, opening your eyes to strain into the darkness. “Oh, oh, oh,” is what you say, babbles forced out as you twist down into the sheets. No, the shrine.

You close your eyes again but, no, it’s the sheets, with Sukuna’s cold face withdrawing from you even in delusional vision.

He - this real one - is chasing it away like smoke from a candle. 

“Oh!” you cry out again, as his fingers close on you. He curls two back inside, thumb messy and hard on your clit. Hard, like him. You blink again and try in vain to bring Sukuna back.

It’s impossible. The air here is too hot, the sound of his fingers in your cunt too sharp and wet, the overstimulation and teasing at the edge maddening. He stops circling, stroking instead, running that pressure harder and lighter faster and faster against you. He kisses the curve of your collarbone as you whine and lift a leg to wrap up around him.

It aches almost painfully when you come. It cramps. He keeps moving incessantly even as you clench and flutter over his fingers. You scream, too primal and rough to form into a word, bucking your hips up into his hand, into his body. He kisses you again, and again, lips pressing into the hollow of your throat and up to the side of your cheek as your heart rate gallops.

The memory of Sukuna shrivels and falls to the floor of your mind’s darkroom, no longer dazzlingly brilliant. Driven away, fucked away, as each shard has slowly been, night by night.

Another one of – how many?

The body over you shifts and moves away, the pressure of his touch gone.

“Fuck,” you say, a jagged sigh.

The man truly in your bed sighs in heavy contentment and turns away from you as he settles the way he does every night now. In the dim light from the moon beyond the window, you see the edge of his silhouette as his head turns towards you in invitation. With a sigh of your own, you wrap your arms around him, just as you’ve begun to do every night, and lean your forehead between his shoulder blades.

“Feel better?” he asks, and there’s some cold edge beyond the teasing words. You ignore it and nod. Your face rubs against the sweat still cooling on his skin, and you tilt your chin back to give a soft kiss to the top of his spine.

“I’m not your teddy bear,” he says. You must have imagined the previous tone, because his voice is full only of sleepy mirth now.

“No? Then what are you?” you shoot back drowsily.

He seems to think for a moment. “A midnight snack,” he says. “Emphasis on snack.”

It makes you snort with laughter, his absurd humor having grown so familiar. You trail your hand up his arm and down again, and let the sound die in the darkness.

Sukuna’s parting words float into your mind unbidden.

“I never even asked your name, did I?”

Yes, you refuse to know the name of the white-haired man in your home, the man drifting to sleep in your caged arms, and your mouth suddenly fills with a strange, sour taste. Suddenly, you hate him, you hate him so much. He’s your last tie to Sukuna, the only explanation to this fucked up world you somehow opened a window onto, a window he’s determined to shut and latch by the end of the month. And you understand Sukuna in this moment, so removed, so powerless and starving, clutching to anything – anyone – who stumbled in his way and stayed too long in his trap.

There’s that pit of cramping nausea below your stomach, as if you’ve eaten something indigestible.

You squeeze your arms tighter around him.

fin. (for now...!)

Author's note: thank you, thank you so so much for reading this weird little story of mine! I honestly never intended it to be more than smut and so.. yeah the plot is very fairly half-baked, so, thank you for all your patience. I may return to this story one day, because I have several ideas... however, nothing concrete, and I think this is something I would really need to properly map out a plot for (for once). I definitely could not write another weekly update lol. As of now, late March 2023, I am cautiously marking this story as completed.. but don't unfollow the #ULSukuna hashtag and some day, you may get surprised :)

[fatalfangirl]

It's the last day of 2022 and drawing some inspiration from @captain-aralias, I thought I'd look back at my participation in fandom over the past year.

Fics I Wrote Alone

Bound and Determined - Explicit - 52k (last 1/3 published in 2022)

Playing the Field - Explicit - 7k

The Payout - Mature - 500

Dead in Vegas - Mature - 8.7k

The Beautiful Game - Teen - 10k

More Than Friends - Explicit - 6.3k

Fic I Wrote With Others

Keep it Down - Explicit - 5.3k (~2k mine) with @whatevertheweather

Plus One - Teen - 9.8k (~4k mine) with @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

Fanart I Made

Embroidery for Local Hero by @basic-banshee and breadofgod

Embroidery for Brazen by @whatevertheweather

Embroidery for The Spanking Dream by @skeedelvee

Below are some thoughts, highlights, and favorite fics I read this year.

Overall Themes: Football and Sex

Looking at my fics from 2022, there are two clear themes that stand out: football and sex. Two fics heavily feature football (Playing the Field and The Beautiful Game) and only two fics are below a mature rating. What can I say? I'm here for a good time.

The year started out with me writing about soccer because in the prompt for Playing the Field, @aristocratic-otter (who I wrote this fic for) mentioned liking when writers dig into a topic they're familiar with. Soccer was such a huge part of my identity up into my mid late 20s when I eventually got too injured to continue playing. Going back to the sport, the feelings and community of it, through fics has been a way for me to reconnect with something I love but no longer participate in directly.

As for the sex... hahaha I just like smut, I guess. And I like exploring intimacy through the act of sex. My two longer fics Bound and Determined and More Than Friends (which isn't long yet, but will be) both play in that space.

The Good and the Bad of 2022

The Good: I completed multiple chaptered fics this year! I met fandom friends in Vegas!!

The Bad: I was too hard on myself and my writing, and I ended up burning out for a chunk of the summer.

The Long Story: I started off strong in this fandom with a fic that is more popular than I ever thought it would be. Then I struggled the rest of the year with coming up with the ability/motivation to finish another chaptered fic.

Dead in Vegas was never going to get the reception of Bound and Determined and I knew that going in, but I love this dumb action movie idea so I put a lot of pressure on myself to make it good. That blew up in my face. I already walk a fine line with loving/hating my own writing, but the way I overanalyzed everything in DiV started to make me feel like shit. So I took a break. I started reading more and making fanart through my embroidery.

I almost bailed on writing The Beautiful Game because I was still struggling with these questions of the quality of my writing, my ability to write within a desired timeframe, this concerned that "nothing will be as good as B&D." But I thought, hey, what if I just write these short scenes, nothing crazy, and I just allow myself to accept my writing as "good enough."

The Beautiful Game isn't that long, really, but it showed I could finish another chaptered project. Which in turn made me think I could give this friends with benefits idea I've been kicking around a go.

So I'm back at the end of the year feeling hopeful and inspired and being more kind to myself 🎉

Favorite Fics I Read This Year

In no particular order, here are the top 11 fics I read this year (I tried to narrow down to 10, I really did, but I couldn't!)

London Loves Us Only by imjusthereforthefreefood - Explicit - 47k - Why I love it: Gorgeous imagery. Intense longing. Cinematic writing.

A Pint's a Pound by @stillmadaboutpetra - Explicit - 32k - Why I love it: Extremely witty. Deranged thirst. Baking rivals!!

What's Left by @cutestkilla - Mature - 134k - Why I love it: Amazing narrative. Beauty within grief. Sid forever.

The Space In Between by @whatevertheweather - Mature - 101k - Why I love it: Darkly funny. Unapologetically raw. The BEST payoff.

The tears of Mummers House by @chen-chen-chen-again-chen - Teen - 4k - Why I love it: Beautiful in its simplicity. Clever characterization. Mama house 😭

Come and Get Me by @kherub - Explicit - 4.5k - Why I love it: Vivid imagery. Hot hot HOT. Feral Simon 🥵

Restoration Ecology by @captain-aralias - Explicit - 51k - Why I love it: Brilliant canon-divergence. Intimacy vs. sex. Intimacy AND sex.

He Who Fights Too Long Against Dragons... by @technetiumai - Teen - 16k - Why I love it: Incredible lore. Dragon Simon. Unexpectedly beautiful.

Local Hero by @basic-banshee and breadofgod - Teen - 57k - Why I love it: Sports as community. Quiet love. Iconic music.

Crosse My Heart by @creepyspice - Explicit - 4.6k - Why I love it: Sports as foreplay. Amazing characterization. HOT sex.

Ready or Not by @bookish-bogwitch - Explicit - 21k - Why I love it: Hilarious writing. Surprisingly emotional. Leans IN.

I've talked about all of these in more detail at one point or another in my Fic Rec Friday posts...which I need to be better about doing/tagging. (You can see all my recs here.)

Goals for 2023

Writing: The plan is finish both More Than Friends and Dead in Vegas next year, but my goal is to take my time and just allow myself to write as I can. Ease up on stressing over how slow I am to update. Beyond these two fics, I'd love to actually write my leashed-Simon B&D side story and maybe get around to that bareknuckle boxing fic.

Reading: I have such a back catalogue of fics to read! I've been sticking to shorter fics lately, but it's time to dig into the chaptered content that's been sitting on my tbr list. Many of my top fics I read this year are longer, chaptered stories. Time to get back on that train.

Community: Make more fanart! I'm getting more comfortable with embroidery and it has been fun finding ways to capture fics in that format. I'd also love to visit a few more folks/join meet ups. I had so much fun in Vegas this year and would love to see people again.

So there we have it. My first full year in the fandom comes to a close. Thank you for being part of this journey and here's to 2023!

[trickster-shi]

WIP Updates

Been a while since I did one of these, and I should honestly be trying to sleep so this damn sore throat/respiratory crap goes away, but I just can't breathe when I lay down >_< however, I'm feeling a bit better than a couple days ago so I'll do this update and see if I can concentrate long enough to get some words in on at least one of these projects.

Project Zander:

I finished chapter five last night and sent it off to the beta readers. That one took a while to really come together to my satisfaction, especially the past scene. I had over 10k words on this chapter at one point before figuring out what it needed and cutting it down to 6500.

I am now working on outlining the next five chapters before I dive into chapter six.

Untitled Original Project:

I decided to scavenge some parts from Teenage Vigilante Witch and build an original story out of it. So far I like what I've got, which is about 4k words and needs a lot of outlining. Still keeping the found family aspect, but I'm doing a lot of world building and outlining to ensure it's a very different story from Teenage Viginate Witch. Looking back on it now, there was a lot of stuff I wish I'd explored in that first story, but it was written very fast and thrown up on archive to prove to myself that I could still write. I never intend to go back and edit or rewrite any of it, so I'm going to take the potential it had and put it into another story and take it a couple jogs to the left. Mostly, I'm going to be exploring that guilty/vigilante mindset with a spell amnesia twist that slowly pulls back to reveal a truth better left forgotten with a different take on found family. Still working out a lot of the details but I'm excited for it.

Home Across the Universe #10:

It's a little over 3k at the moment but I have notes and scenes in my email that I need to get and stitch together in the draft, so it's likely closer to 5k. Also, I already have the ending outlined and I'm excited to get to that since it's a cliffhanger I'm gonna get yelled at over. Looking forward to that. I may poke at this one today and see if I can get some more written on it.

Rabbit Come Home part 4:

Also a little over 3k written, I'm still outlining the scenes to make sure I include everything I need to so it's a satisfying ending. I'm shooting for this to be the end of the series and there are a lot of threads to tie off.

Into the Black, Episode 3:

Also sitting at 3k, this has a couple of chunk sitting in my email I need to stitch in as well. I haven't worked on it in a couple weeks and need to sit down and outline my scenes to figure out where it needs to go. I have a vague idea but not enough to work on, especially today with my mind being fried from sickness.

Untitled Sequel to the supposed Jurassic World/Teen Wolf Oneshot:

I told myself it was a one shot and I believed it for a while, but a plot bunny bit me after a recent rewatch of Fallen Kingdom and I now have...5,515 words of a sequel. It goes a bit AU from Fallen Kingdom because I had high hopes for the promises that movie set up for Dominion that Dominion just did not deliver for me. I'm still let down about that, apparently. I'm aiming to keep the story small in scale, but it was fun pitting Stiles against dinosaurs the first time and this sequel has him showcasing some more of his smarts while injured and a little delirious from pain meds, so it should be entertaining.

Aaand, that's all I've been working on lately. Hoping to get the next Home Across the Universe oneshot finished and posted first, though I'm not making any promises or predictions on when that will be. Hopefully I can scrape together enough brain cells to work on it today and get it closer to the end scene.

[mania-sama]

If you don't mind me asking, can I ask your top favorite fics that you've written (feel free how much that you want to list)? Why they're special to you? Is there a specific inspiration when you wrote them?

Thanks if you want to answer.....

Hello! Thank you so much for sending in an ask, this is so exciting!! I would LOVE to answer this question!!

I've grown and changed a lot over the years since I began writing fanfiction when I was like, ten years old. Some of the fics I'm going to list aren't objectively well-written or my best work thus far, but they still have a special place in my heart for whatever reason. This question is so fun and I actually think about this all of the time. A lot of my most popular fics are ones that I'm not particularly proud of myself, so I'll gladly take the opportunity to talk about the ones I do like!!

In no particular order:

rule #8 - otherside [Bungou Stray Dogs] -> I wrote this for my Whumptober prompt series (which currently makes up a HUGE chunk of my works right now lmao). The reason I like this so much is mainly because I really enjoyed writing it. I've always wanted to write a fic where a character's mouth gets stitched shut, but I never got / found the opportunity to do so. Then Whumptober came around. I think I executed it well enough, especially since I chose Akutagawa, who struggles with breathing on a good day. If I get to grind my favorite characters through the Whump Machine, then I'm always very happy. I guess I just like this specific trope leaps and bounds better than all of the other ones? X

with every line, a comedy [Genshin Impact] -> I had a lot of fun writing this one, too. I got to explore PTSD in a way I'd never had before, going through the eyes of someone entirely disconnected from the traumatic event but knows the person being affected by it. It's my longest completed work, too; I write mainly short one-shots, around 1-4k words on average. This was a bigger project for me, and the first long-fic I've ever finished. I also used one of my favorite albums for the fic and chapter titles, so every time I listen to the songs, I think of this fic. I just. Really love this fic. X

Dear Kaeya, Signed Diluc Ragnvindr [Genshin Impact] -> I like this fic a lot because it's stylized very differently from everything else I've written. While not being an x reader, it is technically in second person, like I, the narrator, am talking to the reader. It's written in that same "talking" way, too. So I don't use any dialogue tags or anything like that. That is all for the second portion of the fic, though. The first half is made up entirely of letters the Diluc is sending to his adopted brother. I don't write him writing the letters, it's just the letters themselves. You read it like he's talking to you, in a sense, but the reader knows it's directed at Kaeya. It was a very fun and cool way to explore a new writing convention. X

the difference between hurt and injured [Genshin Impact] -> Lots of Genshin, I know, but this was when I was starting to fully fledge as a writer. A lot of my gradual progress can be seen through these fics, and this is a really good one to use as a comparison. This is my first attempt at much more serious writing, I think. It's longer than anything I had written at the time, sitting at a nice 20k words I wrote in the span of a few days. In general, it has a lot of things I really wanted to write about: the failures of the foster care system, complex / failing relationships, and the consequences of failing to act. The title comes from something an old softball coach would say, and I hated it but I could never get it out of my head. So I used it to title the fic, and it relates very well to what happens in the fic. Diluc is the "hurt" portion; he's fine, really, but his stubbornness makes him think his wounds are still bleeding. Venti, twelve years old in this for the sake of the AU, is "injured"; he is not fine. His wounds are bleeding, and he's doing the best he can to patch it up before he bleeds out, but more keep opening and he doesn't know what to do. X

rule #13 - waterfall [Jujutsu Kaisen] -> I like this fic because of the idea, more than anything. I have a very specific image of Megumi falling into a coma after Itadori saves his soul from Sukuna. If I could write this fic a million different times, I would. I simply love this vision. I also got to talk about literature, because Itadori is reading books to Megumi. Another idea I love that I got to convey through this fic is the idea of souls being separated from their comatose bodies. It provides an interesting take on being caught between life and death. I won't lie, I was probably inspired by one of my favorite fics of all time, When I Awake. But I also think it comes from a series I read when I was younger, the Serafina series. In the last book, the main character's body gets split into three different parts: flesh, spirit, and animal. Very interesting, and I think it's stuck with me for all of these years. X

rule #17 - two sides [Genshin Impact] -> Another case of finding a new writing convention. I wanted to focus more on external and internal dialogue to be the main contributors to the story, though I'm not sure how well I achieved this goal. It's crime-focused, and I wanted to slowly reveal the information rather than it being outright known off the bat. I wanted to put these characters who obviously know and trust each other very well into a situation where all of that shatters, where one is at the complete mercy of the other's decision, where both of them are suffering from the same crime, but one of them is the suspect of that crime and the other is the main investigator. SO much fun!! X

rule #26 - gideon [Bungou Stray Dogs] -> This one I debated heavily on adding, but I'm going ahead with it anyway because I happened to realize I really, really love this one. It's just Atsushi and his backstory, but if there were no abilities. He escapes, and Chuuya and Dazai happen upon him on the road. It's simplistic in comparison to some of the others on this list I think, but I love Atsushi and I love his horribly messed-up backstory with all my heart. Along these veins, I'm going to put rule #31 - calamity [X] as an honorable mention. Another horribly messed up backstory where Atsushi stars as the tortured main character, and I happened to really enjoy writing and thinking about it. The final honorable mention is rule #15 - four aces [X] where I toy with Dazai's character, and what it would mean for him to have finally defeated Fyodor. X

Again, thank you so much for asking!! Most of my works are on Ao3, so if you're curious to read more, I have a lot there! Much love <3

[ao3dazaiisms]

dazaiisms' masterlist

one-shots

only then, i am human | 9k words | rated: e

“You know dying won’t let you escape me, don’t you?” Dazai continues as the silence drags on, “I’d just follow you into the afterlife.”

Chuuya smiles. A small, private thing, and a cold hand comes up cup Dazai’s jaw in a gesture far too gentle for either of them.

“I know.”

tags; toxic dynamics, jealousy, possessive behaviour

beyond repentance | 4k words | rated: e

All Chuuya wants to do is get to this halloween party on time. Dazai, of course, has other plans. Ones that involve a rather whore-ish nun costume.

tags; halloween, pwp, costumes

pull the trigger | 4k words | rated: e

There’s an itch that Dazai yearns to scratch. It burns at the back of his throat, rising like bile and choking him from the inside out. He tries his best to quell it, to stave it off with rope that digs into his skin, water that fills his lungs, drugs that alter his brain. He tries and tries again. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

His need isn’t filled, the urge persists, the voices don’t quiet.

So then, Chuuya.

tags; consensual but not safe or sane, gunplay, Dom/sub

seatbelt sign off | 4k words | rated: e

In which Dazai decides to indulge in something sweet just before getting on the thirteen hour flight from London back to Tokyo after a successful mission abroad, and promptly realises there’d been something in the chocolate besides salted caramel chunks.

Chuuya, of course, gets dragged into the mess.

Or; Dazai accidentally takes an aphrodisiac, and he and Chuuya fuck in the airplane bathroom.

tags; mile high club, aphrodisiacs, multiple orgasms

tender (touch me) | 3k words | rated: t

“You’re late,” is the first thing the younger says.

“Yeah, well,” Chuuya pushes up his mask to reveal his face, silently thankful for the fresh air as it hits his lungs. “Was a tough fight.”

Dazai’s face scrunches up in distaste. “You look like shit,” he mutters. And with that, disappears back into his room.

tags; spider-man au, fluff, tending to wounds

paint me in lilac skies | 3k words | rated: t

His frown seems more like a wonky smile from Chuuya’s skewed perspective, and for some reason it makes Chuuya want to laugh.

“C’mere,” Chuuya beckons. Dazai narrows his eyes suspiciously, though he does, surprisingly, obey. With one hand still holding the web steady, Chuuya reaches out the other to tangle gloved fingers in the short waves at Dazai’s nape. He pulls him in for an upside-down kiss.

tags; spiderman au, rooftop picnic dates, spiderman kiss

under your skin | 5k words | rated: e

Out on his most recent "mission" to bond with the Armed Detective Agency members following their organisations' truce, Chuuya catches a glimpse of a tattoo on Dazai's body that definitely hadn't been there four years ago. It succesfully manages to derail whatever plans Chuuya had of ignoring his pain-in-the-ass former partner altogether.

tags; tattooed dazai osamu, belly bulge, smut and angst

pretty baby, watch me bleed | 7k words | rated: e

“There is nothing the Angels’ all-seeing eyes will not find eventually. Even I can’t trick them forever.”

Quiet falls over the room. Dazai continues to look beyond the tall windows, at the thunderstorm that rages in the distance. Lightning strikes every few seconds, spreading across the crimson sky like the jagged roots of a tree.

“You knew.”

tags; angel/demon relationship, fallen angel dazai, multiple orgasms

amateur mistake | 15k words | rated: m

Chuuya rescues a puppy from the streets; saves it from the maws of death.

Dazai doesn’t care. Until he does. Maybe a bit too much.

tags; canonverse, hurt/comfort, character study

chaptered works

just enough for polaroids and cigarettes | 50k words | rated: e

When Chuuya boldly claims he can leave Dazai satisfied in a way his frequent hook-ups could never do, the two childhood friends enter into an agreement that adds certain benefits to their friendship. Strictly no strings attached, of course. A good idea in theory, perhaps, were it not for the fact that both their strings have been secretly attached to each other for as long as they can remember.

tags; college au, childhood friends, friends with benefits, mutual pining

emotions | 65k words | rated: m

It's not within Chuuya's life plans to get commited to a mental institution at age twenty two.

But after a particularly violent outburst ends in physical assault charges that threaten to land him in jail, Chuuya begrudgingly accepts the compromise of indefinite in-patient stay at Tenkai Sanatorium. He doesn't expect his time there to include the most infuriatingly intriguing person he's ever met. Or that he'll be forced to confront the demons he would much rather have left in the past.

tags; sanatorium au, mental health issues, 1990s

bandidas | 5k words | rated: e

His large, gnarled fingers are a hair's width away from touching her skin through her shirt when the sound of a safety clip being removed rings through the room. Dazai watches with concealed glee as the man’s eyes go wide, held in place by the gun pressed to the nape of his neck.

“Touch her,” growls a familiar voice in the tone Dazai loves oh so much, “You die.”

tags; fem!soukoku, western, rough sex

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

okay so because next pregnancy chapter might be a bit late, my form of a ten thousand apologies is that the chapter is literally over 10k words long

(it's separated into three sections as is all of the chapters in my pregnancy au, so if you ever lose track while reading, you can still stop before the sections within each chapter and save the rest for later if you want)(cause i know personally PERSONALLY?! i like reading in chunks of 4k - 7k depending on the fic)

yeah

[lonitownsend]

May Remember. May Not. #ISWG

Today being the first and being Wednesday took me by surprise, and I completely spaced IWSG. But hey, look, it’s not quite lunchtime over here in the Mountain time zone, so I think I’m good. Though, this means I will be late when it comes to visiting others. I’ve had some writing leaps and bounds this past month. I had a panic moment with a chapter, rewrote a chunk, cut 4K, then begged my…

[aro-aizawa]

okay so i love mina and i love that im showcasing the girls a lot in bhaf but wHY DOES SHE HAVE TO BE REALLY HARD TO WRITE????

[avversiera-writes]

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 7

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 4k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO] [CHAPTER THREE] [CHAPTER FOUR] [CHAPTER FIVE]  [CHAPTER SIX]

You wake up with a fog in your mind, but you think nothing of it as you pull yourself out of your bed. Your limbs are heavier than usual, and your stomach is screaming for a crumb of nutrient, but you power through, thinking nothing of this since tiredness and hunger are nothing new to you. 

 You freshen up and pull your hair away from your face, and put on clean clothes. After a moment of perusing your laundry, you make a mental note to do them soon. 

 You slip your feet into your sandals and grab your weapons in a hurry, not even sparing a glance at the parchment on the floor containing your house bills. You do not want to be late, especially when Tobirama told you in the beginning to always be early. Tobirama has told you to meet him at the market since he wanted to look for new weapons and to commission people into making ninja tools for Academy students to train with. You run outside, only stopping when you see Tobirama standing in front of your building with his back to you. You stare at him a little longer, not meaning to linger on the space on the back of his neck, or the muscles of his back moving in and out as he breathes. 

You slowly walk towards him, ignoring the way your heart falters and stops. 

“Took you long enough,” Tobirama greets you roughly. 

 You roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his. “I thought we were meeting at the market.”

 Tobirama glances away, and you follow his gaze. You find nothing out of ordinary in the direction he is looking at. 

 “Are you hungry?” Tobirama asks suddenly. 

 “Huh?” 

 “Are you hungry?” Tobirama repeats, this time his tone is insistent.

 You stare at him in bewilderment. It’s not like he knew you skipped breakfast. “Y-yeah.” 

 “Let’s go,” Tobirama says, and he starts to speed walk down the street. 

You lightly jog after him, a chuckle bursting out of your lips. You do not know what has gotten into Tobirama today, but you admit that this is a new side to him that you have not seen yet. He is not being pissy, but rather, he seems to be holding out a light for you to get closer. He is more lenient with your antics. You try not to think too much about it, as it makes you feel weird and queasy in your stomach. 

 You reckon it’s the hunger. 

You walk beside him as he leads you to a small eat-in store, where they are selling fresh baked bread, porridges and drinks. Tobirama stands to the side as you peruse the menu outside the store, and when you have decided, the two of you slide into a table, with Tobirama sitting in front of you.

 A moment later, someone comes in to take your order, and when they leave, you frown at Tobirama.

“What?” Tobirama scowls. 

 “Why didn’t you order for yourself? Green tea is not breakfast.” 

 Tobirama looks uncomfortable as he loosens his shoulders. “I already ate. You, on the other hand…”

Your mind blanks, coming up with nothing. Not even a teasing remark. 

  This is surprising, you muse to yourself. 

You shrug, and Tobirama’s eyes narrow at you. 

“How is your training going?” Tobirama inquires in the tone you deem casual for him. 

 “I’m making small progress,” you tell him. You fold your hands and rest your chin over them. “Your notes really helped.”

 Tobirama nods. 

 For a moment, you thought that he was going to brag about it, but he did none of that. 

“I have some new books for you to go over,” Tobirama suddenly says, not even easing you to its idea. 

 “More books?” Your brain hurts at the thought of new material to consume. 

 Tobirama glances at you affably. “I think you’d like them.”  

Huh?! You exclaim to yourself. Since when did your interests matter to him? 

Thankfully, your food arrives quickly, and you do not waste time to shove them in your mouth because Tobirama does not get you to talk when you are eating. However, he is looking at you strangely and he looks almost horrified at the speed you are inhaling your food. 

“Slow down,” Tobirama warns. “No one’s going to take your food.” 

You cough and bits of food spray out of your mouth. You turn away from him to compose yourself, and when your chest is no longer spasming and you are able to swallow down a big chunk of food, you grab his tea cup without thinking and down the tea in it. 

 Tobirama is not sure whether he is astonished or disgusted. 

“Thanks,” you gasp. 

Tobirama nods, feeling half of his face grimace. “It’s fine,” he tries to convince himself. 

 He gestures at the person by the counter for the bill, and you are suddenly embarrassed that he is paying only for your food and not even for himself. 

“Wait, can’t I pay half?” You ask him, stopping his hand from putting the money on the small tray. 

Tobirama glances at your hand on top of his and he stiffens. “I got it.”

 “Tobirama…” You start, doubtful.

Tobirama raises an eyebrow. “Really? You choose now to have some shame?” 

You sigh, and you give him a playful smile. “Be careful what you do for me, Tobirama. If you’re being nice today, I will be taking advantage of that.” 

Tobirama knocks your hand off of his and he places the money down. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

You cackle. “The honor is mine.”

 “It’s not a compliment,” Tobirama immediately shoots back.

You let the moment pass, and then, you lean forward to gauge his reaction. “How’s the search for future partners going? Any special women or men you have your eye on?”

Tobirama suddenly looks indignant. “No.”

 “Aw, why not?” You think about it. “I mean, it shouldn’t be hard. Look at you, you’re so handsome.” 

Tobirama is not sure how to react, so he stares at you instead, forgetting to scowl or even frown. His words form in his mind, but they end up being scrambled as they reach his mouth. 

 “You don’t believe me?” You challenge him. 

 “What?!” Tobirama harshly snaps.

You call the person behind the counter and gesture for them to come closer. 

“Yes?” 

 Tobirama manages to gather himself to glare at you. “What are you doing?!” He hisses under his breath. 

“Tell me honestly,” you begin, trying to sound thoughtful, like this is the most important discovery. “Isn’t he handsome? Sexy, even?” 

 Tobirama feels like there is a cauldron underneath him and he is hanging over it to be boiled alive. 

The person glances at the two of you with shock. 

“Um…” They nervously glance at Tobirama, who is glaring daggers at you, his face red. 

You laugh, and you hand the money to them. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. Have a good day!”

The person bows to Tobirama, squeaking out my lord and they scuttle away from your table. 

You glance at Tobirama, noticing the coloring on his face almost matching the three stripes that frame his face perfectly. 

 “Are you angry?” You ask, taking note of the redness of his skin. “Or hot? It is summer.” 

Tobirama stands up abruptly and walks out, his fists clenching by his sides. 

 You chuckle to yourself, and you follow after him. 

“Come again, er…” The person calls out. “What is your name?” 

 You see Tobirama standing just a few feet away from the door. 

“Y/N.” You smirk. “Senju Y/N.” 

Tobirama feels his knees give up on him and he sways a little. 

//

While Tobirama walks straight ahead with purpose, you make a point of stopping by each stall to look at their items and try out free samples. While you mile around, Tobirama makes a point of slowing down to wait for you even though he does not stop for anything. You try to pull him towards a stand that sells little toys and trinkets, but he does not budge until you tell him that you found a drawing that looks similar to him. 

 Tobirama sighs and lets you grab his arm towards the paintings. A man sits on a stool underneath an umbrella, painting away. 

 “Where is this painting?” Tobirama grounds out, entertaining you instead of brushing you off. 

 “Here!” You point at a snowman overlooking a snowy mountain range. “Pale and cute.” 

 Tobirama scowls and he immediately marches away but you see that his eyes are warm, almost brown and you feel like you are staring at a hearth. You pull his arm back before he can make it far. 

“I’m kidding, that’s not it,” you tell him. “It’s this one!” 

 You gesture at a portrait of him, and Tobirama stares at it in wonder. It is him, yet in the painting, he looks older, his eyes wild and desperate, and his shoulders heavy with burden. Something in him aches and he turns away from it, feeling like the portrait is trying to speak to him.

 “What, too ugly for you?” You tease him, and you duck a little to meet his eyes. 

 “The nose looks a little big,” Tobirama replies vaguely and you roll your eyes. 

 “You’re popular!” 

 “I am popular enough,” Tobirama states and he starts to walk away. “Let’s go.” 

The morning sun is now reaching the center of the sky. The heat is starting to rise up, and it burns the back of your heads, but the two of you power through it and finally, you arrive at a school of blacksmiths. Tobirama enters in, and you follow him, the sight making you misty-eyed. The sound of metal clashing against metal, of the fire being started and water sizzling, it all hits close to home. 

“Lord Tobirama,” a smith greets him. When he turns to you, a flash of recognition lights his face. 

 You keep your face neutral, not knowing what the smith’s intention is. You go towards a table of freshly made blades to hide your face, letting Tobirama do what he needs to do here. 

Your eyes go to the kunais hanging on the wall, the length of their blades varying. You approach it and take the sheathed kunai and weigh it in your hands. The weight feels weird so you unsheath it, completely surprised that it falls apart to become two kunais, splitted in half. You put it back, and go back to the table of blades to run your finger on their surfaces. 

“Lovely, isn’t it?” The same smith from earlier approaches you. Tobirama is nowhere to be seen. 

 “Yes,” you answer. “Though I have seen better.” 

 “I bet you have,” he says and hands one of the blades to you. “I am Nuga.” 

You accept the blade with both hands and you behold it. In its reflection, you study Nuga, making mental notes on his body language and the way he is positioned, formulating a plan to escape him in case something goes wrong. 

 “What do you think?” Nuga inquires. “It is yet to be attached by its hilt, but it is one of our best works so far.” 

“The blunt curve of this tachi is perfect,” you murmur. You set it down and look into his gray eyes. “What do you want?” 

 Nuga smiles. “I have a job for you, Man-Killer.” 

You grit your teeth, and suddenly you feel cold washing all over you and you lose feeling from your face and hands. A shiver runs down your spine.

 “I haven’t heard that name in a while,” you coldly say, letting the ice drip in your words. 

Nuga raises his chin towards you. “I heard you have been out of commission for a while. Some people are looking for you.” He folds his arms. “Though I did not think that you’d be hanging out with Konoha’s echelons.” 

 “It just happened,” you snap.

 Nuga nods. “So, this job–”

 “Sorry, I don’t do that anymore.” You shoot him a dangerous look, your hand itching to draw your own sword. “I’m clean now.” 

“Will the price persuade you?” Nuga asks, stepping closer to you. “You are one of the best–”

 “Enough,” you interrupt Nuga. “Stop it. I am not doing it. Find someone else.”

You make a beeline towards the exit, but Nuga’s words stop you cold. 

“No matter how clean you think you are because you have stopped killing for the money, it does not erase the bodies you have murdered,” Nuga calls after you. “They are forever dead because of you.”

You bow your head slightly and clench your fist. 

“If you change your mind,” Nuga starts as your foot steps forward. “You know where to find me.” 

//

Tobirama watches you as he walks you home. All the jokes and the playful remarks have stopped, replaced by a serious look on your face. He rarely sees you this serious, and he waits for you to divulge your thoughts with him or even get angry and spew some shit to deter your thoughts, but you do none of those. 

 The two of you are reaching your home, and you have not even spared him a glance. 

While he was talking to the master of the blacksmith school, he overheard a little bit of your conversation with one of the blacksmiths there. The word Man-Killer sticks to his mind like a persistent stain, and it makes his stomach turn. He wants you to ask him for help if you are in trouble, or better yet, tell him everything, but how can he ask you that without condemning you? Do his brother and Madara know about this?

 He is not even sure if you took the job or not since he was pulled away at the last minute about prices and delivery of the commissioned weapons. 

Tobirama is a second away from doing what he should do: take you and hold you in a cell to interrogate you. 

 However, he wants to trust in you. He should. The least he can do is to give you the benefit of the doubt. You deserve it. 

You did say that you do not do that anymore and that you are clean.

Tobirama thinks that he is becoming ridiculous. 

 He propagates enough chakra to feel you out. 

 He reaches forward and catches your arm, and you whirl around. He feels that you are upset. 

“Are you okay?” Tobirama asks, hating how vague he is. He is always so straightforward that he does not know how to move away from that extreme. 

“Yes,” you reply coldly. Your voice is too detached. 

 A lie. 

Tobirama searches desperately. How can he ask this? Of all the times he is smart, why is he incapable of saying the right words? 

 You wrestle your arm away from Tobirama, and you stare at him. “Why are you asking?” 

 “Will I see you tomorrow?” 

You regard him cautiously, and Tobirama sees a sliver of you. The one you tried so hard to mask. He is only beginning to scratch the surface and he wants to keep peeling each skin to get to the core. He feels like he is on the tip of something here, like the rush of adrenaline before the success of an experiment. 

Who are you? Tobirama wants to blurt out. He wants to know. He badly wants to know. He has never desired something this bad. 

“Of course,” you tell him, and your eyes move to search his face. 

 You are telling the truth. 

The tension in Tobirama’s shoulders releases, and he watches you walk away from him. His skin itches where he has touched you, and for a moment, he almost follows after you. 

 He stops himself and shakes himself out of it. 

 You are telling the truth. 

The moment you stray, he will be the one to stop you. 

//

You wake up sweaty and feverish. Your mind feels foggy, and you just do not feel right. You feel cold and your head hurts, and the light coming in from your window makes it worse. You let out a long sigh, and relax into your bed. Your limbs feel like there are anchors attached to them, dragging you down to the bottom of the ocean. 

 You give yourself a minute to come to, breathing in and out to brace yourself to move. 

 Then, you count from one to three. 

  One. 

  Two. 

  Three.

Red flashes under your eyelids, and you let out a cry as you attempt to roll out of your bed. You fall to the floor, limbs splayed like a newborn foal. You bite your lower lip to stifle another cry, but your chest begins to heave, and you are unable to control the sob that breaks out of your mouth. You clench your fist, cursing the world. 

 You should have known that your old nick-name would come back and bite you in the ass. You never took pride in it, for you, it was always a job. The people chose to name you that because when you were young and desperate to live, you killed a man who had assaulted you in self-defense and fled. 

 Maybe you should have not fled. Maybe you should have faced the consequences, but back then you were running away from your family. You had no morals, and you only cared for yourself.

Your breath comes out shakily, and you press a hand to your face. 

 More flashes of black and red flashes in your vision, and for a moment, you see vials of medicine surrounding you, all wrongly-labelled. A woman appears above you, pouring poison into your mouth as you fight her with all you have got. You are weak and so small, and she holds you down until all the fight leaves you and she is forcing your mouth open to make you swallow more of the medicine. 

“Drink, sweetheart, it will make you feel better, ” she says. 

  “Mother…” You gasp out weakly, your lungs unable to fully support you. “What...have you done?” Your voice fades into a whisper. 

The woman brushes your hair from your forehead. “I’m making it better. Don’t worry, love, I will keep you safe. You know why?” 

  You stare at her weakly, trying to fight the grogginess from your eyes. 

  “Because I love you the most.” 

You push the flashback from your mind and force yourself up. You hated being sick. 

 You know that this is probably fever from fatigue, but you cannot bear it. It feels like you are young again, and you are helpless and dying. 

 A fever is a fever, but to you, it is a death sentence. A slight sniffle or a light cough is enough to send you panicking.

You let yourself cry, but when it is time to get out and back to work, the traces of your tears are gone and you put up your walls that you have spent so much time making. Nothing will come out. 

//

Tobirama feels relieved when he sees you come in, but you look worse for wear. You do not spare him your words, but that is fine with him. At least you are here. 

 He gives you your share of work for the day, and he does not say anything as you move away from him and take to one of the corners of the library to settle in. 

 Tobirama is great with silences, but he cannot stand yours. 

But he bears it because it seems like it is what you need today. 

When it is time to leave, he finds you asleep in the corner. He does not dare wake you, and he crouches in front of you to study you. His eyes go to the strands of your hair splayed on your sweaty forehead, and the frown etched upon it. He expects you to open your eyes and draw your blade to stab him, but you do neither. 

 He slowly puts the back of his hand on your forehead, and he realizes that you are sick. He studies your chakra, and he finds that it is a lot better than before. Though you are very exhausted to the bone. 

 He sits beside you, debating on what to do next. He knows he cannot leave you here, but he also does not want to alarm you. 

The new clock in the library ticks away loudly, and Tobirama looks to the waning light on the floor. 

 A sudden weight presses against his side and he feels his heart beat pick up as your head rests against his shoulder. 

He does not know what to do. Your weight on him does not bother him that much. 

He glances at you, and finally, he makes up his mind. 

//

“Brother, are you sure you are not pushing her too hard?” Hashirama asks with concern, his voice sounding both far away and near. 

 “Are you serious?” Tobirama defensively retorts. 

You open your eyes to the bickering Senju brothers, and you let out a groan. Their voices make your head throb. 

“Hey!” Hashirama chirps. “Welcome to our humble abode, again!” 

 You are dimly aware of Tobirama assisting you to sit up. “Uh…” You croak out with uncertainty.

“You are sick,” Hashirama announces. “And we’ve done all that we could, but your body is very exhausted. You must rest.”

You bring a hand to your forehead, remembering that you were in the library last time you were awake. 

 “Eat,” Tobirama commands, bringing a bowl of soup into your sights. 

Hashirama looks offended. “Tobirama! Be nice.” 

 You take the bowl of soup from Tobirama’s hands, briefly touching his warm fingers with your cold ones. 

Hashirama sits by the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping from his weight. 

“So,” Hashirama begins. “I took a look at you.” 

 You glance at the Hokage, wary. 

“Tobirama says there is an improvement in your chakra pathways, but last he checked, you were worse off,” Hashirama continues. “I undid some of the damage to make it easier for you, and we will have to do more gradually. I did not want to overwhelm you. With a lot of training along the way, you should be able to use your chakra with ease and be in top shape.”

You glance at the Hokage, feeling like the two Senju brothers have just invaded your space. Nonetheless, you thank Hashirama. 

  “I owe you one, Lord Hokage,” you tell him seriously, like you are taking an oath. 

Tobirama catches this and he frowns.

 Hashirama pats your knee. “Do not worry about it. I am happy to help.” He glances at Tobirama. “Though you should also thank him. He carried you all the way here and insisted that you are to be a priority.”

“Elder brother!” Tobirama scolds indignantly. He looks at you. “I don’t want your thanks. I just did what any other person would do to help someone who does not know self-preservation.” 

 “Tobirama, stop it.” Hashirama glares at his brother. 

You nod glumly, the fog in your mind still there. You stare at the soup and you take the spoon to scoop some. 

“Please take your time and stay here,” Hashirama heeds. “Do not worry too much about the work for the curriculum right now. Focus on your health.” 

You snap up to meet the Hokage’s eyes. “I don’t want to–”

 “Please, I insist,” Hashirama firmly says, squashing any room for questions or rebuttals. 

 You sigh, and you stare at the soup blankly. “Alright,” you give up. 

Tobirama’s eyes are on you, his stare burning through your head. Then, he walks out of there without another word. 

 Hashirama gives you a look of sympathy, and you look away, unable to bear it. 

 “We will see you later.” 

You set your bowl aside when the Hokage has left, and you lie back down. You pull your legs towards your body and close your eyes, willing away whatever is ailing you as if it is that simple. 

//

Tobirama refuses to even let you touch any of the work the next day, even though you did your best to prove to him that you are feeling well. The two of you hurl insults at each other, until Hashirama is coming in to break the two of you up, saying that the two of you are waking his children up so early in the morning. He mitigates by suggesting that you can do some light reading, and by sending Tobirama outside the house for errands. He is the Hokage’s right-hand man, after all. 

 For the most part, Tobirama leaves you alone, except he appears when it is time for you to eat. He stares at you intimidatingly until you finish every last drop and crumb of your food, and when you do, he stares at you some more, like he wants to sock you in the face, or as if staring will have some help to drive away your exhaustion. 

It is getting annoying by the end of the day, so you adamantly ask him to leave you alone. 

 Which he refuses. Stubbornly. 

 “Tobirama, please, I cannot do this right now,” you beg him. 

Tobirama’s jaw flexes. He walks over to you, but then he stops short, his movements twitchy and not at all him. 

 “Give me your arm,” Tobirama commands. 

 You scowl at him. “What now?” 

 “Just give me your arm!”

“Okay, okay!” You raise your arm towards him. 

 His fingers wrap around your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sight. It suddenly feels like your fever is back and you loathe it. 

“Tch,” Tobirama murmurs. “You’re an idiot. Why did you push yourself this hard? Couldn’t you have taken breaks?”

 You snatch your arm away from him, and you stare at your toes. 

Tobirama stares at you some more, and it is honestly creeping you out. What does he want? 

“What?” You snap. 

 Tobirama rolls his eyes. “Shut up and rest.” 

“I am not tired,” you stubbornly reply. “And I do not want to accumulate too much debt from the Senju brothers, so I should go.” 

Irritation flares in Tobirama’s eyes. “Stop it.”

 “Tobirama, give me a break.” 

 “No.” 

You want to scream, as this situation is becoming worse and worse. Tobirama is so overbearing, and it seems like he wants to keep track of everything you do. Your panic over being sick pales in comparison to how he is acting. 

The door opens to reveal Hashirama. 

 “Tobirama,” Hashirama calls, exasperated. “Leave her alone.”

 “Brother,” Tobirama chides, barely sparing his brother a glance. “I am talking to her right now.”

“No, no you are not,” Hashirama walks over to tug Tobirama away from you. “You are bullying her.” 

Hashirama manages to drag him to the threshold. “Why are you acting like this? Get a hold of yourself!” 

Tobirama tugs his arm away from his brother harshly, and he glares at his brother. Then, he glances at you. There is a lot of turmoil manifesting on his face–his lips are pulled into a straight, taut line, his jaw is tense, and his eyes, his red eyes are on fire, like coals burning in a forge. 

 The air tenses and becomes thick, but then he abruptly leaves and the air becomes calm again.

 Hashirama gives you an apologetic look and leaves you alone, and you are plunged into the dark again. 

 //

 Tobirama knows that he is being impossible, and it really is ridiculous, but when it involves you, it agitates him and there is this itch in his throat that he cannot alleviate. He thinks about what you will do next, and he wants to take it up to his brother, but he does not want you to get into further trouble. He would rather fix this himself and do what he needs to do to make sure that you are not a threat. If you are, then this is a matter he will have to take care of himself as well.

 He goes back to the school of blacksmiths and demands for Nuga, and when he gets him alone, he corners and questions him. 

“Talk,” Tobirama demands. 

 Nuga’s gray eyes regard the Hokage's younger brother. “About?”

 “Man-Killer, ” Tobirama grits his teeth. 

Nuga shakes his head and holds out a palm. “Be careful, Lord Tobirama. This is not a can of worms you’d like to open, though everything comes with a price.” 

Tobirama narrows his eyes, fishes out money and slams it on the man’s palm. “Talk, or I will see you in a cell.” 

 “You can’t hold me against my will without proof,” Nuga says. “And I only hold information, nothing criminal.” 

Tobirama keeps his cool and raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“She is an assassin,” Nuga starts. “Though she’s only killed corrupt lords and other rogues, robbers, and the like.”

 “Why is she here?” Tobirama asks.

 Nuga shrugs and smirks at the incoming pun. “Beats me. She says she’s turned over a new leaf.” 

 Tobirama remembers his hand on your wrist and your words. You are telling the truth. 

“Why Man-Killer?” Tobirama inquires. 

 Nuga holds out his palm. 

Tobirama sighs and presses a few more bills. 

Nuga leans forward as if this is some taboo to never be spoken of. “Rumor is, when she was a teenager, she killed a feudal lord’s son, who was a rapist. She has been on the run ever since. The feudal lord has a bounty out for her, but of course, no one wants to mess with a reputation preceding hers. She is quite the fighter, even I desire to someday see her in action.” 

Tobirama has seen her in action, and he believes this man. His head spins from thinking. So many pieces are falling into place and even if they fit, more questions start to arise. 

Nuga shrugs and he turns away. “That is all I can tell you. She seems very sincere about her clean slate though. Back then, I heard that if the price was right, she would do anything. She must have grown some morals.”

Tobirama stares hard at Nuga, and it does not take long until the room is thick with his power. The forge where fire runs hot and wild fizzles into nothing. 

“If you ever speak of this again, I will have your head,” Tobirama threatens. 

 “Of course, I would not want to mess with the people who protect her,” Nuga smiles coldly. “I’ll tell you one thing for free though.” 

Tobirama regards him coolly, squashing the mess that is cooking in his mind.

“If you are so ready to defend her and kill for her, you are way in too deep, Lord Tobirama,” Nuga warns. “She has got you in her palm, and she will crush you. She is not called ningen satsujin-sha for nothing.” 

Tobirama grits his teeth, but he says nothing back. His mind turns to think ahead, but his heart beats in protest. 

 However, he is not the kind of man to take the easy way. There is no such thing, in his life. 

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[CHAPTER EIGHT >>>]