#word count: 1494

[xo100]

Unwrapped feelings - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: At their birthday celebration, you feel upset when none of the gifts are for you. Lando reassures her of his love, making her feel cherished despite the oversight.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1494

୨ৎ

Lando Norris was the sun in her life, a constant, warm presence that filled her days with joy. She loved him deeply, and after three years of dating, her heart still fluttered when he looked at her the way he did. They were each other's best friends, sharing everything from their quiet nights at home to the busy life he led as a Formula 1 driver. Lando loved her, too. There was no question about that. He made sure to remind her with every touch, every soft kiss, and every whispered word when they were alone. But no matter how much love existed between them, there was a silent, looming cloud that she tried so hard not to notice. His friends.

They never liked her, and she couldn’t quite understand why. She wasn’t arrogant or boastful. In fact, she was quite the opposite—introverted, sweet, and often quiet, especially around large groups. She wasn't overly outgoing or dramatic, and she certainly wasn’t trying to steal Lando away from his friends. But still, whenever they were together with his friends or the rest of the team, she could feel their subtle distance. The sideways glances when she spoke, the quick change of conversation when she joined a group—it all added up.

It wasn’t as though she had never tried to bridge the gap, either. Early in their relationship, she had gone out of her way to be friendly, to make conversation, and to show interest in their lives. But the more she tried, the more it felt like she was only getting further away from them. Over time, she stopped trying so hard, and she retreated back into the quiet comfort of just being by Lando’s side. After all, he was the one she loved. As long as they were okay, nothing else should matter, right?

But it did. Even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, it hurt that the people closest to Lando—the ones he spent so much of his life with—didn’t seem to care for her. And that quiet hurt always seemed to linger at the back of her mind.

This weekend, however, was supposed to be special. A day for both of them, a moment to celebrate not only Lando’s birthday but hers as well. The idea to celebrate their birthdays together was something Lando had insisted on. They were only a few days apart, and since Lando had such a busy schedule, he suggested one big party where they could celebrate together. He even offered to host it at the McLaren Technology Centre, a place he called home and wanted to share with her.

“Everyone will be there,” he had said, his excitement bubbling over. “My friends, the team, some of the drivers. It'll be great!”

She had nodded with a smile, her heart hopeful that maybe this would be a chance to connect with everyone on a different level, in a more relaxed and festive atmosphere. Her own friends, though invited, couldn’t make the trip to England, and while she understood, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit lonely knowing she wouldn’t have her usual support system there. Still, this was about Lando too, and she wanted to focus on making sure he had the best time.

The night of the party had been a whirlwind. Lando was glowing, his energy infectious as he mingled with everyone, laughing and sharing stories. She stayed by his side for most of the night, smiling softly at his friends and the team members who came over to greet him, though she noticed the conversations were always directed toward him and never her. It stung, but she pushed the feelings aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

After hours of laughter, music, and food, the party wound down, and as the guests began to leave, Lando took her hand, guiding her toward a large table piled high with presents.

“Look at all this,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling as he took in the sight. “I think we’re going to need all day tomorrow to open them.”

She chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. There were a lot of gifts, far more than she had expected. She didn’t think either of them would need much, but it was still heartwarming to see how much effort people had put into celebrating them.

Or so she thought.

The next day, after a lazy morning spent in bed, they finally sat down to open the gifts. Lando was practically buzzing with excitement, while she was content to sit beside him, happy to enjoy the moment with him.

The first few presents were exactly what she had expected—personalized items for Lando. Some McLaren-themed memorabilia, a few playful gag gifts from his friends, and even a sleek, custom helmet from one of the drivers. She watched with a soft smile as he unwrapped each one, his grin widening with every thoughtful present.

But as more and more gifts were opened, a realization slowly started to creep in. Every single present was for Lando.

She tried not to let it bother her at first. After all, Lando was the one who had more friends here, the one with the larger circle. It made sense that most of the gifts would be for him. But as the pile grew smaller and not a single gift was addressed to her, the hurt became harder to ignore.

There wasn’t a single present for her.

Not one.

By the time they reached the last box, she felt her heart sink. She had tried to stay positive, tried to convince herself that maybe someone had forgotten to label a gift, or maybe they’d gotten mixed up in the rush of the party. But no. Every gift had been intentionally for Lando, and her name hadn’t even been a second thought.

“Wow,” Lando breathed as he looked at the collection of gifts surrounding them. “That was… that was a lot.”

She nodded quietly, trying to keep her smile in place. Her hands fiddled with the ribbon from one of the opened boxes, trying to distract herself from the growing ache in her chest.

���Hey,” Lando said softly, noticing her quietness. “You okay?”

She glanced up at him, his blue eyes filled with concern. She could see how much he cared, how much he genuinely wanted to make sure she was happy. It wasn’t his fault that his friends had overlooked her. It wasn’t his fault that she felt so out of place among them.

“Yeah,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I’m just… happy for you. You got so many cool things.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced by her answer. “But you didn’t get anything.”

Her stomach twisted, and she hated that she was the one bringing down the mood. “It’s okay, Lando. Really. Today was for both of us, but I know how important you are to them. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine, and he could tell. His brows furrowed as he scooted closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, lifting her chin so she would look at him. “It’s not fine if you’re upset. You’re important too. To me.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry, not over something as silly as gifts. But the hurt wasn’t just about the presents. It was about everything—the way his friends never really accepted her, the way she always felt like an outsider in his world.

“I just…” She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just feel like they don’t see me. Like I don’t belong here. I know I’m not outgoing or loud or… like them. But I try, and it never seems like it’s enough.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. But I promise, you do belong. You belong with me.”

His words were warm and comforting, but they didn’t erase the ache entirely. Still, being in his arms made her feel a little better. She rested her head against his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re the most important person to me,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “And if my friends can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their loss. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for him. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even when the world around them felt like it was crumbling.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. The gifts, the party, the friends—they all faded into the background as Lando held her close, reminding her that she was loved. And in that moment, that was enough.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it. If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[muxshwriting]

who we are

Max Verstappen x reader

summary: both of them dreaming, both hoping. But the second one tries to make it reality, it all crumbles down || warning: miscommunications, angst, fluff || word count: 1494 || masterlist

Everyone knew Max and Y/N loved each other. The only people who didn't know that were Max and Y/N. You'd been friends since childhood, growing up a few doors down from Max. You'd followed him to every karting race you could, cheering him on from the sidelines no matter where he finished. When Jos was unhappy, he would spend a weekend at your house, spending all his spare time either karting or with you.

He was your first kiss, when you were both barely teenagers but wanted to know what it felt like. Max had offered, ever so kindly, to show you and you had agreed.

As you grew, many people expected you to grow apart, as you studied at university and Max travelled the world but you never did. You would stay in touch with Max all year round, visiting races when you could. And during the off season, Max would come back to the Netherlands, joining your family for the holidays and taking you abroad. You had gelled with his friends immediately, fitting into the group as if you had always been there. Despite fitting in so well, you and Max could always be found apart from the group of an evening.

You would be tangled up with each other, your legs slung over him and his am resting lazily around your shoulders. If anyone asked, it didn't mean anything. You were friends, best friends. You just found comfort in each others company and liked the warmth the other provided. There was no other reason for your behaviour at all...

“Y/N?” Daniel is tapping you on the back, getting your attention. You were at the home grand prix, waiting for Max to finish up in his driver's room after the race.

“What’s up?”

“Max is asking for you.” He pauses. “It's Jos and it's… it’s pretty bad.”

Before he had even finished speaking, you were rushing out of hospitality and heading towards Max's motorhome. His father was never happy unless Max was winning everything all of the time. Max had placed second, a very good result, especially considering the wet conditions. But second is the first loser to Jos and therefore, Max was a disgrace to the Verstappen name.

You slowly open the door to see a teary-eyes Max looking up at you. You open your arms just in time for Max to fling himself into them and cling on tightly. "Don't listen to Jos, Max. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"He's my dad."

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. "You're an adult Max. You don't have to listen to him anymore."

"But-"

"He doesn't understand." You press. "He was never as good as you, alright? He'll never know the feeling of crossing that line first, of winning the championship. You do, you know the feeling ten times over."

"Okay."

"Okay." You smile at him, relishing the feeling of him in your arms. "A bunch of the drivers are going out tonight, you feeling up to it?"

Max nods, slowly pulling away. "I'll pick you up from your room?"

"I'd like that."

Later that night, you smoothed down you dress, fiddling with your hair as you waited. The soft knock on the door sent your heart racing, knowing that it was Max. As you opened the door, Max was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. He tenderly offered you his arm, his shirt falling open just a little more.

The club was packed, full of drivers, their friends and plenty of girls. A small hint of jealousy stirred in your stomach but you pushed it down. Max wasn't yours. You didn't have the right to be jealous when you couldn't even admit it. Danny found you an hour later, moping in a booth you watched Max dance with another girl.

"What are you moping about?"

You motioned your head to Max and the girl. Danny chuckled at your apparent jealousy and slid in next to you.

"I wouldn't worry about some random girl, he's only got real eyes for you."

"Yeah right."

Danny huffed. "You guys fit so well together, you're perfect!"

"You know we don’t work Danny. It would never work out."

"Of course you could be together!" Danny slurred. "Max loved you since you were kids. He’s just scared of his feelings. He doesn’t want to ruin anything."

"What?"

Danny looked confused. "What did I say?"

"You said Max loves me."

Danny grinned, sleepily. "Yeah. He does, he really does but don’t tell him I told you. You’re not supposed to know."

"…Yeah."

You leave Danny to figure out where his limbs are and search the crowd for Max. In your conversation, he'd abandoned the girl, now laughing with a couple other drivers and nursing drinks. You lock eyes across the dance floor, weaving through other people to reach one another.

Underneath the fluorescent glow of the club, two hearts beat in rhythm. You and Max stood facing each other, your eyes locked in a silent conversation that spoke volumes. It was a moment suspended in time, the world around them fading into the background as you leaned closer, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic pull. Your breaths mingled, warm and hesitant.

And then, with a trembling hand and a surge of courage, you close the distance between them, your lips brushing softly against Max's in a delicate dance of anticipation. Max surged forward himself, pressing his lips back into yours, melding perfectly together. Time seemed to stand still as their hearts collided, the world falling away as they lost themselves in the sweet ecstasy of that kiss.

It was a kiss filled with longing and desire, a silent proclamation of the feelings that had blossomed between them, unspoken but understood. In that fleeting moment, everything changed, their bond deepening with each beat of their hearts. As they finally pulled away, their lips still tingled with the ghost of their embrace.

But Max said nothing. He stared.

Someone bumped into you, pushing you slightly further away. Max didn't move. He just stared at the spot you had been in as you were tussled away by the crowd. You waited by the bar, trying to spot Max amongst the chaos, trying to find him again, to say something, anything. But he had disappeared.

Max hadn't spoken to you since the kiss. It had been a whole week and you had heard nothing. He was answering other people but ignoring all your messages. You had sent him one that night asking if you had overstepped. He had read you message, he had read all of them but he had replied to none.

You had come to the next race anyway, wanting to support him regardless. Danny stuck by your side, welcoming you to his side of the garage so you could avoid Max. You hadn't told Danny exactly what happened, just that you and Max weren't talking.

Your peace was disrupted when Max wandered over to ask Danny for something. He spotted you and paled, his eyebrows creasing together and his eyes softening. Without a word, he turned on his heel and fled, passing a very confused Daniel in the doorway.

Danny bounded over, glancing at a retreating Max. "What's going on with you and Max? He looks like a sad cat."

You sigh. "I kissed him."

"You kissed-" The outburst was immediate. "When?"

"At the party last weekend."

"Why is he so miserable then?"

"I don't know! He hasn't talked to me since. He's not answering any of my texts."

"He’s an idiot." Danny suggested. "Maybe he’s hit his head and forgotten who you are? I’ll go talk to him, alright?"

Danny's pep talk must have worked wonders because it took less than ten minutes for Max to come and find you again, silently sitting down next to you. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?" You’re secretly hoping he wants to tell you that he fucked up, that the kiss meant a lot and that’s why he stayed away, but your brain tells you to think realistically.

Max frowned. "I don’t really know…"

You stay silent, simply looking at Max and waiting.

"I was an idiot." He confesses. "You deserve a whole lot better than what I can offer you… I’m sorry I can’t give you what you deserve."

"Max…"

"No! I fucked up and walked away and then I was too afraid to text you back because I thought I’d ruined it. Then I actually ruined it by ignoring you. When you kissed me, I panicked mainly because I didn’t think it was actually happening and then I realised it was actually happening but you had pulled away." Max said hurriedly. "I just really want to kiss you."

The smile that covers your face is contagious. "Then kiss me."

You and I burned out our steam, chasing someone else's dream.

fallen down my f1 rabbithole... i'm definitely mentally stable xx

taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Thigh Riding with Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine X Fem!Reader Word Count: 1494 Warnings: Thigh riding (Duh), Light dirty talk, Degradation (He calls her a slut once and talks down to her a lot), Cursing, alcohol and smoking. Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list

Minors DNI

The atmosphere of the bar was casual, yet felt oddly intimate for the dive that it was.

Perhaps it was the low lighting.

Or perhaps it was the man sitting in front of you.

Logan wasn't the type to tolerate company when he went out to drink, he wasn't the type to tolerate company when drinking at home either, but that was beside the point.

"Then the fucker had the balls to call it an 'Educated wish'." He scoffed softly, rolling his dark eyes. "Can you believe that shit?"

The smoke from his cigar curled in the air between you, distracting you from answering for a moment, the air feeling heavy and smell of burning tobacco thick with a heady earthy scent that made your brain buzz with thoughts of the man in front of you.

Specifically, how much you wanted him to fuck you senseless like he had just the night before, and most nights before that since you'd managed to convince him that you were genuinely attracted to him and his age didn't effect anything, at least not negatively.

"Uh-Yeah, but at that seems like the least of the wild shit Wade has said at this point." You managed with a chuckle, thoroughly entertained by Wade's antics and Logan's long-suffering reactions, though your delay didn't go unnoticed, though it did go uncalled-out save for the slight upward curl to his lips.

To be entirely fair this wasn't sudden, you'd been desperate for him all day, from the moment you opened your eyes that morning and were met with his sleeping face you'd craved him with a deep primal need that only Logan had ever successfully inspired in you.

And you'd made this desire well known long before he decided to take you out to a bar for an impromptu date, he'd just sent you a knowing, slightly teasing, smirk at your huff of annoyance when he patted your ass with an order to go get ready.

So that's how he wants to play.

It wasn't uncommon for him to make you play waiting games, or tease you in public, though that went both ways. You could be a real devil when you wanted to be...And right now you want to be.

You shifted a little in your seat in an effort to get even the slightest bit of friction, but more importantly, it would send the scent of your arousal into the air, and knowing Logan he'll be more than able to smell it over the smoke.

It didn't take long.

Seconds after you shifted, he inhaled through his nose as if to let out another sigh only to freeze as the scent of your arousal reached his ridiculously strong senses. His dark eyes flashed up to meet yours, but you looked around the bar coyly, playing innocent just like he loved.

In your periphery you saw his brow raise as if to give you a chance to stop before you really even start, you just turned to look at him with an innocent questioning look.

The slightest of shadows fell over his eyes, he was as desperate as you were, but he was doing a better job of hiding it. So far at least.

He went quiet after that, clearly listening to the song that was playing on the jukebox in the corner, Paralyzer by Finger Eleven. How fitting.

Taking advantage of the distraction you lifted your foot, slowly trailing it up his calf to his knee and back down again. His eyes flashed back to you, a thin warning shining in their depths.

Rather than back down, you trailed it back up and past his knee, sliding closer to the edge of your seat so you could reach further up his thigh, not quite to the good bits but damn close, and he spread his legs in spite of the thunder brewing in his face. It was an act, he knew it turned you on when he fucked you 'angry' so he played it up a little, and God did it work.

The faint sheen of sweat accumulating on his brow as he tries to hold himself back, the scrunch of his furrowed brows over his half lidden eyes, his lips parted just slightly between puffs from his cigar, but those eyes were the real treat.

Dark and deep and roiling with heat that threatened to set you aflame and trained on you and you alone.

Sweet fucking Hell, you wanted him to fuck you senseless.

Then you got bold, the tip of your toes just barely brushing the bulge in his jeans only for his free hand to dart down to wrap around your ankle, his patience finally reaching its limit.

"Bathroom, 3 minutes." Was all he said before standing, leaving his drink but taking the cigar, and walking to the back of the bar. His words were simple but there was that low growl of arousal that sent you quivering with anticipation.

You're not entirely sure three minutes had passed when you got up, and you didn't particularly care, too busy vibrating with excitement that you were going to get what you want, but also nervous of how Logan was going to make you earn it for 'Making a show in public' as he liked to taunt.

Your panties stuck to your skin as went, already soaked through.

The bathroom was as clean as one might have expected from a dive bar, but you weren't there for the aesthetics.

You were there to, hopefully, get railed.

The moment you passed the threshold you were being manhandled forward with one hand while the other closed and locked the door, only to then be pressed back against it. Logan's furnace of a body pressed against your front, his lips claiming yours with the same animalistic hunger you've come to expect from him.

You hadn't even realized that one of his thighs had found itself between yours till the shock of being manhandled wore off and you melted into the kiss, which caused you to press down against his leg unconsciously, giving your poor aching clit just enough pressure to send a jolt through you.

His lips parted from yours as a gasp escaped you, looking down at you with a wicked smirk, he knew what you were thinking, what you wanted. And he was going to make you work for it.

He let out a low humming chuckle that was just this side of a growl, sounding smug. "Since you can't behave yourself..." He said rumbled into the small space between your faces. "Go on, Darlin', get yourself off on my thigh like the needy little slut you are."

His words sent another jolt through you, this time shock met arousal halfway. You had been sure he would fuck you, he has before, but it seemed he wanted to torture you just a little more. He knows that even if you cum, it won't be enough, it might even make your desperation worse.

You wondered if that's what he was hoping for.

His hands gripped your hips as he pressed his thigh up against you, using his grip to rock your hips against him.

Your own hands flew to grip at his shoulders as a narrowly stifled moan forced its way up your throat. The combination of friction from the cotton of your panties, the slide of your arousal soaking the fabric, and the solid press of his thick muscular thigh made a trifecta of sweet torment as he continued to move your hips for you, though that didn't last long as his voice rolled in your ear like thunder.

"Come on, needy girl, take watcha want." He ordered as his hands stilled, though they didn't let go.

Looking up at him with bleary eyes you weren't able to argue, you needed something, or you thought you'd go insane. So, you took over, rolling your hips against his thigh, the dress you decided to wear was a blessing, this would have taken so much longer had you worn jeans too.

And it didn’t take long as each pressing roll had new waves of pleasure washing over you, though it was lack luster compared to when he filled you with his cock, or his fingers, or his tongue. But you were too far gone to think about comparisons right now. Teetering too close to that edge.

The sounds of the bar on the other side of the door were far away to your ears as the heat in your belly built and built, a coil just waiting to snap. Your legs quivered and it was a good thing that Logan is strong because you were sure they wouldn't be able to hold you up right now.

When your orgasm hit it was in a show of shaking legs, shaking breaths, and pleading looks, begging for more.

But he just chuckled and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Let’s go finish our drinks."

[the-dork-urge]

Zevlor x Reader || A Good Man || Part 1

SUMMARY: In which Tav notices that Zevlor needs a drink, but most importantly a hug.

PAIRING: Zevlor x female Tav

WORD COUNT: 1494

SFW / fluff

I have a thing for sad old men, and an urge to fix his sweet little paladin heart.

The stars had emerged, their distant brilliance only slightly dimmed by the lively glow of the campfire and torches. Laughter, music, and magic intertwined with the crackle of the fire, creating a symphony of joy that washed over the camp. Despite the slight chill that lingered in the evening air, the warmth of laughter and merriment enveloped the camp like a comforting embrace.

Yet, amidst the vibrant celebration, Zevlor's desolate soul remained untouched. Memories of simpler times flickered in his mind, casting a bittersweet shadow over the revelry. As he watched the joyous festivities unfold before him, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his own sorrow pressing down upon him, suffocating and relentless.

Perhaps, he could slither away, vanish into the shadows, allowing the spirit of the party to remain undisturbed. To simply turn invisible seemed like an enticing escape. Fleeing might be considered cowardice, but approaching his people required a bravery he felt he lacked. Caught between these choices, he remained frozen in place, feeling anything but invisible, and far from the courageous man he wished to be. Lost in thought, he barely noticed a presence approaching. She declared her presence with a subtle brush of her shoulder against his, jolting him from his reverie. Nursing a bottle of stale wine, she spoke softly, "You look like you could use a drink. I know I do. " With a practiced motion, she pressed the bottle to her lips, taking a big swig, before lifting it towards him, offering it openly, a silent invitation for some respite.

Zevlor hesitated, his solemn gaze meeting the bottle as he debated whether to indulge or not. Then, he recalled her touching the bottle just moments before, sparking a curiosity within him. Perhaps her lips still lingered on the glass. That would be a most excellent distraction.

He took the bottle and brought the bottle to his lips. The red liquid flooded his mouth, an unpleasant cascade of unforgiving flavor. The tanginess of the wine brought tears to his eyes.

"Helm, preserve me," he sputtered.

Her response was laughter, warm and melodic and despite her amusement at his expense, he found solace in its sound. Regaining his composure, he returned her smile.

"You have dreadful taste." he said clinging the bottle between his hands. "I am very aware the wine tastes abysmal," she said with a chuckle, ''but I find myself rarely consuming alchohol solely for the taste.'' she admitted. As he realized his own thoughts were swirling in his head, relentlessly pounding against his skull, he acknowledged that she must have her own thoughts to numb as well. Who was he to judge. He simply smiled and nodded, picking up the bottle once more and braving the awful taste as he drank most of it down. This time, he managed to keep a straight face. He felt a hot flash go to his cheeks.

"You see? It's quite easy," she remarked as her hands reached back for the bottle, intertwining with his briefly before he let go. She pressed it to her lips without much thought and finished the rest of it, before dropping the bottle to the ground.

Those beautiful lips, lush and honeyed. He caught himself staring for too long, completely captivated. Quickly, he whipped his head away towards the camp, feeling his cheeks grow warm. It couldn't have been the alcohol, not this quickly.

His people and hers mingled peacefully, sharing stories, songs, and drinks. He wished they could remain like this forever, within this sanctuary, under their shared protection.

"Don't let me keep you; you should talk to them." she said as she had noticed his gaze drift away.

"I'd rather not'' Zevlor admitted, '' I don't want to dampen their spirits, and I'm not even sure they want to speak to me." Words of blame bounced through his head as he watched his people and remembered the ones he couldn't save, the one he lost along the way, and the ones he could still lose. They were not out of the woods yet. Baldur's Gate was still miles and miles away, and he was not quite sure if he'd be able to lead them anymore.

A somber sheen fell over his eyes, and he attempted to push away the frown that had etched itself onto his forehead. But it was too late; she had already glimpsed the gloom behind his gaze. Suddenly, he felt her hand on his lower arm.

"I understand," she said, her skin cooler than his, yet her touch comforting despite the nerves it ignited with this simple gesture. "But perhaps not in full agreement. I'm sure they have plenty to share with you, all in good spirit." He shook his head in disagreement as she continued. "I know you feel like you haven't done enough, Zevlor." She spoke softly as her grip tightened around his arms. "There is so much I failed to do," he replied, uncertain if he spoke of Elthurel or the Grove. Yet the grief and regret weighed heavily on him, like a lead ball in his stomach, a burden he carried everywhere.

"Was it not you who raised your sword to protect them when no one else did? They know that. They will remember."

Her kind words stirred a dormant anger inside him, urging him to shake off her touch, to turn on his heel and walk away. To tell her she didn't understand what he was going through. Yet he knew that wasn't entirely true. She was saying things he wasn't prepared to hear yet, not ready to accept any of it. And he realized he was mostly angry at himself.

"Did you not spend nights planning and strategizing, drawing plans until your fingers hurt, keeping the peace, and sacrificing your own rations so the children could eat?" She stepped in front of him, not letting go of his arm.

His head started to spin, his chest tightening. He had nowhere to look but into her eyes, seeing the eagerness in them to prove his worth to him, to convey what she saw when she looked at him. It was overwhelming, dizzying.

"Please stop," he pleaded, loud and sudden. "I cannot hear any more of it."

She ceased speaking, but her eyes still remained locked onto his, unalarmed by his small outburst. Suddenly, she drew closer, wordlessly enveloping him in a embrace. Her hands, once on his arms, now rested lightly on his back, a cautious touch. And it spoke more than any words could have done.

He found himself momentarily paralyzed by the closeness, the gentle touch of her hands, her scent, smelling of fire and forest, and the way her hair brushed against his neck as she leaned her head on his shoulder. In silence, they stood there. Gradually, he felt his muscles relax, and he reciprocated the embrace. He glanced around the camp, wondering if anyone observed them, judging him for allowing this moment of respite.

To his relief, everyone seemed blissfully unaware, lost in their own distractions or inebriation. With a conscious effort, he pushed aside his unsettling thoughts and finally closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment. The moment was brief. Too brief. As she sofly let go.

Yet, he witnessed her subtle movement, her hand hovering tentatively in the air. "May I?" she inquired softly, her fingertips poised just inches from his face now. With a silent plea in her eyes, she sought permission, and he responded with a silent nod.

With delicate grace, she caressed his cheek, her touch sending shivers down his spine. He drank in the sensation, cherishing her touch as she traced the contours of his face. Her fingers danced across his skin. It had left him spellbound.

The sound of his heartbeat drowned out all other noise as she leaned in, her breath mingling with his as she studied him with unwavering intensity. With each delicate caress, she traced the map of his scars, each line a testament to his journey, his resilience. Her touch held a reverence that stole his breath away, leaving him intoxicated by her tenderness. And as her fingers wove through his hair, skimming over his horns with a gentle grace, he found himself utterly captivated. He fought the urge to look away. Zevlor was afraid of the vulnerability that lay bare in his eyes. But in the depths of her gaze, he found no judgment, only acceptance. He longed for her to draw even closer, to bridge the gap between them with a moment that would erase the world around them.

"You are a good man." she spoke softly. And in the moment she spoke the words he believed them. A magnetic force seemed to draw him closer to her, as if an invisible thread tethered his lips to hers. In a moment of sweet surrender, they met in the middle, their kiss soft and tender, a sanctuary that he so desperately craved. Find Part 2 here

[sen-ya]

own terms

Summary: “We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Warnings: gender dysphoria, unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 1494

hi hello this is kinda part 6.5/7 of that comic series I’ve been posting. I have lotsa thoughts abt a lot of other points in this timeline but this is the only other one I’ve done something with oops.

“We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Luffy sighed, flopping to the foot of their bed with his head in his hands. “That’s what I’m saying,” he reasoned. “I think it’s been as long as possible.” 

Law rolled his eyes at his husband. “Well, you think wrong,” he insisted, freeing an oversized black hoodie from his dresser. He pulled it on and observed himself in the mirror. “I’m hardly showing, and I have plenty of clothes like this.” He nodded, satisfied with the way the fabric swallowed him. “Honestly I may be able to conceal the whole thing without even using my powers,” this part was muttered to himself.

”Why though?!” Luffy whined. “My crew knows!”

“And I wish they didn’t!” If looks could kill, Law would have been guilty of mariticide and, in this moment, he didn’t even think he’d regret it. “Do we have to go through this again? I don’t want my crew to know I’m pregnant. It’s bad enough that Bepo made me tell Penguin and Shachi.” 

“Why’s it bad that your brothers know we’re having a baby?” The irritation in the Pirate King’s voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Law, it’d been weeks of this conversation and he was, quite frankly, sick of it. 

“I can’t believe you keep making me have this conversation,” Law sat at his desk and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “At this point it’s just insensitive.” 

“Did you forget we’re pirates, Torao?” 

This was a new talking point. Law quirked an eyebrow. “And that means you can be insensitive?”

”I mean, kinda? – But wait, that's not the point,” Luffy sighed heavily, speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “Your crew should know the kind of coverage you need.” 

Law shot to his feet. “You’ve proven my point,” he said sternly. “I don’t need additional cover. I’m just as capable as I’ve always been.”

”Torao—“ 

“I’m not having this conversation again.” He waved his hand dismissively and swiftly sent himself to the deck of his ship. 

Left behind, Luffy let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan. 

—-

“You don’t understand,” Usopp implored. “If I were in his shoes I’d be sensitive about it too, okay?” 

Luffy crossed his legs on top of the crate he was perched on in Usopp and Franky’s workshop. “But he’s always so…I dunno…practical,” he sighed. “And not telling your crew — y’know, the ones you fight with — that you’re fucking pregnant is totally not practical!” 

“I dunno, dude,” Franky offered from his work bench. “You sure that’s why you’re so hung up on this?”

Luffy’s face scrunched up at the question. “What else would it be about?”

Franky lifted his welding mask and shared a knowing look with Usopp. They nodded back and forth and whatever nonverbal conversation they were having led to Franky sighing. “Okay, okay. Think about it. When’s the last time you ever saw anyone land a hit on Traffy?” 

That was a tough question to answer. Truthfully, most pirates wouldn’t touch the pirate king or his consort. The new World Government still required levels and levels of approvals to engage with either of them, and even then it’s not like Koby would grant that approval unless a lot of things had suddenly changed.

”Doesn’t matter,” Luffy decided. 

“Exactly,” Franky continued. “Now tell me, why else would you want the Hearts to know?”

Another tough one. What other reason could there be?

”They were the last ones to know about you two being together,” Usopp added helpfully. Franky cleared his throat, clearly he’d wanted Luffy to get to that fact on his own. Usopp shrunk into himself sheepishly in apology. 

“Yeah, I still don’t get why Torao was so embarrassed,” Luffy muttered, paying no mind to his friends' silent exchange.

”And how’d it feel knowing he was embarrassed?” Franky encouraged.

”…I…” Luffy looked down at his hands in his lap. “…Didn’t like it.”

”Bingo!” Usopp cheered. “But it wasn’t that he was embarrassed of you, was he?”

Having finally caught up to the conversation, Luffy rolled his eyes. “No,” he whined. “He’s insecure.” 

“Exactly!”

”But he’s not like that anymore!” 

“And this isn’t the same situation as before,” Usopp insisted. “You’re asking a trans guy to walk into a room full of people and say ‘hey everyone, I have a uterus!’”

”But they’re his nakama! And everyone knows Ikakku’s trans and it’s not like anyone’s ever been stupid about it,” Luffy pouted. 

“No one’s gonna be stupid about it,” the sniper agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t subconsciously change parts of how they interact with him, even if it’s only while he’s pregnant.” Usopp huffed a laugh. “Even if he weren’t a guy I’d think someone like Traffy’d want to keep it under wraps. When Kaya was pregnant tons of randos wanted to touch her belly all the time. It’s fuckin’ weird.” 

“…Torao does hate it when people touch him,” Luffy muttered. 

“And Ikakku talks about being trans, those are conversations she chose to have. I get to talk about it if I feel like it, like only when I'm comfortable enough to. I’ll bet Traffy hates not having a say in the matter,” Usopp sighed in empathy.

Luffy straightened up at that realization and a momentary silence fell over the trio. 

Franky cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye on him if anyone’s dumb enough to fight us,” he said in summation. “He’s his own captain. Let him handle his crew.” 

He hated to admit it, but Luffy knew he was right. He offered a grunt of acknowledgement and nothing else. 

—

Luffy returned to the captain’s quarters of the Polar Two greeted by the sounds of his husband emptying his stomach in the en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t an uncommon state to find him in these days, but it certainly didn’t make it any better. He made his way to the ajar door and poked his head in. Law sat on the floor, forehead resting on his arm that was slung across the toilet. Upon noticing his company, he shot his husband a glare.

”Lunch taking revenge?” Luffy offered light-heartedly. 

Law held his glare for a moment longer before allowing his face to soften slightly. “What else is new,” he grumbled, looking away. He decided his stomach was settling enough to relocate so he flushed the toilet and moved to get to his feet. Luffy was there in a flash, gently taking his arm.

”I don’t need any help,” Law sighed, pulling his arm back and reaching for his toothbrush. Luffy hovered, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth before he spoke.

”I’m sorry,” he offered, hanging back in the doorframe of the bathroom while Law went to sit at his desk. 

“Are you now?” Law cracked open a book, pulled a few pages of loose leaf from a precarious pile on the desk, and started to scribble on them. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tentatively crossing the room to stand behind his husband. “Usopp and Franky reminded me that when you didn’t tell your crew we were together it wasn’t ‘cause you were embarrassed to be with me.”

Law placed his pen flat on his desk. “…That’s what this has been about?”

Luffy wrapped his arms around the other captain’s shoulders and nuzzled into his hair. “Maybe.”

They stayed like that in silence for a few long moments.

”I’m not embarrassed to be having your baby,” Law muttered after a while.

”I know.” 

“I’m embarrassed to be having a baby period.” 

“I know.”

“I’m certainly not embarrassed of her.”

“I know.”

”And I’m their captain,” Law continued. “I don’t want them thinking I’m less capable because…”

”They’d never think you’re not capable. They may be more protective though, and I get that you don’t want that.” 

Law nodded. “…Yes,” he agreed, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. 

“But if someone’s dumb enough to come after us, you can’t do anything stupid okay?”

That earned a hearty laugh. “Look who’s talking,” Law chuckled, looking up into Luffy’s eyes. 

“I mean it!” Luffy insisted. “You’re super strong. But…” He let his hand travel down to rest protectively on the front pocket of Law’s hoodie. 

“I know,” Law whispered. “If I’m being honest, I have been thinking about your point. It’d be…practical for them to know.” 

Luffy grinned at that. “And you do love practical.” 

Law nodded pensively. 

“Anyway, you tell ‘em when you’re ready. I’ll get off your ass about it.” In one swift motion Luffy hooked an arm under his husband’s legs and whisked him out of his chair bridal style. 

“Excuse me,” Law protested. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, I got stuff to do too!” the other captain laughed, turning on his heel to close the short distance to their bed.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Andy Herrera x DeLuca! sister reader. Carina brings her sister to the firehouse and they both secretly fall for each other. Then one day Andy gets hurt on the job and after she is released from the hospital she goes and confesses her feelings to the reader. After secretly dating for about six months the two are caught kissing by both Maya and Carina who both freak out but are happy for the two. Fluffy and angsty, please?

All you need is love

Summary: Meeting your best friend’s girlfriend’s sister.

Pairing: Andy Herrera x DeLuca!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1494

a/n: can we talk about how underrated Andy is in her own show??

masterlists | guidelines

Looking around the downstairs of the firehouse, Y/N has an impressed look on her face as she nods. “Your girlfriend is the captain of this place?” She peeks into the barn where the firetrucks are located, letting out a small ooh sound.

“Yes.” Carina laughs, her brows raised as she stares at her younger sister. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but Carina knows her sister.

Grabbing her arm, Carina starts leading her upstairs. “Let’s go, they’re cooking dinner and we’re joining them.”

Y/N gasps. “Is this one of those situations where your girlfriend tries to make a good impression on me, because you won’t date someone who doesn’t get along with me?” The words come out quickly, at times stumbling over them.

“No.”

“It totally is.”

With a sigh, Carina rolls her eyes. It is that kind of situation. She just doesn’t want to feed Y/N’s ego by letting her know how valuable her opinion is to her. But she knows.

When they walk into the kitchen, Y/N notices Carina’s girlfriend stiffing a pot, having seen a picture of her, but she isn’t the one who takes her attention. A brunette setting the table is. It’s like she can’t take her eyes off of her.

“Carina!” Maya exclaims when she notices them. “You’re here early.” She turns off the stove and walks over to the two, wiping her palms to her pants first.

“Our shift ended early.” Carina kisses her before pulling her near Y/N. “This is Y/N, my sister. This is Maya, my girlfriend.”

“Hi!” Smiling, Y/N shakes Maya’s hand. “Nice to finally meet the famous Captain Maya Bishop. Carina talks about you all the time. Maya is so hot. Maya is so muscular. Look at this picture of h-”

“Y/N!” Carina slaps the back of her head. Giggling, she steps away from Carina’s reach, rubbing the spot she got slapped on. “Behave.”

She rolls her eyes. Maya looks between the two, not sure how she should react to the two sisters. “Uh, it’s great to meet you too.” She points behind her, where the rest of the team is, introducing everyone to Y/N. They all wave and smile, saying their his, but Andy walks up to them.

“Hi!” She shakes Y/N’s hand. “You’re doctor too?” Andy looks at the white doctor’s coat she is wearing.

“Yes, I didn’t want to be the family disappointment by not becoming a doctor.” Carina glares at her, but Y/N ignores her. “I’m in general.”

“Awesome.”

The two stand a little bit too close to each other for someone who just met each other, but the others pay no mind to it. They just finish cooking the food and gather around the table, immeasurable bombarding Y/N with questions.

She answers to them to the best of her ability, though most of her attention is on Andy.

Humming quietly to herself, Y/N looks through the patient files on the tablet. She keeps glancing at her phone, frowning when there’s no new notifications. Her and Andy have been texting nonstop ever since they met, but now, Andy hasn’t answered to her in hours. Usually it doesn’t take her that long even if she’s working.

With a sigh, Y/N pockets her phone and sets the tablet down to a table. She has a surgery in half an hour, but until then there’s really nothing to do.

“Y/N!”

She turns towards the sound, her brows furrowing once she notices Andy walking towards her. “What are you doing here?” She meets her halfway. “Did something happen?”

“There was an accident during a call, but I-“

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s eyes start going up and down Andy’s body, looking for any significant injuries. She has a bandaid near her eye, but nothing else catches her attention.

“I’m okay. I wanted to see y-“

Y/N interrupts her once again, “are you sure? Did you already see someone? I can page someone over.” She takes out her pager, but Andy grabs her hands.

“Y/N, I’m okay. I wanted to see you, because I need to tell you something.” Nodding, Y/N stays quiet, giving her the space to talk. “I have feelings for you,” she starts, her voice quieter now, “and I would really like to take you out on a date.”

A big smile appears on Y/N’s face. “That’d be nice.”

“Okay, great.” Andy nods, smiling too. They look like two lovesick fools in the middle of the hospital hallway. “I’ll pick you up today at eight?” She raises one of her brows. “Wear something casual.”

“Got it.” Grabbing the tablet again, Y/N starts backing up slowly. “I have a surgery to go to, but I’ll see you today.”

Andy waves with a grin before walking away, feeling victorious.

Knocking on the door frame, Y/N walks into the locker room. “Hi, mi cara.” She smiles when Andy turns around.

“Hey,” she walks over to her and grabs her hand, pulling her deeper into the room to kiss her, “I am so happy to see you here.” Andy grins, moving them towards the rest room.

Y/N giggles. “I’m happy to be here,” she kicks the door closed once they’re inside the room, “the others have already gone home?”

“Yeah,” she kisses her, “we have all the time we need.” Pulling away momentarily, Andy pulls the doctor’s coat off of Y/N. “You look incredibly hot in your scrubs.” She eyes her body up and down.

“Even when I’m all hot and sweaty?”

“Even then.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N pushes Andy to sit down on the bed before getting on top of her, draping her arms over her shoulders. “You look very hot in your work clothes too.” She mumbles, going back to kissing her.

Andy grabs the sides of her waist so she wouldn’t fall. Y/N’s hands are about to go down to the hem of Andy’s shirt, but the sound of the door opening interrupts them.

“Y/N?”

Their heads snap towards the now open door, where Maya and Carina are standing, both shocked to see them together.

“Carina!” Y/N struggles to get up from Andy’s lap. “What- what are you doing here?” Andy stands up as well, her eyes wide. Truth to be told, she’s kind of scared of the Italian, especially now that she walked in on them making out.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing?” Her hands start moving in the air. “Since when have you two been together?”

They glance at each other. “Like, six months.”

“Wh-“ Carina groans, throwing her hands in the air while mumbling in Italian, which makes Y/N scrunch up her face. “Six months and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Y/N shrugs, “sorry, there was never really a right time, so, you know,” she glances at Andy, trying to come up with some kind of explanation, “it just never came up.”

Carina has her arms crossed over her chest and her face is in a deadpan look. Maya has a tightlipped smile on her face, “well, I’m happy for you two.” She turns to look at Carina, her brows raised.

With a sigh, Carina walks over to hug Y/N and Andy. “I’m happy too, but you are supposed to tell me things.” She points at Y/N once she has backed away from them, giving Maya room to hug them both.

“I’m not ten anymore.” Y/N smiles, holding Andy’s hand.

“You’re still younger.”

She sighs, but nods, there’s no use to fighting Carina. “We were about to go out to eat, do you want to join us? Or did we interrupt something?” Maya smirks, looking at the jacket still laying on the ground.

“Maya!” Carina looks at her with wide eyes. “That’s my sister.”

“Oh, shut up, you had a study on orgasms.” Y/N picks up her jacket and puts it on. “We’ll join you, but I think we have to change first.” She looks at Maya and Carina’s nice, fancy clothes before turning to her and Andy’s work clothes that they’re still wearing.

“We’ll wait for you in the car,” Maya states while they step out of the room, “don’t take too long!” The door closes.

Andy turns to Y/N. “That’s one way for them to find out.” Laughing, she grabs Y/N’s hips. “I’m guessing you’re borrowing some of my clothes?” She mumbles and smiles when Y/N nods. “I love to see you in my clothes.”

“Don’t start anything now.” Y/N raises her brows, pulling away from Andy to go to her locker and grab some of her extra clothes from there.

“After dinner?”

“Definitely.” She kisses Andy and winks at her, before going to the bathroom to change her clothes, leaving Andy to the locker room with a grin.

[sweetladyjustice]

This is a repost, because I think my visibility settings were preventing it from ending up in the tags.

Here's a little something for @bloodweaveweek Day 1: Firsts.

Life got away from me (I blame Dragon Age) so my BW Week responses will just be updates from stuff I'd written for a Discord creativity challenge during March. This was going to be a part of a longer fic I wanted to write, but I've since changed direction.

Be warned: sappy, soft, and really self-indulgent! Takes place three years post-game.

~~~

Their life was simple. 

The sun was setting over the water, casting brilliant reds and pinks across the horizon. A carafe of good wine sat on the table between them. Astarion was sprawled on the chaise, facing the setting sun and sitting up just enough to sip his wine, reading the weekly gossip rag. He was particularly curious about the love triangle that had caused near-blows at last month’s soiree at a minor lordling’s manor. He and Gale had been invited to the soiree, but declined as Karlach and Tav had been passing through Waterdeep on their latest adventure. Now Astarion was regretting not having gone, even if it had meant missing out on an evening with his friends. He hummed and turned the page, eagerly continuing the story.

Gale sat across from him in a wicker chair, an ancient book about some kind of esoteric magic balanced on his lap. Occasionally, he asked Astarion for an opinion on spell techniques. Astarion mostly answered in grunts and shrugs, more focused on his own reading. 

Life was very boring. But Astarion loved it. 

Gale broke the companionable silence.

“Do you want to do anything special for your birthday?”

“Gale, I love you, but I do not understand a word of what you’re reading from that dusty old book. Wait.” Astarion dropped his reading as Gale’s words finally registered. “My what?”

“Your birthday! It’s in three days.” He winked at Astarion. Winked. Astarion scrunched his face into a frown as Gale continued. “And, if I may point out, it’s a significant one!”

Astarion sat up and topped off his goblet of wine. He reached for the carafe and poured himself another generous glass. He would probably need it for wherever this conversation was going. “Significant how? And how did you know? I didn’t even know my birthday. Not until this very moment, anyway.” 

“It was etched onto your headstone,” Gale answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in all the realms.

“Oh, right,” Astarion responded. Then he flashed Gale a wicked grin. “I don’t remember what my headstone said, but I remember what we did on my headstone.” 

Gale ignored him and pressed on. “Per the dates, you were 39 years old when you were turned. The ‘clock’, so to speak, restarted on aging for you after we returned the Crown.” Astarion pursed his lips at the mention of aging, but Gale didn’t notice. “This is your first birthday since your mortality was restored. Do you know what that means?”

He wracked his brain, trying to think of human birthday customs. “Ah! Yes I do. You will be taking me out to a very expensive dinner followed by a night of mind-blowing sex?” 

“Well, yes, we will certainly be doing that,” Gale said, with an almost dismissive wave of his hand. “But what I mean is, you’re turning 40!”

Astarion blinked, then laughed. “Oh, I’m older than that. I was born in 12-something, and it’s…” he paused, thinking. “It’s 1494.”

“It’s 1495.”

“Oh. It’s 1495. That means I’m actually…” he paused again. “Well, it means I’m actually much older than 40.” He shrugged. “But if you don’t want to count all those undead years, I can accept that.” He took another sip of his wine. “While I won’t say no to being spoiled, I’m curious. Why is this so important?”

“Forty is a milestone birthday!” Gale spread his hands in the air in a ta-da motion. 

A long pause hung heavy in the air as Astarion tried his damnedest not to giggle at his husband.

“For humans, maybe.” He tapped the point of one ear. “I’m an elf.” 

“Ah, but you’re married to a human.” Gale leaned forward, reaching across the table to take Astarion’s hand. “So please, indulge your very human husband and allow me to make a big deal out of this?”

“Fine. Expensive dinner, lots of sex.”

“That’s all?”

Astarion nodded. “That’s all. This whole birthday thing,” he waved his hand in front of his face with a flourish, “is entirely new to me. Let’s start simple. Wine me and dine me.”

Gale smiled, resplendent, and released Astarion’s hand. He leaned back into his chair and opened his book. “Now, I would like your opinion on an original illusion spell technique that I am developing for my more advanced students.”

“Ask away, darling.”

~~~

Astarion’s birthday dawned bright and clear, like most days in Waterdeep did. He roused from a light doze and slipped from Gale’s arms, creeping his way to the washroom so as not to wake his husband. 

Astarion studied himself in the mirror. Forty. He looked just as he had yesterday at 39. Same high cheekbones, same light splash of freckles across the same prominent nose, same beauty mark under his left eye. He still had a shallow dimple in his chin and a small scar next to his mouth. And the same ocean-blue eyes stared back from the glass. An unbidden memory flooded into his mind.

“I would rather be a spawn for eternity than be indebted to you.”

“You owe me nothing, Astarion.”

“Then why did you bring me here? Fix him like you promised!”

“I already have. The orb is gone. Gale was as obstinate as you are, and he insisted I give you a boon for your part in reforging the Crown. On that, he and I agree.”

“Why? Since when have you been charitable?”

“It is not charity. It is my obligation. I witnessed the great pain you endured retrieving the netherstones from the Chionthar. I would not have the Crown were it not for your help.”

“I didn’t do that for you. I did it for Gale.”

“Then consider this my obligation to him, if you must.”

There was a flash of purple-silver light, blinding him momentarily. Just as suddenly as he had been snatched away, he was back in the tower’s library, heart pounding and lungs filling with gasping breaths, entire body tingling. A pair of arms circled his waist, holding him steady. Gale’s face swam into view, eyes wide, staring at Astarion in awe. 

Astarion sighed. Whether it was a wistful sigh or frustrated sigh, he wasn’t sure. He still didn’t quite believe he did anything to deserve the gift of mortality, but over the last several months, he’d stopped questioning Mystra’s motivations. Or, perhaps, he’d grown to trust Gale even more deeply than he already had. It had been Gale that had advocated to Mystra on his behalf. There must have been some lingering fondness there on her part for her to agree to his demands. As he pondered, Astarion craned his neck and brushed his fingers over the fading scars, the last remaining hint of what he used to be. 

He pushed his doubts away and gazed back at himself in the mirror, this time indulging in a bit of vanity. He grinned, reveling in the way the corners of his eyes creased. And no fangs, of course. He finished washing up, tousled his hair, and crept downstairs to the kitchen. 

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he felt a woosh of air ruffle his hair and heard the flutter of feathers. 

“Happy birthday, Mister Dekarios!”

Astarion ducked, nearly bopped in the head by the tressym zooming excitedly around the kitchen. 

“Ah, thank you, Tara. And good morning to you.”

Tara made a few more tight circles in the air before settling on the kitchen table. Astarion gave her a few scratches behind the ears on his way to the coffee pot. She had warmed up to him surprisingly quickly when he and Gale arrived in Waterdeep. He had been certain that his presence would be tolerated at best, outright rejected at worst. However, within days, Tara could be found perched on his shoulders or settled in his lap in front of the fire. Even more surprisingly, Morena Dekarios had welcomed him with open arms. She was a warm and caring person, just like her son. Astarion wondered if she made a big deal out of Gale’s birthdays when he was young.

Astarion turned back to the tressym as the coffee brewed. “Tara, do all humans get so excited about birthdays?” 

“Oh, yes, humans very much enjoy celebrating the people they love. Why, I recall Morena fretting over what to do for Gale’s 30th birthday. He was so wrapped up with that goddess at the time, and completely disregarded Morena’s invitation!” She stomped her little paw on the table. “Oh, what an awful day that was. Poor Morena was so heartbroken.”

“Right, that.” He didn’t want to think anymore about Mystra today. Astarion scratched absent-mindedly at his chest. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe that his kind, loving husband was once a callous man obsessed with his proximity to power. He made a mental note to bring up the 30th birthday incident (as gently as he was capable of being) with Morena next time they had lunch.

A rather depressing thought popped into Astarion’s head. “Tara, Gale wants to celebrate my birthday tonight. Do you think he might be doing this out of guilt for the 30th birthday thing?” 

“Oh no! I assure you, this has nothing to do with guilt. He apologized to Morena years ago. He wants to celebrate you, his love. Human lives are short, dear. Every year is special to them.”

“Hmm, yes, I think about that far too often.” He sighed and picked up the two mugs of coffee and made for the stairs. “Thank you, Tara. I’ll indulge him with this birthday business.” 

Tara tsked when she saw the mugs in his hands. “Gale should be bringing you coffee! It’s your birthday! You’re supposed to be relaxing! He should be spoiling you! Oh that lazy boy, I will be giving him an earful later!”

~~~

As promised, Gale took Astarion out to an expensive dinner with even more expensive wine. The walk home felt excruciatingly long, as Gale had also promised mind-blowing sex. A promise on which, of course, he delivered. And delivered. And delivered again.

Hours later, they were lounging in their bed, sweaty and sated. Astarion’s heart was thudding in his chest, still a novel sensation nearly a year after it had beat back to life. Gale’s head was pillowed on his chest. Astarion drew lazy circles with his fingers along his husband’s shoulder. 

But despite his contentment, he couldn’t stop thinking of his conversation with Tara that morning. I’ll have to do something nice for Gale’s next birthday, he reasoned. 

Then it dawned on him. He was missing a major piece of information about his husband. 

“Shit.”

“Mmm?” Gale had been drifting off. He rubbed his face sleepily on Astarion’s chest. “Everything alright, Astarion?”

“I have a question. And before I ask you, my darling, my love, I want you to know that I love and cherish you very much. Every moment with you makes up for centuries of torture and torment. I cannot imagine my life without you.” 

Before he could continue, Gale stiffened and lifted his head off of Astarion’s chest, looking him in the eye. He looked… suspicious. 

Astarion cleared his throat. “Well, I was thinking. If humans like birthdays so much, perhaps we should make it a habit of celebrating them, and I thought I should do something for your next birthday. Something nice. And nice still isn’t really my thing, so I would need help from your mother and Tara, and then I realized…”

“You don’t know when my birthday is, do you?” 

Astarion blushed red to the tips of his ears and shook his head. 

“Astarion!” Gale pushed himself onto his elbows to glare at his husband. “Do you even know how old I am?”

Astarion paused. “Forty two?”

“Forty two?” Gale’s voice came out much higher than usual.

“Not 42?”

“I’m only 38!” 

Astarion gave Gale a sheepish grin. “Well, you don’t look a day over 35, my dear.”

Gale frowned and huffed, but leaned forward and gave Astarion a soft kiss on the lips. He settled back down, and Astarion knew he was listening to his heartbeat. He pulled the blankets up over them both and pressed a kiss to Gale’s gray-streaked hair. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” Gale whispered. His breathing grew slow and heavy. Astarion grinned and as he slipped into a trance, he thought to himself, May it be the first of many. 

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine - Chapter 3

Summary: You and Mor talk about your mates over breakfast. Then get a bit distracted when she invites you to dinner.

Pairing: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Cussing and smut. 18+ only, minors do not interact.

Word count: 1494

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

When you awoke Mor was in the kitchen making breakfast which you were insanely grateful for. You padded out to where she was carefully, not wanting to spook her. Once she sensed your presence she turned towards you and gave you a beaming smile. You walked up to her and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, which had a light blush dusting across her face. She was always quick to preen under soft affections. 

“I’ll make the coffee.” She responded with a grateful hum. You made quick work at making the hot beverage, the both of you working around each other in the kitchen like many other mornings you’d found yourselves here. You would alternate between who cooked and who made the tea or coffee. You were always plenty happy when Mor cooked. Her french toast was something otherworldly, which you had praised her for many times in the past, much to her delight. 

“Do you want me to tell you about them?” She asked the question delicately as you sat at your dining room table, mug in hand. Not sure if you were ready to talk about them yet. You pondered her question for a moment. You decided you didn’t want to talk about them yet. But it seemed your bond had another idea.

“Would you mind?” You asked her, cursing yourself in the process. It seemed you were too curious about them to stay away from the topic for long. She took a sip of coffee from the mug you had sat beside her and moaned at the perfect taste. You always made her coffee or tea the exact way she liked it. 

“Cassian is an absolute goofball. He can be kinda hard headed, but he’s a sweetheart. He cares about who he loves more than anyone I know. He’d be the type to rescue a kitten off the street.” She paused for a moment as she flipped the French toast. You smiled as warmth filled your chest, a sense of pride at the way she spoke about your Illyrian mate. 

“He has actually saved more than one kitten. He has also always found them safe homes.” She had a wide smile on her face as she thought about the last time he had saved one after a rambunctious night at Rita’s. The little white ball of fur had found a loving home with Cassian’s favorite baker.

“Nesta is. Well she’s. She is Nesta.” She was a bit more stiff at the topic of the female. Which caused you to sit up straighter. The negative tone in her voice had a protective chill seeping through you. 

“We are all pretty sure she only loves Feyre, Elain, Nyx, Gwyn and Emerie.” She counted them off on her fingers quickly. You relaxed a bit as her tone became lighter. Almost as though she could tell you were on the verge of a growl. The feeling of protectiveness was new to you. 

“What about Cassian?” The name left your lips and you shuddered, it made you feel intoxicated. You hadn’t spoken their names yet you had realized. You also realized you’d never get sick of saying them. 

“She tolerates him most days.” You both giggled at that response. From what you had seen of them yesterday you knew they were deeply in love but you also knew that Nesta was the more serious of the two. Cassian seemed like an absolute heathen.  

For the first time since the bonds snapped into place for you yesterday you reached for them. You let their emotions flow through you freely. You felt complete and utter adoration radiating from them both. It made your chest ache as you craved for that to be directed towards you. You tried to shake off the longing and brought your mug up to your lips, doing your best to close the bonds once more. 

“Would you like to come to dinner at the river house tonight?” Her question had you sputtering and choking on the coffee you had just swallowed. Your eyes were saucers as she came to the table, sitting down a plate of food in front of you before going back to grab her own. As she settled in her chair deep coughs rumbled your chest as you continued to try and clear your throat. 

“What?” The one word reply had her rolling her eyes affectionately. You took a few deep breaths, a hand rubbing your chest where it ached from your coughing fit. 

“That way you can meet them in a more casual setting.” She said it like it was obvious. You had never thought about meeting the people she was closest to. It had never seemed like an option. What you had was something she wasn’t willing to shine a light on. Which had never once bothered you, you enjoyed her private company immensely and had no desire to be public with her. 

“Are you sure?” The question was posed delicately. You searched her face for a sign of hesitation. But you came up empty, she seemed completely set on this. There was no way you were going to sway her decision with the determined look in her eyes. 

“Of course I’m sure.” You eyed her suspiciously as she nibbled on her plump bottom lip, before releasing the flesh ever so slowly. This almost seemed like something she had been pondering for a while.

“It’s not like we’re going to tell anyone that you like it when I curl my fingers just like this.” She did the motion with her fingers, the same motion that had left your whole body shaking countless times. A groan escaped your lips as you watched the motion. 

“If you keep that up I’ll be late for work.” Your cheeks had begun to heat as you watched her lick her lips. She cut a piece of the french toast she had made and brought it to her lips and moaned as the sweetness of the syrup coated her tongue. 

“Would that be a bad thing?” The question was teasing but as she licked a bit of syrup off her finger you were standing abruptly. She smiled sweetly once she knew she had you right where she wanted you. 

“You don’t need these.” You had moved her chair to face you as you dropped to your knees between her legs. You worked the sleep shorts down her legs quickly. She took one last sip from her mug before she turned her full attention to you. Her legs parted for you easily, slipping over your shoulders and your mouth started to water at the sight of her. She hadn’t bothered with any undergarments so she was completely bare to you. 

“So pretty.''The praise left your lips before you kissed up the inside of her thigh quickly. As your mouth met her cunt her hand weaved into your hair. A moan leaving her delicate lips as you licked a strip up towards her clit. You swirled your tongue around the bud gently. Two of your fingers danced along her leg before finding her center. You gathered up some of the slick before pushing them both inside slowly. The way her walls pulsed around the digits had you letting out a deep moan. 

“Fuck. that feels so good.” You preened under the compliment the blonde gave you. You started to curl your fingers in the exact motion she had done not long ago. Her hand that was settled in your hair pulled on it lightly. You continued the motions with your tongue and fingers, the noises slipping from her lips spurring you on. 

As her legs began to shake and squeeze your head you let a moan slip through your own lips. The feeling was exactly what she needed as she was instantly releasing around your fingers. The taste of her was just as addicting as the last time you had tasted her. You helped her come down from the high of her orgasm before you were standing back up giving her a purely cheshire grin. You slipped your fingers between your lips, eyes remaining on hers as you cleaned them off. 

You pulled her pants back up her legs and kissed her lips sweetly. Her lips parted in a content sigh as you sat back in your seat. She had a purely blissed smile on her face that had you humming in contentment. You loved being the one that could make her feel that good. 

“You’re most definitely going to be late to the boutique. I’m gonna return the favor when we wash up.” With that sentence you were both rushing through breakfast. Eager to get into your bathroom. Her words rang true because on shaky legs you were landing in the middle of your boutique almost an hour later. A look of bewilderment was on your best friend's face as you gave her a sheepish smile and a quick apology for your tardiness.

A/N: One more part then there will be more Nessian. I'm not even totally sure how this ended up being smut but here we are lol. As always likes, follows, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels

[inmyownlaine]

John Murphy x Reader: Only Me

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death, cussing, angst

Word Count: 1494

Part: 1 2

Series: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Summary: Murphy’s kind gesture in the bunker has thoroughly interfered with your cold attitude and you couldn’t be more upset. Confronting him only makes it worse, causing his friends to jump in on the insults. However, Murphy reminds them that only he gets to talk to you that way. No one else.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You wanted to tell. Never in your life did you think you would want to divulge such insignificant information. Surviving was not about the pitter-patter of your heart. It was about keeping it intact, protecting it with layers of armor, shooting anyone that threatened it.

The only problem was you didn’t have anyone to tell. Which, of course, confused you. So what if you were a tad vindictive? And callous. Maybe even bitter. But only just a smidge! If people couldn’t look past your absolutely awful qualities and see the sliver of graciousness that oozed through one singular pore then that was their problem.

So instead, you let it burn inside you. The secret festered and boiled, creating a bubbling sensation in your stomach, like a rancid potion in a rusty cauldron. It was enough to spend the majority of your lunchtime stabbing at the food instead of eating it. Imagining that it was Murphy, wishing he had never been kind to you. If he had just left you alone, you wouldn’t feel this way.

Then you could stab him in peace, rather than feeling the twinge of guilt for pretending the fork was going through his pale skin.

A trio of girls walked by. You watched dreamily, a curled fist resting under your chin. Their long locks of hair billowed behind them, cascading in waves down the middle of their back. Even with their dingy clothes and dirty nails, they paraded down the pathway with pouty lips and sultry stares.

But they smell awful you thought, nose wrinkling in disgust. And their hair had to be just as gritty, if not worse, than yours. They weren’t any better than you. They just had the confidence to pretend.

You straightened your back, realizing how deluded you were being. Their portrayal was all fake. They had to put on a show. But you? Your iron fist on every single person, item, and decision was irrefutable. Everyone did what you said, when you said it. Whether it was from fear or anger, you couldn’t care less.

Swiping the hair from your eyes, settling it behind your ear, you regained the part of you before the bunker. All it took was diving into a good, old-fashioned passtime of yours. Comparison and judgment made the world go round. And besides, everyone needed it. How would they ever know their place?

Yes, things were starting to fall back into place.

And then Murphy trudged into the room.

You hunched over, captivated and breathless at the fluency of his steps. His shoulders followed in graceful tandem, swinging in time with his hips. Murphy was poetry in motion. Of course you could tell, being such an avid consumer of Dickinson and Keats.

Not.

You averted your eyes, coming face to face with the endless woods; silence and nature being your only two companions. This was how you preferred it. The trees never questioned you. The cloud never made you feel inferior. A beautiful hush never broke your heart.

This is how you preferred it.

Right?

The sides of your head started to pulse, like the kick from a pistol. It reverberated and rang across your entire forehead, down the ridge of your brows and inside your eye sockets. Nothing was going to solve this except your sleeping bag.

You tossed the leftover food over your shoulder and pushed off the ground. Although, your plans had some competition. With Murphy sitting in your path, chatting to a few of his equally disturbed friends, he was unknowingly fighting the bed for your attention.

This was going to be the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It was as simple as placing one foot in front of the other, acting like you never noticed how incredibly gorgeous he looked with his fresh new wounds, and traveling to the only destination you intended. Everyone knows that sleeping is more important than boys.

You swerved around his group, desperately battling the urge to see if he was watching you. If he even knew you existed.

“Look away,” one of the boys suggested. Fair enough.

“Wasn’t even looking,” another replied. Okay, that was a little much.

You cocked your head in their direction. A snide remark just itching to escape your dehydrated lips, but catching behind your teeth. You couldn’t even form the words to be rude when Murphy was in your line of sight. And he wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting, minding his own business, and definitely not worrying about you.

But that didn’t matter. Murphy was like…

God, you needed to read poetry.

Ew, what?

“Need something?” Murphy questioned. His eyes were like - they were blue - like - blue…berries! And the way his hair fell past his eyes, parted down the middle, was - attractive. But like, a lot. The shoulder pads on his jacket were spiky. There. That was all the description anyone needed of him.

And really the only thing you could provide.

“Not from you,” you snapped. But then you thought about it. “Actually, yeah. Stop inserting yourself in my life.”

“I’m - not?” he said slowly.

“You’re in my way. Always.”

“Since when has that been a problem for you?” Murphy jeered. “I thought you liked a little challenge. Speaking of which, I think you’re overdue.”

“For what?”

His blueberry…His eyes shimmered with mischief. It reminded you of the glint that reflected off his favorite blade. One that your throat had grown so accustomed to. A sinister thought sprouted in the recess of your brain as you found yourself wishing he would, just to be pressed against you. To touch you, breathe down your neck, make every hair on your body stand at attention.

Would he notice that you would inhale deeply? Not out of anguish, but just to take in his full scent. That his warmth would be the cause of your rapid heart instead of the adrenaline of near death? You might even expose yourself further, rolling your head to the side, trying to lay it next to his cheek…

“Looks like you already know,” he said to you.

“Try me.”

Murphy began to rise, but the boy to his left stuck out his arm. This caused a red alarm to set off in your mind, blaring and flashing with urgency to take action. Without hesitation your gun was aimed, looking down the sight. Murphy didn’t seem too impressed, shoving the hand away.

“I’ll take care of it,” his friend offered.

“Not a chance,” Murphy told him.

“Come on, man. We could end this right now. All of us. We could kill her and no one would bat an eye. No one would care. We might even get a reward.” He chuckled as he said the last part, smug and reckless. He didn’t deserve poetry. He was every bit of phone directory. Useless beyond imagination, full of information that exactly zero people cared about. Just as worn down as the revolting yellow pages, yearning for a time when someone would find convenience in his miserable existence instead of immediately tossing him to the side with all the other nugatory things.

“Quit,” Murphy demanded.

His friend didn’t understand. He scoffed at Murphy, copping an attitude while his tongue grazed over his teeth. “I don’t get you.”

“There’s nothing to get. Just shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything you wouldn’t say!”

“That’s the point, jackass,” Murphy growled. His voice rasped, like the crunching of large gravel. Every single microscopic entity that occupied your body zinged off your bones, your veins, your skin. You felt a flush starting at your toes, crawling up to your face. In the pursuit of playful threats, Murphy made you feel visible. Which, turns out, was not the best look on you.

“You don’t get to say those things to her. Only me. Got it?”

Got it. Got it, bad. Murphy wanted to say something else to you, but there was no time. If you couldn’t outrun your feelings, the least you could do was outrun him. Try to place as much distance between the two of you before you started replacing all the knife scenarios with his hand.

God. Murphy could slam you against the wall with no trouble. Those slender fingers would grasp your neck, digging in his nails so hard they left crescent moons. Splotches of purple and blue would appear around them, painting a stunning portrait of the nighttime sky in the shape of his hand.

He would be proud of it, too. After all, it’s not too often that an artist creates a masterpiece. Let alone one that he could perfectly replicate repeatedly, and for the canvas to never tire of the same patterns and colors.

It was too late. There was nothing left for you to do. And there was only one person that could fix this now. You burst into Clarke’s tent, startling her enough to make her draw her gun. “I need to know poetry. And you’re going to teach me.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

In my feelings, per usual. Massive shout to ryaniq.aep for creating edits that make my heart soar. Season one Murphy is too much to handle.

Look forward to the third part of this little trope series soon! I hope it’s okay that the reader is more on the chaotic side, I’ve actually really enjoyed writing for someone a little devilish. Their internal thoughts kind of crack me up.

Xx Lainey

[bellyyearner]

Feedist Kinktober 2024 Day 5: Tea Party

Word Count: 1494

Thankyou to @fatguarddog for the theme list!

College Setting, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Teacher x Student, large feedee x small feeder, GN feedee x femme feeder, implied death feedism at end

Not 100% on the time period but definitely before cars, were talking big cities with horse drawn carriages.

The pompous halls of Brightway Academy are always a sight to behold, high vaulted ceilings adorned with chandeliers descending looking like falling stars as they glistened in the sunlight peering through the stained glass windows. The floor is adorned with complex tile patterns and marble statues in small receded cubbies in the wall. All of this high class beauty was typically filled with a swarm of bourgeois high class individuals, be they students or teachers, their fit bodies strutting the halls as if they owned them.

But for a few of the students, this wasn't the case, the public outcry from the citizens of Brightway about class division had caused the academy to offer scholarships. The things needed to qualify for those scholarships were kept hush hush amongst the dean and her cronies, but regardless the public had accepted this resolution. All the public needed was to see a few individuals from a familiar humble background to accept that class migration was possible.

You were one of 30 that had received the first scholarships and were now in your third and final year, but only a small handful of you were still the same person that had arrived at those academy gates 3 years ago.

Waddling down the long hallway for your bi-weekly meeting with Ms. Yorkstein you already knew exactly how it would play out, your meetings hadn't changed at all in a little over 2 years. It was frustrating to know that your education was different from the rest of the students and the few scholarship recipients that attended normal classes, but still this life was better than the farm you grew up on.

Shuffling step after heavy step towards her office you could hear your footsteps and heavy breathing echo, certainly alerting every classroom and teachers office you passed of your presence. You were on your 6th uniform since arrival and knew you were due for a new one. The white pants with gold trim were stretching at the seams, popping stitches whenever you sat down, your vest was unable to be buttoned without help and the overcoat wasn't long enough to hide your lard ridden gut, causing it to hang out the bottom by multiple inches, the fold at your love handles exposed as well. Mumbling to yourself as you waddled

"huff.. damn it.. how many times.. have I asked... fuckURP... to change the location.. for this..."

Your thighs scrape against each other with each and every step, demanding more and more effort with each passing moment. Belly wobbling as one giant heavy mass, packed full from breakfast and topped off by maids delivering snacks to your quarters before meeting Ms. Yorkstein for lunch.

Once you're within 20 feet of the door Ms. Yorksteins assistant Marie opens the door from the inside, further confirmation of just how loud your struggle has become.

"Ah reader, right on schedule. Leaving early sure does have it's benefits wouldn't you say?"

Still huffing and puffing you waddle right past her without a word, desperate to plop down onto the reinforced couch in Ms. Yorksteins office. Sitting at the table you see her, sipping her tea and taking in your fattened form. She was a tall woman, not that you'd know unless she stood up, most of her height was in her abnormally long legs. You could never get a read on the shape of her body, her full coverage white dress with jade green accents did a great job at hiding her, leaving only her face and hands exposed.

"Reader! It's so good to see you again, I take it you've been well?"

"huff.. yes ma'am..."

"Good.. well, help yourself"

She waved a hand towards the table in front of you, filled to the brim with pastries, confectionaries, and little sandwiches. Knowing you can't leave until she is satisfied you lean forward and grab a few items

"Marie.. be a dear and get some tea for reader here"

Marie does as she's told and starts to fill a cup for you, placing it on the side table within reach as you dutifully swallow the few treats you grabbed, leaning forward to grab more before taking a sip.

After about 10 minutes of the usual small talk and at least 2000 calories in sweets consumed, Ms. Yorkstein set her tea cup down

"Reader, despite your humble beginnings and lack of a formal education I believe that you're perceptive enough to recognize your situation, would you say that's accurate?"

Swallowing the sip from your tea cup and setting it down you reply

"yes ma'am"

"Would you care to inform me of what you think is happening here?"

"well..."

A short pause ensues as you lean forward to grab another pastry, stuffing the whole thing in your mouth and quickly swallowing it before you answer.

"I believe... that not only my size but the size of my friends is intentional... Sure.. a few of us who got scholarships are still thin but... 25 of us growing heavier and heavier week after week.. it's kind of obvious"

Ms. Yorkstein picked up her tea cup for a sip as she pondered your reply

"And why do you think the academy has accommodated all of that?"

Your belly rumbles, churning the sweets atop the rest of the days consumption, causing the exhaustion you feel to weaken your restraint

"...royals have odd tastes?"

Ms. Yorkstein bursts out into a deep belly laugh, spilling her cup of tea as it fell to the floor and shattered, her hands went to her sides as she tried to hold in her bewilderment.

"haHAA... heh, haaa... That was a good one reader, hehe.. ooohhh, well.. I can understand where you got that but no.... Well, yes and no, certainly some royals have odd tastes and hell you might even end up with one but no."

She snaps her fingers and Marie rushes over with a fresh cup of tea, handing it to Ms. Yorkstein, she takes a dignified sip and sets the cup on the table before continuing

"How do you think all of the opulence around you is possible reader? How is it able to be maintained and passed down? How do the empires that are built last across centuries?... You don't let just anyone be involved... Sure the lowly citizens can be mad about their lives all they want, sure they can go on strike, refuse to pay taxes, spread their ideologies of a better and 'more equitable' world.... But if you dangle something in front of their eyes, dangle opportunity for a better life on a fish hook, enough of them will chase it that they forget the power that lies in numbers"

She takes her cup from the table again and drinks what remains, setting it back down to the table

"Grab another pastry reader"

You grab 3, the baffling nature of her explanation distracting you, causing you to grab the amount you actually wanted. She looks pleased

"We take in a couple dozen of you commoners every year, segregate you and domineer you with empty platitudes but tons of attention, some of you get a real education, are treated like real students. But the vast majority of you? You're props... Nothing more, and nothing less. Those promises to your family about you just being oh so busy with school, promises that you'll be employed in another city after graduation and sending gold home to help the family, all of that is just to keep the public complacent. Keep them in the dark. A few commoners getting social mobility is fine, we can control them with ease, that's not an issue. But dozens? Adding up to hundreds in just a few short years? Why the fuck would we allow that?"

It dawns on you just how deep this all goes, at 19 you had expected to only see your family after you had been working for a few years already, after you were established you were gonna return home with riches and move them to a new area, you planned to help out your neighbors. Telling the school that information during the interview process was a terrible decision. You should've been more selfish. Ms. Yorkstein began to speak once more

"And you want to know the best part Reader? I'm not even worried about telling you this, you and I both know you can't walk all the way to the gates, certainly can't walk all the way out of the capital city past the markets into the outskirts. One you don't have the capabilities, and two you're so slow it'd be easy to catch you.... We are only a few weeks from graduation, so now my question to you is, would you like to go the route of 'Royals have odd tastes' or would you rather just keep eating yourself fatter and fatter within the academy walls, we can't feed you forever but we can certainly make your demise come quicker"

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 2023

Here’s a masterlist of all the Fics I have wrote/will write for my Halloween challenge. The aim was to post a fic a day for 10 days between 21st - 31st of October. All are song fics and not necessarily Halloween-themed. I’ll be updating the list as I go. Hope you like them🧡

Day One // Tennessee Orange

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 2407 Summary: I met somebody, he’s got blue eyes. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Two // Die From A Broken Heart

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 1837 Summary: Was it ever really real if he don't feel like I feel? Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Three // Pieces

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 1494 Summary: Baby, please release me, let my heart rest in pieces. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Four // Southern Boy

Fandom: RPF Pairing: Austin Butler x Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1455 Summary: Ain't nothing in the whole wide world like a southern boy. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Five // Stay With Me

Fandom: Daisy Jones x The Six Pairing: Daisy Jones x Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 1399 Summary: Guess it’s true I’m no good at a one-night stand. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Six // Good 4 U

Fandom: Daisy Jones x The Six Pairing: Graham Dunne x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 4793 Summary: Maybe I'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Seven // I'd Lie

Fandom: RPF Pairing: Austin Butler x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 3271 Summary: And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Eight // You Ain’t Woman Enough

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 4106 Summary: You’ve come to tell me something, you say I ought to know. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Nine // It Hurts Me

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader, Jerry Schilling x Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 7849 Summary: It hurts me to see him treat you, the way that he does. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Ten // Jess' Dad

Fandom: Gilmore Girls Pairing: Jess Mariano x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 2426 Summary: You know I really like Jess a lot but… Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Eleven // Little Bird

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Addison Goodwin Rating: Mature Word Count: 4553 Summary: Walked down the aisle, breakin' my heart, lay down my pride, I know I gotta let you go. Song Link AO3 LINK

[starryjuicebox]

Beloved (8) - Revelation

Summary: A necessary conversation is had.

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

Word Count: 981 words

Masterlist | Ao3 Link | Next Chapter

Kythorn 1494

Astarion has secured a seat on the Council of Four. He came back to the manor and picked me up, spinning me around as he boasted of this victory. Then, he slipped a diamond ring on my finger. 

I, the Princess of Silevren, shall be joined in matrimony to the newest Council member. It feels more like a formality than anything else, as everybody already acknowledges me as the Lady of the manor. 

When I was a little girl, I had always dreamed of my wedding day. I just never expected it to be happening like…this. 

He does not understand my melancholy. I grieve the seven thousand people, each with families and loved ones of their own, that were damned because of my weakness. There were children included. Ones that will experience eternal torment due to my failure. Every glance in the mirror is a fresh reminder of my sin. Any time I partake in blood that is not his, I fear how it was obtained. I dare not share any of this with him. Astarion showers me in jewels, luxury, and affection. His ascension and my damnation was my folly to begin with. How could I complain? 

Last night, he had another nightmare and held me tightly. They happen so frequently. Astarion is somehow more afraid than he ever was before, and merely compensates with arrogance. It breaks my heart.

Astarion won’t let me out of his sight, for fear that something may befall me. If he leaves the manor to conduct business, he sends three servants to watch over me. I feel smothered. 

Last week, I had transformed into a dove to feel the wind in the sky. I thought he might burn down the entire manor in his consternation when he arrived home. I soothed him by lying that I was merely resting and hadn’t noticed his return. I was too late though, and the servants had already been killed. 

How can we heal from this? How do we move forward? Is it even possible? 

Stella Lunaris 

Love? Astarion knew love. The gravest crimes committed in the world were committed for love. A hunger crueller than bloodlust. He had told himself he would ruin her love, used it until she was nothing. 

And he had. Hadn’t he? Was that not the reason she no longer looked at him the way she had…before? He had succeeded in ruining her love. Over the past three centuries, he had been watching her waste away, slowly disappearing even if she was physically with him. 

It felt awful. 

Perhaps that was why he had wanted her to smile, why seeing her so hollow invoked anger and frustration inside of him. 

He just hadn’t wanted to admit it. 

Stella remained motionless on the floor, head bowed, but he saw the teardrops sliding onto the baby blue satin of her dress. Her hair curtained his consort’s expression from him.

For the first time in centuries, he was briefly at a loss for words. Was she telling him that despite the change in her behavior, she still loved him? 

He decided to latch onto something far easier to talk about and retorted, “You hate what I have become? Your hands are as bloody as mine, darling. Why would you go along with any of this just to pretend you’re innocent now?” 

“I know. I am not innocent at all. I’ve become a monster, and turned you into one too,” came his lover’s melancholic response, thick with tears. 

Astarion bristled, crossing his arms defensively. He desperately tried to ignore the foreign pang in his chest. “I have always been a monster. The Rite just made me a free one. But you? You are no monster. You are my dark consort. My treasure, and my most beloved.” 

How could she speak so poorly of herself? Had she been feeling this way the entire time? Gods, no wonder she had been miserable. These useless thoughts had to be banished.

He sighed, before guiding her to stand, and she buried her face into his chest. Wetness bloomed onto his expensive doublet, but that was of no consequence to him at all. He held her close, because that was surely what she wanted. It also somehow lessened the strange ache inside his own chest.   

“Thank you for saying that, but… I can’t take it anymore, Astarion. Seven thousand people died because of us. The guilt eats me alive. It’s been centuries, but I still can hear their anguished screams. And you - you’ve changed so much since that day,” her wails were muffled by the cloth.  

Gently stroking her hair, he said, “I have changed, for the better. I am so much stronger than I was back then. And those spawn would have unleashed incredible carnage upon the world. It was for the better that their lives were put to use.” 

His words seemed to cause her to pause in consideration. 

“That…may be true, but did they not deserve a chance to live? Just as you did?” 

Astarion sighed, before kissing the top of her head. “It’s too late for regrets, darling. They’ve been dead for three hundred years. Besides, I needed the power to best the brain. The pathetic weakling I was before could never have destroyed it on his own.” 

Stella finally tilted her face upwards to meet his gaze. “Seven thousand trees, for seven thousand souls. I…can’t take back what’s been done, but at the very least I can honor their memory. And their contribution to saving this city.” 

As much as he wanted to roll his eyes at her soft-heartedness and the pointlessness of it all, he supposed it was worth doing, if just to make her feel better. “As you wish, my love.” 

The tiniest ghost of a smile appeared on her face, and he felt the pain in his heart begin to ebb away.

[brightaxe]

title: WET. ship: gale dekarios x half-orc tav. rating: explicit. word count: 3,108. warnings: watersports.

GRYMFORGE. 1494.

True Soul Nere was dying, buried behind feet of seemingly impenetrable debris and choking on foul poisons alongside gods-knew how many gnomes. Their companions were noticeably distraught, worked to the bone, more sweat and grime than people after being forced into slave labor in the blinding heat of Grymforge.

Once she was content with the state of their alliance, Enkha weathered Sergeant Thrinn’s eagerness to work with another follower of the Absolute, only so far as she needed until she was able to convince the woman that her only intention was to rescue her fellow True Soul from almost certain death.

Such machinations were weary work after so long as no more than a thief in the night, rarely conversing with her employers for any longer than it took to receive a rundown of their expectations.

This reminded her of different work entirely — not the cut of a dagger, but the creak of leather bindings and the sharp edge of an order, all of it another mask to wear for the benefit of others rather than herself. The only difference was the end result of blood rather than spilled seed or hot, desperate tears.

[ READ MORE ON AO3. ]

[roleplaycharacter1shots]

help me, I'm drowning

Warning(s): Anxiety, panic attack (with descriptions of dry heaving)

Word Count: 1494

Character(s): Kyle Lucas

Summary: After internalizing the stress of taking on his first solo project at work, Kyle’s anxiety finally reaches a breaking point.

Using the following prompts by @creativepromptsforwriting:

Prompt #834: “Please, tell me this is an emergency.” “Well, maybe you wouldn’t see it as an emergency, but for me, it definitely is.”

Prompt #215: use the words pillow, bathtub, and music

Prompt #415: “I’d love to change the world. But I don’t know what to do.”

Permission to repost, @creativepromptfills.

Title credit to Humanoid by Tokio Hotel

Why was this happening? This couldn’t be happening. Not right here, not right now...

Kyle swallowed back the bile building in his throat for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyes clamped shut. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, and yet it somehow wasn’t tumultuous enough to drown out the thoughts screaming on and on in his head. His own voice had become an endless metronome, repeating the same phrase that made him want to cry and scream: I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this… It was neverending. It felt like an eternity before he was able to open his eyes, staring back at his pale reflection in the mirror as he tried to not succumb to the madness.

Kyle wasn’t sure when the panic attack had begun, but he had a feeling that starting a new project at Level Seven a few days ago might have been a trigger. For the first time, he was to lead an actual Gobstone tournament from start to finish. He had to find the teams, pick the dates, and make sure the venue would be set to handle the predicted number of attendees. There was so much paperwork involved, numerous meetings to attend and plan… It was a wonder Kyle hadn’t snapped sooner. His anxiety had never been fully managed, just kept under wraps by the few coping mechanisms he had. And that typically involved keeping his workload reasonably light. Having Bea by his side also helped, but Kyle quickly decided that overwhelming her (or believing he was overwhelming her, anyway) only made him worry more. So lately he had chosen to internalize his stress, and perhaps one thing had just led to another.

So here he was, struggling to get through his Wednesday morning. Kyle had managed to leave his bed without a problem, but when he had tried to brush his teeth his stomach had started to revolt. Since it had been hours since Kyle had last eaten, there was nothing for him to spit up into the sink, but the gagging sensation was no less uncomfortable. Next came the trembling, his hands shaking as he felt his heart pounding hard against his sternum. And then the chanting.

I can’t do it… I can’t do it…

Kyle ran a hand through his hair, stumbling back to sit down on the toilet, his forehead growing damp. His breathing was ragged, mouth gradually filling again with saliva.

He had to get to work… He had so much to do… So much to finish…

I can’t do it, I can’t…

Kyle coughed, retching again. He spat clear saliva into the bathtub on his left, his vision blurring from the tightness in his throat. His own stomach seemed to be trying to escape his body, but was unfortunately just as much out of luck as the rest of him was. Kyle didn’t realize how much time had passed with him leaning over the edge of the tub until his phone beeped from the other room. Wiping his mouth and eyes on the back of his hand, he went to retrieve the magicked device to see a concerned text from Bea. She had every right to worry, as he had not met her for their usual walk to work. Kyle’s heart rate did not slow at the sight, reminded quickly about how behind he was. He was able to respond with an apology, stating that he had gotten caught up with some things the night before and would be coming in later. Kyle felt sorry for the lie, especially when he sent the same to his boss, but he knew it would help explain his delay for the time being.

His phone slipped listlessly from his fingers once he was finished. Despite having sort of put his lateness on hold, his mood had not improved in the slightest. Kyle grabbed a pillow from his bed, seeking something to hold as he melted onto the floor. His legs bounced restlessly, chin slumped into the cushion as he stared into the empty fireplace across from him. For a moment, Kyle had been able to imagine Bea waiting for him. He could feel the warmth of her fingers in his, letting the sound of her typical greeting clear his head and heart.

But unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long for his brain to resume its gloomy and gutting version of music: I can’t do it, I can’t, I can’t… The lamenting phrase immediately erased all other thoughts from his mind, imprisoning Kyle in darkness.

Mum… The voice was small, like that of a child, but Kyle knew it to be his own. I need my mum…

His eyes welled with tears at both the title it spoke and the sound, and at last, he felt compelled to do something. Kyle crawled forward to the little pot of Floo Powder by the fireplace. Somehow, he managed to light a fire, toss in a pinch of the powder, and speak his parents’ address into the colored flames that appeared. Kyle’s head swirled for a moment as it was transported, and then he could see the familiar Lucas kitchen. The sight made him feel a little bit better already, but his heart was still beating faster than it should. “Mum?” he called. He could smell his father’s breakfast and hear his tea simmering in the teapot, so they had to be home.

“Kyle?” His mother entered the room. “What’s the matter? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Her expression was very confused and worried. Just like with Bea, Kyle did not like to make her upset, but she was someone he felt he could turn to when he needed to. She was his mother, after all.

“Just needed a second to chat with you, Mum,” he blurted out. His eyes teared up again, but he could already feel himself starting to feel better as he said how he felt out loud. “I’ve been feeling… really stressed lately. I’ve had so much going on and -”

Kyle’s words caught in his throat as his father entered the room from behind his concerned wife. To his surprise and dismay, Owen Lucas’ response to his son’s sudden appearance was much different than Emma’s. A small hint of annoyance flashed across his features as he moved to the table, barely looking at Kyle. “Please, tell me this is an emergency,” he grumbled as he sat down. “I have to head out in five minutes.” He dug into his eggs and toast without waiting for a reply.

Kyle felt as if he was nothing more than something the cat had dragged in. It didn’t help that he hadn’t finished brushing his teeth, combed his hair, or gotten dressed for the day; nor that he was speaking to them from the floor in the fireplace. “Well,” he mumbled, his mouth feeling as if he had swallowed ash. “Maybe you wouldn’t see it as an emergency, but for me it definitely is.” He desperately wanted his father to see him as an independent adult and to be proud of him; but when Kyle had these moments of weakness, especially in front of him, he seemed to have no chance of doing so. He instantly regretted contacting his parents. He should have just handled this on his own. It would have passed after a few hours.

Kyle’s mother gave her head a small shake. “Don’t mind him,” she said, waving a hand at Owen. She knelt by the fireplace. “Now, what were you saying, Kyle? You’ve been having a stressful time?”

Kyle nodded. He tried his best to do as she said, although his feelings were still hurt by how his father was basically ignoring him. “I think I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all,” he admitted. “I’d love to change the world. But I don’t know what to do. In school, they always said that we all would somehow and I’m trying -”

His father snorted. “Lofty goals there, boy.”

“You’re just going through a lot, sweetie,” Emma said quickly, forcing her son to look at her instead. She gave him a small pat on the head. “Why don’t you just go back to sleep for a little while and then maybe you’ll feel better? You’re just overthinking things. It happens to the best of us.”

Kyle wasn’t sure about that, but he also didn’t know what to say. “O-okay…”

“We’ll see you and Bea Sunday for tea, yes?”

“Of course, Mum.”

“Wonderful.” Emma pressed a kiss to his forehead before getting to her feet. “We’ll see you then.”

“Goodbye, Mum. Bye, Dad.” As Kyle pulled his head out of the flames, the fire died away. He sat back on his haunches, staring into the dying embers. It didn’t take him very long to realize that while his heart was no longer pounding, he did not feel much better. In fact, he felt more alone than ever.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 7.2

437 – Emperor Valentinian III begins his reign over the Western Roman Empire. His mother Galla Placidia ends her regency, but continues to exercise political influence at the court in Rome. 626 – Li Shimin, the future Emperor Taizong of Tang, ambushes and kills his rival brothers Li Yuanji and Li Jiancheng in the Xuanwu Gate Incident. 706 – In China, Emperor Zhongzong of Tang inters the bodies of relatives in the Qianling Mausoleum, located on Mount Liang outside Chang'an. 866 – Battle of Brissarthe: The Franks led by Robert the Strong are defeated by a joint Breton-Viking army. 936 – King Henry the Fowler dies in his royal palace in Memleben. He is succeeded by his son Otto I, who becomes the ruler of East Francia. 963 – The Byzantine army proclaims Nikephoros II Phokas Emperor of the Romans on the plains outside Cappadocian Caesarea. 1298 – The Battle of Göllheim is fought between Albert I of Habsburg and Adolf of Nassau-Weilburg. 1494 – The Treaty of Tordesillas is ratified by Spain. 1504 – Bogdan III the One-Eyed becomes Voivode of Moldavia. 1555 – Ottoman Admiral Turgut Reis sacks the Italian city of Paola. 1561 – Menas, emperor of Ethiopia, defeats a revolt in Emfraz. 1582 – Battle of Yamazaki: Toyotomi Hideyoshi defeats Akechi Mitsuhide. 1613 – The first English expedition (from Virginia) against Acadia led by Samuel Argall takes place. 1644 – English Civil War: Battle of Marston Moor. 1645 – Battle of Alford: Wars of the Three Kingdoms. 1698 – Thomas Savery patents the first steam engine. 1723 – Bach's Magnificat is first performed. 1776 – American Revolution: The Continental Congress adopts a resolution severing ties with the Kingdom of Great Britain although the wording of the formal Declaration of Independence is not adopted until July 4. 1816 – The French frigate Méduse strikes the Bank of Arguin and 151 people on board have to be evacuated on an improvised raft, a case immortalised by Géricault's painting The Raft of the Medusa. 1822 – Thirty-five slaves, including Denmark Vesey, are hanged in South Carolina after being accused of organizing a slave rebellion. 1823 – Bahia Independence Day: The end of Portuguese rule in Brazil, with the final defeat of the Portuguese crown loyalists in the province of Bahia. 1839 – Twenty miles off the coast of Cuba, 53 kidnapped Africans led by Joseph Cinqué mutiny and take over the slave ship Amistad. 1840 – A Ms  7.4 earthquake strikes present-day Turkey and Armenia; combined with the effects of an eruption on Mount Ararat, kills 10,000 people. 1853 – The Russian Army crosses the Prut river into the Danubian Principalities (Moldavia and Wallachia), providing the spark that will set off the Crimean War. 1864 – Dimitri Atanasescu founds the first Romanian school in the Balkans for the Aromanians in Trnovo, in the Ottoman Empire (now in North Macedonia). 1871 – Victor Emmanuel II of Italy enters Rome after having conquered it from the Papal States. 1881 – Charles J. Guiteau shoots and fatally wounds U.S. President James A. Garfield (who will die of complications from his wounds on September 19). 1890 – The U.S. Congress passes the Sherman Antitrust Act. 1897 – British-Italian engineer Guglielmo Marconi obtains a patent for radio in London. 1900 – An airship designed and constructed by Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin of Germany made its first flight on Lake Constance near Friedrichshafen. 1900 – Jean Sibelius' Finlandia receives its première performance in Helsinki with the Helsinki Philharmonic Society conducted by Robert Kajanus. 1921 – World War I: U.S. President Warren G. Harding signs the Knox–Porter Resolution formally ending the war between the United States and Germany. 1934 – The Night of the Long Knives ends with the death of Ernst Röhm. 1937 – Amelia Earhart and navigator Fred Noonan are last heard from over the Pacific Ocean while attempting to make the first equatorial round-the-world flight. 1940 – Indian independence leader Subhas Chandra Bose is arrested and detained in Calcutta. 1940 – The SS Arandora Star is sunk by U-47 in the North Atlantic with the loss of over 800 lives, mostly civilians. 1962 – The first Walmart store, then known as Wal-Mart, opens for business in Rogers, Arkansas. 1964 – Civil rights movement: U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act of 1964 meant to prohibit segregation in public places. 1966 – France conducts its first nuclear weapon test in the Pacific, on Moruroa Atoll. 1976 – End of South Vietnam; Communist North Vietnam annexes the former South Vietnam to form the unified Socialist Republic of Vietnam. 1986 – Rodrigo Rojas and Carmen Gloria Quintana are burnt alive during a street demonstration against the dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet in Chile. 1986 – Aeroflot Flight 2306 crashes while attempting an emergency landing at Syktyvkar Airport in Syktyvkar, in present-day Komi Republic, Russia, killing 54 people. 1988 – Marcel Lefebvre and the four bishops he consecrated were excommunicated by the Holy See. 1990 – In the 1990 Mecca tunnel tragedy, 1,400 Muslim pilgrims are suffocated to death and trampled upon in a pedestrian tunnel leading to the holy city of Mecca. 1994 – USAir Flight 1016 crashes near Charlotte Douglas International Airport, killing 37 of the 57 people on board. 1997 – The Bank of Thailand floats the baht, triggering the Asian financial crisis. 2000 – Vicente Fox Quesada is elected the first President of México from an opposition party, the Partido Acción Nacional, after more than 70 years of continuous rule by the Partido Revolucionario Institucional. 2001 – The AbioCor self-contained artificial heart is first implanted. 2002 – Steve Fossett becomes the first person to fly solo around the world nonstop in a balloon. 2005 – The Live 8 benefit concerts takes place in the G8 states and in South Africa. More than 1,000 musicians perform and are broadcast on 182 television networks and 2,000 radio networks. 2008 – Colombian conflict: Íngrid Betancourt, a member of the Chamber of Representatives of Colombia, is released from captivity after being held for six and a half years by FARC. 2010 – The South Kivu tank truck explosion in the Democratic Republic of the Congo kills at least 230 people. 2013 – The International Astronomical Union names Pluto's fourth and fifth moons, Kerberos and Styx. 2013 – A magnitude 6.1 earthquake strikes Aceh, Indonesia, killing at least 42 people and injuring 420 others.

[vanillahigh00]

AO3 Wrapped 2022

Tagged by @hippolotamus. Thank you, friend! <3

I’m not sorry to say goodbye to 2022 for many reasons! Just personal stuff, writing stuff… all the stuff. There isn’t anything interesting to read here at all. I think I personally had to write this out just to remind myself I wrote something in 2022.

Works: Published: 5

Word Count: 133, 200 (This is wildly inaccurate due to a WIP that was worked on in 2022 and started in a prior year)

Hits: 13,212

Bookmarks: 111

Most Popular by Kudos: I’ll Always Catch Your Glance

Most Hits: I’ve Been Searching For You (Part 1 will be finished in 2023. I have plans for a part 2 and maybe part 3)

Longest: I’ll Weather Any Storm With You written solely in 2022, but I couldn’t tell you how many words I made for I’ve Been Searching For You in 2022.

Shortest: Made With Love (1494 words)

Most Comments: A toss-up between I’ll Always Catch Your Glance written in 2022 and I’ve Been Searching For You a WIP worked on in 2022.

Fic that made me cry: A couple chapters made me teary in I’ve Been Searching For You.

Fic that made me smile: Honestly all five fics touched in 2022 made me smile for one reason or another.

Gifts: I’ll Always Catch Your Glance for @weathereyehorizon, and Just To Be With You for scaddict.

Events: Secret Valentine and Frozen Over