#this whole thing is making me more emotional than i anticipated as i said. and that's why it takes a long time to watch

[kimmkitsuragi]

alright taking a break from gift bc i dont wanna watch it while im too sleepy to focus as i said. but god rondo makes me so emotional

[anantaru]

neuvillette eats pussy to distress

cw. oral (fem! receiving), you're a lil bratty, fem! reader

what comes out of your mouth are nothing more than short-planted whimpers, little, hesitant cries, and then a filthy moan of neuvillette's name, but you tell yourself that you do not want to give him that certain satisfaction he had longed for all night— and you sneakily trace along his scalp with your trembling fingers, he hisses when you tug on his roots, then whines into your pussy when you do it again, eyes growing wide at your fine-drawn pursue.

"there certainly is no need to hold yourself back for me." he suddenly claims and it has you avert your eyes, the way he had phrased it was almost a little too detached and apathetic to your own liking— almost as if he didn't take this whole thing serious and believed that he gave in, just for a second, in one of the lewd, obscene pleasures of human kind, before adding, "because you do, in fact, hide your voice."

"am i correct?"

"i don't!" sweet sweet liar, because you do, you've been blocking them out this entire time, "maybe you're not as good— fuck, as you think you are!"

the man laughs, a little aloof, and evidently, neuvillette was aware on what he was capable of doing to you and his fingers are cool and persistent in fucking in and out of your little hole, and despite it being only a digit, not even fully in, your toes curl and your legs clasp around his head when he adds his tongue, it has your sticky slick pooling between the folds of your cunt and merging with his spit, fuck, acting as if he didn't bring you unrecognizable pleasure was harder than you originally thought.

especially since he appeared to be exceptionally fatigued and certainly used your body as a way to distress from day to day work— for him, this type of work life balance was the most sufficient one.

neuvillette slides his warm tongue up and down your pussy in long swipes when you shiver at the mere sight of him doing so, feeling like everyone in the giant building can hear what's happening to you right this second, more so know who is pulling those lewd noises out of your sore throat.

your glowing eyes, in a sudden haste, spring open when you feel how he languidly spits on your cunt, once, twice— so you're wetter for him, he claims you taste better that way, lubricating you so he can drag his tongue into you faster, just like you so desperately wanted him to, yet in secret, you'd never tell him that— while, the chief justice most definitely preferred it if you're adequately messed up whenever he comes to see you, your exposed core luminous, hole clenching around his digits and you swear you can feel him smirk faintly, although he wasn't a man of great emotions, while proceeding in this particular task, he couldn't possibly suppress this feral, animalistic desire housing deep inside his chest, rumbling and aching for a possibility to escape.

the twist in your stomach builds up quickly, quicker than you initially had anticipated, "how— how, fuck!" you manage to say, "how are you so fucking good at this?" and your fingers find themselves wounding in his hair, holding onto him for your dear life when a tremor of cold shivers crossed over your figure when he groans into your pussy by the nature of your rough tugs on his scalp, his breath hot and wet when it ghosts over your soaked folds. 

"there they are." he moans into your cunt, not giving a single flying fuck if his face was slicked up in your juices, as said, he adored making a mess, "those noises i've been looking forward to."

at last, when he adds another finger into your hole and curls them up, the tightened thread in your stomach snaps in half and you shake violently while pinned down with one of his arms strongly locked over your stomach, with a cry of his name, that you originally preferred to stay hidden in your throat, your loud moans tumble and bounce from your lips to his ears as you cum all against his mouth so he could finally taste you.

but the long-rooted waves of your pleasure have not dissipated as he continues to flick his tongue over your clit, your slick by now basically coating the entire lower half of his face, his eyes fixated on nothing but your addictive, more so intoxicating expressions— you knew neuvillette wouldn't stop, there's no such thing as leaving a case half finished, he had a habit of prolonging your orgasm until you're overstimulated to the hilt, always, whenever he had you under him, it's his way of fucking you, until you're nothing but satisfied, such as he was whenever a trial ends with no complications.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sodaabaa]

wings a court of thorns and roses

rhysand x reader reader is mesmerized by rhysand's wings and he makes a tempting suggestion.

tw: slightly nsfw

playlist here!

I was sitting in my room when I heard the front door slam. I could feel his anger, a whole level above him, through closed doors. I put the sketchbook I was holding on my desk as I got up to see what all the commotion was about. As I made my way down the spiraling stairs, I saw Rhys storm into his room, shadows trailing behind him. I glanced at Cassian and Mor, raising my eyebrows in question. They simply shook their heads, don’t push him. 

I felt another pulse of anger through the bond, he must’ve been infuriated if he let these surges of emotion pass through the bond. I looked at his door, contemplating whether he’d kill me if I tried to talk to him. I had to try, at the very least.

As I walked across the hall, Mor grabbed my arm. “Hybern used faebane. He’s angry, give him some space to cool down.”

I shook my head, “he could be injured, let me just check up on him.” 

She let go of my arm but I could sense her and Cassian say a silent prayer for me to walk out of that room alive. I rolled my eyes at them, mustering up all the courage I had before walking towards his door.

I took a deep breath and cracked the door open to peer inside, hoping he couldn’t sense me behind the door. 

“Come in if you dare. I won’t kill you but I make no promise to spare those morons in the hall.” 

Humor. That’s unexpected. This shouldn’t be that hard, seeing how he was cheery enough to mock Cassian and Mor still. 

I walked in, my feet shuffling against the obsidian floor. He was standing before the window, gazing at the starless night sky, as if the stars too, could feel his anger and decided against shining tonight in solidarity for their High Lord. His wings were out. Wings. This was the first time I’d seen them. They were identical to Cassian and Azriel’s wings and dark, so dark that it seemed to eat up any light that dared to shine around them. What would it be like, to use those onyx wings as a backdrop for a starry night sky? 

“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He removed his attention from the window to answer my question. “Not badly. I’ll heal.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Silence. His attention turned back to the mountains in the distance. “He baited me. I should have been more careful. Should’ve known about the faebane.” 

I paused, unsure of how to respond. 

“You can’t know everything. It was a slip up, now you know how to handle confronting him next time.” 

“Next time I see him, it won't be to confront him.” He grumbled. A simple threat, frightening nonetheless.

Again, my eyes wandered to his wings. Imagining the things I could paint. The moon illuminating snow capped mountains, stars glittering like diamonds against the black of his wings. 

If you’d like to paint my wings, darling, all you have to do is ask. 

I was mid gasp when I coughed instead, earning a chuckle from Rhys. I had forgotten about my shields all night since I’d been painting in my room, no use for mental barriers when there was no one around.

He turned, facing me expectantly. 

“You’re not serious.” I said.

He merely raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re injured.” Excuses. I knew that was just an excuse. To paint him, I’d have to get too close to him. I wasn’t ready for that.

No need to be afraid, I won’t bite. 

I cursed him, “pig.” 

A breathy laugh. 

“Cassian and Mor were terrified of you just then. I’m pretty sure they prayed I’d come back in one piece.” I said.

He shifted, his eyes dropping to the floor. “They know better than to cross me while I’m angry.” 

“You don’t seem very angry, quite the opposite actually.”

He hesitated for a second. “You’re a soothing presence.”

I looked away, cheeks heating up.

“Paint my wings.” He said, breaking the silence.

I opened my mouth in protest but hesitated when our eyes met. His violet eyes were full of hope and anticipation. 

“Fine.” I huffed, a sly smile creeped onto his lips. Night Triumphant indeed. 

I made my way to the door to gather my paints but before I could even walk a step, Rhys waved his hand and my paints along with brushes appeared on his bed. 

I shot him a playful look which he returned.

“Alright, lay on your stomach then. If you get hurt any further, it’s your fault.” 

“I’d gladly let you hurt me darling.” He retorted.

I bit back a laugh, “who knew the High Lord of the Night was a masochist. I’d pegged you to be the sadist type.” 

A devilish grin and equally vicious eyes narrowed at me. “I’m whatever you want me to be, angel.” 

I fought the butterflies in my stomach, urged them to go away. 

He sprawled out on the silk sheets, his wings laid out before me. I readied my paints and leaned over him, standing on the edge of the bed to start the base layer. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but it would have to do. Though it seemed like Rhys had other plans.

“It’d be much easier if you took a seat, darling.” Despite not being able to see his face, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m not sitting on you Rhys.” I said. 

“You wouldn’t want the throne to go cold would you darling?” 

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not gonna make this comfortable for you Rhys.”

His response was that breathy laugh, the one that made my skin burn and my stomach flutter. I made sure my shields were up before climbing onto his hips, my thighs on either side of him. 

“This seems pretty comfortable to me, what happened to the promise of pain?” He taunted.

I smacked the back of his head, “let me paint in peace.”

“You make me suffer, angel.” 

“Good.” I replied.

For the next hour, I lost myself in painting his magnificent wings. Time slipped away as I focused on getting every star, every cloud, every snowy mountain right. Rhys seemed to enjoy the quiet as well, his head resting on his arms as he watched me in the mirror. I tried not to shy away from his gaze. 

“I think I’m done.” 

“Finally, my back is aching.” 

I winced, I completely forgot he was hurt. I scrambled to get off him but before I could, he turned onto his back, positioning his hands on my waist, keeping me straddled on his hips. 

“Rhys! The painting!” My eyes widened, the paint was going to smudge. He was laying on his back now, watching me panic before saying, “Don’t worry, it’s dried. I made sure of it.”

A sigh of relief left my lips.

“Then let me off.”

“I don’t think I will.” 

I stilled. 

He was gazing over my face, taking in what was before him. A hand came up to wipe away a smudge of white paint on my collarbone. I shivered when his cold hand touched my warm skin. He lifted himself up with ease, his face inches away from mine. My cheeks were bright red, my eyes dropping to his chest and my hands fiddling with the threads of my sweater. His featherlight touch traveled from my collarbone, up to my neck and stopped at my chin, gently lifting my face to meet his. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, eyes narrowed. His lips were no longer twisted in that arrogant smirk, eyes no longer held that devilish gaze. His lips were parted in anticipation, violet eyes pining with desire. 

“Are you gonna do something or just stare.” Barely a whisper.

Within seconds his hands were gripping the back of my neck, bringing my lips to his in a hungry, desperate, burning kiss. We were wind and water, violent waves crashing against jagged rock. His hands roamed under my sweater, drinking every curve, every edge. My hands mirrored his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and then traveling down his solid chest. I couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get close enough despite being flush against him. He withdrew from the kiss, taking a breath, looking into my eyes, searching for hesitation. I smiled at him, don’t stop. The devilish smirk was back. His lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, there wasn’t an inch of me he didn’t claim. His hands held my waist so hard I knew they’d be bruised in the morning. I didn’t care, I wanted every bruise, every mark he gave me. 

What shall I be for you tonight, angel? Sadist? 

He brought his hand to the back of my head, gripping a fistful of hair and pulling back. I whimpered as he used the opportunity to leave bite marks all over my exposed neck. 

His grip softened, his lips now trailed further down and lightly kissed the hollow of my neck. 

Or shall I worship your body? 

He flipped us over, pinning my hands on either side of head. I was trapped between his strong, tattooed arms. 

I don’t care what you do to me, just never stop touching me. 

He smiled brighter than the north star. His lips brushed over my ear, “your wish is my command,” he breathed.

[last-dropsevi]

I read all of your works until now, and I loved them, so I'd like to request something (if I sound too formal, sorry, English is not my first language)

So, my request is a Sevika x reader, where Sevika is hesitant to trader participating in the final fight, against the noxians, cause she's scared that reader might get hurt. Reader ends up getting a bit hurt but nothing serious, and after the whole Arcane thing, Sevika finds reader looking for her on the battlefield.

Aww thank u for the compliment also woohooo ur my first ever request 🥳. I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted since I took alil artistic lliberty.sorry

𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕭𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Warning: Toward the end of season 2 so blood, fighting, war normal, cursing, possessive behavior, fire arms/weapons, death. (wrd count 1.8k)

Materlist

The streets of Zaun were eerily quiet the night before the battle, the anticipation so thick it suffocated everything else. The dim glow of neon lights reflected off rain-slicked cobblestones as the city braced for the storm to come. Inside the cramped warehouse that served as a makeshift war room, the tension between you and Sevika was palpable, a raw wound left to fester.

The argument had been brewing all day, a slow boil beneath the surface until it finally spilled over.

“You’re not ready for this,” Sevika said, her voice low but unmistakably firm. She stood with her arms crossed, the dim light catching the dull shine of her mechanical arm. Her gaze bore into you, a mixture of frustration and something softer—something harder for her to admit.

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” you snapped, your voice rising to match the intensity of your emotions. “You think I’m still some rookie who doesn’t know how to fight? I’ve been with you through every skirmish, every backroom deal, every damn battlefield! Don’t stand there and tell me I can’t handle this.” “It’s not about whether you can handle it!” Sevika barked back, her tone sharper now. Her jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in her neck tighten as she tried—and failed—to keep her temper in check. “This isn’t like the jobs we used to run. This is war. And you’re not invincible.” “Neither are you,” you countered, stepping closer. Your fists were clenched at your sides, your nails biting into your palms.

“But you don’t see me telling you to sit this one out. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do, Sevika. I’ve earned my place here, just like you.” Her expression darkened, her brows knitting together as she loomed over you. “Do you think I’m doing this to insult you? To put you down? For once in your life, stop being so damn stubborn and listen. I’m worried about you.” You froze, caught off guard by the raw emotion in her voice. She rarely let her guard down like this, even with you. But the anger still simmered beneath your skin, and you weren’t ready to back down.

“Worried about me? Since when do you care? You’ve never had a problem throwing me into the thick of things before.” “That’s not fair, and you know it,” Sevika growled, her mechanical fist clenching at her side. Sparks flickered from the joints, a physical manifestation of her frustration. “I care more than you realize. That’s why I’m telling you to stay the hell out of this. If something happens to you—” Her voice broke off, and she turned away, pacing a few steps before running a hand down her face. She looked like she wanted to punch a hole through the wall—or maybe through herself. “Why can’t you just trust me to make my own decisions?” you demanded, your voice trembling now, not with fear but with the weight of everything left unsaid between you.

“You act like I’m some fragile thing that needs protecting, but I’ve been at your side for years. I’ve bled for Zaun, for you. What else do I need to prove?” “It’s not about proving anything,” she muttered, her back still to you. “It’s about me not wanting to lose you.” The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for far too long. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The rain outside had started to fall harder, the sound of it filling the silence like a heartbeat. But the moment of vulnerability passed quickly, buried under layers of pride and pain. You shook your head, biting back the surge of emotion that threatened to choke you.

“If you can’t respect me enough to trust me, then maybe we’ve been fooling ourselves this whole time.” With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out, leaving Sevika standing there, her fists clenched and her heart aching. She wanted to call after you, to say something—anything—but the words refused to come. Instead, she slammed her mechanical fist into the nearest table, sending a shower of splinters into the air.

The dawn brought with it the sounds of preparation: the clinking of metal, the hum of machinery, and the low murmur of voices. Sevika had thrown herself into the work, sharpening her blade and overseeing the distribution of weapons. It kept her mind occupied, kept her from dwelling on the argument that had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She hadn’t seen you all morning, but part of her assumed—hoped—you were keeping your distance because you had actually listened to her. Maybe you’d decided to stay out of the thick of the fight, working logistics or coordinating from the sidelines. The thought brought her some comfort, though it was fleeting. Sevika didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The battlefield erupted in chaos, the deafening roar of artillery blending with the cries of soldiers. Ambessa moved with commanding precision, her blade a blur as she tore through enemy lines. Blood streaked her armor, and bruises marred her skin, but she didn’t falter, driven by sheer determination and the thrill of combat.

Unbeknownst to her, you had ignored her stern warnings and joined Loris at one of the heavy machines. The two of you worked side by side, firing relentlessly to hold the line against the advancing enemy. Sweat dripped from your brow as the machine roared, each shot sending shockwaves through your arms. Then, in an instant, everything shifted. An arrow, sharp and swift, pierced Loris’s neck, cutting his commands short as blood sprayed across the machine. Your breath hitched, the chaos around you fading into a cold, sharp focus as his lifeless body crumpled beside you.

You froze as Loris crumpled to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at nothing, blood pooling beneath him in a stark, vivid red. Panic clawed at your throat, the sounds of battle muffled as the world seemed to spin around you. Your chest tightened, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, but there was no time to grieve—no time to let fear paralyze you. Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to move, snatching a rifle from a fallen alliy with trembling hands. With a surge of determination, you threw yourself into the fray, firing shot after shot, every muscle in your body trembling but resolute.

You weren’t as strong as Sevika, but you fought with everything you had, striking down enemy soldiers with a ferocity born of desperation. Each blow sent pain through your bruised and battered body, your muscles screaming with every movement. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, but something deeper -maybe loris- kept you going.

Through the chaos, your eyes locked onto Sevika, crouched behind a crumbling wall. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, her shoulders rising and falling as she tried to steady herself amid the storm of battle. Relief flooded through you, and you ran toward her, dodging through the mess of bodies, dead and alive. But just as you reached her, a stray bullet—meant for Ambessa—tore through your thigh. The scream that tore from your throat was involuntary, raw with pain and shock.

You dropped to the ground, clutching at the wound as blood seeped between your fingers. Around you, the battle raged on, your scream lost in the cacophony. No one noticed—no one but Vika.

Her head snapped up at the sound, her heart lurching in her chest. She knew that voice, that scream. It was imprinted in her mind, as familiar as her own. She spun, her eyes scanning the battlefield until they locked onto you. Her stomach dropped at the sight of you crumpled.

The battle raged on, chaos spreading in every direction. Sevika’s focus had been singular—getting you out of harm’s way. But as her eyes locked on yours and she saw the pain etched into your face, her relief was short-lived. From the far end of the battlefield, a surge of Viktor’s forces began to overwhelm Zaun’s defenders. The enemy soldiers moved with mechanical precision, their glowing eyes reflecting the unmistakable influence of Hextech augmentation.

Sevika’s body tensed, her instincts screaming at her to act. She raised her blade, ready to defend you again. But before she could charge, something changed. The first wave of Viktor’s soldiers stopped abruptly, their weapons dropping to their sides as their bodies stiffened unnaturally

. A soft, eerie hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Then, like a ripple through the crowd, others began to freeze in place, their movements arrested as their bodies jerked under the influence of some unseen force. Sevika’s brow furrowed, her gaze darting across the battlefield. “What the hell is this?” she muttered, her voice low and wary. You, still clutching your wounded leg, tried to push yourself up to get a better view.

The hum grew louder, and your heart sank as you realized what was happening. A faint, unnatural light pulsed through the crowd—Hextech. But this wasn’t just augmentation. This was control. “Vika,” you rasped, your voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.” Before she could respond, the glow of the Hexcore reached the soldiers nearest to you.

Their bodies stiffened as their faces went slack. Sevika stepped forward, her blade at the ready. “Stay behind me,” she ordered, her voice sharp. But it wasn’t just the enemy soldiers. The glow was spreading. Zaunites, your own people began to fall victim to the glowing influence. One by one, they froze, their weapons clattering to the ground as their minds were overtaken.

“Shit,” Sevika cursed, her movements growing more frantic. Their bodies moved like machines, unstoppable and unyielding. And then it happened. The glow reached Sevika. Appearing straight from the sky like an angle. Her flesh arm twitched, trying to resist, but it was no use. Her body jerked unnaturally as the Hextech took hold, her blade falling from her grip. “Sevika!” you screamed, your voice breaking with panic.

Her eyes met yours for a fleeting moment, wide with fear and frustration. “Run—” she managed to rasp before her voice cut off. Her body froze completely, her head tilting upward slightly as her gaze became vacant, her expression eerily calm. “Sevika?” you whispered, your voice trembling as the realization set in. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t fighting.

She was gone, her mind no longer her own. The hum grew louder, and the glow inched closer to you. Your heart pounded as you tried to crawl away, but your wounded leg made it impossible to move fast enough. “Stay with me,” you pleaded softly, looking at Sevika even though you knew she couldn’t hear you. Then, the glow reached you. unexpectedly as everyone else's. Your body jerked as the Hextech seized control, your limbs relaxing against your will. Panic surged through you, but it was quickly smothered by the overwhelming numbness that followed. You tried to fight it, to resist, but it was like screaming into a void.

Masterlist

Are yall tired of me writing angst like be honest with me i can handle it T-T

[blackbird-brewster]

Highlights from Catherine Tate's Q&A Panel at Armageddon Expo 2024 (NZ) :

[I took notes best I could during the panel but some may be paraphrased]

Q: What's your favourite Doctor Who alien?

CT: The wonderful Ood!

Q: Who's your favourite Doctor? (Crowd gasps in anticipation)

CT: Well, I get asked this a lot, and obviously it's David (Tennant). I don't know what number he is, he keeps coming back. But definitely, David. Although, someone recently pointed out that I was technically the first ever female Doctor. So you know what? Me, I'm my favourite Doctor.

Q: What's your favourite episode you were in of Doctor Who?

CT:The Runaway Bride, because that's where it all began.

Q: What's a favourite memory of working with David Tennant on Doctor Who?

CT: The scene in 'Partners in Crime', the one with the Adipose, there's the scene where Donna and the Doctor see each other from across a room. But they're both behind glass and they have the whole mime scene with the windows. Well, I remember it was about 3am when we were filming that - - Russel really likes to film at night if the story is taking place at night - so it was 3am, and I said to the director 'Uh, right here it just says Donna Mimes' and he said 'Yeah do whatever'.

So that whole scene was ad-lib during shooting and David and I were so in sync with it, we did that first take and the director said cut and print!

Q: How emotional were you filming your final scene in Journey's End?

CT: So, we didn't always film in order. And I'm not really a sentimental person, but I will say I thought Donna's ending was absolutely perfect. When she meets the Doctor she was always yelling at the world, and she was so different than what she was by the end, she had so much growth with the Doctor and she changed so much in her time with him, but then, she forgets the him and all those memories. And that final scene, what really got me was how he says 'Donna, I'm off' and she's just, I think she's on the phone, and she just waves dismissively. She doesn't know him anymore. Russell, the way he ties things together, he's brilliant, that man.

Q: What was it like working with Bernard (Cribbins)?

CT: Oh, Bernard. God, I love him. He was so funny and talented. He always had stories and voices and sound effects. He loved making people laugh. But we had a gag where every single time I called him I'd say (Donna Voice) 'GRANDAD!'

He'd say, "Who is this?"

"It's Catherine."

"Catherine who?"

"Catherine Tate"

"Never heard of her."

We did this every time I called him and I loved it.

Q: Is there anything annoying about working with David Tennant?

CT: No, absolutely not. He's perfect. He's the best person to work with. I will say though, I was annoying him a lot. When we did the 60th Anniversary specials, our trailers looked exactly the same and I never knew where my trailer was. I'd walk into his all the time!

Sometimes I'd walk in and see his shoes in the trailer and instead of thinking 'Oops, wrong trailer', my brain went 'What's he gone and left his shoes in my trailer for?'

It got so bad, sometimes I'd walk up the stairs and from inside I'd hear 'NO.'

Q: Was it weird coming back to play Donna after all these years? Especially when it was along side David Tennant?

CT: It was a bit weird, more in the 'Oh I hope i still know how to do this' way than anything. But I did think it would be hilarious if David and I arrived on set and every take we just did completely wrong voices. Just thought it'd be hilarious for him to go (in an airy upper-crust British accent) 'Ohhhh, hellloooo. I'm the Doctor'

Q: If you could take any prop from set, what would you take?

CT: Ohhhh, I'd have very large pockets and see what I could fit. But mostly I think it'd be a sonic screwdriver. It's gotta be a sonic screwdriver, doesn't it? It's small and mobile... Easy to steal. Plus, it'd fetch a great price on Ebay!

Q: Best show you've ever worked on?

CT: The Office, they paid me tons of money.

Q: My mum loves David Tennant, is there something you can say to dissuade her?

CT: Hm, something to convince her he's not.... Oh, he doesn't believe in astrology! I'll say 'It's Mercury Retrograde' and he'll say 'NO, NO, NO I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT'.

Other Highlights:

As soon as she came out, she saw the stage had no steps to the audience, so she stayed on mic and went the long way round to go into the audience and interview people, trying to find who had traveled the furthest to be here. She was sorely disappointed everyone was just from Aotearoa 🤣

Donna Lines She Performed:

"Oi Spaceman! You're not mating with me sunshine!" (Crowd went wild for that)

"Binary. Binary. Binary." (🥺)

She did some of her characters: Lauren Cooper mostly, but also wished someone Happy birthday as Nan

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 2

Summary: Seeing as part one went well, I present to you the continuation but this time, from Astarion's point of view. Thank you all so much for your support. It makes me so happy to know the fandom is enjoying my work.

He honestly doesn't know what Tav wants from him or why she keeps stirring weird emotions in him and she only further confuses when she presents him with a thoughtful gift.

There will be a part 3. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.2k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Astarion never considered himself particularly lucky but he knew how to adapt to situations beyond his control – keep himself alive and everything. He’d proven himself to be talented enough to seduce well, just about anyone.

Just about anybody it would seem but not a single member of the strangest group imaginable, also known as the one he’d chosen to travel with.

Because luck would mean the most frustrating woman in the world would be the one he aimed to… shall he say, convince about the benefits of staying close to his side.

Oh, she wasn’t exactly immune to his charms. He could see the effects when he moved close to her and her lips curled into a natural smile, attention flickering to him in anticipation of what he wanted to say. She brushed against his shoulder whenever she wanted to pass and laughed at his snide remarks.

All the things that he would usually consider a success; a sign he’d managed to win her heart in some form.

But then, she also went and did the absolute opposite.

Instead of pulling him aside in the camp when he offered and allowing him to drag his lips along her throat, she dragged him into the middle of the group to socialize. She leaned into his touches and then ran off to help save another puppy or whatever else caught her attention.

It annoyed Astarion because he knew she liked him but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. They’d spent one evening together and she appeared keen on more but then rather spent her nights teaching an owlbear how to sit.

Admittedly, a very cute pastime but still.

She ran a bath for him, washed his hair, and then promptly left him alone in the water instead of joining him for some fun. If he understood, he could easily provide but she made the first part infuriatingly difficult.

“Alright,” he said after she’d caught him staring into a blank mirror and spurned agitation in him by reminding him that he didn’t, in fact, know what colour his eyes once were. “Tell me what you see when you look at me. Surely you can describe my appearance well enough.”

She giggled and put a hand to her chin, as though considering. “I think we’d be sitting here the whole night if I did that. You’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”

Pride curled hot in his chest and his irritation simmered. Amazing how easily she managed to do such a thing. “Oh? Then name your favourite.”

She reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face, freezing only when the action had already startled both of them. Astarion wondered why she stopped for only a second before he realised he’d shifted away from the touch, a movement done on instinct rather than thought.

Shit. That wasn’t going to help him.

She dropped her hand as though nothing happened. “I refuse to believe becoming a vampire changed you that much. There’s no way you weren’t this gorgeous before.”

She knew how to appeal to his vanity and the strangest thing about it was, he didn’t feel as though she did it on purpose. Her ceaseless flattery came naturally to her.

“It’s been over two hundred years since I last saw it and memories fade.”

A lie but not an important one. He remembered everything since the day he woke up in his coffin, panicked and struggling to breath though he didn’t need to. The pain of transforming, the agony of starvation, and unending confusion. Nothing slipped away and he hated it. Despised how the memories shoved their way forward.

But for now, he refused to think of them and instead waited to see what she thought of. She pressed her lips together tightly before she spoke.

“The first thing I noticed when I met you were your eyes. They’re red, obviously, but they’re also strong and piercing. You also get these crinkles beside them when you laugh.”

Again with the strangest compliments. Still, he took them in his stride this time. “That’s better. What else?”

“The way you smile. It’s dangerous and sharp but occasionally, genuine. It’s enough to charm anybody, I would say.”

He offered her a smile in response, pleased with the praise. He preened beneath her pretty words and happily took the knowledge close to heart. Meaningless flattery had always been one of his favourite things.

“Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we’ll call it a day.”

She laughed and tilted her head to the side. “You’re beautiful. I thought that much was obvious.”

But something in the way she said it ruined everything. She took the most boring compliment of the lot and meant it deeper than all the others. The teasing tone easily exposed the truth and the pride disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now was there any real reason for you to make your way over here?”

She didn’t really want anything but he’d almost expected it. Everything she found on their journey eventually got shared with him and today, she spoke about some woman’s letter she’d found. Nothing important.

Astarion thought that would be the end of it.

He continued to flatter her to make sure she always preferred him above their other companions and was rewarded when she continued to seek him out first. An entirely selfish action truly but she offered him a path forward.

The others had their strengths but something about her united them the best. If a chance existed where he could retain this ability to stand in the sun, he had no doubt she would be his best way there.

Even if she did insist on carrying about so much nonsense she found whenever they went out and helped every person with the smallest problems.

But then she found an empty book lying on the floor somewhere and she immediately began staring at him whenever it was open, scribbling away inside but always staring at him over the edges. Every time he offered her a quizzical glance, she smiled and continued with whatever she was doing.

She showed it to Wyll and Gale a few times but never brought it over for him to see.

Of course, if Astarion really wanted to, he could find what waited in those pages easily.

The parasite provided an easy path forward but she would know he wanted something when he dug around in her head. He didn’t sleep most nights but she rested deeply; deeply enough to allow a vampire to drink from her throat without even waking her like the true fool she was.

She knew, even laughed when he complimented her the next morning, but never once complained, just told him he was welcome back whenever.

Originally, he thought she may be too trusting but he learned quickly how wrong that assumption was. She didn’t believe most of the people who tried to sway her to their side; straightened her back and glared when they tried to trick her and often even stood between them and her companions.

Which meant, somehow, he’d earned her trust.

Ridiculously stupid as it was for her to trust him, he didn’t want to lose the privilege and so he left her book alone until the next time she spent too long staring over its top.

“I do hope you’re writing something fun in those pages,” he said. “If you let me read them, I’m sure we can make them happen.”

She laughed at the suggestion. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to draw you.”

He lowered his goblet a little in confusion, unsure how to respond to such a thing. “Draw me?”

“Well, you complained so much about not being able to see yourself in the mirror so I thought this would be the next best option. Come here and I’ll show you.”

She patted the spot on the ground beside her but Astarion didn’t move. Of all the things he’d expected from her, he hadn’t anticipated a recall of the strange conversation from before. Certainly not for her to have spent several days on such a thing.

“Come on,” she welcomed him. “I’m not horrible at art, I promise.”

He shook off the surprise and forced a laugh. “My apologies, I got distracted watching those adorable cheeks of yours flush. It’s absolutely delicious to see the way the sun burns your skin.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the sun,” she said. “If you’re talking about this.” She twisted a little so he could see a deeper red mark on her chest and where it curled over her shoulder. “You know the chest I kept fiddling with beneath the grove? Turns out it was trapped but don’t worry, Shadowheart promised it would fade with time.”

He honestly hadn’t been speaking of anything but he found himself annoyed at her for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Well, I suppose that’s what you must deal with when you’re obsessed with looting everything we come across.”

“It’s profitable,” she teased. “Now do you want to see what I’m drawing or not?”

He took his time to saunter over and sink into a relaxed seat beside her. The sun had begun to set and its final rays danced over her skin as she shifted closer, leg brushing against his own as she turned the pages to him.

“It’s not perfect,” she warned. “You’re not an easy person to capture on the page but it’s something.”

True to her words, the book had been filled with sketches from the front to the back. Some crude and others detailed but every single one was of him. Close ups, full bodies, and even a few in action with daggers drawn. Had she truly drawn them from memory alone?

“I keep getting frustrated when they don’t come out right,” she said. She leaned back so she was lying against the grass, attention on the sky. “I’ve asked the others but they can’t tell what I’m doing wrong either. They’re just not right.”

He turned the pages slowly, not sure how he should respond to a gift like this.

Seeing his face showed truth to her words. He hadn’t changed awfully much in these years. The great care put into this though… she’d spent ages detailing his hair on others and even put dapples of sunlight over others from when they’d been travelling through the forest.

They didn’t have many hobbies to pass the time while travelling (not unless you counted Lae’zel who appeared to be collecting more and more heads as they continued on) but this must have taken so much of her waking hours.

The emotion that crept up his throat was unwelcome and difficult to recognise. It made his unbeating heart twist uncomfortably and he immediately snapped the book shut.

She nudged him to get his attention. “Well? What do you think? We can hire a professional when we reach a bigger city but it’s a temporary solution.”

He forced the smile and it felt wrong. “I doubt even a professional will capture me right. It’s as you said, difficult to capture perfection.”

She laughed. “I’ll try again tomorrow but with our plans, I think you’re going to be in a foul mood and I don’t want to draw you when you’re sulking.”

“Me? Sulk? I couldn’t possibly imagine why when you’re making me trudge through a swamp.”

She grinned and for a second, the briefest moment, he felt something tug on his chest when he looked at her. Fondness. His panic flared immediately and he turned his gaze away, uncomfortable suddenly with the attention she lavished upon him.

Curse her and her ridiculous book. Yet another strange aspect of her life – one that tempted him to flee in the middle of the night and never return to this group and their insistence on helping people.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up the safety provided by them yet.

“I’ll be happy to take this off your hands darling,” he said to her, holding up the book. “Keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t disappear in the night.”

“You will not. It’s mine until I get at least one drawing of you right and then you can have it.”

He leaned over her, placing one hand on the ground beside her hip. “Wouldn’t you rather the real thing? We can make some references for more enticing artwork in the future.”

She stared at him, briefly frozen as he drifted a faint touch over her thigh. The flare of lust in her eyes made him comfortable again. This was something he understood. An emotion he recognised. She still wanted him; she must if she spent all this time trying to draw him.

She moved closer and her breath brushed over his cheeks, her eyes locked on his.

He waited, about to close the gap, when she suddenly kissed him on the nose, grabbed the book from his hand, and rolled away with a laugh.

Astarion was left blinking as she tucked the book into her pouch.

“I’ll let you have it when I’m done but that does sound like fun. Unfortunately, this evening though, I managed to talk Wyll into giving me some dance lessons so I’m booked. You should join if you feel up to it.”

He huffed and tried not to let the strange jealousy return as she ducked away towards the others.

Taglist: @rosenightwings , @tragicdruid , @bloopthebat , @venus-wrts

[grahstumhurts]

2. Putting it into gear

Cheerleader!Megan x Loser Band Member!Reader

A/N Not proof read lol so it might have some weird wording and shit.

Rekindling Masterlist

The late May air is starting to feel slightly humid and hot as it usually does by this time, Megan's waiting outside. Leaning on the side of the school fence looking effortlessly beautiful as she does.

“Hey” you greet her, “What did you need to talk about?” She looks up from her phone, then looks around behind you to see if people are watching.

“Look, I owe you an apology and-” 

“That's an understatement.” You cut her off. “Two years of ignoring me should get me something better than an apology”

“Just hear me out” 

She looks you in the eyes, Her pupils glistening with the caramelised apple colour it's always been.

“Please,” 

“Fine” You cross your arms in anticipation “You gonna tell me or what?”

“I need to fake date you, for friendship reasons I guess.” Obviously that stuns you, A girl you had a crush on for the past ten years of your life is suddenly asking you to fake date her. 

“What?” Your face contorts in a mix of surprise and confusion “Why me?”

“You're the only gay person I know, I’m trying to come out to them and they won't believe me till I date someone who fits their “Gay” vision” She sighs, her face portrays her obviously conflicted emotions. “Look its okay if you won't do it, You don't owe me anything especially since i abandoned you but at least sleep on it for me.”

She pauses, trying to read your face, noticing the slight differences in your eyes.

“I also needed to say sorry, I wasn't there when I promised I would be.” 

“I wont accept your apology for now, you need to earn my trust back, Megan.”

 You sigh at the dilemma, do you chose to help her with her fake dating thing, or do you leave her behind. 

“I’ll help you under one condition, We will stay friends afterwards.” 

You expect her to say no, the wavering tone in your voice saying so.

“Thank you so much, seriously I appreciate this. I owe you, N/n” She hugs you, Her scent lingering of fresh citrus and light berries. Her arms wrap around your waist, you instinctively wrap your arms around her shoulders.

“We need to figure out a plan for this whole situation.” You comment as you two break the hug, still feeling the lingering warmth of her. 

“Are you free this week to meet up?” 

“Tuesdays and Thursdays I meet up with my band, any other day we can meet up after school.”

“How about wednesday? I have practice, can you come watch and we can go somewhere after?” The thought of her friends seeing you makes your skin crawl as your reputation with these “Popular” people is not exactly great. Considering that you and Lara are the ones who stand up to Greg when he feels the need to degrade Yoonchae. You may or may not have gotten into some physical altercations with said Greg. 

“Sure, It’ll sell the idea that we are dating a bit more,” It’s a trade off that is worth it to make Megan happy. You shrug just as her phone rings, Her ringtone was not the same as the one you had remembered her to have. It had been her favourite song, Perfect Lover by Britney Spears. But now it's one of those default ones, Removing some of the personality from her.

“Yeah?"

"Oh, Okay."

"I’ll see you soon, Mom. Love you bye”

You can vaguely hear her moms voice throughout the quick phone call, her familiar tone isn't something you can forget easily. 

“You gotta go I assume?” you pick at your nails, “I can walk you home if you want?” You look up to her, trying to gauge her reaction through her body language. “Unless you dont want me to.. You know what forget i even said-”

“NO!” She suddenly cuts you off mid sentence “I mean, No” She clears her throat repeating her affirmation in a softer tone, “it’d be nice for my mom to see you again, She used to ask me about you all the time.” She presses her lips into a line, her face covered with embarrassment. 

“Lead the way,” You slightly smile at the thought that her mom still wondered where you had been all this time, She starts walking in the direction of her house. Making small talk to catch up on each others lives during the two years of absence, Your hands brushing together as you walk on the pavement.

“I missed you, you know that right?”

The smallness in her voice juxtaposes her usually large demeanour.

“I hoped you did,”

You chuckle slightly,

“I missed you too.”

“This is me,” she stops in front of the house you used to know, “You wanna stay for dinner? I mean you don't have to or anything.”

“Sure, It’ll be nice to say hi to your mom.” She leads you into her house, The recognisable scent of her moms cooking wafting into your nostrils. Filling your senses with memories of years prior. “Do we have to fake date in front of your mom aswell?” You tease her, Slipping off your shoes.

“Yeah, I guess so..” She replies nervously, just as her Mom wraps around the corner from the kitchen. “Hey, I brought home a special someone.” 

“Oh my gosh, YN! I didn't realise you were coming tonight for dinner.” She embraces you in a warm hug. “Feels like I haven't seen you in forever.” She lightly jabs at Megan with her elbow. 

“Just been busy with school work and college applications, you know how it is.” You lightly giggle at Megan’s mom’s actions. “Glad to see you Mrs. Skiendiel”

“Oh please, Yn. You know not to call me that, Just aunty is okay.” 

-

“Wow aunty, this is seriously delicious.” You moan as you wolf down the rice and pork on your plate. “I'm grateful that your cooking skills haven't deteriorated in the period I haven't seen you” You say in between bites.

“Im happy you like it, feel free to come over and eat when you want to, Honey” She chuckles

“Uhm Mom, We have something to talk about with you.” Megan’s words shift the energy at the table. You swallow your latest bite and glance at Megan, Giving her a reassuring look. 

“You guys are dating? I know, it's not that much of a shock.” Aunty takes the words out of Megan's mouth, “I've been patiently waiting when you two would realise your feelings for eachother. I have a standing bet with your mom, Yn.” She matter-a-factly comments,

“No funny business in my house alright?” 

“Yes aunty, I don't plan on doing anything with Megan till she's ready. Don't worry”

You try to clear the air quickly, Megan grabs your hand on the table. Interlocking her fingers with your ring clad ones, The slightly cold metal meeting her warm skin. The embarrassment of your words settling in with the two of you.

“I wouldn't dare hurt Megan, I hope you know that aunty.” You stupidly grin at her.

“I know, Yn. Just double checking, I know how you teenagers can be.” She lets out a deep sigh of relaxation. “I have some work to do. all I need you guys to do is the dishes, can you two handle that?” She squints her eyes at us, 

“Yeah, dont worry about it, Mom.” Megan stands and starts clearing the plates from the table, You follow her actions grabbing plates and silverware and bringing them to the sink in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be in the office working if you need me, Good night you two.” Megan’s Mom announces before the door closes.

“Oh my god i swear that was the most awkward i've been with your mom in forever.” You let out a deep sigh as you lean against the kitchen counter, Megan places down the rest of the dishes.

“Yeah no that was really awkward.” She giggles “Yes aunty i don't plan on doing anything with Megan till she's ready” She mockingly says in your tone of voice. You shove her shoulder lightly. 

“Come on lets finish the dishes, I rinse, you dry?” You stand over the sink, turn on the sink and scrub the dinner plates with a soapy sponge.

“Mhm, sounds like a solid plan” She hums, picking up the drying towel from the towel rack as you start to hand her some rinsed dishes. You cheekily smile to yourself as you get a devious idea. Megan is suddenly met with a warm splash of water from the sink head

“You did not just do that” She looks at you astonished, Mouth agape. “You little shit, Yn” 

“Such hurtful words require punishment” You giggle as you spray her with more water,

“What the fuck!” She squeals, feeling the water soak her shirt, “that's not fair, i don't have a sink to spray you too.” Suddenly it seems as Megan gets an idea for your payback.

“Come here, YN. Give me, your girlfriend, A hug. why don't you?” 

“No! I'm not gonna hug you, Meg. You gotta catch me first.” She roars with laughter as she chases after you in the kitchen. 

“Im gonna get you!” She loudly shouts, Running you into the corner of the kitchen.

“I’ve got you trapped now don't i?” She pants.

“I guess so, And what are you gonna do about it?”

You tease her, She pulls you into a wet hug “Eughhhh, it's so cold” You groan feeling her damp top spread the water on your shirt. She pulls away, Snickering at the sight of your now also damp shirt, 

“You get what's coming for you.”

“Can i atleast borrow a shirt or something?” You pull your shirt away from your chest to unstick it from your skin.

“Yeah, Come on. Let's go upstairs and dry off.” She grasps her hand with yours, Her nails graze your wrist. She drags you up the stairs into her room. You stare in awe, It looks similar to when you were last here but different at the same time.

“You took down the BTS posters?” You take a glance at her as she rummages through her closet for two shirts.

“Figured it was time to grow up i guess” She sighs and pulls out the shirts. 

“You sure it wasnt just your new friends pressuring you? Not that it really matters honestly, just curious.”

“Yes its fine, seriously, YN. I dont get whats your problem is right now, they were just posters.” She throws a purple oversized shirt at you.

“Just asking, No offence and all that” You exhale deeply, “Should i go to the bathroom and change or?” She just nods and you take that as your sign to leave the room.

You reenter the room and she's laying on her bed, Phone in hand. You knock on the door frame, she glances up then pats the side of the bed for you to sit down.

“Sorry by the way. Its not really my place to ask those types of questions.” You sit on the end of her bed.

“Its okay, I'm sorry too by the way. I overreacted a tad.” You observe as she hesitates to interlock hands, You take action as you interlock your pinkies together. 

"I guess i realized how much you've changed. And i guess i wasn't ready to fully realize it." You lay next to her, Brushing shoulders.

[astrid-sama]

Carmilla Carmine x fem reader

Carmilla is acting strangely and reader believes she is cheating on her.

"Those three are hiding something from me"

This was the thought you had in your head for a while; it all started about a month ago, the first to behave strangely was your girlfriend Carmilla, she went from avoiding you even for a whole day to showering you with attention, other times it seemed like she wanted to tell you something important and in the end she pulled back; After a while Clara and Odette also began to behave strangely.

At first you didn't worry too much about the strange behavior that Carmilla and her daughters had adopted, believing that perhaps they were just stressed due to the anticipated extermination, but, as time passed, the more your mind speculated about the reasons for their behavior.

-She's cheating on me, I'm sure of it! How can she do something like that to me I thought she loved me-

You are currently at your best friend's house crying while eating a big tub of ice cream.

-Don't say that, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding-

-No, she's definitely cheating on me with that overlord Zestial-

-Come here-

Stolas spread his arms and you immediately went to snuggle into your friend's arms, finding it very comforting.

-Carmilla loves you and everyone in hell knows this, what makes you doubt it?-

-Well he's been behaving strangely for a while, at first I thought it was due to the stress caused by the early extermination but as time went by I realized that that couldn't be the reason, so I started to think and ...-

-And this crazy idea of ​​betrayal came to your mind-

-Maybe I exaggerated a little-

-Decidedly; I think you should talk about it with Carmilla, I'm sure that everything will be resolved that way-

-Thank you Stolas, you always know what to say. Now let's stop talking about me, tell me how the date with Blitzo went-

The next day you decided that you would talk to Carmilla to find out the reason for her behavior. You found your girlfriend in her study, absorbed in work; you knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter.

-Enter. Mi amor, do you need something? -

-Yes, I need to talk to you-

-Tell me everything mi amor-

-I've noticed that you've been acting strange lately and I want to know why-

-It's nothing don't worry-

-No, you can't tell me that nothing is happening! If you're cheating on me, at least have the courage to tell me!-

Tears were starting to form in your eyes, you're not usually this emotional but a month of doubts and having said your biggest fear out loud had shaken you a lot.

The look on Carmilla's face was shocked to say the least, she really couldn't understand how something like that could come to your mind, it's true that she's been a bit strange lately but it certainly wasn't because I was cheating on you.

-Mi amor please let me explain-

-Speak, I'm listening-

You said crossing your arms over your chest and trying to keep a cold look.

-What is this important thing you have to tell me?-

Carmilla went to her desk, took a small black box from one of the drawers and after taking a deep breath she knelt in front of you.

-Mi amor, the first time I saw you you captured my thoughts, the first time you spoke to me you captured my heart and being with you forever would make me the happiest woman in the world because where you are is the my paradise; mi amor, will you marry me?-

For a second you were speechless, when you finally managed to process what Carmilla had said you couldn't stop smiling.

-Of course I want to marry you! I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire existence!-

Carmilla stood up and after putting the ring on your finger she gave you a passionate kiss that made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

-Come, let's go and tell our daughters-

Carmilla took your hand and together you went to tell the wonderful news to Clara and Odette.

I hope you like this fanfiction.

[thatlotuscookie]

Tanjiro x Reader? reader is a fellow demon slayer who’s always been very independent, but during a tough mission, they push themselves too hard and collapse from exhaustion. Tanjiro steps in, worried sick, and insists on taking care of them even though the reader doesn’t like to show weakness

✧･ﾟ: a/n: thank you so much for the request, anon! Writing Tanjiro being soft and protective was such a treat. There's something about his gentle, caring nature that just makes this kind of scenario perfect. Let me know if you guys have any more requests or ideas!

✧ Title: ✧ Rest in His Arms ✧ ✧ Characters: Tanjiro Kamado x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a brutal battle, you find yourself severely injured and struggling to keep going. Tanjiro, ever protective, stays by your side, taking care of you despite his own exhaustion. Vulnerability may feel like weakness, but in Tanjiro's arms, it feels safe. ✧ Content Warnings: Injury, blood, emotional distress, caretaking, mention of exhaustion. ✧ WC: 943 words // 5.3k chars

The sun was setting over the small clearing, casting long shadows across the bloodstained grass. The battle had left a dark stain on the earth, and the once peaceful evening was now heavy with the aftermath of the demon's attack. You could barely muster the energy to keep your eyes open, the dull ache in your muscles turning into sharp pain with every shallow breath. Your body was screaming in protest as you struggled to sit up, but your strength was rapidly fading.

The mission had been a disaster. The demon you'd been tracking was far stronger than any of you had anticipated. Your comrades, though brave, were all injured, some lying unconscious a few feet away. You... you had pushed yourself too far.

A warm hand grasped your shoulder, pulling you gently but firmly back against a familiar chest. “No, no, no! You have to rest!” Tanjiro’s voice was laced with worry, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by something much more serious. His hands trembled slightly as he tried to make sure you were comfortable.

You blinked up at him, trying to focus. “I’m... fine,” you rasped, but your words lacked conviction. All that came out was a hoarse whisper, weak and thin. The effort of speaking made your head spin, and the world around you began to blur at the edges. Tanjiro’s concerned face became an indistinct shape, and darkness threatened to swallow you whole.

Tanjiro’s arms wrapped tightly around you just as your body gave way, cradling you protectively. “It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own fear. “I’ve got you.”

As the world faded, the last thing you remembered was the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was oddly comforting, despite the chaos around you.

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the smell of wood smoke, the soft crackling of a small fire nearby. Your body was still heavy with exhaustion, but there was something softer now—a roll of blankets tucked under your head, the warmth of the fire chasing away the night’s chill. Your mind was hazy as you tried to piece together what had happened.

Tanjiro was kneeling beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stirred a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. The firelight danced across his features, casting shadows that highlighted his deep concern. “You need to eat,” he said, his voice low and soft. There was an undeniable tenderness in his tone. “You lost a lot of blood.”

You tried to sit up, but the moment you moved, a sharp wave of pain washed over you, forcing a pained gasp from your throat. Your hand instinctively went to your side, where the worst of your injuries had been bandaged. Tanjiro was instantly at your side, his reflexes as quick as ever, helping you sit up slowly. His touch was gentle but firm as he steadied you when you swayed. “Take it easy,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I... I can’t believe I let myself get so weak,” you muttered, frustration welling up inside you. You were a demon slayer—someone strong, capable. Yet here you were, unable to move without help.

Tanjiro looked at you with those warm, understanding eyes of his, eyes that held none of the judgment you feared. “You’re not weak,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “You’re brave. You pushed yourself because you care so much about protecting everyone.” His hand lingered on your shoulder, a silent reassurance. “But even the strongest warriors need to take care of themselves. You’re no exception.”

For once, you didn’t argue. Exhaustion weighed too heavily on your limbs, and the warmth of his presence melted away the sharp edges of your pride. You let him help you eat, the rich broth soothing your parched throat and warming your body from the inside out. Each small bite was a reminder of how much you needed this, needed him, even if you hated to admit it.

He was so gentle, checking your wounds with careful hands, rebandaging them when needed. His brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, making sure you were comfortable, never once complaining or making you feel like a burden. You could see the weariness in his own eyes, the battle taking its toll on him too, but still, his focus was entirely on you.

When the soup was gone and the fire had died down to embers, Tanjiro returned to your side, his hand resting on your shoulder again as he knelt beside you. “You should rest more,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “There’s no rush. The others are safe, and you need to heal.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died on your lips as you saw the pleading look in his eyes. He wasn’t asking you to rest for his sake, but for yours. And so, with a deep breath, you relented, letting him guide you back against his chest once more. His arms wrapped around you, steady and strong, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to relax completely.

It was strange, feeling so vulnerable, but in Tanjiro’s arms, it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt... safe. Protected. Like you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.

As the night wore on, you felt a strange sense of peace wash over you, a comfort you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Maybe... maybe it wasn’t so bad to accept help sometimes. And maybe, just maybe, Tanjiro wasn’t so bad himself.

[parkminijiminie]

AYS - Jeju trip /my recap/

Now that all of the Jeju episodes have aired, I've come back to quickly share my opinion. Disclaimer: This is just my opinion and speculation, you are more than free to disagree with me.

Overall, I managed to enjoy the episodes despite my initial hesitation. I was 50-50 about the first episode and I liked the other two. It wasn't a full love because while watching, I couldn't relax completely knowing how certain things would be twisted later on, but overall I enjoyed Jeju much more than I anticipated.

Let's start with the obvious difference between Jeju and NY, namely "the guest". TH's presence didn't add anything of value for me, apart from some cute Vmin moments and very few but still cute Vminkook ones. His being there didn't show me any new insight into their relationships, and there was no major change in either Vmin or Taekook. Even though Tae and JK spent a lot of time together in the first half of 2023, I didn't see any change in their dynamics or any new emotional depth to it. As many people have already said, JK and Tae together are two kids bouncing off each other's energies. They really bring out the immaturity in each other, and even if I tried, I could not get any romantic vibes from their interactions. Jk made it abundantly clear that TH being there was something he didn't choose and even seemed mildly annoyed by it the first day.

When it comes to JM and JK, this trip also didn't show anything new for me, but rather things I've always associated them with - their own private jokes, their being in sync with each other at all times, just existing in their own little world. They really do click. I loved their scenes at the pool, both days, I loved that JK is JM's personal chef, I loved that JM always pays attention to what JK is doing, even when driving, I loved their little joint routine at all times of the day. This really was JM and JK's trip through and through, and even a third party being there didn't really change anything. The only time we didn't have the signature JK and JM interactions was when JM was feeling unwell, after that they were back to their usual antics.

Jeju to me showed them being as close as ever. None of the tension and awkwardness from NY was present, which means that whatever issues they previously had, it was all resolved between the two trips.

As for them individually, I would say I am more and more and more amazed with Jimin with every new footage of this man I see. Firstly, he is just so naturally uniquely gorgeous. I kept staring at his bare face and wondering how one person could be so pretty even when sleeping, driving, and feeling sick. It's just like magic to me. More than that, he is just a class act through and through. He is polite, fun, considerate, energetic, just the whole package.

When it comes to JK, I would say he is a special person and probably a lot to handle in real life. He can be really sweet and his love language is definitely acts of service, but he also has an immature side to him. Maybe that comes from being the youngest and I think it was especially amplified because he was with the youngest members who always let him off easily. I think he is very kind-hearted, definitely not mean-spirited like some people make him out to be, but he is also a little bit impulsive at times. Personally, for me, he would probably be a little too much to handle in real life, but I can see that JM for sure knows how to handle him really well. As for JK's feelings towards Jimin, I think this boy lives and breathes for Jimin's attention. When JM is near, he is downright obsessed with having his eyes on him. He truly is like a big energetic, sometimes unruly puppy, wanting to be played with, praised, and loved upon. I can't really blame him, though. I, too, would turn into a clown or a personal chef, if it meant having Park Jimin's love and attention directed at me. In my opinion, nobody could truly deserve Jimin, but it is clear that Jimin truly adores Jungkook.

Jeju definitely showed that Jm and Jk have a very special type of relationship. The vibes between them were as weird as ever and it left me with more questions about the nature of their relationship than answers, but then again, this is also nothing new. 2023 Jikook remains confusing to me, but I am okay with that.

In conclusion, I liked the Jeju trip and I am not afraid to admit I love the solo parts between Jm and Jk the most. After all, this is what I paid for and wanted to see from the beginning and I am glad there were still plenty of JM and JK solo interactions. While these three episodes were better than what I expected them to be, I am the most excited about the upcoming Japan ones. I must admit I dreaded the Jeju episodes a little bit, which is why I actually didn't watch the first two right away, but I am fully, and 100% excited about Japan.

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - SHOPPING SPREE

ᯓᡣ��� pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron ⋆ Pogue!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe goes over-the-top as usual to apologize for cheating which includes a grand gesture of buying out an entire boutique is creatively meant to.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ strong language, fluff, semi smut (but not really), power dynamics, mental/emotional manipulation and ulterior motives, reference to cheating, sexually suggestive situations, non-consensual elements (pressure/coercion into sexual acts), dubious consent, unhealthy relationship, discomfort/anxiety, misogyny/objectification.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 5,130

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ It's been a while since I posted on here and whatever so here I am, but who's to say I won't disappear for another few months.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sauntered into the high-end boutique, the little bell above the door announcing his arrival. The sales associates perked up, eyeing his Ralph Lauren polo and Sperry boat shoes. Ah, a Kook with money to burn. 

"Hello sir, can I help you find anything today?" the manager asked, her voice dripping with fake pleasantness.

"Yeah, I need to buy out like, your whole store," Rafe said nonchalantly, checking out a display of cashmere sweaters. 

The associates' eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Buy out the whole store, sir?"

"Yep. I screwed up badly with my girl. She's a Pogue, you know? Doesn't really do the whole fancy clothes thing. But she found out I cheated on her with some Touron last week, and now she's pissed." Rafe picked up a floral sundress, scrutinizing it. "So I figured, what better way to say sorry than decking her out in some new designer threads?"

The manager nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture. Let me start ringing up some items for you."  

"Nah, like I said, I want to buy out the whole damn store. Just name your price." Rafe pulled out his credit card, waving it around.  

The manager's eyes lit up at the thought of the huge commission she was about to make. "Of course, sir, let me calculate our current retail inventory value and I'll give you a total."

"Make it quick. I’ve got a picnic on the beach planned to beg for her forgiveness," Rafe said, leaning on the cash wrap counter impatiently. 

The manager returned shortly with the grand total. Rafe didn't even blink as he handed over his credit card. Anything to get his Pogue princess back.

Rafe leaned against the wall near the cash register, watching with disinterest as the store employees scurried around grabbing items off racks and shelves.

"Come on, pick up the pace," he called out impatiently. "I wanna get out of here before the sun goes down."

The manager gave him an appeasing smile as she stuffed an armful of sundresses into a large box. "We're going as fast as we can, sir. I really appreciate your business - this is the biggest sale we've ever had!"

Rafe just shrugged, stifling a yawn. The workers were cramming the boxes full of tissue paper and accessories, trying to maximize what they could fit. Shoes, handbags, skirts, tops - everything was being cleared off the floors and walls. 

One associate struggled to fold a pile of cashmere sweaters to fit in an overflowing box while another carefully wrapped up a display of fine china jewelry. The store was slowly emptying out as the minutes ticked by.

"Ugh, this is taking forever," Rafe groaned, pulling out his phone to scroll aimlessly. "I should've just gone to Party City and bought her a bunch of balloons or something." 

The manager's smile strained a bit as she kept up her enthusiastic energy. "Almost done, sir! Just a few more minutes and you'll have our entire inventory to present to your lovely girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe muttered, back to being bored. Buying out the whole store was proving to be more tedious than he had anticipated. But hey, you were worth it. Probably.

”I need all of this shipped to her beach house.”

The manager nodded as she taped up another overstuffed box. "Of course, sir. I can arrange delivery to any address you'd like."

She gestured to one of the other employees. "Sara, can you grab some shipping labels? We'll need to send all of these boxes to this gentleman's girlfriend's house once we're finished packing everything up."  

Sara hurried to grab a stack of shipping labels and a pen. "What's the address, sir?" she asked Rafe.

"Oh, uh..." Rafe scratched his head. "Somewhere in The Cut, not really sure of the exact address. It's a small blue house near the bay though, it has a tire swing out front. Think the name on the mailbox is L/N or something like that."

Sara looked confused. "Do you have the street name or number? There are a lot of small blue houses in The Cut."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "Jesus, I don't know that shit. Her dad's name is Hank though, if that helps. Everyone knows Hank the Tank down there."

The manager and Sara exchanged a look, neither seeming confident about locating the right address. 

"Tell you what," Rafe continued, pulling out a thick wad of cash from his back pocket. "Here's 500 bucks. That should cover you guys figuring out where the hell to deliver all this stuff to Y/N in The Cut. I'm sure one of the Pogues down there can point you in the right direction."

He tossed the cash on the counter and headed for the door without another word, leaving the overwhelmed store employees with boxes piled high and vague delivery information.

You squinted against the setting sun as three large delivery trucks rumbled down the sandy driveway toward your family's weathered beach house. You set down your cards on the rickety picnic table, where you had been playing an intense game of Crazy Eights with John B, JJ, Sarah, and Kiara.

"What the hell is this?" you muttered. The trucks parked haphazardly amidst the uncut grass and strewn beach debris surrounding the house. Drivers hopped out and opened up the backs, revealing piles and piles of boxes crammed to the brim.

"Whoa, did you order the entire Amazon warehouse or something?" JJ joked, sauntering over to inspect the deliveries. 

Before you  could respond, the porch boards creaked loudly under the weight of multiple pairs of high-heeled shoes. The group turned to see half a dozen boutique store employees teetering across the uneven ground, laden with clothing on hangers and large shopping bags.

"Oh no..." you groaned, realization dawning on you. 

"Delivery for Ms. Y/N L/N!" one of the women trilled, scanning the rural beachfront for the recipient. 

"That's you, Y/N," John B said, giving you a puzzled look.

Just then, a delivery man approached with an oversized bouquet of roses and a card. "Are you Ms. Y/N? These are for you along with all of these boxes."

"I'm going to kill him," you seethed, grabbing the card. Sure enough, it was from Rafe, attempting to apologize for cheating in his usual over-the-top Kook fashion.   

The others laughed, taking in the three trucks overflowing with designer clothes and accessories that had arrived on your doorstep.  The group whooped and raced toward the trucks, laughing at Rafe's attempt to buy back your forgiveness. You had to admit - it was a pretty damn good start.

The sun had just set over the expansive Cameron estate as you marched up the long driveway and let yourself in the front door. You breezed past the elaborate foyer and down the hall towards the state-of-the-art home gym, where you knew you would find Rafe. 

Sure enough, there he was - shirtless and pumping iron, the clanking of weights echoing through the large room. You crossed your arms, watching as Rafe finished his set of bicep curls before acknowledging your presence. 

"Oh hey babe," he said casually, setting down the dumbbells. "I see you got my gifts."

"You mean the eighteen-wheeler trucks filled with designer clothes that choked the road to my house all afternoon?" you replied sharply.  

Rafe grinned. "So I take it, you liked them?"

You rolled your eyes. "Did you seriously buy out the entire Verona Boutique?"

"Maybe," Rafe shrugged, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. 

"Why would you do that?" you asked in exasperation. 

"Come on, I was just trying to apologize for what I did," Rafe said. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You sighed heavily. "You can't buy me off with fancy clothes, Rafe. That's not how this works."  

Rafe stood up and walked over to you. "But did it at least make you smile a little?" he asked with a coy grin. 

Despite yourself, You felt the corners of your mouth turn upward. You shook your head, trying to fight the smile. 

"You're unbelievable," you scoffed. But Rafe took your reaction as a promising sign. 

"So...am I forgiven?" he asked. 

You shrugged, struggling to stay stern. "You're not off the hook yet. But...it's a start."

Rafe smiled victoriously and pulled you into an embrace. You hated to admit it, but his over-the-top gesture did melt away some of your anger. Only a Kook would think that buying out an entire boutique could fix cheating - but you had to give him points for creativity.

Rafe's face lit up with a delighted grin as he saw the smile fighting its way onto your lips. Score! He knew you couldn't stay mad at him for long, not when he pulled out all the stops with his over-the-top apology gifts. Sure, buying you an entire wardrobe wasn't exactly practical, but he wanted to go big to show you how much he cared. Because even though he screwed up by cheating, your were still his girl and he needed you to know you were #1. No Touron hookup could ever mean anything compared to you.

Pulling you tighter into his embrace, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you nuzzled into his bare chest. He could tell the wheels were still turning in your mind, trying to decide if you were ready to fully forgive  him yet. But he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve if needed. Diamonds, a new car, a trip to Paris - anything you wanted, it was yours. Being the heir to the Cameron fortune had its perks when you needed to get yourself out of the doghouse.

"So when are you gonna model some of these new outfits for me, hmm?" he murmured suggestively in your ear. "Maybe a private fashion show tonight? I'll even let you use my black AmEx again if you want to pick up some sexy lingerie to complete the looks." He grinned devilishly.

You rolled your eyes and gently pushed out of his embrace. "Down boy. You're not off the hook yet," you reminded him, though your tone had softened considerably. Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay okay, I know. But you gotta admit, the mental image is pretty hot," he said with a wink. you just shook your head, trying to hide your smile. You could never stay irritated with him for long. 

"Alright, I should get home and figure out what to do with the small mountain of designer clothes currently cluttering up my living room," You sighed. "I still can't believe you bought out the entire store."

Rafe waved a hand casually. "Don't even trip about it. Consider it just a small token of my love," he said smoothly.

You quirked an eyebrow. "A small token? Rafe, it's got to be worth at least $20,000 worth of stuff."

Rafe shrugged. "Meh, that's like pocket change for me, babe. You're worth it and so much more." He pulled you in for a quick kiss. "I'll swing by later to help you sort through it all, yeah?"

You nodded, a genuine smile breaking through now. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you later." you gave him one last peck on the lips before heading out, shaking your head slightly at your ridiculous boyfriend's attempt to buy your forgiveness. But even you had to admit it was a pretty damn adorable gesture. The boy was utterly smitten, that much was clear. And even if it took a small army of delivery trucks worth of designer clothes to prove it, you supposed you couldn't complain. After all, what girl didn't love a massive shopping spree courtesy of the Cameron family fortune?

Rafe sauntered up the stairs of your beach house, not bothering to knock before letting himself in. your dad was away on a fishing charter and he knew you’d be home alone trying to organize the massive shipment of clothes he had sent over as an apology gift.

"Knock knock, princess!" he called out as he strode down the hall to your bedroom. "Did you get a chance to try on any of the new outfits I bought you?"

He pushed open your bedroom door to find you sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by mounds of tissue paper and discarded shopping bags. You looked up at him in exasperation.

"Rafe! You could at least knock before barging into my room," you admonished. 

“My bad, didn't mean to startle you. Just excited to see my gifts being put to use," he said with a grin.

You sighed, gesturing to the chaos around you. "Well, I've been trying to sort through it all morning but there's just so much stuff. You went way overboard as usual."

"Anything to make my girl happy," Rafe replied smoothly, plopping down on the floor next to you. "Here, let me help you get organized."

He began sifting through the piles of clothing, occasionally holding up items for your inspection. "Ooh, you have to model this one for me," he said, grabbing a lacy black teddy. "And this mini skirt would look so hot on you."

You blushed deeply, snatching the risqué items out of his hands. "Rafe! My dad could be home any minute," you hissed in embarrassment.

"So? I want him to see how smoking his daughter looks in the outfits I bought her," Rafe said with a devilish grin. "Might make him finally approve of me."

You buried your face in your hands. "You're unbelievable," you groaned. "Can we please just focus on organizing? I don't have time for an impromptu fashion show."

"Fine fine, I'll behave. For now," he added in a playful whisper.

You guys spent the next hour sorting your new wardrobe into categories - dresses, tops, bottoms, shoes, jewelry. Rafe "helped" by periodically holding up scandalous lingerie pieces and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively until you threaten to smack him with a stiletto heel.

Despite your exasperation at the overabundance of clothing, you had to admit it was fun exploring all the different styles and accessories Rafe had picked out for you. The boy definitely knew your taste, even if he did go over-the-top with buying out the entire store. You made a mental note to donate some of the clothes to charity once you had a chance to try it all on.

You collapsed backwards onto a pile of cashmere sweaters. "Phew! We’re almost done." You smiled over at Rafe. "Thanks for your help. And for the very generous gift. Even though it's pretty ridiculous you bought out an entire store," you added with a laugh.

Rafe grinned and leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Anything for my princess," he murmured. "You deserve to be spoiled rotten."

You giggled as he nuzzled your neck, wrapping your arms around him. You supposed you couldn't stay irritated with him for long, not when he was just trying to show his affection through expensive gifts. Over-the-top as it may be.

"Alright Casanova, that's enough distracting me," You said, playfully nudging him away. "Now help me get all of these clothes put away in my closet before my dad gets home."

You shook your head in amusement. "You're absolutely ridiculous. But…" You tilted your head up to him and smiled."I love you for it."

Rafe playfully tackled you onto the pile of cashmere sweaters you had been sorting through. You let out a surprised squeal, smacking his chest lightly as he hovered over you. "Rafeee, I told you to behave!" you chided through your laughter. He just grinned mischievously, dipping his head to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you squirmed beneath him ticklishly.

"Mm mm, you know I can never keep my hands off you for long," he murmured against your skin, nipping lightly. His hands slid up under your shirt, tracing along your stomach and ribs. You shivered at the contact, cheeks flushing as you felt him growing hard against your thigh already. You really shouldn't be doing this with your dad liable to come home any minute…but then again, the risk just made it more exciting.

You bit your lip, hesitating only a moment longer before grabbing Rafe's face and crashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. He groaned into your mouth, grinding his hips down against yours. Things were escalating fast, all thoughts of organizing clothes now tossed aside. Rafe broke the kiss only to tug your shirt over your head swiftly. His eyes drank in the sight of your breasts encased in a lacy pink bra.

"Damn baby…have I mentioned how fucking sexy you look in all these new lingerie pieces I bought you?" He reached around to unclasp your bra, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimpered, arching into him. You were quickly losing the willpower to stop this and he knew it. His hands slid under your skirt, fingers dipping beneath your panties to find you wet and ready for him already. His hands wandered recklessly over your body, groping and grasping wherever they pleased..

"R-Rafe, my dad…" You gasped half-heartedly in protest even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

Rafe silenced you with another bruising kiss, grinding his arousal against you. His fingers tangled in your hair, using it as a handle to maneuver your head for better access to your neck and chest.

"Shh, don't worry about him," Rafe crooned, his breath hot against your ear. "It's just us right now." His knee nudged between your legs, parting your thighs as he claimed your mouth once more.

Your knees went weak, overwhelmed by the onslaught of Rafe's hungry kisses and wandering hands. You clung to his shoulders for support, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the sparking heat of his body pressed to yours. Your token protests died away as Rafe's skilled fingers caressed the soft skin of your breasts.

"That's my good girl," he praised darkly when you arched into his touch instead of pulling away. His knee rubbed teasingly between your legs as he continued his pleasurable assault, intent on showing you exactly who was in control here.

Your mind reeled, inner alarm bells drowned out by the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You knew you should push Rafe away, stop this before it went too far with your dad possibly home any minute. But your traitorous body seemed to have other ideas as it melted shamefully against Rafe's hard frame.

His kisses left you dizzy and compliant, willpower evaporating under the intoxicating strokes of his hands. But when those hands went to zip down your skirt, some deeply buried remnant of reason sparked back to life inside you.

"Rafe, stop," you gasped out, catching his wrists in your hands. He paused, eyes dark with lust and irritation at being denied his prize.

"Come on baby, don't be like that," he cajoled, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I know you want this too."

You shook your head, gently but firmly removing his hands from your body. "No, not now. Not here." Your cheeks burned but you held your ground. "I'm not comfortable going any further with my dad so close by. Can we please just…slow down?"

Rafe's jaw tightened, displeasure evident at having his fun interrupted. But after a tense moment he stepped back.

"Fine, princess, whatever you say," he relented, tone dripping with poorly concealed frustration. You let out a shaky breath, tugging your rumpled clothing back into place. Your lips still tingled from the force of Rafe's kisses but the frenzied moment had passed.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I just don't want our first time to be so…rushed," You said earnestly, hoping he could understand despite his obvious annoyance at being denied. His eyes remained dark but he managed a tight smile.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Wouldn't want Daddy dearest walking in on us anyway," he said with an eye roll. You smiled weakly, knowing that was as close to understanding as you would get from him right now. At least he had backed off for the moment. But you had a feeling this conversation was far from over. Rafe did not like being told no.

He swallowed down his anger, forcing his face into a strained smile. He had to play this carefully; you Lila too much and you’d bolt. No, he needed to lure you in gently, make you trust him completely.

"Of course, princess. We'll take this at your pace," he said smoothly, stroking your cheek. "I just got carried away because you're so damn irresistible." He kissed your forehead, the very picture of understanding despite the lust still raging inside him.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a shy smile. "Thank you, Rafe. I'm glad you understand. I promise, when the time is right…" You trailed off, blushing. Rafe tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your neck teasingly.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it so good for you when you're ready," he purred. You shivered, skin tingling from his touch. "For now, why don't you model some of these new outfits for me? Might give me a sneak peek of what I have to look forward to." He grinned devilishly.

You laughed, swatting his chest playfully. "You're incorrigible," you admonished, but went to pick out a few items from the piles of new clothes. Rafe settled on your bed, hungry eyes tracking your every movement.  For now, he would enjoy the little fashion show. But it was only a matter of time before those clothes ended up scattered across the bedroom floor instead.

A relieved smile crossed your face as Rafe appeared to accept your request to slow things down without argument. You knew he must be frustrated, but you appreciate him respecting your boundaries for now. There would be a right time and place for intimacy later on.

As you sifted through the piles of new clothes, Your smile faltered slightly. You could feel Rafe's intense gaze following your every movement, almost palpable in its hunger. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not entirely an unpleasant one. Still, something about the glint in his eyes gave you pause.

You selected a few simple, conservative outfits to model - a loose fitting sundress, some shorts with a flowy blouse. But Rafe tsked in disappointment, getting up to rummage through the options himself.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that," he coaxed, grabbing a slinky miniskirt and cropped tank top. "I want to see my sexy girl shine." He shot you a playful grin as he pressed the revealing clothes into your hands.

You laughed nervously. "Rafe, those aren't really my style…" But he pouted childishly, guiding you towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Humor me? Just a peek," he insisted. You hesitated, then relented with a shy smile. You had never worn anything so risqué before, but the delight on Rafe's face was gratifying. And it was just the two of you after all…

You changed quickly, adjusting the tiny skirt over yourself. The top was snug and showed a hint of midriff that made you self-conscious. But Rafe's eager expression as you stepped out stopped any protests before they left your lips.

"Stunning," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. You blushed under his intense scrutiny, suddenly feeling very exposed. But you tried to push past it, giving an awkward little twirl to show off the outfit fully. Rafe's grin was downright predatory.

"Now take it off nice and slow," he said lowly, eyes raking over you. "Give me a proper show."

You balked, arms crossing instinctively over your torso. "Rafe, I…" His eyebrows shot up in challenge and you faltered. Maybe you were overthinking things. You didn't want to disappoint him again…

With trembling fingers, You reached for the hem of the snug tank top. But the voice inside screaming this was a bad idea only grew louder. You dropped your hands, shaking your head firmly as you backed towards the bathroom.

"I'm sorry Rafe, I can't do this. The clothes need to stay on." Your voice was small but resolute. You wouldn't ignore your instincts, not even to placate Rafe's desires. His scowl made your stomach twist anxiously, but you stood your ground, waiting for his response.

Taking a deep breath, Rafe fixed an understanding smile on his face. "You're right, I got carried away again. I'm sorry," he said gently. "I just can't control myself around you sometimes. You look so gorgeous in that outfit."

He approached you slowly until you allowed him to take your hands in his. "Of course the clothes should stay on until you're ready. I'm truly sorry for pushing you, princess." He brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a grateful smile. "It's okay, Rafe. Thank you for understanding." You leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

You emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable sundress, feeling infinitely more at ease now that you were back in your own clothes. Rafe's obvious disappointment tugged at your heartstrings for a moment, but you brushed it aside. You knew in your gut that stripping for him, even just down to your underwear, wasn't something you were ready for yet.

To your relief, Rafe seemed to have reigned himself in and was back to his usual charming self, apologizing for getting carried away again. You smiled up at him gratefully, leaning in to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," You said earnestly. "It really means a lot. I know this is all new for me." you ducked your head a bit shyly.

Rafe tilted your chin up, smiling fondly as he gazed down at you. "Of course, princess. I'll wait as long as you need. I'm just happy to be with you," he assured you smoothly.

Your heart swelled. You knew you had been lucky to find a guy like Rafe. Wealthy Kook boys had a reputation for being entitled spoiled brats. But most people didn't get to see this sweet, caring side of Rafe like you did. He could be impulsive and hot headed at times, but he respected your boundaries when it really mattered.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," You declared, going up on tiptoe to kiss him warmly. Rafe grinned against your lips, strong arms circling your waist.

"Anything for my girl," he murmured affectionately when you broke apart. You playfully booped his nose, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Alright mister, as much as I appreciate these new clothes, I could really use some help donating some of them," you said in a practical tone. "I can't even wear this many outfits in a lifetime!"

Rafe heaved a dramatic sigh but smiled good-naturedly. "Fiiine, guess I did go a little overboard on the shopping spree," he conceded. You giggled.

"Just a bit. Come on, let's get started." You took his hand, leading him back to the piles of clothes awaiting sorting. Even if Rafe's impulsive extravagance could be frustrating at times, You were grateful to have someone so attentive and willing to lavish you with gifts and affection. You hoped in time he would come to value you for more than just your looks or virginity. For now, You were content to take things slow and simply enjoy exploring young love one day at a time.

Rafe resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he let you lead him by the hand back to the piles of designer clothes he had gifted you. Donating them? What a pointless waste. He had spent a small fortune solely with the intent of seeing you decked out in finery, not giving it away to the destitute Pogues of the Cut.

But he bit his tongue, keeping up the doting act. "Of course I'll help, babe. Anything you want," he said smoothly, playing with your fingers.

Soon, he promised himself as he pulled you in for a chaste kiss on the forehead that contradicted his lustful thoughts. Your smile made him want to gag, but he mirrored it charmingly. Let you enjoy playing house a little while longer. He was adept at getting what he wanted from any woman eventually. The thought made Rafe's cock stir impatiently, but he willed it down. Not yet. He needed to lull you into total complacency first before finally stripping away the last of your resistance.

You hummed contentedly to yourself as you neatly folded clothes into donation boxes, Rafe helping beside you. You smiled up at him after he gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead, happy you guys seemed to be back in sync after the brief tension earlier.

You held up a slinky red cocktail dress, pondering keeping it for a special occasion. But no, it wasn't really your style at all. Into the donation box it went. You frowned slightly as you pulled out several incredibly risqué lingerie items - crotchless panties, lace teddies that left little to the imagination. Definitely not your taste.

"Geez Rafe, did you raid the whole lingerie section?" you asked with a laugh. Rafe just shrugged, unbothered. You shook your head in amusement as you set them aside to give to your more adventurous friend.

Once all the clothes were sorted, you surveyed the boxes contentedly. You had kept enough everyday outfits to last a lifetime, but now many girls in the Cut would have the chance to enjoy fancy new clothes too. It made you happy to spread the wealth, so to speak.

"There, all done! The donation center is going to be thrilled." You smiled brightly at Rafe. "This was a really great idea. I know I said it already, but thank you again for being so generous. And understanding about…everything," you finished, cheeks pinking slightly.

Rafe smiled back warmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Of course, babe. Anything for you," he said, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggled into his side, relieved you seemed to be back on the same page.

You hoped with time, Rafe would see you as more than just a conquest or object of physical desire. For now, you were content taking it slow, focusing on emotional intimacy over physical. You had all the time in the world for those things later on if things progressed. But for today, You were simply happy snuggling innocently with the boy who made you feel so safe, protected and cherished. Everything was perfect just as it was.

[kunasthiast]

My God (3)

Everything's a negotiation these days. And, it's not something you'll pass up. After all, all of these will just be a ruse, right? Or not…

a/n: this is getting exciting for me T^T the characters are the ones writing this whole story for me sahdhsdah i swear i feel like Sukuna and reader's personalities are really shaping this story!!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + angst, Yakuza AU, Enemies to Lovers Word Count: 2,548 All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

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Taglist: @cr1sta11y @idk-bro-gay @tojis-ball-sack @thepurpleempath @fangirl-332 @jijijihanji @thedondiva45 @catobsessedlady @rebloggerist-extraordinaire @ho3forghost @toxicdiana @skunabby @villainsevilandhot

“No ring?” 

Sukuna’s laughter rippled through the room, its timbre a mixture of amusement and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite grasp. His gaze bore into yours, a glint of genuine interest shimmering in the depths of his eyes.

You stifled a sigh, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. This wasn’t just a game anymore, was it? There is definitely something deeper, something unspoken between you and Sukuna. But for now, you have to focus on the very unexpected proposition at hand. Still can’t believe I said this one out loud.

Sukuna sauntered to the kitchen island, his movements deliberate and confident. As he perched on the edge and crossed his arms, his muscles rippled, drawing unwanted attention from you. Yeah, fuck those arms.

The tension in the air was palpable, like a taut string ready to snap. You know that this will be more than a simple proposition; it will be something full of deception and desire.

"Well, well, well," Sukuna drawled, his voice low and smooth tinged with curiosity. ”You certainly know how to make things interesting, princess."

His response was left you to wonder what lay beneath his confident facade. But one thing was certain—Sukuna was not one to back down from a challenge, especially when it came from you.

Meeting his gaze head-on you, matched his confidence with your own determination, refusing to let your emotions betray you. Emotions of desire, perhaps?

“And you know how to make things complicated, Sukuna,” you countered, your tone laced with equal parts annoyance and intrigue.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Touché,” he conceded, his smirk widening into a devilish grin. Ruffling his hair in a casual gesture, he leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering.

And, of course, he has to ask one of the most dreaded questions you’re looking out for to solidify this ruse. Like a guillotine waiting to fall.

“So, what’s in it for me?”

Sukuna’s question hung in the air, tinged with anticipation. Biting your lip, your mind raced as you weighed your words carefully, keenly aware of the staked at hand. “Piss Gojo off,” you replied, your tone calm but laced with underlying frustration. You both know which Gojo you are talking about.

The mere mention of Gojo seemed to inject an unexpected tension into the room.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your lips as you nervously bit down on the soft flesh. “Huh, you engaged to him or something?” Sukuna’s eyebrows raised in surprise, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. This is something that totally caught him off guard.

You sighed, the memory of your earlier confrontation with your father flooding back with a wave of irritation. “Father unfortunately had me arranged to him since forever and I only got to know about it today,” you explained, your voice tinged with resentment and bitterness.

To your surprise, Sukuna’s expression softened, a flicker of sympathy passing across his features. “I see,” he murmured, his tone surprisingly gentle as if he understood more than you realized.

Your heart skipped a beat (don’t worry, the pterodactyls are asleep) at the unexpected tenderness in his voice. “Before you agree, I have to negotiate this one with you,” you interjected, seizing the opportunity to lay down your terms before committing to this risky proposition.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his eyes alight with curiosity. "I’m listening," he replied, his interest piqued.

“Firstly,” you began, laying out the conditions of your proposal. “We’ll need to secretly get married. And you’ll have to agree to bring me to every meeting, no questions asked.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering across his features. “You want to get married for real?” he echoed, his tone incredulous.

“It’s the only way to make it believable and divorce's easy nowadays,” you replied, your voice steady. “And it comes with other conditions, too. No other relationships, no hook-ups. Just us.”

Sukuna's smirk faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. “You’re making me a celibate, princess?” he exclaimed, a hint of amusement coloring his words.

“It’s part of the deal,” you insisted, ignoring the waking up pterodactyls in your stomach. “And there’s one more condition: nobody can know about this ruse. Not even Uraume.”

His surprised expression quickly morphed into a smirk, amusement still dancing in his eyes as he processed your conditions. "Well, well, princess," he drawled standing up from the kitchen island with a newfound sense of intrigue. "You certainly don't hold back."

You met his gaze evenly, unwilling to show any sign of weakness in this dangerous negotiation. "I have to be thorough," you stated, your tone firm and resolute. "We can't afford any slip-ups."

Sukuna’s chuckle sent a thrill down your spine, his grin widening into a knowing smirk. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze locking with yours. "I can agree to those terms. But what's in it for me beyond just pissing off Gojo?"

You paused, considering his question carefully. There had to be something more to entice Sukuna, something that spoke to his ambitions and desires.

"We both know Gojo isn't the only one with a stake in this," you replied cryptically, your mind racing as you formulated your next move.

Sukuna's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Oh? Say, it, princess,” he prompted, leaning in closer with an eager anticipation.

You held his gaze, your expression unreadable as you revealed your next proposition. "If we can pull this off convincingly, it could significantly shift the balance of power between our families," you explained, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "And I have no doubt that you would enjoy being on the winning side."

Sukuna's grin widened into a smirk, a glint of excitement gleaming in his eyes. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess," he remarked, his voice low and smooth. "But I like it."

You returned his smirk with a confident grin of your own. "Then we have a deal," you declared confidently.

But Sukuna wasn't finished yet. "Is this an indefinite ruse?" he asked, a hint of caution in his tone.

You shook your head, clarity guiding your response. "Just one year," you confirmed, your voice steady and resolute.

Sukuna mulled over your words for a moment before another question arose. “So, when are we getting married?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

"In three days," you replied without hesitation, already formulating the plans in your mind.

Sukuna nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, you got me in your hands, princess," he agreed, his tone filled with anticipation and a hint of excitement. 

—

Sitting in his study bathed in the golden hues of late afternoon sunlight, your father's attention was drawn to the insistent ringing of his phone. The clinking of ice against glass resonated as he lifted his crystal tumbler, taking a measured sip of his scotch before answering the call.

“Is everything ready?” His voice, rich and commanding, filled the room with an aura of authority.

A brief pause followed, during which the silence seemed to stretch taut, only broken by the distant hum of the city beyond the windows.

“There has to be no mistake this time around,” he continued, his tone firm and unwavering. “You know what’ll happen if there is.”

The gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.

—

Sitting in behind the wheel of your car, the weight of the day's events pressing down on you like a heavy cloak, you glanced at your phone for the time.

10:42 PM.

With a weary sigh, you rubbed your temples, feeling utterly drained from the tumultuous day you had endured. The thought of returning to your father's imposing mansion held no appeal tonight, not with the turmoil brewing within its walls.

Thank the heavens you made the decision a few years back to slowly carve out your own space in the world, purchasing a penthouse apartment near the bustling heart of the city. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a refuge from the expectations and pressures of your family's legacy.

As you shifted the car into gear, you knew that tonight, you would seek solace in the quiet comfort of your own home, far away from the echoing halls of your father's domain.

Navigating through the city streets, your mind wandered, replaying the events of the day. From the tense confrontation with your father to the unexpected proposition from Sukuna, and even the burnt orange chicken mishap—each memory added another layer to the burden you carried.

“Nice plan, self. Way to go and embarrass yourself,” you muttered wryly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone.

Arriving at your penthouse apartment building, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. With a sense of relief washing over you, you parked your car at the underground parking and made your way to the elevator.

In the midst of this silent retreat, a message from an unwelcome sender flashed across your phone screen. Can’t this day get any more worse than last night? 

Fucker: heard our wedding’s in a week, baby ♡

“Oh my fucking god,” you irritatingly exclaimed, a surge of frustration and rising within you. 

With a swift motion, you deleted the message, unwilling to entertain Satoru’s attempts to provoke you. You blocked his number as means of reclaiming your peace of mind.

Entering the elevator, you jabbed impatiently at the button for your floor, eager to retreat to the sanctuary of your apartment. The doors slid shut, enveloping you in a cocoon of solitude as the elevator ascended. But as the elevator doors opened onto your floor, you were met with an unexpected sight—a figure clad in silk pajamas, leaning casually against the wall.

Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with Sukuna, his presence sending a jolt of surprise coursing through you. A mixture of irritation and disbelief welled up within you as he quipped, “Oh, how interesting, can’t wait for our honeymoon, princess?" his voice laced with shock and sarcasm.

"Seriously?" you shot back, your tone dripping with exasperation. "What are you doing here, Sukuna?”

Dropping his shocked expression, he had his signature smirk back on his face with his casual demeanor only serving to frustrate you even more. “Honey, I live here,” he added with a chuckle, his tone dripping with amusement as he pointed at a door, opposite of yours.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his unexpected revelation, momentarily catching you off guard. "Wait, what? You’re my neighbor?!” you exclaimed, a mixture of disbelief and incredulity coloring your voice.

Sukuna's grin widened into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched your reaction. “You live here?” he taunted, his tone playful. "Didn't think you'd have your husband as a neighbor, did you?” Yep, he’s as shocked as you.

The absurdity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Sukuna being not only your soon-to-be husband (it’s a ruse, okay?) but also your neighbor felt like a twist straight out of a convoluted drama. You struggled to wrap your head around the surreal irony, feeling like you were trapped in some alternate reality.

As you stepped out of the elevator, Sukuna pushed himself off the wall, his smirk never faltering, you couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration bubbling within you.

“Wouldn’t this make our ruse even more believable, princess?” He teased, “you can't deny the thrill of it all. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, doesn't it?”

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. Sukuna’s not leaving you anytime, he’s there to stay in your mind. In your family. In your plan. In your fucking apartment building.

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his cocky demeanor. "I am not amused and this is not some kind of twisted joke," you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest defensively and tone sharp with irritation and anticipation.

As Sukuna sauntered towards you with lazy confidence with a chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine for the nth time today. "Oh, lighten up, princess," he teased, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "We're in this situation together, whether you like it or not.”

You know what situation this is. The next family head. The one-year ruse. The hidden feelings, desires, and attraction. Everything.

You recoiled at his touch, feeling a surge of defiance rising within you. "Speak for yourself," you retorted, stepping back to put some distance between you.

Though Sukuna's smirk faltered momentarily, it quickly returned, his demeanor unchanged. "Well, you’re still as feisty as ever,” he remarked, amusement lacing his tone. "I love it a lot,” he added with a wink.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his blatant flirtation, refusing to let him see how much his presence unnerved you. With a determined set to your jaw, you turned on your heel and headed towards your apartment, leaving Sukuna behind in the hallway.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a shaky breath, feeling a mix of frustration and unease swirling inside you. The encounter with Sukuna had only served to heighten your sense of apprehension, leaving you more unsettled than ever.

Meanwhile, Sukuna chuckled to himself as he watched you retreat into your apartment. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him, and he couldn't help but find amusement in the twists and turns fate had delivered. 

"Really funny how the universe works," he mused, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Yet, his amusement was short-lived as he felt a familiar sensation stirring within him, a primal urge that demanded attention.

"She'll be the death of me," he muttered under his breath, a wry smirk playing on his lips. Despite the gravity of the situation, a surge of desire coursed through him, igniting a primal need that demanded attention.

Suppressing the urge with practiced ease, Sukuna reached into the pockets of his silk pajamas and retrieved his phone. With a swift motion, he dialed a number, his voice laced with confidence and authority as he spoke into the receiver.

“Let Toji handle this one,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. Turning away from the elevator, Sukuna made his way back into his apartment.

—

“What a cold bitch,” a man with striking white hair and undeniably beautiful blue eyes exclaimed as he closed his phone, his frustration palpable in the air around him.

Gojo Satoru was not one to take rejections or being ignored lightly. His charismatic demeanor masked a temper that could flare up with little warning, especially when his advances were rebuffed.

With a flicker of annoyance in his piercing blue eyes, he pocketed his phone and leaned against the wall, his mind already plotting of his next move. Satoru was not one to be ignored, and he was determined to ensure that you would meet him, whether you liked it or not. After all, he certainly wasn't about to let it slide without a response.

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 9 - Warmth ☄️

Tags : medical terms, injured Anakin, naked bodies, no smut

~~~

They were in the middle of the battlefield, rain pouring from the sky and making the ground muddy and slippery. All around, the fast bolt of the blasters pierced through the downpour, illuminating briefly the masks and faces of the Republic army.

Obi-Wan was on the front line, fending off shot after shot with his lightsaber to allow his men to progress. He was almost blinded by the rain dripping on his face and pooling on his eyebrows, hair stuck to his temples and neck, his damped clothes rubbing unpleasantly against his cold skin with each movement.

He was pushing away another battle droid when the Force shifted suddenly, twisting and straining the bond he shared with Anakin with such strength he fell on his knees, gasping for air as his chest clenched violently. The Force howled in agony around him, tossing him around as if he were a blade of grass in the midst of a hurricane of emotions, images and sensations flashing through his mind so fast he couldn't tell if they belonged to him or not.

Fear. Anger. Pain. Regrets. Pain. Pain. Pain. Solitude.

It lasted for what seemed to be an eternity, pulling at Obi-Wan’s intangible energy from all sides and so hard he was sure he was going to break. Then, as suddenly as it started, everything withdrew, every feeling, every sound, every image and he was left breathless and disoriented in the middle of the chaos. For a terrible, gut wrenching second he thought that the steady and familiar thread uniting their soul had been severed, teared apart and his heart stopped beating at the implication.

No.

“Anakin…” He breathed at the same time a strong pair of hands lifted him from the ground and put him back on his feet.

“Are you okay, General ?” Cody’s concerned voice asked from behind his helmet.

“Anakin.” He said again, still shaken to the core by what he just experienced. “Where is Anakin ?”

The clone frowned behind his mask, noticing the Jedi’s blemish face and wide eyes. He was too well trained to ask useless questions, especially as they were right in the middle of the fight and totally exposed, so his brain moved on to the next sensible thing to do now : take cover.

“He was just next to the cliff last time I saw him.” He answered, pulling Obi-Wan by the arm and shielding him with his own body until they were safe behind a large rock. “Do you want me to comm him ?”

“I don't know.” Obi-Wan swallowed, unable to think clearly. “I-”

“General.” Cody put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, the gesture grounding Obi-Wan a little bit. “What happened ?”

“I can’t feel him anymore.” The Jedi whispered. “I think something happened to him”

Cody stayed silent for a while, letting the sounds of the blaster shots, the explosions and the screams fill the space between them as he calculated a change of plan.

“Alright.” He said eventually, typing something on his commlink. “I’m coming with you.”

Obi-Wan knew that removing two men from their forces, let alone a Jedi, was not a strategic choice at all. But the visceral terror that gnawed at his guts right now prevented him from feeling guilty about it. All that mattered was Anakin.

Reaching the cliff took more time than Obi-Wan had anticipated. They still had to fight their way until there and the whole time the Jedi was projecting his life Force around to try to find Anakin’s signature somewhere, anywhere. But he remained untraceable.

They searched all along the cliff’s edge, screaming for his name in the chaos of the battle, asking everyone on their way. Cody even checked the bodies lying in the mud, aware that Obi-Wan would refuse to even think about that eventually.

“General.” He called after several minutes of vain research. “He could have fallen down the cliff.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and walked to the edge, looking down at the river rushing a dozen of meters below.

“General…” Cody approached carefully. “If he fell… You have to consider the possibility that he didn't-”

“No.” Obi-Wan interrupted him. “He’s alive. He has to be.”

“There’s a lot of rocks.” The clone replied quietly but not unkindly. “Such a fall would severely injure anyone. If they’re lucky.”

“Anakin is not anyone.” Obi-Wan replied stubbornly. “I’m going to find him. You don’t have to come with me.”

Cody shook his head and put his blaster back in the holster strapped around his waist.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

They find Anakin a mile away down the river, his body laying on a flat rock, face down. Obi-Wan runs to him, panic wrapping around his throat and suffocating him as he notices blood all around him, mixing with the rain.

“Anakin !” He chokes, letting himself fall by his side and wincing when his knees hit the hard ground for the second time today.

Gently, he grabs him by the shoulders to turn him on his back, dreading what he’s about to discover.

Anakin’s face is stained with blood that still drips from his forehead, sticking to his curls and damping the collar of his tunic. He probably hit his nose hard enough to make it bleed too, as well one of his lips and he has small contusions on his cheeks and jaw. He’s pale, so frighteningly pale.

Obi-Wan presses his fingers against his pulse point while Cody kneels on his other side, doing the same thing on his wrist. It takes a few excruciating seconds for them to feel something, a weak fluttering pulse that makes Obi-Wan’s eyes sting with pure relief.

“He’s alive.” He breathes shakily.

“I’m calling for a ship.” Cody says immediately, getting up again to comm one of the pilots.

Obi-Wan quickly checks Anakin’s body for other obvious injuries in the meantime. He doesn’t seem to have any open wounds but he doesn’t dare move him in case he risks making things worse. What if his spine is damaged or he suffers from internal bleeding ?

The only thing he allows himself is to place his hand on his cheek, pushed by the imperial need to feel him, to make sure he’s alive and breathing. His heart sinks when he notices how cold his skin is. Without thinking, he removes his own robes to lay it on Anakin’s body. It’s a useless gesture but he can’t stand the idea of his golden, always warm boy being frozen to the bones.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, gently pushing Anakin’s drenched curls from his still face. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me.”

When the ship arrives, Anakin is picked up on a stretcher and taken away to the tiny medical unit it carries. Obi-Wan silently blesses Cody for having the presence of mind to ask for a medic, gaining precious time for Anakin’s life. They don’t have a lot of equipment but they have enough to stabilize him until they’re back to the base.

The doctor asks them to help remove Anakin’s clothes while he puts an oxygen mask on his mouth and nose. He checks his vitals again, not satisfied about the results.

“He's unresponsive.” He says with a frown. “He might be in shock. He’s also hypothermic and injured, so we will have to act according to an order of priority.”

Obi-Wan nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I’m going to put him on warm fluids to help his body fight the shock and hopefully help him heat up a little bit.” The man explains quietly. “Then I'm going to take a blood sample to see if something's happening inside. If everything is fine, we’ll have to find a way to get his temperature back to normal, or at least, decent.”

“How ?” Obi-Wan asks.

As far as he knows they only have a limited stock of blankets and no heating pads.

“With the most wonderful and efficient source of heat I know.” The doctor answers. “Human’s heat.”

“Oh.”

Obi-Wan blushes slightly without knowing why. His gaze falls back on Anakin, so pale and so cold under his thin cover.

“Um, okay. I can- I can help with that.” He says with his steadier voice. “Just tell me what to do.”

“For now, wait until he’s stable.” The man replies, focused on putting a catheter on the inside of Anakin’s arm. “Then undress and hold him tight.”

Obi-Wan can’t help but blush fully at the blunt, clinical way the doctor states the whole thing. As if it’s a usual life-saving procedure. Maybe it is. Obi-Wan is no doctor after all.

He watches quietly as the man fusses around Anakin, branching him to a little bag of fluids and to a little machine monitoring his heart and respiratory rates as well as his temperature and level of oxygen. When he’s done, he looks over to Obi-Wan and gives him a nod.

“It's your moment.”

“Okay…” Obi-Wan approaches the bed hesitantly.

“I’m giving you some privacy.” The man says, gathering Anakin’s wet clothes to go make them dry somewhere. “I’m coming back in half an hour to check on him. Call me if something goes wrong in the meantime.”

“Understood.” Obi-Wan nods. “Thank you.”

When he's finally alone in the tiny medical room, the unit separated from the main room of the ship by a thin curtain only, he starts peeling off his soaked layers, realizing how cold he felt too now that a part of the adrenaline had worn off.

Anakin is still immobile on the small bed, just as pale as the sheets. Obi-Wan hesitates to keep his underwear but the fabric is as drenched as the rest of his clothes so he decides against it. His modesty is no match against Anakin’s life.

Taking two more blankets on his way, he slips by his side into the bed, shuddering when his cold skin presses against Anakin’s even colder one. After putting the extra blankets mostly on Anakin’s side, he wraps his arms and legs around his still, freezing body and holds him tight as the doctor asked.

At first it’s very unpleasant, Obi-Wan shivering in their shared wet coldness and thinking they were never going to warm up ever again. But after a while, the blankets start to do their job, preventing whatever warmth Obi-Wan is producing from escaping and progressively raising the temperature in the tight confines of the bed.

Later, Obi-Wan feels warm enough to stop shivering, and exhaustion starts numbing his mind and body, making him close his eyes without noticing.

When the doctor comes to check on Anakin, he finds them both asleep, Obi-Wan carefully but tightly wrapped against the younger Jedi in a protective, life-saving embrace.

Even later, when the sun starts to fall on the system, Obi-Wan is awakened by light movements against him. Emerging with difficulty from the deep slumber he fell in, he lifts an eyelid and he’s faced with Anakin's confused face and fluttering eyes.

“What happened ?” He murmurs.

“You fell from the cliff.” Obi-Wan replies in the same tone. “You almost died. But I found you.”

Anakin frowns and manages to pout.

“Didn't fall. Been pushed.” He mumbles.

“You managed to reach the shore.” Obi-Wan says. “Do you remember ?”

Anakin shakes his head.

“I only remember the cold. I was so cold. Never been that cold in my entire life.”

He frowns again then, slightly raising his head to take a look around, then at Obi-Wan, then under the covers.

“Why am I naked ?” He squints. “Why are you naked ?”

Obi-Wan fails pathetically against his own body when he tries not to blush.

“The doctor said you were in hypothermia. Someone had to keep you warm.”

“It was a life or death situation.” He adds for good measure.

“I see.” Anakin smirks, making the blush on Obi-Wan’s face spread to his chest. “Thank you for saving my life, then.”

“You’re welcome.” Obi-Wan mumbles, trying to hide a part of his face in the pillow.

“I’m still a bit cold, though.” Anakin grins. “I could probably still die.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, the heat coming from his face probably enough to keep Anakin warm for the century to come.

“Come here.” He grumbles, opening his arms wider, and Anakin loses no time snuggling against his chest, almost ripping the wires monitoring his health. “Careful, you’re still in a bad state.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The younger Jedi whispers against his neck, closing his eyes again.

Obi-Wan can't help but smile, slipping his fingers in the mass of golden hair curling on his head.

“How are you feeling ?” He asks.

He can feel Anakin smile against his skin, his fingers tightening around his waist. His heart is beating peacefully against his own. Beating, pumping life into his body. Obi-Wan has never heard a more beautiful sound.

“Warm.” Anakin answers.

[dreamcubed]

call it what you want | draco malfoy x reader

song; call it what you want [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x fem!muggle!reader genre; fluff, angst, forbidden love, s2l word count; 4,3k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; draco's daddy issues, low-key y/n's daddy issues, references to the second wizarding war (and draco's part in it), discrimination (of muggleborns) summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

suggested by @tendous-pretty-hair !!

masterlist

"my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new."

also i have fucking eras tour tickets!!!

—————————————————

Draco had found himself at an emotional stand-still ever since the Second Wizarding War - more specifically the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. After he had regrettably joined Voldemort's side in the mass fallout, only for him to lose anyway. He wasn't sentenced to any time in Azkaban, since it was deemed that he had been coerced into the situation, as backed up by his mother, who had been pardoned due to saving Harry Potter's life in the final moments. His father, however, would never feel the light of happiness again, caged away in the breeding ground of fear.

It wasn't that Draco missed Lucius all that much, in fact, quite the opposite. The time away from him had allowed him and Narcissa to grow closer, and also given him the opportunity to properly question and break down the beliefs that had been hammered into his head since infancy.

Eventually, he decided to step foot into unknown territory: muggle London. He had only ever been to the magic side of it before, but he had come to the realisation that living such a sheltered life was the reason he wound up another of Voldemort's slaves. That lifestyle would be no more.

He found himself stood outside of a small music store, displayed to have vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes inside - whatever they were. Draco did know what music was, however, and wanted to understand the way that muggles experienced it. So, he stepped foot into the shop with the tinkling of a tiny silver bell above him alerting whoever was working behind the tall overflowing shelves.

There were more people perusing the shelves than he had anticipated, so he ducked his head down and headed to an emptier area of the shop. As he began scanning the labels on the shelves, his confusion grew as he realised that he recognised none of the names.

"You don't look like a death metal fan," a voice to his left caught him by surprise, making him jump.

He turned around to have his eyes meet the gaze of a woman wearing an amused smile. You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his skittishness.

"Forgive me, but it's not everyday we have a man dressed in a perfectly ironed suit come and check out the works of Morbid Angel."

After his brain caught up to him, he said, "You work here?"

You nodded, "Family business - me and my mum."

Draco didn't reply to your statement, turning back to the shelves.

"You seem a little lost, first time in a music shop?"

"Uh- yeah," he said, "My family never played music growing up." That was a lie - the Malfoys had held many a musical event, however, they took the form of private orchestral bands.

"You're joking," your expression was that of shock, "How have you lived such a musicless life?"

He shrugged.

"God, I was practically raised on music- I mean, obviously," you gestured around you, "It's everything to me."

"My father was a very strict man," he said simply, making you hum.

"I see. God, I just can't believe you've hardly listened to music - we have to change that," you said, "Do you have any idea what sort of sounds you like?"

"I think I like classical music," it was all he had ever really known.

You grinned, "Yeah, that definitely suits the way you're dressed more than death metal. Come on, I'll set you up with some stuff. Vinyls, CDs or tapes?"

From what he could gather, vinyls were the larger circles, and he was pretty sure that Malfoy Manor had a phonograph with the large brass tube attached for the purpose of playing them. Like the one he saw at the Yule Ball all those years ago. "Uh, vinyl? The big black disc?"

You bobbed your head, "They're becoming less popular these days - people mostly want CDs," you then paused for a moment, "Although my mum said they'll probably have a resurgence in another twenty years. Making an aesthetic of past trends and all that."

Draco listened curiously as you babbled on about different musicians, bands, and albums, finding himself enraptured by the way you carried yourself. Salazar, his father would throw a fit if he found out that he was willingly talking to a muggle.

But his father wasn't there.

"So, do any of these interest you?" you finished, smiling at the ever stoic man before you.

"Uh, yes- all of them," he wasn't sure if he liked the music genre you suggested or the way you talked so passionately.

"All of them?" you tilted your head, "That's- like- hundreds of pounds."

He began digging around in his pockets for the money he had exchanged earlier before coming, and your eyes widened at the sight of all the twenty pound notes.

"Right," you said in a state of shock, "I'll... ring these up for you."

As you totalled up the price and packaged the vinyls into a bag over at the till, the man watched you, as if he was meticulously detailing your every move. Weirdly, it didn't feel creepy.

"Okay that will be... £404.39," you said, in awe of the fact he seemed unfazed by the number.

He began counting out the notes, before handing them over to you: £420 worth of twenty pound notes in your hand. You counted the change out and handed it back to him, placing the receipt in the bag.

"Thank you for shopping here, come again..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"Draco," he said, stopping himself before saying his last name. Although he knew that you wouldn't recognise it anyway.

You couldn't help but think that he had a peculiar name; regardless, you smiled, and said, "Y/N. Please come again."

He nodded, taking the bag and leaving the shop swiftly without so much as looking back once.

***

A week passed by and Draco found himself stood outside of the record shop, unsure of why he had returned. During his last visit he had purchased months worth of music, so really he had no need to be back.

Except, he did.

His social circle had been non-existent ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, not because Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott no longer wanted to be friends with him, but because he had isolated himself in Malfoy Manor with his mother. Draco was nearing being ready to owl them again, but reconnecting with them meant inevitably having to unpack the events of the war.

With a muggle stranger like you, however, there was no unpacking to do.

"Draco, you're back," you grinned, coming out from behind the till, "I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

His abrupt question caught you off guard, "Well, I- I don't know. You're an interesting character," that and you thought he was cute.

Draco stared blankly at you, making you shift uncomfortably on your feet. Eventually, you decided to change the subject.

"Here for more music?"

"Oh, uh- yes."

"Well, what were your favourites from last week's purchases?"

After he told you which ones he had enjoyed the most, you were able to develop some kind of idea as to specific kinds of music to indulge him into. Of course, you had a question burning at the back of your mind that you simply had to ask.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"It's just- vinyls aren't cheap, especially not in as large a quantity as you get them," you elaborated, "I assume you have a well paying job."

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "Family money."

"You mean old money?" you couldn't help but clarify.

He reluctantly nodded, "Yes, old money." He used to be so boastful and prideful of the Malfoy family legacy, but in that moment, despite you having no idea who he was, he could only feel shame when he thought of it.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy," you chuckled, "Let's continue your musical adventure."

Even as you proceeded to serve him with a chipper attitude, you couldn't help but be saddened by learning that he was old money. There was no way that you stood a chance, since old money families liked to marry each other and not someone who was simply the daughter of a small record shop.

At least you learned that piece of information about him early on, you reasoned.

***

"Back? Again?" you questioned incredulously, spying Draco stood in the doorway of your shop, "Hate to turn you away, but we're about to close."

"I know."

You paused, frowning slightly as you grasped hold of the door, "Uh, okay, then... bye?" You began slowly shutting the door.

"Wait."

Again, you paused.

"I need help."

Opening the door fully again, you placed a hand on your hip as you said, "With regards to what?"

You didn't know what to think when he presented a small battered flip phone to you on his milky white palm.

"A phone?"

"I found it. On the floor."

"Musta fell outta someone's pocket," you shrugged, "Happens - why do you need help?"

"Well, don't we need to do something about it?"

All you could do was look at him curiously.

"Is that not- is that not what you do?" maybe he was overcompensating for his past by trying desperately to do one small good deed, or maybe he was trying to prove to you that he was a good person even though you had no reason to believe otherwise. Either way, he wanted to return the muggle contraption to its rightful owner.

"I mean- I guess? If you're feeling nice," you said simply, "Can't lie, I'd probably leave it for someone else to deal with."

"How do I return it?"

You sighed, "Just call the last person they called."

"Right, okay."

Much to your confusion, Draco stared at the device as if he was trying to will it into doing what he wanted.

"You do know how to call someone, yes?" you asked, your arms now folded across your chest.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head.

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside, "Come in."

Once Draco was inside your shop, you shut the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Give it," you made a grabbing motion with your fingers, and the man before you immediately handed over the device, "It's really easy-" he watched in amazement as you flipped open the phone, "-just use the arrow buttons here to go to call history- and, oh, look! Last person they called was their mum- press the green call button and bam."

You presented the now dialling phone to him.

"They have been notified now?"

"Well, her phone will be ringing- hopefully she'll pick up."

"Pick up?"

"Hello?" a voice from the phone announced, "Cadie?"

"Hello, ma'am, your daughter dropped her phone and we found it."

"Oh, I see. Thank you- I'll let her know so she can pick it up. Where's a good place?"

As you told the concerned mother the address of your record shop, you watched Draco's intrigued expression.

You hung up, placing the phone on a nearby surface and beginning to walk to the back room, "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

He stared blankly at you for a few moments, before nodding, "Please."

"How do you take it?"

"No milk, one sugar."

You chuckled to yourself at his strange way of having tea.

***

Draco watched you as you chatted mindlessly while sipping your tea, almost entirely forgetting that he had his own cup sat to his side. Your topics were classically boring - yet so interesting to him. He was enthralled to learn about the different characters in your family, and the trials and tribulations of your school years. He hadn't even realised how little he had said until you pointed it out.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" he went, snapping out of his daze.

"I feel like I've just been talking about myself this entire time. Where did you go to school?"

"Oh- uh-" he desperately pulled together all his thoughts, "A private boarding school in Scotland."

Your mouth dropped open, "Wow, that's cool."

He shrugged.

"Did you miss your family while you were away all year?"

Again, he shrugged, "My mother, yes- my father... not so much."

"I don't see my father at all," you added, to make him feel more comfortable about sharing details of his own father, "I used to... but I realised it was always me reaching out and not him so I stopped. Haven't heard from him since."

Draco nodded, "My father is in prison."

He didn't know why he told you, only realising what he had just said when you froze for a few seconds with widened eyes.

"Can I ask what for?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh... terrorism, murder... that sort of thing," he had no clue why he was being so honest. Had you put veritaserum in the tea?

You cleared your throat, wanting to delicately change the subject but lacking a way on how to do it naturally. Draco observed you, and opened his mouth to say something more when a knock sounded on the door.

"That's- uh- that's probably the phone owner," you said quickly, rushing to your feet to run out of the back room and let them in.

You opened the door to be faced with a short brunette woman.

"Cadie?" you questioned.

She nodded, "You have my phone?"

"Yes, come in."

"Thank you so much- I really can't afford a new one right now," she sighed, "I'm always losing things."

You chuckled, "I know how you feel- I'm always breaking things."

Draco appeared in the doorway to the back and picked up the phone from the counter.

Cadie sighed happily, accepting the phone and thanking the both of you profusely.

"Seriously, you have no idea how appreciative I am."

"It's no trouble, Cadie, really," you assured her.

She paused for a moment, looking around. "Is this your shop?"

You bobbed your head, "Yes, it's family-owned."

"Oh, that's so cool," she looked towards Draco, "So this is your husband?"

You were so taken aback you couldn't even form a response. Before either of you could reply, the phone began ringing.

"It's my boss! I have to take this," she said, "Thank you so much again. You two are a cute couple." And with that final comment, she departed, leaving you and Draco in an awkward silence.

"I-" you began, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Go on a date with me," Draco hurriedly said, realising he had said it like an order rather than an innocent question. He was still in some ways his old bossy teenage self, socialised in a slightly abnormal way.

You took it in good humour, however, and smiled, "I would love to."

***

The following six months were filled with the fanciest and most luxurious dates that you could ever have possibly imagined: five star restaurants, weekends in Paris, and expensive gifts. It was heaven in all ways but one - Draco always had an excuse for you not meeting his family and friends.

For a while, you had ignored the itching feeling that he was ashamed of you and so kept you a secret, but your suspicions grew until you couldn't keep it in anymore. You had to confront him about it.

"...and I was thinking, we should go out for dinner with your mother," you said, flicking through a magazine as Draco sat on the sofa in your small but homely flat.

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever's good for her."

You heard Draco's breath hitch.

"What? Can't come up with an excuse to get out of this one?" your tone held evident bite.

Draco turned around to face you, but his expression was unreadable.

"Are you ashamed of me, Draco?"

His eyes widened.

"I know I'm not rich, let alone old money, but I'd like to think that I'm a likeable person."

He shook his head, "It's not that-"

"Then what is it, Draco?" you snapped, feeling tears fill up your eyes, "You won't even introduce me to your friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

He stood up and began shifting on his feet and fidgeting with his hands, "It's more complicated than that."

"What? You're engaged to someone else?"

Again, he shook his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" you waved your hands about, "Because I can't date someone who treats me like a secret."

"You wouldn't believe me!" he yelled, clearly unintentionally.

You were shocked: you had never heard him yell before. "Try me," you said, your voice low.

He sighed, moving around helplessly for a few moments before striding over to his bag by your front door. He reached his hand in - what appeared to be deeper than the bag's actual depth, but you dismissed it due to your blurred vision - and pulled out a blank piece of paper, tinged brown.

He came over to you and placed it on the kitchen island you were stood behind, and pointed at the bottom of the page. "Sign here."

"It's blank," you thought he was insane.

"Just trust me. Please."

You gave him a skeptical look, but wiped your eyes and picked up a pen nonetheless, writing your signature in the area he pointed to. To your amazement, the second you finished the last letter of your name, writing appeared on the paper. As you scanned it, you were increasingly confused.

- By signing this non-disclosure agreement, you agree that as a muggle you shall not disclose the existence of wizardry and witchcraft to anyone not already in knowledge of it. You understand that by doing so, you would be breaking the law and could face potential criminalisation. The wizard or witch of whom has vouched for your approval to know of magic shall also face potential criminalisation in such a situation.

It will no longer be a criminal offence for wizards and witches to perform magic with you as a witness unless there are unapproved muggles also present.

You will be granted access to wizard-only areas including but not limited to Diagon Alley and Platfrom Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross provided that you are accompanied by a wizard or witch. Please be aware that these permissions may vary in other countries depending on their laws surrounding muggle knowledge of magic and also their acceptance of the British Muggle Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Please sign your name below. -

"What is this?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

"An NDA."

"Yes, I- I gathered that- but- what does it mean?"

"It means... that I'm a wizard."

Part of you wanted to burst out laughing at Draco's insane words, but the way he said it held so much depth that you couldn't help but take it seriously.

"Prove it."

You didn't know what you had expected, but you certainly didn't anticipate your boyfriend pulling out a wand and muttering what sounded like Latin under his breath.

The pen on the table before you morphed into a feather.

There were really no words to describe how you felt in that moment. You asked him to do it again - he turned the feather into a sharpener. You asked him to do it one more time - he turned the sharpener into a fork.

"Oh my God," you said at the volume of a whisper, stepping back and falling against the counter behind you, "What the actual fuck."

"I know this may come as a shock to you..."

"Really?" you said, "No, actually. Not freaking out at all. Not even a little."

He pursed his lips, "My family is what is known as pure-bloods. We haven't mixed with muggles when it comes to reproduction at any point in our bloodline - allegedly."

You stared at him.

"Sometimes, a witch or wizard can be born of muggle parents - we call them muggle-borns. Half-bloods make up the most of wizarding society - their ancestors are a mix of muggle, muggle-born, pure-blood and half-blood."

At your lack of speech, he continued.

"There is a culture of supremacy among pure-blood families - choosing to reproduce only with other pure-bloods to ensure the pure-blooded line continues as they believe themselves to be the only true witches and wizards."

"You're pure-blood," you mumbled.

Draco nodded, "I used to think like that. Used to bully muggle-borns in school - the school I went to being specifically for witches and wizards."

"You don't think like that anymore?"

"No," he quickly said, "I've had a lot of time to question everything I was taught to believe - but, I- there's something really bad I have to tell you. It may change your opinion of me forever and it's the reason why I have kept you away from my family and friends."

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"Years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world..." he began.

***

You had never seen Draco in tears before, but when he reached the details of the final showdown between Harry Potter (a heroic celebrity in the wizarding world) and Lord Voldemort (a wizard terrorist), he broke down in sobs as he recalled him walking over to the latter's side. Tears were falling down your cheeks soon too, and you quickly brought Draco into your arms and felt him collapse into you.

"I regret it every single day," he said through sobs, "Why didn't I have more of a backbone?"

"You were just a boy, Draco," you soothed him, "You didn't want your family to be killed."

He cried harder.

"My opinion of you is not changed - by the sounds of it you never actually killed anyone yourself," you thought back to the Professor Dumbledore section of the story, "In fact, it sounds like you couldn't bring yourself to."

"I can never make up for my past, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "You dating a muggle is pretty solid evidence you're trying to."

"I'm not dating you because you're muggle," he pulled back from you and looked you in the eyes.

You chuckled slightly, wiping the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs, "That's not what I was saying. Young you would have never even considered entering the muggle world, and yet here adult you is."

He gave you a small smile, "I love you."

You beamed, but teardrops were still cascading down your cheeks, "I love you too."

"Let's have dinner with my mother on Sunday."

***

"Mr Malfoy, you may see your father now," the Azkaban worker said, who Draco couldn't help but think reminded him strongly of Filch. An old miserable man with long scraggly hair, an unmissable limp, and filthy dark-coloured robes. Then again, at least this worker had a reason to be miserable all the time: working in the breeding ground of fear and desolation. Filch was by all means in a much more cheerful environment.

Draco nodded at him, and followed his lead down shadowed narrow corridors, caked in dirt and dust. They turned a few corners and went up a few sets of dangerously steep stairs before reaching a cell block with moans and whines coming from every cell - except one.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't known what to expect when he came to see his father: he hadn't visited once since his arrest. But Lucius looked quite different than the proud man he once was, with his once well-kept long blond hair being knotty and entwined with filth, and his once healthy (albeit pale) complexion being overly skinny with sallow sunken features. He looked up at his son, still being able to produce a slight scowl.

"So, you finally decided to visit," he drawled, but his voice was too broken to hold the same threat it used to.

"Yes, father, I have some things I need to say to you," despite Lucius' weakened state, Draco still held some lifelong fear of the man, but he had to remain strong in front of him.

"And what would that be?"

"I have a girlfriend, and I plan to propose to her."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Your mother has not mentioned this," Narcissa frequently visited her husband.

"She didn't find out until last week."

After some seconds of silence, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Draco at the cell gate. "What is her name?"

"Y/N L/N."

"L/N does not ring a bell. Which bloodline is she from?"

Draco felt intimidated by his father's close proximity, but still managed a smirk, "She isn't of pure blood, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened, "You don't mean to say she's- half blood? Or worse- a- a mudblood?"

"Worse," his smirk grew, "She's muggle."

The ghostly shock that flooded over Lucius' face made Draco feel a triumph over his father he had never felt before, and gave him the confidence to feel as though he had the upper hand in their interaction. He stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice.

"And I'm going to marry her, and have children with her, and you will have to spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell knowing that the Malfoy pure blood line has been permanently tainted."

"You can't do this," Lucius said through gritted teeth, "After everything we fought for."

Draco hummed, "See, I thought it was time for me to finally fight for something good."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 02/06/2023 —> 17/07/2023 published; 17/07/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

[oleandequill]

A Reflection of You in Blue (SG TFOne Fanfic)

Original TF:One Optimus Prime ends up in a TF:One Shattered Glass universe and meets that universe's Megatron.

The difference in their universes couldn't be more clear.

---

Honestly, I wrote this fic for me and only me HAHAHA

Oh my god I love Shattered Glass so much and I really wanted to make the original tfone Optimus meet shattered glass tfone Megatron. Slight warning though that a lot of the stuff here is from my personal AU of a Shattered Glass TF:One. I'm happy to answer any questions if something is confusing. Just know that a lot of the references here are based primarily on the Fanclub Shattered Glass comics.

But yeah, I wanted to indulge myself a bit and write this fanfic hahaha.

---

“Are the cuffs necessary?”

He tested the metal restraints, wincing as a bolt of electricity ran down his servos. Optimus sighed, dropping his servos back against his lap. His tired blue optics warily looked up at the mech beside him, anticipating the cannon that would press against his helm at any moment. Instead of pain, he could only feel relief as the cuts on his shoulder were slowly repaired. Those servos - familiar yet so different - that only ever inflicted injury, could now only heal. Optimus couldn’t even bring his processor around to acknowledge this. Well, he could hardly process… everything.

“Soundwave verified that what you said was true, but please understand that everyone is still wary of you.” The mech stood back, having finished the repair process. Optimus could feel the energon in his cables turn cold as his optics met the other mech’s. It was the faceplate that threw him off. He looked so much like him… but everything was different. Instead of the dull gray frame, black helm, and red optics that pursued him even in his dreams, this mech was a brighter white. Even the black accents he had weren’t imposing. “This is to keep up morale.”

Morale… Optimus would laugh if the whole thing wasn’t driving him insane. The Decepticons and morale? Every Autobot knew that Starscream would have murdered Megatron and vice versa if the two didn’t have the same aligned goal. Even then, it was a common sight to see the two trying to kill one another even on the battlefield. Shaking his helm slightly, he turned back to this universe’s Megatron. The mech stared back at him, not a hint of emotion in that singular blue optic (and that detail freaked him out more than everything else had). “I won’t hurt anyone here.”

“I trust you. You’re different from the Optimus Prime of this universe. I don’t mean just the paint job but in personality.” Aside from the missing optic, it unnerved Optimus how cold this Megatron’s voice was. He had gotten so used to hearing his name yelled across the battlefield in rage that he had already forgotten what D-16 had sounded like. Has he always sounded this empty? No, Optimus had fond memories of D-16, even if he had forgotten his voice. “I trusted you since you first opened your intake. The Optimus Prime of this universe never calls me Megatron.”

“What does he call you?” It was a redundant question but honestly Optimus didn’t know what else to say. What could he say? Just a few joors ago, he had been in Iacon with his fellow Autobots, and now he was a universe away where apparently Primus was evil, some Primes were warmongers, and he was the current reason for the civil war happening in Cybertron. Even more confusing, the Decepticons were actually good and trying to stop this universe’s Optimus Prime even though Primus had given him the Matrix of Leadership. He needed a long recharge after all this.

“I think we both know.” Megatron let out a tired vent, optic closing before suddenly approaching. Unable to help himself, Optimus flinched back, expecting a phantom punch towards his helm. He felt almost guilty as Megatron stopped. It would take some adjusting. Even if he did look different, Optimus couldn’t forget his Megatron - the mech who was nothing now but rage and vengeance. This universe’s Megatron didn’t deserve to be stared at with distrust, but he couldn't forget the cycles of fighting that had left their mark on him. “He never flinches.”

Megatron said quietly, and then he was gone.

—

“My universe’s Megatron, even before he took on Megatronus’ cog, is a tankbot. Why do you have wings?” After finding himself stuck in this universe, Optimus spent most of his time by Megatron’s side, much to the suspicion of Starscream. Still, this Starscream (who was the leader of the Decepticons, and that did make Optimus laugh) had let it happen since Megatron had vouched for Optimus’ good character - and he needed Optimus nearby while he worked on a way to bring Optimus back to his universe. “And you’re a scientist! I’m not saying my Megatron is stupid, but… he wouldn’t…”

“There are many differences between your universe and mine.” Megatron stated impassively, hardly staring down from the equations he was pouring himself over. It had taken some time, but Optimus had come to find out that this Megatron was the Decepticon’s medic and scientist, with mathematics being a side passion of his. It was hard to process that the Shockwave wasn’t the mad scientist of this universe. Not that Megatron was mad, if anything, he had been nothing but apathetic around Optimus. “In your universe, your D-16 had resigned himself to the mines. I… A part of me could never.”

“That doesn’t explain the wings.” He knew he was pushing it, and he knew it really wasn’t what Optimus wanted to ask. It was that singular optic that continued to run in his processor. If this Megatron was a medic and scientist, why hadn’t he replaced it by now? Surely it wasn’t because he lacked the scraps or materials for it? Megatron finally looked up at him, and Optimus regretted trying to get the mech’s attention. Looking at that optic made him nauseous. “You still changed your designation to Megatron in this universe, so you must have Megatronus Prime’s cog.”

“I changed my designation because I admired Megatronus Prime, and to separate myself from my past.” The other mech scoffed out in irritation. It was the first emotion Optimus had managed to coax out of him. “As I said, our universes are different. Your Matrix of Leadership restored the transformation cogs of the cogless. Primus isn’t so kind in this universe. While he had granted us the return of energon, the transformation cogs were not restored. You said that your Megatron took Sentinel’s cog - which had originally been Megatronus’ - I did no such thing. Sentinel never even took Megatronus’ cog.”

“Then…?” He had considered the possibility that somehow Megatronus Prime had been a Cybertronian jet in this universe, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Optimus nearly panicked before Megatron had clarified he hadn’t taken Sentinel’s cog. The Sentinel in his universe had wings, and if everyone in this universe was different from who they were in his universe, had there been a possibility that Sentinel had been good? Optimus could hardly process the thought. Still, a part of him felt proud and slightly satisfied that Megatron hadn’t resorted to taking Sentinel’s cog. “If the transformation cogs weren’t restored…”

“There is one similarity you both share, it’s that you don’t know when to stop pushing and searching for information you shouldn't have, Prime.” The anger disappeared just as quickly as it had come. Optimus met the shocked look in Megatron’s optic, the mech surprised at his own rage. Megatron headed quickly towards the doors. “Understand this. When Primus… When your god has forsaken you, then sometimes you have to pave your own path forward. You can’t rely on a god that doesn’t care for you. Sometimes, you have no one but yourself.”

Then Megatron was fleeing out the door.

—

“I’m sorry.” It was the first words that Megatron had said after their confrontation. Optimus looked up from the datapad he had been reading through. They haven’t had any luck in finding a way to send him back, so Optimus had busied himself by learning this universe’s history. It was hard though with the limited information (he wondered if there had been a deliberate erasure of the records…). He had nothing else to do, especially since Megatron had avoided him after the incident. “I lost my temper at you, and I think I owe you an explanation for my reaction.”

Before Optimus could object, the mech had already sat down beside him. Selfish as it was, Optimus wished Megatron had sat to his left, since at this angle, he could see the empty socket where Megatron’s left optic should have been. “As you know, during a war, desperate measures happen and it can’t be helped when energon is spilled. The Decepticons have never resorted to extreme measures in the same way our Autobots have and I’m sure in the same way your Decepticons have either. Except one. I’ve eradicated any trace of the technology so it could never be repeated.”

Megatron let out a weak laugh. “The other Decepticons were furious. Possibly the only time Starscream had turned his anger on me… It was unethical of me, but I think at the time, I needed to do it. I was still D-16 then, and I was still cogless. It was only a few astroweeks after we’d been banished to the surface by Optimus Prime. I had been sparkbroken and I thought I would die from the betrayal. It would have been selfish to do so, not when I knew that Cybertron couldn’t be left at the hands of a tyrant.”

There was a tense silence, and Optimus knew that Megatron was stalling. He should really tell the mech to stop. He wasn’t owed an explanation… but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Megatron went on, “You would know, I think, but it isn’t easy fighting a mech you once loved. I knew that if I wanted to take down the mad Prime, I would have to do something really drastic. I only ever tested it on myself. I would never let any mech undergo the process. The technology has since been destroyed. It’s for the best.”

Optimus looked down to find that Megatron had curled his servos into fists, and his face was contorted in pain. “I reprogrammed all the emotions I had ever held for my Orion Pax. I couldn’t separate him from the mech he had become, so I forced myself to remove the feelings I had for him. It shouldn’t have been done, but the mech who I had been - when I had been D-16 - couldn’t live knowing he’d been betrayed by the one mech he thought would always stand by his side. Now… Now all I feel for that Prime is apathy.”

Awkwardly, Megatron placed a servo on his shoulder, as if to console him before quickly running away. Optimus sat there, taking in the information. Apathy. Megatron felt nothing for his universe’s Optimus Prime. He could piece the rest without the other mech having to say it. He had run off after their confrontation because he had been scared. He assumed that since he was just a different version of this universe’s Optimus Prime, that he would feel nothing towards him too. Optimus’ thoughts didn’t stop there.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his Megatron would have done the same thing.

—

“Your optic…”

The other mech stared at the wall, unable to meet Optimus’ own gaze. He had found out by accident. He had been reckless and left the Decepticon base during an ongoing battle. He had only wanted to help. While he had been on the battlefield, he had finally caught sight of his counterpart. Instead of the blue, this universe’s Optimus Prime was painted in purple. Honestly, they might have looked the same if it weren’t for the difference in color, but there was one difference that still scared him. The optics. One was red… and the other blue.

“You banished your D-16 to the surface. If I still had my emotions for this universe’s Orion Pax, I think I would feel jealous that you hadn’t hurt your D-16 so badly.” Megatron walked past him, giving him a look over his shoulder pad as if to check if he would follow. Optimus did. He had waited until Megatron had finished repairing the mechs that had been injured during the recent battle to ask him about his optics. Now they were both in the hallway outside the medical bay. The air felt tense. “Mine wanted to take away my optics.”

Optimus stayed silent. Honestly, what could he have said after hearing that? Never ever had he considered doing that to another mech. Not even his Megatron who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him! That lone blue optic stared up at him, waiting for his response but Optimus needed a moment to vent. He could never imagine… The more he learned about this universe’s Optimus Prime, the more he felt lucky that the Decepticons and Megatron in his universe weren’t that depraved in the processor. He could hardly believe that a version of himself would ever be capable of such brutality. “W-why?”

“If I refused to see things his way, then I didn’t deserve to see at all.” Despite the coldness and indifference in Megatron’s voice, Optimus could only feel the horror that the other mech must have felt when he could still feel emotions for what had happened to him. “He pinned me down. It was foolish to fight him without a cog but I needed to stop him before he caused more damage to Iacon. He didn’t take my betrayal well. He had taken out one optic before Starscream got him off me. Then, I fled with the High Guard.”

When his universe’s D-16 had shot him with a cannon, at least he had felt some remorse. At the end, Megatron had let him fall. Still, even after what his former friend had done… Even after the pain of betrayal Optimus had felt - how sparkbroken he had been at the loss - he would never have hurt Megatron that way. He couldn’t convince him, so he let him leave. From the way this Megatron spoke, it was almost as though he hadn’t been banished - as if his Optimus had wanted to keep him, even if it meant hurting him that badly.

“You don’t have to live like this, Megatron. You’re a medic. You could repair it yourself.” Optimus couldn’t understand why Megatron remained this way. That lone blue optic met his gaze, and in them, he could almost see the last remnants of affection that D-16 held for his Orion Pax.

“I keep it as a reminder of what I had lost, what I had chosen to do to try to forget, and…” Megatron gave him a sad smile. “As a hope that one day, he may be able to see through my optics, the way I couldn’t see through his.”

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In my actual SG TF:One AU, Megatron loses his arm because Optimus did axe it before banishing him. In this fic he's missing an optic and wasn't exactly banished mostly because I came across a really good fanart on Twitter and I couldn't stop thinking about it skksks

[amyelevenn]

the knife cuts both ways

PAIRING; Max Verstappen x driver!reader

SUMMARY; a pre-race argument between you and Max has harsher consequences than either of you were anticipating.

WARNINGS; talks of a car accident, somewhat graphic descriptions of the aftermath. angst no comfort

A/N; yes this is the cliche reader gets into an accident after an argument but I couldn't help myself, it's a canon event okay!

1.2k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

Max’s words just replayed in your mind, over and over and over and over, with no sign of ever running themselves thin.

“Your legacy will never live up to mine. I’m sorry I’m the better driver. You aren’t even in competition with me!”

You were sure he had said more, but you had tuned out what he was saying in hopes of having something left to salvage.

Picking at your lip to distract yourself proved ineffective – it had started bleeding, and you were still unable to take your mind off of it all. It didn’t help that you hadn’t even bothered to speak to him, or even go near his vicinity, after the matter. It did however help having motorhomes on complete opposite ends of the paddock, being able to easily navigate away from him and his team. You were still way too mad, needing much more than a few hours to cool off from the heat of the argument.

It would have to wait until the end of the race, at the least. If not, until the pair of you had flown home together, away from the prying eyes and ears of the paparazzi and fans alike. You weren’t even public with each other, so you were sure the media would have a field day with the current championship leader being in a screaming match with his only female colleague.

You hated how easily a small part of you wanted to give in to him, to just let it all breeze over just to be in his arms again, despite the horrible things that came out of his mouth.

If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else, you try to rationalize. Everyone was thinking it, he was just the one who had the guts to verbalize it. But a small, minuscule part of you will always know that someone who loved you would never speak of you like that; no one who had any ounce of regard for your emotions would treat you the way he did.

But it was the fact that he chose to single out you.It was you who isn’t in competition with him. Not your team, or your car, you. Your legacy who would never live up to his, the 3-time world champion.

The whole of that Saturday night and Sunday morning had gone by in a blur. You weren’t even sure how you got in your car, fully equipped and watching the red lights go out as the race began.

Of course he would ruin the race that you’d be starting the highest you had before. In fact, that was the basis of your whole argument; you being proud of making it to Q3 and placing P8, but him complaining about barely making pole.

It was a massive achievement for you and your team – points weren’t something you exactly walked by every day, and you had the opportunity to score big here. But something about the importance of this race for you didn’t comprehend in Max’s mind.

The first couple laps went by smoothly, taking a couple overtakes under you belt, lined up in a solid P5. You see a Red Bull in your mirror, and before you can even ask, a voice in your ear informs you of “Perez, 1.1 behind.”

Weaving in and out of the chicanes, you get constant updates of the rocket slowing inching closer and closer to you, until you are hit with “Perez, 0.8 behind with DRS. Need you to push here.”

You were a good driver. A good team player, who followed the orders you were given to a T. so how you ended up snagging the back of the Red Bull as he overtook you was beyond you.

“Holy shit!”

That’s all you could say right before you black out; not something prophetic or memorable, but a base utterance steeped in a casual strain of effort to recentre the car. In the fleeting seconds that the words take form and flight, your brain cycles through a million images, memories plastered on a spinning reel. The blur of your life becomes a recognizable whole. You have always been your worst enemy and saviour.

Hurtling towards the concrete barrier, your brakes fail. You pray to deity above that you don’t even believe in for some kind of salvation; to make it out of this burning wreckage alive.

Your vision disappears for what feels like a millisecond, but there is too much chaos in too little time to be able to determine just how long it was. Your hearing was obliterated, the silence deafening and all consuming, forcing you into battling the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. You couldn’t move, even when you tried your very hardest – no amount of adrenaline would be able to push your paralyzed limbs enough to climb out of the crumpled mess once known as your car.

A hand frantically tapping on your helmet was the only way you knew you had survived; that there was still some life inside you, persevering in a time of desperation. You still had some feeling, which was a good sign.

But that was the breaking point, pushing you over the edge and taking Death’s hand.

Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A red flag, around turn 1. He was just there, so it would’ve had to have been someone close behind him. He slows around the last couple corners, the rest of the grid trailing behind.

“Are they okay?” he asks, as if it was some routine he had to follow rather than someone’s safety at stake. The lack of response he receives snaps him out of his clinical nature, even sparking a small bit of fear at losing a friend.

“Who is it, GP?”

“Get the car back to the garage, then we will talk.”

If that didn’t set Max’s nerves of fire, nothing else would.

He doesn’t reckon he has ever gotten out of his car quicker, fast to rip of his helmet to get a better view of the track marshals hailing over the ambulance. Their blaring sirens could be heard from the pitlane, a sound that sent a collective chill down everyone’s spines.

Perez was the one to tell him that it was your car. he was telling the crew how you clipped his back tire, but his car seemed to not have any damage. You had taken the brunt of the collision, if you could even call it that.

It was almost as if Max could feel the blood drain from his face at the mention of your name. Hearing it out loud confirmed his biggest nightmare – you were out there, hurt and surrounded by strangers thinking that he hated you.

He wanted to throw up, feeling beyond sick to his stomach at the thought of losing you before he had the chance to reconcile with you. He couldn’t afford to not have you by his side – even though you were private, you were his person – the love of his life, who he was watching die in front of his eyes.

How had he managed to get himself in this situation?

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!