#where’s his carrier pigeon

[phantasmiac]

something about seeing him with a phone feels surreal. a touch screen no less.

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

everytime I see your url where did the party go gets stuck in my head

I'm so proud <3

[lesbiancosimaniehaus]

Men who behave antisocially and then act surprised when people stop reaching out to them… why?

[no-144444]

his disgraced pop princess- (o.piastri 81)

-------------------

-------------------

summary: oscar is there for you through your first real GP weekend

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! reader

warnings: cyberbullying ans slut shaming

-------------------

Oscar Piastri was nervous. It had been two days since he first met you, and now it had been 4 hours since he last texted you. Beside him, Logan was scrolling on his own phone, still making fun of Oscar’s ‘awful puppy-love’, as he called it. It wasn’t awful, just slightly overboard. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and he was enjoying it. You were funny, sweet, and probably just busy, right? 

Oscar: Doing anything else today? I’m stuck training all day. 

Oscar: Studio…? 

Oscar: I think the fans need new music (it’s me, I’m fans)

-------------------

You were anxious. It had been two days since you met Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri, and now he’d texted you multiple times while you were busy being on a plane. Beside you in the Uber, was Hallie, your best friend, texting her new mystery boy and laughing at your freak out over not texting him back. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and you loved it. He was asking all the right questions, he was funny, he was so supportive of you going up against Charles, and evidently, a screenager. 

“I feel bad!” you groaned as you tried to type something out, but nothing seemed good enough. 

“You were on a plane, what was he expecting, a carrier pigeon?” she chuckled. “He’ll survive without texting you for 4 hours, calm down.”

“What do I say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me the damn phone.”

You: Sorry I was on a plane and their carrier pigeon network was down. Oops :)

“He is diabolical,” she laughed. “Immediate response, does he not have a life?”

You rolled your eyes and snatched back the phone. “Shut up!”

Oscar: Too bad, I was hoping you were busy making new music :(

You: Well, I’d need inspiration for that and that is the one thing I don’t have. Well, that and people that like me and want to listen to my music.

Oscar: :( 

Oscar: What are you doing today?

Y/n: Lawyers, seeing Charles, helping put the case together and finishing up the legal side of my split from the band. Aka boring as fuck :)

Oscar: Good luck seeing Charles again, I hope it isn’t too bad.

Oscar: Whenever we’re on the same continent again we should meet up for dinner :)

Y/n: Sounds like a plan, and thank you. Good luck with training today :)

“You two deserve each other. You’re equally as cheesy,” Hallie rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not cheesy to like someone,” you scoffed, getting out of the car. “You’re just alone.”

“Not anymore,” she chuckled. 

“Shut up!” you cheered. “Who?”

She smirked. “Tell you later.”

You rolled your eyes. “You suck.”

“I’ll see you later,” she called as she walked off. You were left standing alone. Before walking in, you took a deep breath and willed yourself not to burst into tears. 

-------------------

“It’s defamation!” Charles shouted, making you jump. Everything he did was making you jump. You hadn’t realised how badly everything had affected you until today. You were jumpy, you felt sick, you weren’t sleeping, you weren’t there mentally. 

“No, you’ve defamed Ms. Y/l/n’s reputation,” your lawyer calmly pointed out. 

You wanted it to stop, you wanted everything to stop. You wanted to go back to Sunday and relive the race over and over again. You wanted to be with Lewis again, with Toto again, with Oscar again. You desperately wanted to feel safe. 

Your lawyer was good, and you knew you’d win the case against Charles no matter what, but cleaning up the band would be a big undertaking. You’d always been the one to sign documents for all of them, so that they could pull out at any time. That now meant that you were technically the owner of the name of the band, the licensing rights, the songs, and the money you’d all already made. You were hitting them where it hurts, and you were taking it all. If they wanted to push you out, you’d push them right back. 

“Y/n, come on. It’s all of our band, and we deserve our name, at least,” your brother, Alex, begged. Up to last week you would’ve done anything for him. Now, he was fucking dead to you. 

“You can keep one thing,” you answered, not even looking at them. They prematurely celebrated and thanked you, but you held up a hand to silence them. “You can keep your instruments. I’ll take everything else.”

The room erupted into shouting, from every member of the band. You just got up and walked away. The meeting was over. You had it all. 

-------------------

BREAKING NEWS! WINGS BAND MEMBER Y/N Y/L/N DELETES INSTAGRAM, IS SEEN WITH F1 DRIVER OSCAR PIASTRI,  AND IS PHOTOGRAPHED LEAVING A LAW FIRM!

The 22 year old singer, Y/n Y/l/n is fresh into the scene of being a solo artist after being dropped by her band ‘WINGS’. This weekend she was seen around the Silverstone paddock with long-time friend and possible boyfriend, Lewis Hamilton. Shockingly, the newly crowned ‘Queen of Homewrecking’ is also sticking her nose into another man, Australian driver Oscar Piastri. The pair were seen walking together in the paddock, looking quite close. We would advise him to steer clear of her mess if he was able… 

In another turn of events, Y/l/n decided to delete her entire Instagram page, as well as her Twitter, Tiktok, Threads, and all other social media accounts. While she has opted for a ‘social-media-break’, her close friends and family have not posted about her, but some more famous friends have, including Lewis Hamilton answering questions about her in an interview during the Media day of the British Gran Prix. When asked about his opinion on the band, he said this. 

“Y’know, half of the success of them (WINGS) was Y/n. She really pulled everything together and no one really sees that because she was so careful about showing people that. She never wanted anyone to feel like they (the rest of the band) weren’t 100% committed, because at that time, they were. It’s just sad how people turn on each other, especially after everything she’s done for them.”

And when asked about Charles O’Brien, he had this to say. 

“That pathetic piece of s**t can f**k off and get out of the paddock. There is no place for him here, on any stage, or anywhere in the world. He is a vile creature.”

In other news, she was seen exiting the Law firm, Cravath, Swaine & Moore this afternoon, and 40 minutes later, the rest of the ‘WINGS’ band was seen leaving, looking much more upset than her. 

Something tells us there might be more than meets the eye in this twisted tale…

-------------------

“Hey Y/n,” Oscar’s voice was music to your ears as you sat in your hotel room with dried tears on your cheeks. 

“Hi,” you answered, voice hoarse, just happy to not be alone anymore. 

“How did it go?” He asked, his voice softening. 

You scoffed. “As badly as I thought it would,” you sighed, defeated. “I just wish it would all stop.” 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he sighed. “Charles is a special breed of dickhead.”

“So is the media,” you added. “Did you see the stuff everyone is writing about me? It’s awful-”

“I don’t read about you. I don’t need it anymore. I have the real you now, and that’s the you I’m interested in.” 

Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri strikes again. 

Your lips broke into a smile. “Thanks Oscar.”

“I mean it. I don’t give a shit about the media, like at all,” he was smiling, you could tell. 

“I’m glad. If you did I don’t think this friendship could’ve worked very well,” you chuckled. “You seriously don’t care that I’m a ‘homewrecking slut’, according to everyone else?”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Your heart swelled. 

-------------------

It had been a few months, Oscar had gotten his first win, you’d wanted to personally kill Zak Brown, you’d gone through the beginnings of the court proceedings for the band things, and you’d finally filed a report against Charles. 

Now, you were in London on your way to Abbey Road Studios. New music for the first time in a few months. First time you’d sung in a few months. Oscar walked beside you, his head covered in a hat to remain inconspicuous. 

You stopped outside the door. Oscar took your hand and pushed the door open for you, then led you in. 

“You’re here for a reason,” he reminded you with a squeeze to the hand. 

The past few months had been emotional to say the least. Yet, Oscar had been there for you the entire time. He truly didn’t care about the press. He liked you. He liked you a lot. You liked him. You liked him a lot. But you two weren’t dating, right? You didn't really know. Friends didn't hold hands, or cuddle, and usually weren't there for you before you make the biggest leap of your life.

He stayed beside you as you walked through the building, getting the grand tour from an employee, only leaving you when you finally went in to record. 

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, holding you in a tight hug. Inside was your manager, Ursula, and your producer Axel. “I believe in you.”

And those 4 words gave you the courage to go in there and sing. 

You sat on the stool they had set up for you, headphones on as Axel droned on about something insignificant, and you brainstormed. You hadn’t even thought about writing for the past few months, despite Oscar trying to convince you that it would make you feel better. You couldn’t touch it. Though now, with no consequences, no one looking at you, no one interested, you reached for the guitar and strung a few cords. You thought about Charles, about the band, about Oscar. Then you thought about nothing.

“When I’m away from you, I’m happier than ever,” You sang, and then the words came flowing freely. 

Three hours later, you had an album on your hands. A good album. A great album. 

-------------------

“You did it,” Oscar smiled as you stepped out of the studio. “Write anything?”

“I think I like you. Like, like like you,” you confessed. He smiled. 

“Good,” he answered. 

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I just said-”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’ve like like-d you since the day we met. I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

You stared at him in shock for a moment, then a smile spread across your face. “You’re such an asshole.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t want to rush you,” he shrugged. “Anyway, write anything?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, handing him a CD. “One of two in the world, don’t lose it.”

His eyes lit up, a big smile on his face. “Is this the perks of being Y/n Y/l/n’s boyfriend? Exclusive insight into new music?”

“Calling yourself my boyfriend?” you quirked an eyebrow, smiling. 

“Oh baby, I’ve called myself your boyfriend for the past 2 months, I’m not stopping now,” he smiled, and your heart could’ve melted.

You chuckled. "Always the charmer Piastri."

He smirked, then something behind his eyes changed, and he started blushing. He was about to ask you something important. “Come to Monza with me? Please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

-------------------

You touched down in Italy in Max’s private jet. You’d spent the afternoon getting to know him, Kelly, and Penelope, who’d taken a significant liking to you. The flight had been great, you’d never been on a jet before and it was as luxurious and comfortable as you’d imagined. Another part of the journey that was comfortable was Oscar letting you lay on him the entire time. You two were new but it looked like you’d been together forever. It felt like it too. It felt like he saw you. The real you. And he wasn’t scared or disgusted, or anything else that your brain told you he’d be. He was just Oscar. 

You left the jet, the perks of flying in the middle of the night meant that no fans were waiting for you outside. You didn’t need to add more flames to the fire of his insane life. You wanted to keep your ‘scandals’ to yourself and to just let him race. 

He gave your hand a squeeze to pull you back into the moment. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m ok, just nervous about this weekend.”

“You don’t need to be nervous, you don’t even have to leave my driver’s room if you don’t want to. I just… I wanted you here.”

“I want to be here,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I want to be around you.”

Even though it was dark, you could see the blush on his cheeks. 

-------------------

Media day began as it always did, walking into the paddock with about a hundred cameras on him. Only this time, the hundred cameras were pointed at him and you, more specifically, you two holding hands. It wasn't even a conscious thing you did. You just took his hand to try and calm yourself down. You liked how he gently brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, you liked how he would squeeze your hand every now and then, and you liked how he led you through the sea of reporters with a simple smile, and a firm hold.

When you got to the McLaren motorhome, you and Oscar parted ways with a quick kiss and a promise of lunch together. You decided to join Alex Dunne, one of McLaren's development drivers and a current F3 driver for a track walk and interview. You two chatted and laughed, getting on really well. The weather was sweltering, so you went back inside to meet Lando and Oscar for lunch.

"Y/n!" Lando smiled, running up to you.

"Hey Lan," you greeted, hugging him back as he engulfed you in one of his bear-hugs.

"How are you?" he asked, pulling back.

"All good thanks, you?"

"Fine," he shrugged, then turned his attention to Oscar and you. He smirked. "Has he asked you out yet?"

You chuckled, nodding. "He has."

"My ship has sailed!" He cheered.

"What? You have a boat?" Oscar questioned, as you and Lando laughed.

The rest of the day went well, only being bombarded with cameras every now and then, and somehow, whenever they found you, Oscar came right along to take you away. You appreciated the concern from him, and it definitely took the edge off some of the comments people made, especially the internet. Who knew you and Oscar would be such big news? Big news that hadn't even been confirmed, at that.

-------------------

After lunch, Oscar was forced into more press, this time, they decided to ask about you. You watched on from the McLaren hospitality as the interviewer said some choice words about you.

"So, you were seen earlier entering the paddock with Y/n Y/l/n, yes?"

"Yes," Oscar replied.

"You two were holding hands," she pointed out.

"There was a swarm of reporters, I didn't want to leave her behind," he shrugged. You quickly realised that you hadn't talked about whether or not you wanted to tell the media bout your budding relationship.

"So you aren't dating Y/n 'home-wrecker' Y/l/n?"

Oscar's face fell into a frown. "Her middle name is Y/m/n, not home-wrecker, and yes, I'm her boyfriend."

With that he moved on, leaving the interviewer shocked and defeated.

-------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[theemporium]

20 or 29 🩵 with max and lando (them forgetting dates) i want to bawl my eyes out please

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

29. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

.

They should have told you. 

They knew they should have told you, whether it was a message or a call or a fucking carrier pigeon. They knew they should have, or at least now they know they should have. And any excuse now just seemed pathetic, weak, unaccepting. 

It just added to the guilt bubbling inside them.

It had been a long three weeks with the triple header. Add in the week before where both boys headed to the factories of their respective teams to go over some upgrades and strategy plans, and it had been well over a month since you had seen either boyfriend in person. 

It was hard. Between work and time zones, it was hard to navigate a temporary long-distance relationship. But it was possible. You three made it work, but it wasn’t the same. And you couldn’t deny there was a part of you that envied them both, that envied the fact they were together and could lean on one another whilst you were stuck in another country. 

But they had missed you too. They had said as much in every phone call or good morning message you received them. Max had been relieved at the fact he owned his own jet, with both him and Lando excited to get in the air the second they were able to leave the track after the last race. They wanted to get to you as soon as possible, and you were excited to see your boys too. 

So, you dressed up a little—nothing too special, but it was more impressive than the pyjamas you had been in for most of your time home—and got a takeaway from their favourite cheat restaurant. You had set the house up, you had got snacks for a movie night. You had everything prepared for when they landed. 

And they never showed up. 

And it took a story from Daniel’s private instagram to see both boys in a club, celebrating with other drivers and colleagues, laughing and smiling and drinking. 

It was upsetting. It was fucking heartbreaking if you were honest. You had felt like you were going out of your mind missing them, going above and beyond for a stay-in date night. You had been so fucking excited and they hadn’t even bothered to send you a message to tell you their plans had changed. 

It really fucking hurt. 

“I just need some space.” 

Both boys stared at you, hopeless and lost and ashamed. Because maybe it was dramatic and maybe it was the last thing you needed after spending a month apart but you felt embarrassed and humiliated and a little out of place and—

You just needed a breather. You needed to spend time somewhere else, somewhere where you weren’t surrounded by constant reminders of them. And maybe in a weird, selfish way, you wanted them to feel the same kind of aching pining of not knowing when you were coming back. Just like you had felt the previous night, thinking they were going to be landing soon. 

“Are—” Lando swallowed harshly, his hands tightening into fists to stop them from shaking. “Are you breaking up with us?” 

“I—” Your eyes softened a little. “No. But I just���” 

“I’m sorry,” Max murmured, his eyes guilt-ridden and apologetic. “I’m so sorry. We are so sorry. It doesn’t change anything and we should have said something but—” 

“I know,” you said, your smile was a little fake and it broke the boys’ hearts to be on the receiving end of it. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. And I know you’re both sorry. But it doesn’t change the fact that I feel like an afterthought in this relationship.” 

Max frowned. “Baby—” 

“I get it, you two are together all the time because you’re both racers. And I love that for you but,” you let out a long breath. “I think we need this. I need this.” 

“If it’s what you want,” Max eventually replied, nodding and blinking away the wetness welling up in his eyes. 

“Where are you going?” Lando asked, his voice soft and broken and it hit you in the chest how young he sounded. 

“I’m staying with a friend,” you said, and the boys knew better than to push for more details. 

Lando nodded, chewing the skin on his lower lip until it was red and raw. “We are sorry. We mean it.” 

You smiled sadly. “I know.”

.

[l0v3tast3]

Ok but older perv bf ghost would be such a menace like he would destroy your cunt in his back seat and then shake ur dads hand.( these older bf hcs make me go feral bb)

anon you are so right. he'll be so mean but like it's literally his fault that he's hot asf and u just wanna jump on him 24/7 ??? anyways tysm for the request and the kind words i hope you enjoy this anon !! ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, simon is late 30's), dumbification, conditioning (consensual), orgasm control, spanking, degradation/praise kink, overstimulation/edging, car s3x, size difference/kink, possessive!simon, c0ckwarming

✎ word count: 1.8k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants to see you become absolutely brainless because of him. you're such a smart girl usually, among the top of your class at university, and simon just loves to see that whole façade crumble away. he knows a good fucking is just what you need to unwind from your classes, and he is more than happy to give it to you.

✧ ˖ ° seeing you go all dumb on his cock makes simon nearly giddy, the feeling of how you stop pushing at his abs and just take it once he bullies his dick in far enough to fill your brain with him instead of whatever you're studying, the sight of your eyes rolling back and your little hands weakly grabbing at whatever they can reach for some semblance of grounding yourself. you know just as well as simon does that it's useless; he makes damn sure that you have nowhere to run to when he has you in his hold.

✧ ˖ ° another thing he makes sure of is that you steadily become the one to come onto him first. simon wants you to be his own little nymphomaniac, addicted to his cock, to him. it all works towards melting your brain quicker and quicker each time. there's a certain dedication he puts towards it- even by the time he was done with you the first time you slept together, he's planning it out, figuring out which muscles to press into to get you to mewl for him, just the right angle to pound his dick into you, how much you can take before he starts seeing dew drops collecting on your waterline.

✧ ˖ ° even outside of the bedroom (or kitchen, or living room, wherever he has yet to christen next in his house) simon's working on it. he'll give you so many hoodies, jackets, boxers, anything that smells like him that you want, and then he tells you that if you're going to touch yourself without him that you better be at least wearing his clothes while you do it. eventually you'll get to the point where you can't get off without the thought of him, without his scent, then without him. there's no doubt either that whenever you do get worked up without him, simon makes sure that you always tell him. text him, call him, send a damn carrier pigeon with a letter, he doesn't care, but he's going to guide you through every orgasm you have.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who can get to be a mean dom. he loves punishing you for whatever reason he can find, especially when you touch yourself without telling him. simon is an experienced special ops soldier who's used his hands to torture people as much as he's used them to pleasure you, so he has not a single problem with knowing how to get the truth out of you. obviously he doesn't torture you, though (not in a way you don't like).

✧ ˖ ° if it's been a long stretch of time where you haven't been able to see each other, he'll pull you onto his lap and start out all soft. he'll run his hands all over you, move his lips against yours sweet and slow, whisper about how much he missed his pretty little girl. he'll listen with a happy hum while you tell him how much you missed him, how much you need him. he'll guide your hips lightly when you can't help but start grinding against his thigh, hands pushing up your skirt to see which pair of underwear he gets to rip apart this time. and then he'll ask you how much you missed him.

✧ ˖ ° from the start you know the question is a double-edged sword, but you always answer truthfully. it only took you one lesson to learn that simon knows when you lie to him (he didn't let you cum for three days while he kept you at his house the entire time). he always appreciates the truth, praises you for being such a good girl for him when you honestly tell him that you only touched yourself during the short phone calls he was allowed while he was away. there's a little part of him that's always a bit disappointed though, the same part that turns into glee when you sheepishly admit that you couldn't wait for him.

✧ ˖ ° simon's always a bit too quick at flipping you over so your laying face-down over his thighs. one hand wraps around your neck to pull you up and arch your back, the other flipping up your skirt and grabbing roughly at your squishy ass. "couldn't fuckin' wait f'me, huh? y'so desperate for cock that y'can't follow simple orders? thought i already taught ya how to be patient," he spits, letting you fall back against the couch so his hand can move down to plant itself across your back. that's when he starts, not even waiting for you to try to apologize meekly or defend yourself. slaps that leave bruises you'll be feeling for days rain down across your ass and simon makes you count each one. if you lose count or stop, he'll push open your legs to smack your cunt and start all over. simon doesn't let up until you're sniffling and whining and your underwear is soaked through (which of course he makes fun of you for).

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who really is an absolute menace with you. he dangles your pleasure over your head like something he grabbed for you out of the cabinets, keeping it just out of your reach until he decides to give it to you. there won't ever be a moment where simon doesn't have most, if not all of the control. there's something about having that command over you, feeling you hand over your trust, your body and mind to him that's addicting. so no matter how cruel he can get, he'll always make sure to ply you with as many orgasms as you can handle (and then some) to show his appreciation.

✧ ˖ ° his brutishness can come in the form of wanting to see just how messy he can get you to be. he'll bury his face and fingers into your cunt until there's a puddle forming underneath you, and when he's done there, simon stuffs you full with his cock and fucks you until your makeup is running with your tears and smearing across the sheets. he'll rip off the clothes that bar him from seeing your gorgeous body so that you have to wear something of his afterwards. and god help you if he wants to fuck in the backseat of his car before you both go someplace. which, (not) shockingly, is something he wants to do before he meets your parents.

✧ ˖ ° with the car parked not too far from your parents house in some spot where people won't think to give the tinted windows a second look, he'll have you working your way down on his cock. every time you whine about how you're going to be late, they're going to know, they won't be happy, simon gives your ass a sharp slap and snaps his hips up into yours. "would y'rather i fuck you in your room while they're home? don't think you can keep quiet enough for that," he mocks, his tone condescending despite the fact that he's already planning on doing just that at some point.

✧ ˖ ° once you're practically limp against his body, letting him use you like his personal toy, he'll finally cum. you finish with him, your third orgasm in less than an hour, as he buries his cock to the hilt inside you and grinds his hips up. once you're semi-conscious again he helps you put on your underwear and pants and gives you his hoodie. and after you've taken off your ruined makeup and redid at least some of it, you'll drive the remaining minute to your parents house, where simon seems to know just how to get them to love him. meanwhile, you'll be shifting in your seat next to him while his cum creates a stain on your jeans.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants you to be with him basically 24/7 while he's not away on missions. you're his girlfriend, of course he wants to spend as much time as he can with you! never mind the fact that this man has probably been boxing away his libido for years. so while he's at his home, so will you be.

✧ ˖ ° you'll find that any clothes you bring over to your stays with simon don't really go missing as much as he blatantly makes them unwearable for you as long as you insist on still bringing them. why would you have any need for those when he has plenty for you? it's not like you'll be wearing clothes much anyway while he has you. it's a lesson you learn quickly to pack light, otherwise you'll be going home with scraps of fabric. simon doesn't not like your clothes (he thinks your style is adorable on you), but the way you smell like him with his hoodies and shirts, the way they're basically dresses on you serving to remind how much bigger he is than you, it drives him even crazier.

✧ ˖ ° because of how touch-starved (and horny) he is, simon prefers to always physically have you close to him. which means lots of cockwarming; he won't lie about how much he loves watching you try your very best not to squirm on his lap, not to lose yourself to how full you always feel with him inside you. whether you're watching a movie or he's working in his office or even just trying to sit down for a meal, simon will preemptively have you sinking down on his cock, chastising you about how eager you always are for him to just fuck you. it's nearly torture for him just the same as you, but the difference is that he has a lot more self-control than you do- just enough to give your thigh a stinging pinch every time you move a muscle.

✧ ˖ ° no matter how long he keeps you there, it'll always turn into simon pushing you against the nearest table or wall and fucking away the last few straggling thoughts in your head. he always waits until your breathing gets ragged and your nails are digging in hard. until you're panting against his neck from the effort it takes to not bounce yourself on his dick. until you're begging. "what? turned y'into that much of a whore that y'can't go five minutes without my cock? fine." he'll say it as if he's doing you a favor, as if he's going out of his way to satisfy the nymphomaniac that he himself has proudly created.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you're not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“I think it’s best it comes from you,” Tony pats your shoulder. You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Me?” You bat your eyes dumbly. “But I just... I’m just passing along the information--” 

“Look, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of a PR crisis here.” He flashes his phone screen at you. The talk of Stark Tower has been his latest disaster out in the middle of nowhere. Usually, these things are forgotten but an unfortunate post has made the rounds. “You delivered the message perfectly, you can do it again.” 

“But, sir, with due respect, this isn’t exactly in my job description.” You walk backwards as he strides around his desk and tucks his phone away. 

“Your job is to do what I tell you to do. Now,” he looks at you, his eyes flicking up and down, “I think you’re the best possible carrier pigeon for this. Look at you. That ungodly asshole can’t be mad at you and I definitely am not telling him. Not without another explosion and I’m on probation right now.” He taps his chest and his suit expands around his body. “His brother should be wandering around, maybe he can help control the beast.” 

“Sir, don’t make me do this--” He goes to the window and hits the button to pop out the pane. 

“I pay you well enough, sweetheart, so get to work.” He jumps out and his helmet covers his head, blue flame blasting from his heels and gloves as he takes off into the sky.  

You cringe and look down. You should quit. You’ve been reciting the mantra to yourself for months; quit, quit, quit. You wish you had that choice. So far, your resume hasn’t baited any takers. Even with all your work for Stark Industries. Considering who your reference is, you’re starting to wonder. 

You glance around and steel yourself. You walk out of the office and down the hall. Your low heels click, in slow tempo with your dread. You trawl the top floor, searching for a certain blond giant. Thor isn’t anywhere to be found. You’ll have to try the compound... maybe you could just give them a call. 

No, you know Mr. Stark wouldn’t like that. Even if you could get a hold of either of the Asgardians, your boss would make you face the music in person. You take out your phone and scroll through the contacts. Most of them, you’ve never had to call, they’re only there for emergencies and usually, you’re not the one calling them for that. 

You put the phone to your ear as it dials. It rolls for so long, you’re certain you’ll get the voicemail. It picks up at the last moment, the line buzzing and unclear. 

“Hel-lo?” Thor’s deep baritone greets you. “It is the little assistant, yes?” 

You can just make out his hazy words. “Yes, Mr. Odinson? Can you hear me?” 

He laughs and you hear him shuffling around. The crackling stops and the line clears. “Mr. Odinson. You Midgardians. It’s Thor.” 

“Yes, Thor, well, um, where are you?” 

“Is there something the matter?” He asks as his tone turns dire. “Where are you, little one?” 

You ignore the question tossed back at you and clear your throat. “Um, it’s about... um, I think it would be best if we had this discussion face to face but Mr. Stark told me to pass on some news and yeah... I’d like to meet up if poss--” 

“Little one!” Thor appears before you, out of breath, his phone clutched in his hand. He didn’t hear a damn thing you just said. You smile. You’ve trained that expression so well, it’s almost believable. “Where is the danger?” 

You almost laugh. It’s endearing to have him so concerned. You doubt his brother will be as accommodating. 

“Hi, uh, like I said, it’s nothing serious. It’s erm, do you know where you brother is?” Your voice hits a pitch so high it makes your ears hurt. 

“Ugh, what has he done now? I swear, I’ve told him--” 

“It’s nothing he’s done. Well, it’s kind of it. Okay, um, Thor, I need to talk to your brother.” 

“Loki? You need to talk to him? No one wants to talk to Loki,” he narrows his eyes in consternation. 

“Yes, well, I have a job to do. I’d also appreciate if you’d be there to, you know, act as mediator,” you make yourself small as you push your shoulders up to your ears. “Please?” 

“Of course, little one, of course, let us go find that snake!” He grabs your arm before you can react and almost has you off your feet as he drags you down the hall. “I left him in the lobby. He isn’t fond of this place.” 

Maybe that will make this all easier, you think. 

Thor doesn’t slow down. You stumble with him as you struggle to keep your shoes from falling off. You tap his arm as you get to the elevator. 

“Really, we can take our time,” you assure him as he jams his finger into the down button.  

You’re really in no hurry for any of this. You’re almost hoping that if you put this off longer, someone else might just come along and tell them for you. You know that won’t happen but you can hope. Even so, Tony has more important things to do and as usual, you’re left with his grunt work. 

[arjudy224]

The Billionaire Boys Club

Batfamily x PhD student reader

(This takes place around 6 years after the Intern. )

The Intern Collection

Prequel: Death of a Family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

After interning in her hometown, Y/N was recruited to do her master's degree fully funded by Lexcorp. She had developed an attraction over the 3 years working with Lex Luthor, yet his controlling behavior led to Superman warning Y/N about the CEO's affections. Her master's thesis was on the environmental impacts of Kryptonite use and storage.

Gotham City's explosive tonight. The annual environmental gala has somehow brought fresh life into the sallow streets.

The gala's decorator deserves a raise. Lush vines descend from the high ceiling wrapping around the pillars. I narrow my eyes. Are those real carrier pigeons? Every flower from any climate you could possibly imagine flood the walls in a sweet cascade of fragrance. The sweet aroma tethers me to the present. Dick and Tim give me sly smiles from across the ballroom. Stumbling past the walls of plants, Bruce gives me a thumbs up.

"You clean up nice."

I give him a small smile before glancing down at my Wayne sponsored garb. The long satin dress hugs my hips in an almost risque manner. A respectable slit begins at my mid thigh showing off my red and black pumps. I grimace at the unknown cost.

"You know you didn't have to go all Pretty Woman on me Mr. Wayne." I joke smoothing out my silk gloves, "I do have a paycheck."

Bruce smiles. It takes me off guard. A real smile with squinted eyes and smile lines. As goofy as the most attractive man in the room can be. Compared to his work persona, it's nice to see.

"Ms. L/N, I would never ask you to spend your money to play dress up for a gala I invited you to."

I nod not knowing what else to say. An entire styling team showed up at my door this morning with rack of dresses to choose from... and the shoes... well let's just say it would have made Cinderella run back home and demand to know why she couldn't have gotten Bruce Wayne as her Godmother.

His eyes gravitate to the pendant draped across my neck. A sting of pain registers on his face. I shift uncomfortably once he starts to stare. At my discomfort, Mr. Wayne apologizes.

"I'm sorry Ms. L/N. I haven't seen that necklace in a very long time."

I raise an eyebrow. Mr. Wayne never divulges this much personal information.

"Old flame?" I joke wiggling my eyebrows.

He shakes his head with a pained smile.

"That was my Mother's necklace."

My eyes widen. Martha Wayne's necklace. Instinctively, I reach to take it off. I already couldn't afford a ruby necklace, but a Wayne family heirloom? Hell no.

"I can take it off if you-" I start reaching for the clasp.

Mr. Wayne stops me in my tracks.

"Don't worry about it. That was a long time ago. "

I still hesitate. I glance awkwardly around the ballroom.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mr. Wayne weighs carefully, "Besides, it might make for an interesting headline."

I scowl.

"I'm not going to like this am I?"

A devilish grin appears in response to my dismay.

"Welcome back to Gotham Ms. L/N."

Bruce's sons materialize a few seconds later. If I wasn't used to them suddenly appearing in my office, I would have shrieked.

"Tim. Dick." I greet with a nod, "Always a pleasure."

The younger boy looks at me like I am a puzzle piece he can't quite figure out where to put yet. Dick is as charming as ever.

"Y/N, I can't believe Bruce roped you into being his date. Have you ever considered unionizing?" He teases with a grin.

"At least, I'm getting paid to be here. What's your excuse?" I tease lightly hitting his shoulder. "Don't you have a hot date tonight Bludhaven?"

A painfully familiar shadow interrupts the conversation.

"Mr. Luthor."

Turning around, my legs begin to shake. What a wonderful... surprise. Lex nods to the three men before setting his sights on me.

"Mr. Luthor,"

Saying his formal title feels wrong, yet calling him Lex wouldn't be right either. Not after everything that has happened. Timothy's analytical gaze burns my peripheral.

"Ms. L/N, would you join me for a dance?"

I hesitate eyeing the audience that is forming. Extending his hand, Lex continues, "For old times sake?"

Three people stopped talking to gawk. I don't have much of a choice. With the amount of gossip mongrels here tonight, if I say no my face will be plastered on every gossip column in Gotham... If I say yes, well at least it will only be in Metropolis Gossip columns. I don't have much of a choice.

"Of course... Mr. Luthor." I agree through gritted teeth letting him drag me onto the dance floor.

If I thought agreeing to a waltz would quell speculation, I was poorly mistaken. Dozens of eyes follow our every movement including my boss's.

"You are only feeding into their curiosity." Lex whispers in my ear, "Those vultures know when you are weak."

"Is that what I am?" I question finally looking into his green eyes, "No need for flattery Alexander."

"There isn't any other way to explain your disappearance."

"-That's not fair."

The fire in his eyes leaves me speechless. This was not how I planned to spend my Saturday evening. For a moment, I fantasize on how this night could have gone. I could have had an early night enjoying take out... exchanged my favorite book with the cute guy next door. Slept in. Instead, I am bickering with a man who could be my Uncle over the fact I didn't take a job offer...and potentially start a relationship with him.

"Okay, so I cut you off." I start, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but things couldn't keep progressing like that. My project ended. It was time for me to go."

...and Superman told me that you started tracking my whereabouts... along with bugging my apartment... Go to therapy.

Lex shakes his head.

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

"You were offered a complete stipend. A guaranteed job offer. Why would you turn that down?"

My lips press together into a fine line.

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

The orchestra roars into a crescendo. The dance speeds up.

"You know why...." I hiss trying to keep up with his increasing tempo.

I've never been good at multitasking.

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3-

"-Say it," Lex demands gripping my fingers tighter, "Tell me."

The ring on his left hand gets caught on my gloves tearing the beautiful silk right down the center. The radiant green draws my attention. Kryptonite. After all this time, he still wears it. Rage causes my face to go hot. I stop dancing to grab his ring.

"This is why Lex," I snarl, "Because I am sick of watching you destroy yourself. You've read my research."

A smart ass grin stretches across his face. The onlookers exchange curious glances at our lack of dancing.

"I paid for it." He replies smugly.

"Then you should know how ludicrous this behavior is. You are going to die before you win."

His eyes get sharp. I must have hit a nerve. A vein in his forehead grows prominent. Another couple dances past us. Lex tears me out of the way before I get bulldozed. A few beats later, we are back in the dance. His hands grow tight around mine like he's afraid I might disappear again. My knuckles turn white from the pressure, but I won't give him what he wants. Pain laces up my palms.

"So, you would rather waste your career working for a halfwit like Bruce Wayne?"

I freeze for a second. This is what this is really about. Lex is jealous that I chose to work for Bruce. If it was anybody else, he could convince himself that I was downgrading, but I went to his direct competition. Thinking of the conversation I had with Bruce earlier, when nobody else is around Bruce has a strange intelligence in his mannerisms. In public, he had initially joked about not reading my research, yet once we were alone the intensity of his questions made me nervous. Considering his extracurricular activities, it's unsurprising that he would want to keep his persona lowkey. How did my job search end with watching the boys club battle it out?

"I will only say this once: My life is mine. What I choose to do is my decision. Say what you want about Mr. Wayne, but at least he respects my privacy." I growl ripping my hands out of his grasp. "Have a nice day Mr. Luthor."

Storming past the "Garden of Eden" display, I slam open the double doors. God.... Everyone there probably thinks I slept with him.

Tag List: @jjsmeowthie

[milkiangl]

Can you make a perv! Eddie and a innocent! Y/n?

pairing: perv!eddie munson x innocent!fem!reader.

warnings: smut! corruption kink, dirty talk, slight somnophilia, pervy!bestfriend!pussydrunk!eddie (he’s a menace), naive!reader, nipple play, dacryphilia if you squint, praising, mention of explicit unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), feminine nicknames.

note: sending you a carrier pigeon with a billion tulips attached as an apology for this request sitting in my inbox for ages. but but, i have finally gotten around to writing it (and definitely got a little carried away with it oops) because perv!eddie makes my brain feel all fuzzy and dizzy! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Eddie really just couldn’t ever help himself. It wasn’t his fault.

That’s what Eddie chanted repeatedly to himself as he leisurely fingered the elastic band of your cotton panties, the vibrantly colored; animated strawberries decorating the intimate material taunting him whilst you slept peacefully.

Eddie and yourself were currently having one of your many many infamous sleepovers, both of your bodies tucked comfortably underneath your baby pink sheets—your sleep shorts and his distressed Hellfire shirt discarded aimlessly on your bedroom floor. This is how Eddie liked it. He said he felt closer to you like this when he held your sleeping figure from behind, being about to detect the way your ass unmindfully rubbed against the growing tent in his boxers. After all, best friends do stuff like this all the time!

Like when you confided in Eddie about the unknown; frequent ache you got in your tummy whenever you’re in his presence. He nearly came in his pants as you stood looking up at him—glassy tears pooling in your innocent; big eyes and your puffy bottom lip quivering—begging him to help relieve you of the alien feeling you were being subjected to that made your panties sticky. All for him.

Sitting you on his ripped jean-clad knee, he reassured you with a cheeky exclaim of, ‘Of course, doll face. What awful kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t help out my best girl?” all while he rubbed your little button through your drenched underwear until a foreign euphoric bliss engulfed you and the throbbing subsided. His familiar raspy voice flooded your ears with incoherent whispers of how long he’s been waiting to feel your drippy cunt drench his fingers.

Or like tonight, as Eddie’s calloused hand crept underneath your shirt and traveled the warm skin of your abdomen, all the way to your erect nipples. As he rolled the sensitive buds between his thumb and middle finger one at a time, he watched in amusement as your body jumped from the cold sting of his metallic rings when they ‘accidentally’ pumped them.

The overwhelming stimulation caused your once steady breathing to become erratic and your thighs to close tightly around Eddie’s leg that he had simultaneously slipped between them, your hips faintly beginning to rock against the bare skin. Soft; sleepy whines left your parted lips as his trail of sloppy; open mouthed kisses coated your shoulder and the crevice of your neck, waking you from your slumber. “Eddie?”

“Hi, sweetheart. M’sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Ya’ just look so pretty all laid out for me,” Pushing the duvet of the bed back, Eddie’s greedy palms groped at the meat of your thighs prior to pulling them apart so he could slip between them; sucking and licking the skin of your inner thighs. “Need to taste you, baby. Need to taste you so fucking bad, it hurts. Will you let me, sweetheart? Gonna let your best friend be the first to taste your pretty pussy?”

“Please, Eds. Please, please, please!” Brain fuzzy, your feeble fingers tangled themselves into his messy mane of curls atop his head; attempting to push him further down to where you needed him most. Eddie obliged with a dark chuckle and side comment of what an impatient brat you are because, well, after all…

What are best friends for?

♥︎ — taglist. @moonlitmeeks @oncasette @1-800-ch3rry @mrsdollardog @hb8301 @sqpphos @alexxavicry @heavqn @gilgunizer @bear-bone-berries @bobfloydsgf

© 2023 milkiangl | comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[callmeagardengnome]

𓆩 bless me 𓆪 - chapter 8

w.c - 4.2k

pairings - demon!ateez ot8 x demon! fem! reader

genre - demon au, hint of royal au, possible yandere themes (?), romance, slow burn

synopsis: as hell's receptionist, you only wished to talk shit and stay out of trouble. yet, you happened to be the one that the two social clans in hell start fighting for.

c.w - GORE, pretty dark themes, mentions of torture and stuff oopsie

not proofread!

previous / next

masterlist

“How did you get in here?” you scrambled behind, hitting your head against the bed frame.

You were enjoying a deep slumber before the faint sounds of shuffling pulled you from your sleep. When your eyes fluttered open, the last thing you expected to see was Wooyoung, wearing a dark cloak that hid most of his frame.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Wooyoung grinned down at you, completely unfazed by your reaction as if him being in your bedroom was the most normal thing in the world.

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh of relief. As weird as the situation was, you couldn’t help but smile as you leaned forward and pulled him into a short hug.

“It’s good to see you, Wooyoung,” you muttered. “But uh, what are you doing in my room- wait, what are you doing in the Palace? Halas aren’t allowed here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, where’s the ‘thanks for risking your literal life to come here’?” Wooyoung then gestured lazily behind him. “I think you should ask that asshole over there.”

Your gaze followed his hand to the corner of your room, where Yunho sat with one leg over the other on the plush, velvet chair.

Yunho raised an eyebrow, along with the faintest hint of a smirk tugging his lips. “Before you ask, I disabled the gun and camera system outside the Palace. You’ve got-“ he glanced at the watch on his wrist. “-Less than 15 minutes to talk. Probably should have woken you up sooner, but you looked so peaceful sleeping.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re telling me that you used up most of the time we had watching me sleep?”

“You’re welcome, by the way. One hour is the most I could do without anyone noticing. I suggest you use it wisely.” Yunho said.

“Great,” you sighed, already feeling stressed. “So what’s going on?”

“We’re all aware that the Eternals are going to get more aggressive,” Wooyoung plopped himself on the edge of your bed. “We need to find ways to talk without getting caught if we even want a chance at surviving.”

The three of you fell silent for a moment. You could barely comprehend the massacre, let alone the bombings - what more could they do? You didn’t even want to begin thinking about it.

“We could try letters?” you suggested, looking at the two demons.

“Too traceable,” Yunho shook his head. “The Palace rarely receives letters. Lord Hongjoong checks each one that comes in.”

Wooyoung scratched his head. “Any secret tunnels in the Palace?”

“The Duke knows the grounds of the Palace like no other. It won’t last long,” Yunho bit the inside of his cheek.

“What about carrier pigeons?” you joked, only to earn a glare from both Wooyoung and Yunho. “Geez, sorry.”

You sighed, fiddling with a stray piece of string on your blanket. Every idea thrown out had its own cons, ones that obliterated the idea instantly. You leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, hoping to think of something, anything that could work.

“Imagine if we got a Hala to play dress-up?” you chuckled, half-joking, half-serious. “They could pretend to be an Eternal to sneak in and out.”

Wooyoung looked at you with a ‘you better be kidding’ glare. “We would get caught instantly- our horns are completely different.”

“Actually...” Yunho rose from the chair, walking over to the two of you. “That could work.”

You and Wooyoung exchanged a look, confused. “How?” you both asked in unison.

Yunho stood just infront of Wooyoung. He grabbed the top of the Halas’ head, sizing up the stubby red horns protruding from his head.

“Your friends have horns like these, right? Similar size and shape?” Yunho asked, tilting Wooyoung’s head from side to side.

Wooyoung smacked Yunho’s hand away but nodded. “Yeah.. why?”

Yunho stepped back with a satisfied expression. “Perfect. Here’s what you’ll do..” he leaned down, whispering something into Wooyoung’s ear.

“Guys?” you raised an eyebrow. “Am I going to know any of this?”

“Nope,” Yunho straightened his back, dusting himself off before he addressed Wooyoung once more. “Expect a gift soon, along with a letter. Follow the instructions exactly.”

Wooyoung nodded, his face dazed and confused. He wrapped you in another quick hug. “Please stay safe, okay? I’ll be back.”

“You better,” you said softly, squeezing him back. “Wouldn’t want my favourite client getting into trouble.”

Wooyoung pulled back just enough to give you a deadpan look. “That’s all I am to you? A client?”

Wooyoung clutched his chest as if you wounded him. “I thought we were closer than that, Receptionist. Am I just another name in your file?”

“Stop being dramatic,” you scoffed, a small grin tugging your lips.

Wooyoung leaned in slightly. “So what am I then?”

You hesitated, looking at him then the door as if you could ignore the question. “Shouldn’t you leave soon?” you asked, but he kept silent, his eyes watching you closely. “Fine, you’re my favourite demon. Now leave.”

A smile broke out on his face. “Much better. I’m glad to see you again, Receptionist.” Wooyoung patted your back and turned away, leaving your bedroom - to what you would assume to be a route in which he wouldn’t get caught leaving.

Yunho sat on the bed, shifting closer to you. He stared at the wall across from him before finally speaking up. “Favourite demon, huh?”

“It’s not that deep,” you said, shrugging. “He’s the only demon I’ve known for this long.. what was I supposed to say?” you added when you noticed Yunho’s reaction.

His smile widened slightly as he sat up straighter. “You have an interesting taste in friends. That’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Yunho said, though the grin on his face told you that it was definitely not nothing. “Some demons tend to be more.. emotionally obvious than others. But I wouldn’t worry about if I were you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, making a ‘tsk’ sound. “Yunho, get to the point.”

He turned to face you fully, and it was only then you saw how his grin did not meet his eyes. “You know, he seems to be very territorial over you. He wouldn’t even let me get near you when you were asleep.”

“Territorial?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Yunho tilted his head, his face just a few inches away from yours. “You’re clever. Figure it out.”

Before you could respond, he stood up, adjusting his cuffed sleeves. “You should sort him out before he hogs the favourite title. Some of us take it very seriously,” he said, quickly disappearing into the corridor without waiting for a response.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

It felt colder than normal, the air suffocating you as you glanced around the table.

Hongjoong at the head of the table, Seonghwa sat across you with his posture straight with Yunho beside him, calm as ever.

You don’t have good memories in the Palace’s dining hall. The last time you were here, Hongjoong gave you the ‘gift’ of watching the bombings. Not only that, being here meant that you were most likely going to discuss the next step to exterminate the Halas.

You could barely maintain eye contact with any of them, especially since they knew that you did betray them and leak their plans. The food on your plate barely looked appetising anymore.

From the corner of your eye, Mingi sat beside you with his head slightly down. His leg bounced restlessly under the table, catching your attention.

You reached out and rubbed his knee gently - causing him to stop almost instantly. He glanced at you, nodding subtly, though, his hand gripped the edge of the chair a little tighter.

Hongjoong’s voice broke through the silence. “Give me the status report on the Halas,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

All eyes turned to Mingi, which caused him to clear his throat hurriedly. “An estimate of 40% of the Halas have been wiped out after doing a sweep,” he said, his voice weirdly mechanical.

“Only 40%? It should’ve been 100%,” A scoff came from Seonghwa. “But guess who decided to play hero,” he said, glaring at you as his voice dripped with malice.

At that moment, you kicked Seonghwa’s leg under the table. Hard. He flinched, his smirk dropping as he sat up straighter. Seonghwa spoke through clenched teeth. “What was that for?”

“-Stay where you are,” Hongjoong raised his hand, ordering to who you now noticed were guards stationed at the doors of the dining hall. The guards who were scarily close to you retreated back to their original positions, like they never moved.

Seonghwa glanced towards the guards before shooting a glare at you, his jaw clenching. But Hongjoong didn’t spare him a second glance. Instead, his eyes were laser focused on Mingi, who looked like he wished the floor would engulf him and swallow him whole.

Hongjoong took a spoonful of the porridge that had been set aside from him. “40%,” he repeated slowly. “I expected more.“

Mingi gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “W-well, there were-“

“Save your words,” Hongjoong’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Anyone would be blessed to be in your position as a General. But it seems that you are.. ungrateful.”

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong concerened, “Sire, what are you-“

“I didn’t know that the lives of Halas was more important than your King,” Hongjoong continued, not caring whether or not he interrupted his right-hand demon. “Helping the curses of Hell? You’ve embarrassed me.”

You clenched your fists, your heart racing.

Mingi didn’t deserve this.

As Hongjoong spoke, you noticed something. The way he completely ignored your presence, as if he didn’t acknowledge your role in the betrayal. Mingi was the target - which confused you since Hongjoong basically confronted you about your traitor tactics during the explosions.

“I acknowledged your strength during your years of training,” Hongjoong said, his words a dangerous whisper. “I took you in. Gave you a room in the Palace. Even gave you a sought-after position. Is this really how you repay me?”

“I didn’t-“ Mingi’s voice cracked, but stopped, his shoulders slumping under Hongjoong’s gaze.

Hongjoong gestured towards Mingi. “Come here.”

Mingi froze, his knucles whitening as he gripped the chair. He didn’t move. Hongjoong repeated himself, his voice low and threatening. “General.”

Slowly, Mingi got up from his chair. He moved reluctantly to the King, like he was moving to an execution. When he reached Hongjoong, he stood stiffly, his tall frame towering over the Eternal leader.

“Bow,” Hongjoong commanded, sending a shiver down your spine.

Mingi hesitated, pure confusion flashing across his face. But after a few seconds, he complied, lowering himself into a bow.

Hongjoong’s smile widened, cold and psychotic. “Let this be a warning to everyone in the room,” his looked at his fellow Eternals at the table before finally landing on you.

Hongjoong reached out, gripping Mingi’s tall horns with both hands. With a sickening crunch, he pulled and yanked the purple horns put of Mingi’s head.

Mingi’s scream ripped and echoed through the dining hall, filled with agony that would span thousands of lifetimes - making everyone but the King of Hell himself flinch. Mingi collapsed onto the ground, clutching his head as blood poured from the jagged wounds where his horns used to be, seeping into the carpet.

“What the Hell?” you shouted, jumping out of your chair.

You rushed to Mingi, kneeling beside him as he shook in pain. His hands were trembling, covered in blood as he pressed his fingers weakly into the open wounds. Your stomach twisted at the side of the two gaping holes where his horns used to be.

“What is wrong with you?” you cried out, looking up at the King with tears welling up in your eyes.

Hongjoong laughed, the sound wicked and maniacal. He tossed the detached horns onto the table, landing into the big pot of porridge, the red blood mixing with the white meal - letting both Seonghwa and Yunho watch in shock as the horns bubbled and float.

“He’s not dead,” Hongjoong said dismissively, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be fine.. physically at least.”

You glared at him, your chest heaving. Hongjoong’s lips curved into a smirk as he watched you cower over Mingi. He tilted his head slightly.

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for him..” he said, his voice mockingly gentle. He walked towards you, crouching infront of you.

Hongjoong’s hands found your face, leaving a trail of blood on your cheek. “It’s cute, really. How protective you are over him. Wish you had the same energy for our cause,” he squeezed your face. You flinched, feeling the cold metal of his ring touch your jaw.

A small smile appeared on his face - completely ignoring the other Eternal that is heaving in pain beside the two of you.

Your jaw clenched and you instinctively swatted his hand away. You moved towards Mingi, shielding his body. “You’re insane,” you spat out.

“Careful,” Hongjoong replied. “I still need you. I wouldn’t want to kill you over that sharp tongue of yours.”

Hongjoong pushed himself off of the ground. He wiped off the excess blood on his hands using a napkin on the table. “Oh yes,” he spoke up, turning to Mingi’s weak body. “Eternal, you’re fired.”

Mingi’s head shot up, his face twisted with pain. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I was going to keep you… despite your unfaithfulness,” Hongjoong continued. “But it seems I no longer have any use for you.”

“Wait, Sire. Who will command our troops?” Seonghwa abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “We never discussed any of this.”

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to Seonghwa, his lips pressed into a line. “I did. Just not with you.” He then turned to Yunho. “You said you had someone, yes?”

Yunho nodded. “He’ll arrive tomorrow.”

Hongjoong’s grin widened, the light in his eyes gleaming with craze. “We’ve found someone far more trustworthy and stronger than this.. rat,” he emphasised, turning to Seonghwa, as if that would reassure him.

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, his usual cocky demeanour cracking as a sliver of betrayal crossed his face.

Hongjoong looked towards Yunho, then Mingi. “Dispose of him.”

Yunho rose from his seat, walking to you and Mingi with a blank expression. When he reached you, he crouched down, his strong hands lifting Mingi with a surprising gentleness.

As he moved to stand, Yunho leaned slightly closer to you, his lips barely moving as he whispered, “Don’t worry.”

The words were so soft, so subtle and so reassuring that you almost thought that you were imagining things - though, the look in Yunho’s eyes said otherwise.

Yunho carried Mingi out of the room, leaving you alone with the demons you hated together with the bloodstained floor. You turned back to the table, your eyes locked onto Hongjoong.

“What?” he asked. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

Hongjoong cackled, turning to leave but paused at doorway where the guards stood rigidly. “Seonghwa,” he called out, gesturing for the older Eternal to follow.

Seonghwa hesitated. His eyes darted to the blood pooling in the carpet, then to the horns gurgling in the porridge, resting like a trophy, then you.

The eye contact between the two of you lasted just long enough for you to register the reluctance in Seonghwa’s gaze, before he quickly whipped his head around and scurried to the Eternal leader.

The sound of the door shutting echoed through the room and you were now left alone with the aftermath of Hongjoong’s cruelty.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

Your heart pounded as you searched the endless halls of the Palace. After that traumatic ‘meeting’ you immediately ran out of the dining hall to find one demon - Yunho.

With a few wrong turns and whispers from passing servants, you finally spotted him on the other side of the Palace, overseeing a housekeeping team cleaning the marble floors.

You tapped on his shoulder. Yunho turned around, looking slightly annoyed - but that quickly vanished when he saw your face.

“Ah, Miss ‘____’. It’s nice to see your face once agai-“

“Where’s Mingi?” you interrupted.

Yunho’s eyes looked over your figure up and down, his face unreadable. “What are you talking about? I got rid of him.”

“You and I know damn well you didn’t,” you snarled, narrowing your eyes. “So where is he?”

He sighed, glancing around to make sure that none of the servants were paying attention. “Lower your voice unless you want both of us killed.”

Silence hung between the two of you - with Yunho fidgeting with the edge of his pocket while you stared him down, your eyes never leaving him as your frustration boiled beneath the surface. Finally, Yunho muttered, “Give me ten minutes.”

You stood off to the side, arms crossed as you watched him direct the Eternal workers. You had to admit that it was pretty hot impressive to see him take charge. Even though he seemed pretty uninterested from most - if not all of the workers, he still treated them with a strange kind of respect that you hadn’t seen from the other Eternals you knew.

After a few minutes, the workers finally dispersed, going off to do their respective jobs. Yunho turned back to you, sighing as he adjusted his sleeves. “Follow me.”

Without another word, he led you through the Palace. He took long strides as he maneuvered down corridors you’ve never seen before. Chandeliers turned into torches and the walls became darker, the pristine marble turning into a damp stone. Sounds of faint whispers and groans started to get louder and it echoed through the corridor.

Yunho stopped infront of a rusted metal gate, pulling it open with a screech that made your skin crawl. The room was dimly lit, the scent of decay and blood overtaking your senses.

Your heart dropped as you took in the sight of beaten Eternals scattered across the floor, some chained to the ground and some chained to the walls - Yunho brought you to a torture chamber.

“Why- why did you bring me here?” you asked, gulping.

“He’s not here,” Yunho clarified quickly, seeing the worry in your face. “But there’s things we need to discuss.”

You looked around the room. “Is it really safe to talk about this here? What if one of the Eternals here.. I don’t know- rat us out?”

“They’re all halfway to death. I doubt they have the energy to say anything." Yunho shrugged. "They might hate me but the King and Duke tortures them way more than I do. If anything, they'll want to help us.”

He began to walk ahead, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Groans and pained whimpers filled your ears, the sounds unbearable to even be around. You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching the tortured Eternals beg for mercy or cry for help.

“Yunho..” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He paused, glancing back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. The sounds of suffering pierced your ears, getting louder by the second.

Yunho’s eyes softened slightly, a hint of understanding crossing his face. He walked towards you and stopped, rummaging through the inside pocket of his blazer. After a moment, he pulled put a pair of earplugs.

“Here,” he said, his voice softer now.

You blinked, surprised by his offer. Before you could even say anything, Yunho stepped closer, tilting his head.

“Hold still.”

His fingers gently brushed against your hair, tucking it behind your ears as he fit the earplugs in. His movements were slow and carefull, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. The warmth of his fingers stayed on your skin as he adjusted the second earplug, stepping back once he was done.

“Better?” his deep voice muffled, though you could still hear him.

You nodded. “Thank you,” you muttered, causing Yunho to smile slightly.

“I recommend keeping those in the whole time we’re here,” he said, gesturing you to follow him as he walked further into the room.

He eventually stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t be scared,” he said, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

You watched in horror as Yunho approached a chained Eternal slumped against the wall. Without hesitation, he ripped the Eternal’s purple horns from their head.

The scream broke through the sound barrier of the earplugs, causing you to jump. You ran towards the Eternal - was this really happening again?

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed, examining the Eternal’s injuries. Besides the fresh wounds on his head, one of his eyes were gouged out, his face swollen and a bleeding mess.

“Are you trying to be Hongjoong?”

“Don’t say his name out loud,” he replied sharply, almost like on instinct. “You might hate him, but you should still show some respect.”

You glared at him, waiting for an explanation. He inspected the horns in his hands like they were tools instead of pieces from another being.

“You shouldn’t feel pity,” he shook his head. “That one withered our basil plants.”

You stared at him, unamused.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. He also killed an Eternal child and mother, if it makes you feel better. Just thought the basil part was important.”

Your disgust was evident, but Yunho continued to examine the horns.

“These,” he said eerily calm. “Can be capped around a Hala’s horns. You know, if they fit.”

“…What?” you blurted.

“If one of your Hala friends can fit these horns over their own, they’ll be the ones doing your ‘dress-up’ plan,” Yunho explained. “It’s risky, but it’ll work.”

“Are you serious?” You stared at him in disbelief.

“He’ll arrive tomorrow..”

Your eyes widened as you understood what he meant. “..As the General..”

You ran your fingers through your hair. “But what about Mingi? Where is he?”

“I sent him away to find your friend. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” Yunho said, wiping the blood on the horns with a handkerchief.

You let out a sigh, finally feeling relieved - but unease came back once more when you looked over at the tortured Eternal.

“If the King or Duke come looking for Mingi’s body,” Yunho gestured to the limp body infront of the two of you. “They’ll find this instead. I’ll make sure his face is unrecognisable.”

Your stomach did jumping jacks when you realised what he meant. The Eternal had a disturbingly similar build to Mingi, and as long as the face wasn’t seen, it could genuinely pass off as Mingi’s body.

You stood up, dusting yourself off. You walked side-by-side to Yunho, staying close to him as you approached the exit.

“You’re really doing all of this to help the Halas..?” you said, the words coming out as more of a statement than a question.

Yunho’s glanced at you for a moment before muttering under his breath, “More like helping you.”

“What?” you asked, stepping closer. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I’m just evening out the playing field.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

Tense couldn’t even begin to describe the air in Hongjoong’s office.

Stacks of files and papers taken from your office were scattered across Hongjoong’s desk. The sounds of his pen scratching against the paper filled the room.

Seonghwa sat across from him, helping the King sort out and sift through the documents, his movements sharp and impatient.

The silence stretched for too long. Seonghwa’s eyes continuously darted from the papers to Hongjoong - before he sighed and broke the silence.

“Was it really necessary?”

Hongjoong paused, his pen hovering over the page. Slowly, he set it down, his sharp gaze lifting off of the paper to meet Seonghwa’s. “What was?”

“Mingi,” Seonghwa replied simply.

Hongjoong leaned back into the chair, his face blank as he considered his question. After a while, he finally answered, returning back to his papers. “Yes. It was necessary.”

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. The room fell back into a silence, but this time, it was even suffocating. Seonghwa shuffled the papers in his hands, trying to distract himself from the frustration bubbling within him.

“Why are we keeping the Walker when we have plenty of other ways to acquire information?” Seonghwa blurted out.

Hongjoong tilted his head slightly. “Are you really in a position to question me?”

“I-“ Seonghwa opened his mouth, but instantly cut himself off. He knew better than to push the issue. Though, his anger was obvious, especially with the sharp inhale he took through his nose.

Hongjoong focused back onto the documents on his desk, ignoring the fuming demon infront of him.

Eventually, Seonghwa stormed out of the office, the door swinging shut harshly before slowing down as it closed with a click.

Hongjoong glanced up at the closed door. He could have easily gone after Seonghwa, maybe explain himself or God forbid - apologise for leaving him out of the discussion he had with Yunho, but did he really care enough to bother?

His eyes landed on his hand. He slowly fidgeted with the ring on his finger, the small, cheap piece of jewelry catching the light.

His fingers traced over the the delicate engraving on its surface - a name. Your name.

His lips curved into a sick smile, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “‘____’,” he murmured softly to himself, the sound of your name lingering in the quiet, lonely room.

author’s note: I’M BACKK yall i swear i will be writing more especially cuz my exams are over.. please stick around its getting good 😭😭

series taglist [OPEN] - @binchanluvrr @hiddlestandom @avantalem @hecateslittlewitchling @iara-ya @thunderous-wolf @jaerisdiction @mallielovssyou @syzygyweeb @dimeb29 @marsofeight @doitforbangchan @shotaswife

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - II

Summary: Five years after your last visit to Tir Asleen, you finally get to see Kit again. Although you promised your mother you wouldn’t let Kit influence you, her fiery personality and strong will draw you in, and open your eyes to a whole new world of excitement and adventure.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: fluff, reader’s subtle mommy issues, rebellious kit, weapons, sword fighting, stumbling upon mature illustrations, childlike innocence, implied parent death, one bed, sneaking out

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: this chapter does contain adolescents stumbling upon some ‘sensual’ illustrations in library books. It is purely meant to be part of a ‘coming of age,’ and I even had others proofread it to make sure it comes off that way. Anyways, here’s the second chapter of Forbidden Crown! :)

Almost immediately upon returning to Azarenth, you began pressing your parents about revisiting Tir Asleen.

Your inquiries began innocently. “Mommy, can we go and see the twins today?”

Each time, she’d shake her head. “Not today, sweetheart. Our responsibilities leave no time for such an endeavor.”

Then, you resorted to excuses. “Father, we’ve been so busy, we could really use a holiday. How about a trip to Tir Asleen?”

He’d chortle at the suggestion. “Princess, if we were to go on holiday, it certainly would not be to a place such as Tir Asleen!”

Every day, you would pose similar questions, and as time went on, your parents' refusals became curt, tinged with vexation. Eventually, you ceased questioning altogether, not wanting to further irritate them.

Despite your silence, your mind occupied itself with thoughts of Kit. You longed to keep in contact with her, but your parents thought you weren’t old enough to have your own carrier pigeon. In an attempt to keep her close, you even secretly wore her breeches beneath your dresses until they no longer fit, then kept them stashed in the bottom of your storage chest, hidden from your parents or any prying maids.

Every day, you wondered how she was doing, and every day, you wondered if she thought of you as well.

It wasn’t until just before the summer of your tenth year that you thought you would ever see Kit again. On a golden May afternoon, you heard your mothers voice calling you in from playing outside with some children from the nearby village. Disgruntled, you bid your friends farewell and trudged back in through the castle doors.

Upon entering, you immediately saw your parents sitting in the Great Hall, hands folded on the table in front of them. You gulped; this room was rarely ever used, with the exception of large gatherings or very important meetings. Hypothetical scenarios swarmed your mind as you desperately tried to figure out what horrible thing you had done to warrant a meeting in the Great Hall.

Walking in, you took a seat across from your parents, folding your hands in your lap and refusing eye contact.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you in here,” your mother began, never one to beat around the bush.

You nodded slowly, still declining to meet her gaze. Your father cleared his throat, taking over the conversation.

“Princess,” he began. “As you’re well aware, you are a child of nobility. It is very important to us that you grow up receiving the best education and training possible, and that includes learning crucial life skills such as independence and adaptability.”

Furrowing your brow, you nodded, confused. You didn’t have a clue where this conversation was going and frankly wished your parents would just get to the point so you could go back outside.

Almost as if she could read your mind, your mother jumped in. “Your father and I have been exchanging letters with the Queen of Tir Asleen. You remember Sorsha and her twins, don’t you?”

Your ears perked up at this, the mere mention of your long-lost friends sending a wave of sweet nostalgia to wash over you. “Of course! I loved playing with Kit.”

“And Airk,” your mother interrupted, hardening her gaze.

Forgetting that your mother wasn’t necessarily a fan of the Princess of Tir Asleen, you were quick to agree. “Yes, Airk too, surely.”

“After some back and forth,” your mother took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Queen Sorsha has agreed to foster you temporarily. You will be staying in Tir Asleen with her and her children for the summer months.”

Just for a brief moment, you swore your heart stopped beating before a burst of warmth exploded in your chest. Three whole months spent with Kit? Staying in the Tir Asleen castle? Away from your parents? The very thought made you tingle with excitement.

“This is not a holiday,” your mother interrupted your daydream as if she could see your thoughts. “You will be studying under an array of tutors and governesses, receiving a rigorous education and learning proper court etiquette. I hope you don’t think you’re going to spend the entire summer rolling around in mud with that filthy girl.”

Your mother’s slander against Kit made your blood boil underneath your skin, evaporating to your face and turning your cheeks a dark crimson. Every cell in your body wanted to stand up and scream at your mother before shouting Kit’s praises. Instead, you decided to seethe quietly, fearing that speaking up could jeopardize the trip.

As the conversation came to a close and you got up to leave, your mother called your name just before you made it out the door. You took a deep breath, forcing a grin as you turned to face her.

“Yes, mother?” Your voice came out strained and tense.

Her expression turned serious as her jaw stilled, mouth tight in a straight line. She peered at you through her brow, not breaking her gaze for one moment.

“Don’t let that Kit girl influence you. I mean it.”

The following fortnight seemed to drag as you waited impatiently for June to arrive. Each day seemed to tick by slower than the last, until you managed to develop an irrational hatred for the month of May.

When the morning of your departure finally arrived, a servant entered your bedchamber to fetch your storage chest, only to find the room empty and the chest missing. After informing the castle and a brief moment of panic, one of the guards found you already in the carriage, having dragged your storage chest by yourself all the way outside at the first sign of daybreak.

“May we leave now?” You asked, ever impatient.

The castle staff shared a hearty chuckle over your eagerness when your parents stepped outside, dismissing the crew before bidding their final farewells.

“Luck be with you in Tir Asleen, Princess,” your father began, bearing his familiar kind smile. “You’re not to worry about traveling alone, I hired the best coachman in all of Azarenth to ensure your safety.”

Returning your fathers warm grin, you leaned out the carriage window to wrap your arms around his neck. Your mother, nowhere near as affectionate as her husband, simply gave you a tight smile and a curt nod.

“Be on your best behavior for Sorsha, please.”

The day-long journey to Tir Asleen was long and winding, the wheels against cobblestone bricks gently rocking the carriage. Traveling alone for the first time had you a tad nervous, but the friendly coachman made sure to keep you company.

Soon, as the late afternoon sun began its descent, the castle of Tir Asleen gradually came into view. Nostalgic memories rushed through your mind as the stone battlements seemed to pierce the clouds. You leaned your head out the carriage window, feeling the warm wind on your face and breathing in the familiar smell of dew.

The carriage came to a halt at the castle entrance, the sudden stillness of the car making you wonder how long your hands had been shaking. Peering out the carriage window, you saw Airk near the front, sword sparring with another boy around his age.

Disappointment shadowed your face at the absence of Kit, but you tried to hide it. As you waited for the coachman to gather your things, you busied yourself watching Airk spar. He was quite the swordsman, staying quick on his feet, and countering each attack with focus clouding his uncovered face.

Despite Airk’s impressive skill, his opponent still seemed to have the upper hand. You couldn’t quite make out who he was due to a faceplate covering his features, but his technique was precise, perfected, almost as if he’d had to work twice as hard as Airk to get where he was.

Suddenly, Airk momentarily lost his footing on a slippery rock, allowing his mysterious opponent to take advantage and deliver one final strike. Airk tumbled to the ground, the anonymous swordsman moving to stand over him as he conceded defeat.

You couldn’t help but erupt into applause, after all, duels rarely happened in your kingdom. Startled, Airk and his friend turned towards you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’d arrived. You were about to approach Airk and exchange pleasant greetings when his masked adversary suddenly removed his faceplate, shaking out his hair and revealing his identity.

Shock hung from your features. This mysterious man wasn’t mysterious at all! Or a man! It was Kit!

“Kit!” You exclaimed, your voice coming out as an involuntary squeal.

She called your name back and ran to you, enveloping you in a hug. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, damp with sweat from the humidity of the faceplate.

“Your hair got so long!” You commented after pulling away.

It was true. Kits original short chop now flowed in waves down to her mid-torso, making her look oddly feminine even in trousers.

“I hate it,” Kit groaned, pinching a lock of her hair and frowning down at it. “It gets so hot, and I hate having to put it up.”

As she fidgeted with her hair, your gaze traveled down to her wrist, noticing a sandstone silk strand peeking out of her sleeve. Curious, you took her hand and pushed her sleeve up, revealing the ribbon she had stolen from you all those years ago.

“My ribbon!” You exclaimed, surprised and genuinely touched. “You still wear it?”

“Every day,” Kit answered truthfully. “It reminds me of you.”

You turned her wrist over in your hand, admiring the ribbon. The previously bright pink silk had faded into a blush beige, bleached from sun exposure. Once perky bunny-ear loops now drooped down her wrist, tickling the bottom of her palm. It was almost unrecognizable, this old ribbon that time had not been kind to, and the fact that Kit had worn it all these years warmed a special place in your heart.

Airk cleared his throat, startling you slightly as you had forgotten he was there. You offered him an apologetic smile, letting go of Kit’s wrist to shake his hand.

“Forgive me,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s good to see you again as well, Airk.”

The rest of the evening was spent catching up; the three of you laid on patches of grass and recounted events from the last five years until a maid rang the dinner bell. Even at dinner, all of you prattled incessantly. Airk eventually found he’d said enough and focused on his meal, but you and Kit talked through mouthfuls of food, much to Sorsha’s chagrin.

“You can eat or you can speak, but it’s terribly impolite to combine the two,” she scolded.

After the third or fourth lecture, you noticed how they would only come from Sorsha. A brief glance around the table confirmed your suspicions: Madmartigan was absent.

“Where’s your dad?” You whispered to Kit, worried that asking Sorsha directly would upset her.

Kit, however, perked up at your question, eyes sparkling at the mention of her role model. “He’s on a quest! He’s going to fight inside a worm!”

“He’s trying to destroy the Wyrm from the inside, Kit.” Airk corrected.

Kit brushed off her brother, ignoring his comment and continuing. “He’s been fighting the Wyrm for some time now. He’s so busy, but he always has a letter delivered to us on the first of every month!”

She sprang up from her chair, dashing to fetch the most recent letter before being stopped by Sorsha. “Kit, how many times have I said not to leave the table without being excused?”

Kit spun around with a dramatically curtsy and mimed pulling on an invisible skirt. “Mother, may I please be excused from this fine supper? Oh mummy, please may I?”

You stifled a giggle at her theatrics. Sorsha sighed, dismissing her with the wave of her hand. Kit sped out of the room, returning seconds later with a piece of paper and thrusting it into Sorsha’s hands.

“This one arrived today.” Kit explained, leaning over her mother’s shoulder.

Despite Sorsha’s annoyance with her daughter, she couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly pinched the corners of her husband's letter.

“My dear family,” she began reading as Airk rushed over, joining Kit in reading over their mother’s shoulder. “As I venture forth on this perilous mission, know that my thoughts are never far from all of you. My journey to confront the Wyrm may be ripe with danger, but carrying the strength of our family has gotten me through some challenging moments.”

“To my daughter, Kit,” Kit perked up at the mention of her name, leaning farther into the letter as Sorsha continued to read. “Your unyielding spirit and fearlessness are sure to serve you well in all that you do. Always remember to keep your sword sharp and your wits sharper.”

“To Airk,” it was Airk’s turn to lean into the letter. “My son, every day you continue to amaze me. I look forward to returning and watching you grow into the man I know you’re destined to be.”

“And to my lovely wife,” Sorsha’s voice cracked as she read. “Not a day goes by where I don’t picture your face. You are the light that leads me through the darkest tunnels.”

Sorsha sniffed, attempting to discreetly wipe away a tear before reading the last section. “I promise to return one day, victorious and bearing plenty of stories. Until then, I hope you’ll take comfort in these letters. All my love, Madmartigan.”

Kit looked up from the letter, eyes shining with undeterrable admiration. “When I grow up, I want to be just like him.”

Later that night, as you readied yourself for slumber in one of the castle's many guest rooms, a knock interrupted your solitude. You granted permission to enter, fixing your posture and bracing yourself to be greeted by Sorsha. However, your tension eased when the door cracked and Kit’s face poked through.

“I need your help with something,” she whispered, cautious not to disturb any sleeping residents.

“Why? What happened?” You inquired.

Without another word, Kit seized your hand and led you away. You protested at first, feeling naked in your thin nightgown outside the walls of your bedchamber, but Kit's hand wrapped around yours felt soothing, like a warm glove on a cold day, and you knew that no matter where you went, you would be safe as long as Kit was there.

She led you to the end of the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through the doors of the basement, only letting go of your hand to ignite a taper candle and shed some light into the dark room. Weapons of all shapes and sizes mounted the walls, their silver blades illuminating in the candle light. Various types of armor decorated the corners, including the faceplate Kit had worn earlier in the day.

“Is this…”

“The armory.” Kit answered your unspoken question.

You nodded, marveling at the room. Azarenth had an armory in their castle too, but it was heavily guarded, and strictly off limits to you.

Kit plucked a sword from the wall and laid it flat against her palms, presenting it to you. “I need you to cut my hair.”

“What?” You searched Kit’s face for any sign of humor, but found none as she stood completely serious.

“I need you to cut my hair,” she repeated. “I can’t reach back there, and Airk won’t do it because he’s afraid of getting in trouble.”

“What if I get in trouble?” You asked, still in disbelief at her request.

“You won’t,” she replied, completely sure of herself.

Kit still sensed your hesitation, so she put the sword down and took both of your hands in hers. “You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise. My mom won’t let me cut my hair because she says it makes me look ‘pretty,’ but what good is beauty if I’m constantly uncomfortable? Please, I really need you to do this for me.”

There it was again, that feeling of safety that surmounted whenever Kit held your hand. You sighed defeatedly, nodding in agreement. Kit beamed at you as she placed the sword in your hands, but the large piece of metal turned out to be much heavier than you expected and you ended up dropping it, the sword falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“I haven’t actually… used a sword before,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Kit thought for a second before her face brightened once again, running to a nearby rack and picking up an oddly-shaped knife. “Dagger?”

You agreed, and Kit handed you the dagger, showing you how to grip the handle. As you clutched this foreign weapon, a new sense of power washed over you. You suddenly felt invincible, safe, but a different kind of safe from when Kit held your hand.

“How short do you want it?” You asked, still examining the jagged piece of metal.

Kit shrugged. “I just don’t want to have to tie it up in order to spar.”

She turned around, facing away from you and shaking out her long locks so they all flowed down her back. You gulped, gathering her hair in a handful just below her neck, hands shaking as the previous power evaporated into thin air and replaced itself with anxiety. With one quick slash it was all over, the sharp blade passing through her delicate hairs with ease. A sigh left your lips, relieved to have completed your task. You glanced down to admire your handiwork, but were met with a sight so horrific that the dagger fell from your unsteady hands, dropping to the floor with a sharp clang.

Her hair, once long and beautiful, was now absolutely botched. Tresses meant to float over her shoulders now curled just under her ears, while crooked sprigs stuck out in all directions.

“How does it look?” Kit asked, but you were too afraid to answer.

When you didn’t, she picked up the sword off the ground, admiring her reflection in the shiny metal. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock. She reached up, carefully running her fingers over the butchered ends.

A lump rose in your throat as you became overwhelmed with guilt. “Kit, I’m so…”

“I love it.” Kit said in a low voice.

You blinked, not quite registering what she said. “Huh?”

“I love it!” Kit repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s exactly what I wanted: short!”

“But it’s so choppy and uneven!” You exclaimed, confused by her elation.

Kit shook her head, sprigs flying in every direction. “I look the way I’ve always felt inside: a harbinger of chaos!”

She swung the sword around for effect, giggling like a little kid. You felt yourself relax as you watched her, relieved she wasn’t angry and somewhat enamored by her unbridled joy.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable slam of a basement door reverberated throughout the armory. A tall figure entered, holding a large torch that cast a looming shadow. You and Kit froze, tension palpable as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself to be Sorsha.

Her gaze immediately fixated on Kit’s hair, expression hardening into unreadable stone. “There was a clatter. I was afraid there might be an intruder.”

Slowly, she approached you two, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. She reached out to touch Kit’s chopped tresses tentatively, as if they would scald her. “Your hair…”

You glanced between Kit and Sorsha, a sense of dread settling inside you as you prepared your confession. “Your majesty, I…”

“I did it,” Kit interjected, surprising you. “I got fed up with my long hair, and since you wouldn’t allow me to get it cut, I snuck down here and did it myself.”

Sorsha squinted at her daughter, skeptical at her story. Noticing her doubt, Kit gestured towards you. “She’s here because she tried to stop me.”

Sorsha’s gaze shifted down, noticing Kit still holding a sword, while your hands were empty. She took a step back, her face darkening with a quiet anger. You held your breath, bracing yourself for the explosion, but instead her eyes softened as she turned to you.

“Your mother raised such a well-behaved young lady,” she remarked sweetly before redirecting her attention to Kit. “I wish I had done the same…”

You glanced over at Kit, who appeared unfazed by her mother’s hurtful words.

“We’ll continue this discussion upstairs,” Sorsha muttered through clenched teeth, seizing Kit’s arm and leading her away.

You watched as Kit was pulled out of the basement, the guilt from going along with her lie eating you up from the inside. Part of you longed to follow, to confess your involvement, but your feet stayed cemented to the floor, blocks of concrete too heavy to move.

Just before disappearing through the door, Kit turned to look at you, noting your terror-stricken face. You attempted to mouth an ‘I’m sorry,’ but she vigorously shook her head. Instead, she offered you a reassuring smile, sending a wink in your direction that made your heart squeeze. And just like that, you became certain that everything would be alright.

It would be a full month before you could speak to Kit again.

You were right to be worried about getting into trouble, because Kit had gotten herself into a lot. As punishment, she had been confined to her chambers for the past few weeks, only being let out to assist the scullions with chores. Sometimes, you would pass her walking with the maids in the hallways, and when no one was looking, she would shoot you a funny face that never failed to make you laugh.

The weeks without Kit seemed to stretch, each day growing longer than the last. You eventually grew bored with Tir Asleen, the absence of your friend diminishing the kingdom’s original appeal. Luckily, you at least had Airk to keep you company.

“Why do you think our parents keep pushing us to be friends?” You asked him one day, while you were both taking a stroll around the palace gardens.

Airk simply shrugged. “I wonder that too sometimes. Perhaps they want us to learn about each other's homes?”

You shook your head. “Azarenth is only a day trip away from Tir Asleen, not much to learn. Maybe they just want us to get along.”

“But I don’t recall any conflict between our kingdoms,” Airk remarked.

These were the typical conversations between you and Airk: mundane, frivolous words meant to fill an empty space. It’s not as if he wasn’t pleasant company, but he just didn’t excite you the way Kit did.

One early morning, near the end of the month, you were sound asleep in your guest bed when you suddenly felt a crushing weight moving on top of you, followed by the inability to breathe. You opened your eyes to see a dark figure over you, holding its hands over your nose and mouth. Fear coursed through you as your survival instinct took over, thrashing under the dark figure and screaming pleas muffled by its hands.

“Shh… shh… Princess…” the figure leaned down to whisper in your ear.

Your stifled breath hitched in your throat at the familiarity of the figure's voice. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared up at the figure, eyes adjusting to the darkness until Kit’s unmistakable face came into view.

“Kit…” you whispered as soon as she removed her hands from your mouth. “What are you…”

“I’m not in trouble anymore,” she cut you off. “I’m free.”

“What…” you sat up to lean on your elbows. “Kit, that’s wonderful. But, what do you mean?”

“My mother’s focusing on Airk now,” she replied. “Come with me.”

She seized your hand once again and pulled you out of bed, disclosing her intentions while leading you across the castle.

“I’m usually awoken this early to assist the scullions with chores,” she explained. “However, this morning one of the more prying maids told me that I’m no longer needed, that Airk will be doing chores now.”

“But why?” You inquired.

“I’ll show you.”

She led you down to the large double doors of the palace library, opening them cautiously to avoid getting caught. The overwhelming smell of old books hit you as soon as you stepped inside, smacking you in the face before enveloping you in a warm hug. Your castle didn’t have a library as much as a few bookshelves here and there, so you couldn’t help but stop and marvel at Tir Asleen’s vast collection of books piled high as the ceiling.

“Come on,” Kit insisted, yanking you out of your daydream and pulling you towards a table in the back of the library that was covered with half-open books. “The maid said that my mother caught Airk reading these late last night, and that’s why he’s in trouble.”

“For reading?” You were puzzled.

“Not just reading,” Kit explained. “She said the literature was lewd.”

“Lewd?”

“Bad.” Kit clarified, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Your brows furrowed, still confused. “But… how can a book be bad?”

Kit seemed unsure how to answer your question, but was curious to find out. She pulled a paper manuscript off the top of one of the piles and opened it to a random page, both of you gasping at the sight. While the text was nothing extraordinary, the margins of the pages were filled with graphic drawings of women in various states of undress.

Your finger trembled as you pointed at one of the women, the top of her dress pulled down to her stomach. “Is that…”

“I think that’s what they’re supposed to look like. When we’re older.” Kit whispered, not taking her eyes off the page.

Both of you sat at the table and stared at the page in awe, neither of you daring to speak. After a moment, you decided to pick another book off of one of the piles, the cover reading “Carmina Burana.” You glanced at Kit, who bore into you, silently daring you to open it.

Flipping to another random page, you came across a translated poem entitled “Si Puer Cum Puella,” and began to read. “If a lad and his sweet lover, in a room together linger—an ineffable game begins, in their abandoned lips and limbs.”

Looking over at Kit, you expected her to explain what the poem meant, but she seemed as confused as you were. Turning the page, you found more marginalia, these drawings far different from the ones in the manuscript. In the corner of the page was a drawing of a man, carrying a sword in a full state of undress that exposed his flaccid…

You slammed the book shut in disgust, cheeks burning a dark crimson.

“What happened?” Kit questioned.

With a shaky hand, you pushed the book in her direction. She furrowed her brow at you and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages until coming across the drawing. Horrified, she let out a sharp “eek” before slamming the book shut once again.

“Shhh…” you reminded her, remembering what happened the last time you two got caught sneaking around. She nodded, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Both of you stared down at the book as if it had burned you. The air around you felt thick, the only audible sounds being shallow breaths and your own heart beating in your ears.

“Airk has one of those,” Kit finally spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen it. We took baths together when we were younger.”

“Do they all look like that?” You asked in disgust.

Kit shook her head, gesturing to the abandoned book. “Not like that!”

The two of you stood frozen for another minute before you decided to take a leap of faith, grabbing the “Carmina Burana” and flipping back to the offending page. You tore out the drawing, ripping it to shreds and shoving it down one of your stockings to dispose of later. Glancing over at Kit, she stood shocked, her mouth agape.

“I think boys are nasty,” you exclaimed, grabbing the previous manuscript and revisiting the page with the drawings of women, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Much better.”

For the rest of the summer, you and Kit made it a habit to sneak around in the dead of nights, embarking on secret little adventures just for the two of you. Sometimes you would revisit the back corners of the library to explore banned literature; other times, you would break into the kitchen to eat an entire jar of fruit preserves between the two of you.

But most nights were reserved for nothing but late-night chatter. You would hide in each other's rooms, whispering secrets that dissolved into the quiet of the night, like you did when you were younger.

However, these late nights did take a toll on your daily schedules; neither of you could stay awake during the day. When summer classes started around mid-July, you often found yourself dozing off in the middle of them, frequently waking up to the angry scolds of a palace tutor following the sharp thwack of a ruler against your desk.

One Saturday morning, you were at the breakfast table eating with the Tanthalos family, when you felt yourself start to nod off before being awoken by a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Ouch,” you exclaimed, glaring daggers at Airk, sitting next to you. “What was that for?”

He held up his hands defensively. “You fell asleep on your toast.”

Groaning, you took your napkin and wiped the butter off your cheek. Now that you were awake, you couldn’t help but notice that Kit, who usually sat across from you in a similar state of stupor, was missing.

“Where did Kit go?” You asked Airk.

He gave a half-hearted wave in the direction of the kitchen window. “It’s the first of the month. Where do you think she went?”

Sure enough, Kit had glued herself to the kitchen window, refusing to look away from the nothingness of the outside in case a messenger were to appear out of nowhere.

“Kit,” Sorsha sighed in exasperation. “Come back and finish your breakfast.”

“But dad’s letter hasn’t arrived yet!” Kit protested.

“It’s early morning, the day has just begun. I’m sure your father’s letter will arrive later, now come eat!”

Kit grumbled as she plopped herself back down at the breakfast table, wolfing down her meal in seconds flat before excusing herself back to the window.

Unfortunately, the day’s sun came and went with no letter in sight. By nightfall, Kit was still perched at the window, wringing her hands like a damp towel.

“Time for bed, Kit.” Sorsha commanded, a hint of pity in her voice.

Kit looked up at her mom with wide eyes. “What about dad’s letter?”

Sorsha sent her daughter a reassuring smile, not showing any concern. “Sometimes messengers can get lost, nothing to worry about. I’m sure his letter will turn up soon.”

Several days passed with Kit stationed at the window, growing increasingly anxious each day as she waited for something that never came. By the end of the week, still no letter had arrived, and even Sorsha’s calm composition began to falter.

“Mom,” Kit called from the window, voice coming out small and frail. “Where’s dad’s letter?”

Sorsha rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, peering out at the fading sky alongside her. “I’m not sure, Kit.”

“Is he alright?” Kit looked to her mother for reassurance, a small child desperate for a glimmer of hope.

Sorsha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned away from her daughter, letting the silence settle between them like a thick fog. And that was the moment all light died from Kit’s eyes, the innocence of her childhood crumbling before her like a glass vase shattering on tile floor.

That night, you were preparing for a restful evening when your door flung open. Startled, you whipped around to see Kit standing in your doorway. She seemed fragile, like a baby bird with a broken wing.

“Hey,” she whispered, her red, puffy eyes visible in the dim candlelight.

“Hey…” you responded, confused. Your midnight retreats had been put on hold after Kit’s attention turned towards her father’s letter.

“I’m worried about my dad…” Kit admitted in a low voice. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Her words tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with sympathy. You agreed, climbing into bed and patting the space beside you. Kit smiled gratefully and crawled onto her side, pulling the covers over the both of you. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to cram two adolescents into a twin bed, as you both had done a lot of growing since your childhood sleepover. But as Kit buried her head in your chest and snuggled up close, the proximity didn’t bother you. The warmth of your bodies merged like two flames into a single fire, becoming one and the same.

“No one knows where he is,” she mumbled into the silk of your nightgown. “Do you think something happened to him?”

You gently scratched her back and soothed her labored breaths, taking a moment to choose your words carefully. “Kit… you are one of the strongest people I know. I really, truly mean that. If your dad has even a fraction of your strength, I know there’s nothing that could stop him from seeing you again.”

Kit’s breathing evened out as your words seemed to reassure her. Her eyelids fought to stay open, a week of restless nights finally catching up to her. You bent down, planting a gentle kiss on her head before you both drifted off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sofi4v13

[atheneum-of-you]

Hermes has jokingly told me to take my dedication and become a proper priestess of his for a bit now. Naturally I'd say no because I mean, it's been a month.

But today has changed my mind, and I see why he's said it.

For as long as I've been spiritually inclined, I've been very in tune with the voices of spirits. Hearing them became fairly easy once I established a relationship with them. But that was the key. A relationship. I've never been able to hear the voice of spirits I didn't have an established relationship with. But today was different.

I did several readings for members of my discord server (shameless plug teehee), most of which were questions to deities. I was nervous, honestly. Nervous about getting things wrong and not being able to communicate their words properly. Especially with one card pulls. But I felt Lord Hermes, his hands on my temples telling me to breathe. Guiding me through sorting through the static of my own thoughts. Telling me how to sort through the noise.

And the voices were so clear. Full statements and sentences from the gods. Images of them speaking. Gods I'd never spoken to. It was...incredible. Being a mouthpiece of the gods. Delivering their messages, a messenger of Hermes. I could feel how proud of me he was.

I truly felt like his priestess.

And just as I finished my last reading, typing at his altar asking if he was proud of me and if he saw his little carrier pigeon flapping her wings...my dog died.

She took her last breath on my kitchen floor. And I felt the floor fall beneath my feet. And as I cried on the steps, mourning her, I felt his hand on my back. Telling me he'd be her personal guide.

It was the first time I prayed to King Hades. And I heard his voice telling me he would take care of her. I buried her in the backyard, right under where my neighbor's pomegranate tree crossed over our wall. I'd never noticed that tree until today.

Today I stood at the crossroads. I felt the chthonic. Handed my best friend to them with my own hands.

I delivered the words of the gods, and crossed paths with them at the same time.

Tonight, I take my dedication to Lord Hermes.

Tonight, I become a priestess.

[theplutodeity]

hii!! could you write anything fluff related with rengoku?? thank you so much in advance! 💓

of course! thank you for the request!! ❤️ Apologies for taking so long!! 🙏

Umai..? — UMAI!!

Rengoku x Reader — Fluff

SUMMARY: in which you finally get some time to eat a meal with an old friend of yours.

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

It was a slow day today, mainly because you didn’t have a mission today. It was weird, in all honesty. You often were out completing more missions than the average slayer per day, and suddenly you don’t have a single mission? Huffing, you scratch your head in irritation of what’s possibly going on, seriously: you might hate demons or whatever, but you don’t hate money.

The day itself wasn’t that bad, the sun was shining and birds all around were having a delightful conversation: except for maybe one or two, they seemed to be having an argument… Kasugai crows, they’re either a blessing or a curse to your life. Which reminded you of something, these crows don’t take as long as the normal messenger pigeon, getting messages around asap. You looked to where your own crow was perched, clicking your tongue a few times to grab their attention. Noticing your dire need for them, they flew over and huffed, similarly to how you did so earlier. 

“Do you think we could head over to the Rengoku Estate?” You asked, scratching the underside of their chin. The crow hummed before waiting for you to continue on. “Perhaps I could send a letter?” You suggested once more, to which the bird happily nodded towards. 

A letter… That couldn’t be too hard to write! You weren’t often on the giving side of letters, more often on the receiving side. Mashing up words onto a piece of paper wasn’t really something you had time for, anyway.

You notice that there’s a nearby inn, as you were on a walk with nothing to do earlier, and quickly entered it. Thankfully it was one that was slayer-inclusive, quickly thanking the innkeeper, you settle down and get to writing. You wondered why your left arm kept throbbing, though. You recall hitting it during a fight but never paid too much attention to it due to the urge to keep fighting throughout the past few days. Shrugging, you kept thinking, what to write?

To the Rengoku Family— Already a bit odd. You knew of Kyojurou’s father and his changes, you didn’t really want to include him in this.

Dear Kyojurou— A bit personal? First names were taken seriously, what if Shinjuro or Kyojurou’s adorable little brother opened the letter, instead? They’d jump into conclusions, especially that drunkard. He had nothing much to do, you suppose. Dead wife, dead life. 

You mentally slapped yourself for that, shaking your head. You quietly muttered an apology to Kyojurou’s mother, before continuing your letter.

To the Rengoku siblings— Inclusive to the ones you liked. Nothing personal and nothing that included the drunkard. You continued on.

To the Rengoku siblings, 

I hope this letter finds you in good health, It’s been a while since we’ve all met together, and I’d like to propose a meeting for us to greet and talk as it’ll be nice seeing you both. 

If Kyojurou is off on a mission, I am still more than happy to spend time with Senjurou, you both are enjoyable to be around after all. 

Please don’t rush your decision, and let me know within two days whether you’d like to accept or decline my arrival. 

Live long, (Full name).

You placed a harsh dot at the end, cringing at how oddly worded it was, but at the same time you gave barely more than half a fuck about how to write letters properly. Clicking your tongue, like you did before, your bird hopped over to collect your rolled up letter: placing it into it’s small carrier under their neck. You gave the bird a small peck on the head, storing wisteria in their locket as you changed it out weekly, just to make sure they stayed safe.

Demons would do anything for more information on slayers.

The crow bid you farewell, returning the peck to your hand, softly given. Stretching, you took the clothes the old woman gave you earlier and changed into it, your arm still bothering you. You debated on asking for a doctor, but decided you’ll ask tomorrow or see one in town. 

After a hearty meal and a few hours of leg exercises, you decide to tuck yourself into bed, expecting your bird to come back the next morning. After all, you were far out. However, a knock at your room’s door caught your attention, blinking a few times: your heart began to race. 

It wasn’t uncommon for a demon to knock to seem friendly, before attacking the person inside of their room. It was apart of their game. They were natural hunters. You gulped, standing up and trying to listen for any abnormal sounds, grabbing your nichirin sword and holding it tight. You slammed the door open—

Just to be met by a terrified doctor’s face.

You sighed in relief, the doctor realizing that they may have scared you and apologizing. Apparently it’s normal for these type of inns to get doctors to check slayers within the first day of rest. So, you allowed for the doctor to look you over, deciding you might as well mention the issue with your left arm. Turns out, it was fractured due to the previous demon. You cursed them out mentally, demons always caused you inconveniences, more than humans themselves…

Suddenly, tapping on the window was heard. You whipped your head around, almost knocking down the doctor. You were met with the sight of your crow back so soon, a new letter in their carrier. You could tell, as there was the Rengoku signature stamped onto the edge of the paper. 

You pardoned yourself from your checkup, your doctor just muttering something about overly rash slayers. But excused you, telling that all you need was some medicine that he’ll give in the morning, and leaving. Most likely fed up by you.

You didn’t care though.

“Hi there buddy, what’d you get for me, hm? Did you convince the Rengoku siblings to let me come with those beady eyes of yours for me? Hmm?” You cooed at the bird, petting them as you opened the small carrier on their collar. You carefully opened the letter, and proceeded to read.

To my dearest, (Name),

It’s most definitely a pleasure to hear from you after multiple long months! The Rengoku Estate would be delighted to have you come here after so long, so please meet soon! If possible, tomorrow! Senjurou has mentioned you many times in your absence, however he is a bit busy with the butterfly sisters in assisting some people! If it doesn’t clash with any of your upcoming missions, may you stay for a day or two? 

Your best buddy,

Kyojurou Rengoku.

P.S. I’ve fed Funimobu and added much more wisteria to his stock! I’m sure he’s still full, if not, then that crow surely is like us! Haha! 

You found yourself smiling at his letter, laying back down on your bed on the floor. You grinned to yourself, you were finally meeting Kyojurou Rengoku after so long, and he’s invited you to stay over at his home. 

You looked to where your bird was, and to no surprise: he was fast asleep.

You decided to do the same, you had a big journey tomorrow.

You had woken up early, as planned, and were happily on your way to the estate. You didn’t exactly grow up in the Rengoku Estate, but you did visit often which was because your families were well acquainted due to your ancestor’s friendship, or that’s what you were told. You partially didn’t believe it, friendships couldn’t last that long. However, it filled in the gap of why your families were so close. So you never bothered too much about it.

It took a couple of hours to travel to the estate, and god were you exhausted. But you still haven’t received a new mission, which began to concern you even further. Why has there been a lack of missions? Has something happened to the master? Did all demons suddenly disappear?

You really couldn’t put your finger on it, there was a lingering feeling in your stomach that there was something wrong.

However, all those feelings went away as soon as the sight of the Rengoku estate washed over your sight, your breath having been taken away by the nostalgia of the estate. It really did feel like it’s been a long time.

Staring at the shoji doors, you knocked harshly onto the wood. Before proceeding to yell:

“Excuse me! Are any of the Rengokus inside? It’s (full name)!”

You could already hear footsteps halfway through your yelling, no doubt your partially deaf friend rushing to open the entrance and see you. He was good at being quiet, having years of practice, so it was obvious he was being loud on purpose to let you know he was the one opening the door. 

That, or you’ve memorised their footsteps and you’re just bargaining with yourself.

In contrast to the man’s loud footsteps, the entrance to the estate softly opened. You (raise/lower) your head, your eyes meeting with bright and curious colours. Kyojurou Rengoku’s eyes. You grin, Kyojurou quickly matching your joy. 

“(First name)! You’re just on time! I’ve finally mastered the perfect bento box combination!” Kyojurou exclaimed, he sounded loud to others: but to him? He sounded as if he was speaking normally. He was hard of hearing due to a demon that had a certain blood demon art that almost turned him deaf. Hence, his loud tone.

However, you didn’t mind.

You never minded when it came to Kyojurou. He was a pure soul.

“Really? Perfect, I was getting hungry!” You matched Kyojurou’s enthusiasm, his volume too. He heard you perfectly and smiled even wider, his smile similar to an owl's general expression. It brought you warmth.

“Very good! It is wonderful to see your hunger hasn’t died down, (Name)! It truly satiates my worries, we have not seen each other for a good amount of time, that is true, no?” Kyojurou started a conversation immediately, allowing you to follow him throughout his home. Senjurou’s sweeping was unheard of, as his presence was absent. 

“That’s true. It eases me to see you doing so well, Kyojurou! You haven’t changed a bit.” You smiled, seeing the skin on his face somehow untouched. Yours, however, had a few scabs and scars. Your body too. However, it never bothered you too much. You knew it would happen.

“Hahaha! I’m glad my unchanging form relaxes you. You can sit outside, I’ve set up a mat for us to sit and eat on!” Kyojurou stopped near the kitchen, letting you take a step in front of him so he could easily pat your lower back. Encouraging you to go to the back porch. 

Nodding, you did as he told you to. Opening the shoji doors that led outside, being met with the sight of a well decorated area. There was a mat, a tea set, wooden circles built to keep any hot dishes on top of it, and two cushions set for the both of you. Smiling, you set your shoes aside and carefully sat down, fixing your (skirt/pants) so you looked a bit presentable despite your tired body begging you to just not care.

You stared at his garden, the flowers and trees as strong and youthful as they seemed back when you were a child. You heard shuffling, sometimes you could barely hear people talk— for reasons you were unsure of— but you could pick up on little noises or faraway conversations easily. 

Kyojurou sat down next to you, his legs tucked under his body in a respectful manner. Having set down the dishes, he looked at you.

“I hope you still enjoy (favorite (sweet) dish), I put my entire soul into making it for you!” Kyojurou exclaimed, scooting the plate near you.

Your heart swelled as soon as you saw it. 

It’s been so long since you’ve eaten (dish), due to your consistent travels and missions and the lack of energy to even search for a shop that made that food after a mission. 

“Kyojurou…” Your voice wavered, smiling even wider.

“Eat up, (Name)!” He pets your head, his calloused hands standing out to you. He offered you chopsticks and let you eat at your own pace, the man himself eating heartily but not chewing loudly. 

However, that signature ‘UMAI!’ Of his could very easily heard. After all, he was literally shouting.

That didn’t really bother you though. That odd feeling earlier was washed away, thanks to him. And also thanks to the dish he made, you knew this took a long time to make, after all: he was awful at cooking dishes unless he kept trying a specific recipe over a hundred times. 

Your eyes softened at your food, then at him.

“Do you think the wind tries to tell us things that are important, but we’ve outgrown the language it uses for us to understand, (Name)?” Kyojurou asked out of the blue, his mouth full of food.

“I just want you to stop saying stupid shit, Kyojurou…” Sighing, you gobbled up the food he made. His voice continued to fill the silence. Eventually, he began asking— repeatedly— if you were going to stay the night, to which you reassured him— again, repeatedly— that yes, you were going to stay and see Senjurou the next day. However, he just kept asking every few minutes “Are you sure?” Just to pull an irritated reaction out of you.

Once you did, he laughed with all his might, even with you telling him it wasn’t even funny. 

The day stretched out, your laughs and giggles harmonising with Kyojurou’s bellowing laughs and comments. You really did miss this. And god, you were glad to have him near you. 

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes of massive destruction and rescue efforts following an Israeli airstrike that targeted a residential home in the Al-Hasayna neighborhood, west of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in more than a dozen casualties, including women and children. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

DAY 258: ISRAELI OCCUPATION UNPREPARED FOR WAR WITH HEZBOLLAH, ESTIMATED ONLY 50 HOSTAGES STILL ALIVE IN GAZA, OCCUPATION DESTRUCTION LEAVES 67% OF INFRASTRUCTURE DESTROYED, AMERICAN FLOATING PIER TO RESUME OPERATIONS ON THURSDAY, GENOCIDE GOES ON FOR YET ANOTHER DAY

On 258th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 35 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 130 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

"We are in a bad situation and are not ready for a real war," the CEO for Israel's government-owned Noga electric company, Shaul Goldstein said at the National Security Research Institute conference, held in Sderot in the occupied territories.

According to reporting in the Hebrew media, Goldstein was asked whether he could guarantee that their would be electricity in the Israeli entity in a future war with Hezbollah, responding that "the answer is no, but we will rely on Israeli resourcefulness. Israel is an energy island and we have to provide for ourselves - this is also our advantage, we are trained to work on the island."

"When I took office and began to investigate what the real threat is to the electricity sector, I asked - let's say a missile hits the electricity sector and there is a power outage for an hour, three hours, 24 hours, 48 hours, 72 hours and so on. What happens in such a situation to Israel?" Goldstein said, throwing back his own question, answering that "The bottom line is that after 72 hours - It is impossible to live in Israel."

"People don't understand how much our lives here depend on electricity," Goldstein continued, "I have 15 inspectors across the country, if there's a power outage then after 5 hours I don't have a phone to call him. Let's say he receives a carrier pigeon after 12 hours - the same inspector arrives at a gas station but there's no gas, Not a single gas station is working, at each station there is a queue of at least 30 km, if not more."

"All our infrastructure - the optical fibers, the ports - we are in a bad state. We are not ready for a real war. We live in a fantasy world in my eyes. The good thing is that we have invested a lot in protection, a joint team with the electric company as well."

Goldstein went on to say that "If Nasrallah [of Hezbollah] wants to take down Israel's electricity grid, he only has to pick up the phone to the person in charge of Beirut's electricity system, which looks exactly like Israel's. He doesn't even need a UAV filming, he calls a second-year electrical engineer and asks him where the most critical points are in Israel. Everything is on the internet, I'm not saying it here but anyone who goes on the internet discovers it."

"The recognition of our situation has not penetrated. If the war is postponed for a year, five years, a decade - our situation will be better," Goldstein added.

In response to Goldstein's statements, the CEO of the electric company Meir Spiegler stated that "Shaul Goldstein's statement regarding the lack of resilience of the electric network is irresponsible, disconnected from reality and creates panic among the public."

Similarly, the Occupation's Energy Ministry also responded, issuing a statement stating that "the Ministry wishes to clarify that the energy economy in Israel is robust and ready to deal with all possible scenarios."

The Ministry continued by saying that "since the beginning of the war, the Ministry has worked tirelessly to ensure the supply of energy to all citizens of the country, while carefully preparing for extreme scenarios and possible disruptions in supply. These efforts are carried out in close cooperation with the security authorities, with the aim of managing electricity demand, energy surplus and fuel stocks."

"The energy sector is organized according to the national reference scenario established by the National Emergency Authority (Rachel). There are several scenarios and the Alta scenario, where over 60% of households may be left without electricity for up to 72 hours, is an extreme scenario and the probability of this is low. However, the ministry is constantly working to reduce the likelihood of the scenario materializing and to prepare for an exit as quickly as possible from the Alta situation, should it indeed materialize," the Energy Ministry said.

"All the relevant bodies, including the Noga company and the electric company, are acting in accordance with the emergency scenario of Rahel and the professional guidelines of the ministry. The Ministry of Energy calls on the citizens of Israel to prepare in accordance with the directives of the Home Front Command, including equipping themselves with batteries, water and portable chargers, in order to ensure maximum preparedness in emergency situations," the Energy Ministry concluded.

In other news today, Thursday, June 20th, an American official, speaking with the Wall Street Journal, told the newspaper that the number of Israeli hostages still alive in the Gaza Strip is considerably less than the official estimates given in "Israel".

According to the official, whose conclusion is based upon Israeli intelligence, suggests the number of hostages still held alive in Gaza now numbers about 50, out of an original approximation of 120 hostages, suggesting that as many as 70 of the hostages have already died.

This number contradicts the data officially published by the Zionist entity, which suggests that just 43 abductees have been killed while in captivity.

So far, the bodies of 19 hostages have been returned to "Israel" in special operations, including 8 over the last three months.

In the meantime, in other news, two US officials spoke with Reuters today, telling the news organization that the floating dock built by the Americans is expected to resume operations to unload Humanitarian aid for starving and desperate Palestinians on Thursday.

The two officials, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said the pier had been reconstructed on Wednesday after being temporarily dismantled last Friday due to poor sea conditions.

Humanitarian aid began arriving through the US-built pier on May 17th, while the United Nations said it had transported 137 truckloads of aid to its warehouses in Gaza, equivalent to about 900 tons of aid.

The Americans have also previously received criticism for supposedly allowing the Israeli occupation army to use the pier during its recent rescue operation to recover four Israeli hostages being held in Gaza, an operation in which the occupation army hid its soldiers using humanitarian aid trucks and which led to the deaths of 274 Palestinians and wounded another 698.

In further news, on Wednesday, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine (UNRWA) said that the Zionist entity has now destroyed 67% of the civilian infrastructure of the Gaza Strip since the start of the Occupation's war of genocide, including roads, bridges, public facilities, parks, sewage systems and water wells.

The organization also noted that the Israeli occupation has completely destroyed all water wells and sewage pumps, and that the process of pumping sewage has been halted entirely for 8 months as a result of the Occupation's destruction of Gaza's infrastructure and the depletion of fuel, causing large areas of the Palestinian enclave to become flooded with sewage.

Further, the Palestinian refugee organization also mentioned that all areas of Gaza are without water following the Israeli occupation's destruction of 90% of the enclave's water wells by bombing, shelling and a lack of fuel.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation continues its random bombing and shelling of Gaza, leaving dozens of casualties across multiple sectors of the Strip.

According to local reporting, medical sources in Gaza told Palestinian media outlets that two female civilians were killed, and 12 others wounded, after Zionist warplanes bombed a house belonging to the Jadallah family, in the Al-Hasayna neighborhood of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

Occupation artillery shelling also targeted neighborhoods east of the Bureij Camp, along with the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, while also targeting central and western neighborhoods of the city of Rafah and east of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza.

Speaking with the local media, Mayor of Rafah, Ahmed Al-Sufi, said the Israeli occupation's destruction of the Rafah border crossing aimed to make the Gaza Strip unfit for life, further pointing out that the occupation forces continue to destroy entire residential squares in the Saudi neighborhood, and that the occupation has also destroyed more than 70% of Rafah's infrastructure.

The Zionist army also bombed a gathering of merchants and aid protection committees on Salah al-Din Street, east of the city of Rafah, killing at least 11 Palestinians and wounding up to 30 others, some of whom remain in critical condition.

Further Occupation artillery shelling targeted the vicinity of the Al-Alam roundabout, west of Rafah, killing two Palestinians and bringing the total number of Palestinians killed in the city today to 23.

The Israeli occupation forces are also continuing to advance with reinforcements towards the west of Rafah, while destroying entire residential blocks nearly constantly.

North of Gaza, the occupation army bombed a gathering of civilians in the Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, killing one Palestinian and wounding at least five others.

Zionist fighter jets also bombed residential buildings on Kashko Street in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of three civilians from the Aslim family.

Occupation warplanes also bombed in the vicinity of Jabal al-Rayes, east of the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, east of Gaza City, while two civilians were killed when an Israeli drone fired a missile at them.

According to medical sources with Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital said they'd received the bodies of two martyrs after being targeted by a missile from an Israeli drone on Al-Sikka Street, in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood of Gaza City.

Meanwhile, in another attack, a Zionist reconnaissance drone fired a missile towards a gathering of civilians in the city of Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, killing one Palestinian and wounding a number of others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 37'431 Palestinians killed, including over 15'000 children and upwards of 10'000 women, while another 85'653 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 20th, 2024

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#source8

#source9

#source10

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[lilykatelyn-blog]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 8 - 𝓑.𝓒 - LILY’S KINKTOBER

Pairing: DomPrince!BangChan x SubFutureWife!Reader

Genre: Smut, little bit of fluff

theme: begging

warnings: D/S dynamics, begging (duh), blowjob, bondage, penetrative sex, safe sex, hair pulling, hard dom Channie, spanking, jealousy, arranged marriage au, breeding kink.

Your engagement party could not have been more perfect. Chan and you had gotten specific decorations for it and it looked truly out of a dream. You had about 150 guests and 3 hours to get through all of them, what a fun task! Chan had been nothing but a sweetheart since your parents had set you guys up for marriage, having been friends as kids, it wasn’t hard to get used to the idea of living with him forever. “Y/N! Hyung!” His selected best man and closest friend, Minho, had come up to you two. He gave your hand a kiss and greeting and a giant bear hug to Chan, making all of you chuckle. “Congrats! I heard that Changbin made it! You should go find him, if it’s okay with Y/N of course.” He gave you pleading eyes, making you laugh a bit and nod your head. “Go on, I’ll try to get through some of the guests.” You gave Chan a kiss on the cheek, heading over to your maid of honor to be, Yunjin, grabbing a glass of wine and laughing with her as people joined the conversation. “So how’d you two meet?” Heeseung asked, looking genuinely intrigued. “It’s complicated, I’ll tell the story at the wedding.” Getting many boos and complaints from the group. “Ah, well I’m afraid I should go, my mum’s sick. Best of wishes, and I’ll see you soon!” Heeseung hugged you, giving you a kiss on the cheek, as you two used to when you were kids. “Bye! Wish her well Hee!” You laughed to him as Yunjin made a joke. Unbeknownst to you, a certain spectator was getting jealous of your interaction with Heeseung.

“..and he- Hyung? You okay?” Han got cut off as he saw Chan staring off to where you were with Heeseung, just as you kissed him on the cheek. All 7 of the boys turned around, the maknae’s oohing and hyunjin and minho disguising laughs as coughs. “You’re jealous, mate? Chill, all she talks about is you and her love for you, man. You’re fine.” Felix laughed at his Hyung’s death stare. “But- did you see her? She-she kissed him on the cheek, she only does that to me. She’s never done it to anyone else.” At this point he was just about to break his glass with how hard he was gripping it. “And we’re done with the beer..” Han took the glass hesitantly out of Chan’s hand, not wanting to cause a scene. “I’m sure it’s an inside thing, don’t worry Hyung. You only have about 30 minutes before people start piling out. Just chill for now, talk to her about it later.” Minho softly told him, patting him on the back before getting into conversation with Changbin. “Anyways, mate. What were you saying about how carrier pigeons are liable or some shit?” Chan immediately turned to the conversation that Felix and Han were having, joining in on the nonsense. Trying to get rid of the annoying bubbling feeling inside of his gut. After the happy couple bid their goodbyes to everyone, they said goodbye to the staff and walked up to their room. “So, did you have fun today?” You asked in a hushed tone, taking off your earrings and getting into your sleeping gown. “Mm, talked to Changbin and the boys. What about you?” He asked, still in a bitter mood as he got dressed into his sleeping attire. As you talked about how you talked to Yunjin and your friends, he came up behind you while you were cleaning your makeup at the vanity, hugging your waist. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” You asked Chan, softly ruffling his hair as you cleaned up your makeup wipes and stuff. “Nothing, just got a bit jealous at seeing you and Heeseung today.” He murmured, looking down from embarrassment. He knew you two were friends, but he was still insecure, despite being a very powerful person. “We’re just friends, don’t worry. Plus, he doesn’t get to see me like this, hmm?” You told him, turning around and putting your arms around his neck. “I guess you’re right about that.” He whispered, giving you a kiss, deepening it ever so slightly. “Of course I am, now that we’re getting married, you should know I’m always right.” You murmured playfully against his lips, making him laugh a bit. He only deepened the kiss, pressing you against your vanity, at this point, your head was spinning. “Hate to interrupt this wonderful make out session, but let’s move this to the bed, yeah?” You asked, pulling away, and walking away from a very whiny Channie.

As soon as you sat on the bed, he jumped on top of you, going down your jaw to your neck and to your cleavage. “Man, I have to thank our parents for this arrangement, you’re fucking all I need.” He moaned, ravaging you. “Chris, as much as I love this, please get rid of the clothes.” You begged, tugging on his hair. He sat up, patting his lap. “Over my lap, it’ll be quick.” “But why?” You whined, “I didn’t do anything wrong-“ “you made me jealous love, now over my lap.” You verbally protested, but still complied, getting over his lap. “I’ll make it quick, all you have to do is just count love.” He made it sound oh so easy, when in fact it was terribly difficult. “..7, fuck! 8- shit! Chris, honey, I’m- FUCK!” He delivered a harsh slap, making your senses go haywire. “I didn’t hear a 9, babygirl.” He uttered oddly calmly. “Should we start over?” “No! Ni-nine!” You counted, frantically grabbing on something. “Last one, babygirl.” This was the hardest, way harder than the others. “TEN!” You screamed while he soothed the area, also wiping any tears on your face. “Good girl, but you’re still not done.” “W-what?” You asked, still calming down, he fixed you upright in your position. “You’re going to suck my cock, then if you make me cum hard, I’ll consider fucking you. ‘Kay?” He said the last part so sweetly that it could have fooled you that it was genuine. He got you on your knees, pulling down his pants, and releasing his cock. You slowly kissed down his large length, licking his slit, gathering some precum and using it as lube. Slowly taking his head in your mouth, you underestimated just how hard it would be to get all of his length in your mouth, though having done it before, it was still difficult. Once you got to the hilt, you slowly started bobbing you head, getting soft moans from him. Deciding to up your game and make him cum, you swirled your tongue around the head whenever you got to it, bobbing up and down faster and faster. “Fuck, I’m close. You’re gonna swallow my entire load, got it?” You hummed around his cock to confirm, making him throw his head back from the pleasure of the vibrations. Releasing in your mouth, you did exactly what he told you to and showed him the proof that you did. “Good girl, now you’re gonna beg for me to fuck you, yeah?” You knew it was a rhetorical question as soon as he slammed you face down onto the mattress. “Beg.” One simple command released all of the pleas from your mouth. “Please, please, please fuck me Chris. Please, need your cock inside me, fill me up, please!” You begged, your words turning incoherent as he lined up with your entrance. “Good girl, relax for me now, okay?” Pushing into you, he had to hold himself back so he didn’t ram into you. Starting slow, he got a steady pace, only speeding up when your moans got louder. He couldn’t hold back more and flipped you over, re entering you and holding your knee up to your chest he started fucking into you faster. Constant thank yous and pleads came out of your mouth, a scream nearly forming when his thumb made contact with your clit. “Go on, cum for me babygirl.” His thumb added pressure, not moving but just enough to tip you over the edge. Your mouth parted in a silent scream, except there was nothing silent about it, your scream would have been heard throughout the castle, had he not shoved his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. Coming with an animalistic grunt, he collapsed on top of you.

“Chris- get offff.” You whined, insisting on cleaning up. “Did I go too hard on you?” He asked softly while looking into your eyes, ignoring your demand. “No, now please get off so that we can properly clean up.” He complied, watching you try to walk to the washroom. “I’d love some help here.” Snickering evilly, he picked you up bridal style, giving you a big smooch before drawing a bath for you. This marriage was going to last, you were sure of it.

TAGLIST:

@aaasia111, @hgema, @obeythemasters, @imwithurmother, @unlikelysublimekryptonite, @virluna148, @sanzusfavgf, @ivyisnotokay, @stanskzsstuff, @luvkpopp

[yxtubers]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: a late night drive turns into a deep confession

warnings/notes: none! lmk if i missed anything

requested: yes! tysm @emmsluvschris

a/n: sorry this turned out slightly long. i just couldn’t stop writing😭

> > >

Chris had been having trouble sleeping recently. He always had a bad sleep schedule, but lately his mind seemed to be preoccupied whenever he tried to close his eyes. You could tell something was bothering him - but you knew better than to push him. When he was ready he’d come to you on his own terms.

Sleepovers were like a tradition between you and the triplets - sometimes Madi would be there, or Nate. Yet one thing that was always constant was you. There was rarely ever a sleepover where you weren’t invited.

You had grown close with everyone - particularly the long haired boy. The two of you just always seemed to click so effortlessly.

Your relationship with Chris had evolved and gotten stronger over time. There was almost never a moment where you weren’t together - or at least in contact with one another.

He always found a way to send you a text, or face-time you when you weren’t around. The kid would probably find a way to send you a carrier pigeon if he could.

Today was another one of your weekly sleepovers. Madi and Nick were asleep in his room, and Matt had passed out on the couch next to you and Chris, the movie that he begged to watch abandoned on the TV.

You looked to the clock on the wall - the hands telling you that it was approaching 3AM.

“We should go to sleep soon,” you sighed.

You and Chris always shared his room, and when he wasn’t sleeping on the floor or in some other random area, he slept in the bed with you.

It wasn’t a foreign concept to you two. You two were close friends - you had known each-other for ages, so there was never any need for awkwardness.

However, recently Chris had been avoiding sharing the bed with you.

“Yeah. I’ll sleep in Matt’s bed tonight if you wanna take my room.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Not knowing why he was acting so nervous around you all of a sudden, you couldn’t help but feel like he was pushing you away.

There was never anything Chris couldn’t tell you. He was usually like an open book with you - there was a mutual understanding that you would never judge each other. Instead of agreeing, you decided to push the boundaries a little bit.

“It’s not like you’re gonna sleep any time soon. I know you stay up ‘til like 5 in the morning,” you said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Chris averted his eyes to try and look anywhere but at you. He hated that you could read him so well. How was he ever supposed to suppress his feelings for you if you could sniff out his change in attitude from a mile away.

“I- that’s not even true,” he stuttered.

All you could do was sigh. Standing up from the couch, you grabbed a hoodie that Chris had previously strewn across the back of an armchair. You put it on and grabbed your car keys from the coffee table.

“Where are you going?”

“We,” you emphasized, holding Chris’ hands in yours to pull him up from his seated position, “are going for a drive.”

He gave you a surprised look, noticing the time.

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

And with that you dragged the boy to the front door so that you could put your shoes on. Letting go of his hand at last, you opened the door and hopped into your car.

You turned on the ignition as Chris locked the front door and joined you inside the vehicle.

As you started driving you decided to open the windows, letting the wind comb through you hair as you zoomed across the dark streets. Making it to the highway, you sped up, basking in the silence and peacefulness.

Chris closed his eyes beside you and leaned his hand out the car window. He let his hands get pushed around by the wind, moving it in up and down motions.

“I’ve always loved driving at night. Especially with Matt and Nick when we film car videos.”

You smiled. Hearing the appreciation he had for his brothers always made you happy. You felt more than lucky to be part of their tight-knit group. It was like a second family to you.

Chris had trouble expressing his thoughts at times, and it was in this moment that he wished it were the opposite. He had so much he wanted to say - but he just couldn’t get the words out correctly.

“So…” you started, “talk to me.”

Reaching a quiet area outside of town, you parked your car in an empty parking lot. The streetlights reflected against your rearview mirror and you adjusted it to face away from you.

“About what?”

He was deflecting, and you could feel the tension radiating off of him.

“C’mon don’t do that.” You said as you took your seatbelt off to sit facing him. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

Chris shrugged, adjusting the hat on his head. You noticed he did that when he didn’t know what to do with his hands. The anticipation was killing you - you just wanted to know what was wrong.

“I care about you. If something is bothering you I wanna know.”

He looked out the window, sighing. Never had you seen Chris so troubled before.

“That’s the problem,” he said. “You care about me - it’s just not the same way that I do.”

Your heart dropped. Is that what he was worried about? Did he think your friendship was one-sided? Had he perhaps felt ignored by you?

“That’s not true,” you defended, “you know I love you.”

Your eyes widened. “I love all of you guys,” you added, trying to save yourself.

Meeting your eyes, he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah but…”

“But…?” you urged.

Chris now turned his body to face you too. His eyes that were previously avoiding eye-contact were now fully trained onto your face - unmoving.

“I love you too - but in a different way than you do.” His eyes tried to gauge your reaction.

Your confusion grew with each sentence he spoke.

“I don’t follow-“

He was too far in now. There was no way out of his anymore. Swallowing his pride, his voice interrupted you before you could finish speaking.

“It’s like - we’ve been friends for, like, ever. Right?”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“And we’ve never seen each other as anything but friends. But recently I feel like the lines have been blurring and- I think I really, really like you,” he stuttered. “I can’t sleep, every thought I have is filled with you and your voice and- I just keep wishing that you felt the same.”

He stopped suddenly. If he didn’t stop now he knew he would never stop rambling. He could speak about you forever if you let him.

Voice barely above a whisper, he added: “I can’t lose our friendship - but I don’t know how much longer I can pretend.”

Your voice failed you. Every possible word you could think to say slipped your mind. You were speechless.

Not wanting to leave him hanging, you spoke up, voice slightly shaking. “Chris…” you said.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I get it. I just wanted you to know bec-“

Deciding that actions would speak louder than words, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him into you, melting against him in a kiss. You could smell his vanilla deodorant filling your nostrils, feel his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks - it all felt so right. Like this was exactly where you were meant to be all along.

You pulled back. Chris’ hat was slightly askew on his head, and his shirt was crinkled from where you held it.

“Sorry. I just thought that would get my point across better,” you said, your neck suddenly feeling hot.

He seemed almost in a daze, but his dissociative episode ended at the sound of your voice.

“I’m not complaining.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly before you looking away to hide your flustered state.

“For the record - I like you too.”

Grabbing your hand, he squeezed it as he held it above the console. A goofy smile was plastered on his face the whole drive back home.

It was safe to say that Chris was more than happy to reclaim his sleeping spot next to you later that night. And for many nights to come.