#“ugh I am NOT reading all that” loll

[junosmindpalace]

GEMINI BIRTHDAY BASH!

🎧 it's so sweet, knowing that you love me.

synopsis: celebrating their birthday...w/ the hq gemini men!

pairing(s): timeskip/present!hajime iwaizumi, koshi sugawara, shoyo hinata

content: references to 2024 dates but doesn't need to be strictly speaking (iwa's is more 2021), food (in suga's and hinata's), very short and brief angst(?), otherwise all fluff and fun!

total wc: 3.6k

a/n: it was my birthday a few days ago (june 17th) and i thought i would celebrate by writing for some gemini characters! i know shoyo is a cusp but i wanted to write him too </3 also this was my first time creating a graphic please be nice i am aware its a little plain </33

HAJIME IWAIZUMI: JUNE 10TH

The clock in your living room reads 11:55 in the evening; Hajime’s birthday is five minutes away. 

You both have work in the morning, so you should be in bed sound asleep. Everything has been done as normal; the whole nighttime routine of eating dinner (that you insisted on making) together, showering, brushing your teeth. Except instead of completing the routine by cozying up in bed, you’re cozying up on your living room couch, the light in the kitchen on, and the blue light from the TV keeping your tired eyes in a trance. 

Hajime’s arm is lazily outstretched over your shoulders, your fingers intertwined with the hand that dangles beside your head. His other arm is bent sideways on the couch pillow, head against his fist as he watches through bleary eyes the movie in front of him. Though your eyes are trained on the action on the TV, your ears don’t process the mumbling that pairs with it, too engrossed in your low conversation about each others’ day. 

“—and Hinata wanted something more to do for himself, so I’ll be reviewing his progress and seeing what I can do. Seriously, the guy is a monster at times. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m really looking at him, with how far he’s come since his high school days.”

“They all seem to be of another caliber now,” you replied somewhat drowsily, yet no less engaged.

“They’re intense, that’s for sure,” he sighs, bringing his head to rest behind the cushion and leaning closer toward your own. “But they’ve always been like that.” 

He’s completely unaware of the time and date approaching as he drones quietly about the day he’s had. He notices, on occasion, your glances up at the wall where your clock was located, and thought you were anxious to get to sleep.

“Hey,” he nudges your knee with his own. “you wanna head to bed?”

“Hm? No, no, not yet. Keep talking, I wanna hear.” 

Upon your insistence, he obliged reluctantly, resuming his chatter for a little while longer as you hum and nod. 

He feels comfortable like this, with your head against his chest, body snuggled close to his side, the low hum of the TV, the dim light. He, for a moment, finds his eyes gently closing unconsciously. You wait for him to continue his explanation at a pause, but are only met with the quietness of the TV. A slight stir prompts Hajime’s eyes to open immediately, and he shifts a little as he takes in your face, peering up at him through small eyes.

“Haji.”

“Mm?”

“You sleeping?”

“M’not.”

You placed a hand on his chest as you turned your body to look at the clock. It now reads 12:04 in the morning. You rub your eyes and reach for the phone on the coffee table in front of you, and when it blinks to life, it blinds you with the time and the new date.

June 10. 

“Ugh, put that away,” Hajime groaned as he turned away from the straining light on your phone, lolling his head to the other side against the couch cushion. You quickly slid it back onto the table, and then collapsed again against your boyfriend’s chest, hugging his middle tightly and digging your chin into his chest as you looked up at him with a wide smile.

“Happy birthday, Haji.” 

His eyes reopen slightly, and he angles his head toward the clock to view the time for himself: 12:05. 

He tucks his chin in so he meets your gaze and the sweet, tired smile on your face, and finds one of his own, tired yet tender, slowly propping up the apples of his cheeks. So that’s why you had been eyeing the clock, all for him and his silly birthday. Of course it would be you who remembers his birthday before he even does. You were sweet and thoughtful in that way.

“So that’s why you wanted to stay up a little longer, huh?” His tone is a faux annoyance for only a moment before his arm around your shoulders curls a little tighter in endearment, and he knocks his forehead against yours, gently and playfully, as you let out a short giggle at the gesture. “Thank you, baby.”

“What do you wish for?”

“To get some rest,” he yawned as he pulled away, going to sit up from the couch. 

“Why would you say that? Now it won’t come true!”

Your weight on his lap and arms now thrown around his neck anchored him to the couch. He gives you a deadpan look as a hand finds its way rubbing gently up and down your lower back, while the other slowly snakes itself under your legs.

“Oh, I’ll make it come true.” 

You squeal when he sits up and scoops you up in one swift motion, and you throw your head back in quiet laughter as he walks the two of you to your bedroom. 

“Haji, you know, it's your birthday. I should be the one carrying you.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. “ It’s my birthday, right? I get to do what I want.” 

KOSHI SUGAWARA: JUNE 14TH

Sugawara was dejected when he realized he had to work on his birthday.

As if the universe was taunting him, this year it fell right on a Friday, just one day off from the weekend. 

If he were honest, however, it wasn’t too much of a bother. He mentally groaned about it the evening before and morning of, but all in all, his birthday was a fleeting thought in his mind. Work and everyday busyness replaced the thought with lesson plans and mental preparedness to handle a classroom of young children after an exhausting week. 

He hoped, at the very least, however, that you would recognize the oddness of the day, do a little something to acknowledge it. Maybe a small cake or a nice breakfast. Maybe a little present. Hell, just a small, intimate murmur of a happy birthday accompanied with a sweet kiss would elevate his heart. Yet every time he looked on at you, you were preoccupied with preparing yourself for work, just as Suga was. No fancy breakfast was prepared, no gift sat on the table by the door, and the only kiss he was able to snag was a hurried one on the cheek as you wished him a good day, and headed out the door and into your car. 

So Suga’s birthday was not off to a great start. 

But again, it’s only a birthday. He almost feels a little dumb, getting all worked up over it, especially as an adult. So he makes the most out of the day as he always does with his kids and their lively attitudes, plus the wind down time and lack of work reserved for Friday’s brightens his special day from the dejected morning he experienced earlier.

Little did your boyfriend know of the plans you had in store for him.

As humble as Sugawara attempted to be about his birthday, you knew that he liked having it acknowledged. He was appreciative of any and all kind birthday gestures, from simple greetings to thoughtful presents. And you wanted your present for him to be thoughtful. Memorable. Surprising, exciting, and able to convey the sheer amount of affection you hold for him, though you doubted that any gesture could entirely convey such a thing. But your mission this year was to sure try.

You had taken the day off to get everything under way. Pick up a nice cake you ordered a few days before, with Suga’s favorite flavor of icing and batter, along with a neat and heartfelt Happy Birthday written on top in cursive. 

Once the cake was tucked away in your fridge, your next stop was a party store. Perhaps you may have overdone it with the decorations, you had thought to yourself when you examined your two (full) shopping bags as you walked back to your car, but there was just so much to choose from, and you were sure Suga would like it all! Banners, balloons of impressive and wacky sizes and shapes, streamers, confetti, party poppers; you couldn’t pass up a single thing, not when you imagined his enthusiasm over each one. 

Your final stop was for restocking on foods and drinks. Besides the cake, you bought a couple of bottles of fancy alcohol (the one’s he’ll often eye and make fun of how posh they sound), a couple of his favorite snacks and beverages, and the like. 

By the time Suga arrived home from work, he’s exhausted, yet somehow invigorated by the idea of seeing you. He lets himself into the house with his key, letting out a tired I’m home, heart picking up when he spots your shoes neatly organized in the genkan, and joins his own beside them as he pads further into your home toward an alluring smell. 

The light is low in your living room. It’s enveloped in a yellow glow compared to the blinding bright white that startles him awake and strains his tired eyes in the morning. The first thing that comes into his line of sight, besides you, already in comfortable clothing with your back turned and managing something on the table in front of you, is a neat and beautiful cake on the coffee table in front of your couch. 

Your living room is full of more animated color than usual; batches of balloons occupy the corners and a few are scattered, some hovering aimlessly, on your floor. A Happy Birthday banner hangs from above the threshold into the room. Suga, once the initial shock and surprise wore off and was able to fully comprehend that it was all for him, felt that he may burst into tears. 

You hurriedly turned around upon sensing a new presence in the living room, and gasped when it was none other than your boyfriend, briefcase in hand, and staring dumbfounded at you and the sight of your decorated living room.

“Ko! I didn’t expect you to be home this soon!”

“Traffic was sparse.” He managed to get out past the lump in throat, but once he realized how stupid he appeared, he shook his head in an attempt to feign nonchalance. “So! What is, uh…what’s all this?” 

Your brows shot up, and you gave him an exasperated smile before walking over to him. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said slyly, wrapping your arms around his neck, with Suga immediately reciprocating with a hand to your back. “I was still setting up some stuff because I was under the impression that I still had some time before you came home.”

“Oh, so you wanted me to get stuck in traffic, is that it?” He teases in a faux annoyed tone, but it’s quickly betrayed by the smile that immediately stretches back over his face. 

“In this instance, yes!” You laughed, grinning yourself when he began to pepper kisses all over your neck and face, curling his arm around your waist to keep you secure against him. You laughed breathlessly through the assault, attempting to push away the ticklish sensation. But Suga’s energy had just been replenished fully, and his heart elevated the highest it ever could. 

“It’s perfect, all of it. Thank you.” he halts his assault to mutter against your skin through his lovesick smile, and it brings a grin to your own lips as you bring him in for one final kiss on his lips, one he immediately attempts to deepen. 

“Okay, okay,” you laugh as you pull away when he whines and chases after your lips. “Now that you’re here, let’s sing!”

He laughs too, letting you drag him further into your living room, abandoning his briefcase by the wall as he sat himself down on your couch, and you came over with the lighter you were previously fiddling with to light the candles on the small cake. 

All he could think about as you sang to him enthusiastically was how giddy he felt, and how lucky he was that he was spending his birthday in such a manner with you. And when he blew out his candles, the wish at the forefront of his mind was to spend many more birthdays with you in this manner

(and maybe a new car). 

Even as you shooed him into the bathroom to change into more comfortable clothes as you cut yourselves slices to enjoy by the TV, and afterward retreated to bed, he muttered, “I’m still mad that you tricked me, by the way.” as the two of you closed your eyes.

Which earned him a swat to the chest. 

SHOYO HINATA: JUNE 21ST

Shoyo absolutely cannot deny the fact that he’s had a great birthday since the moment the sun rose in the sky.

His special day began with an influx of texts and calls from family and friends to wish him a happy birthday, and use the opportunity to catch up with him. Nearly every moment of his morning was taken up by a different phone call that he took as he prepared himself for the training he had that day. When he arrived at the training center, his team immediately pounced on him, greeting him with enthusiastic cheers and a round of singing. 

And while he can almost say his birthday was perfect, with all the texts and calls he received and the thoughtful birthday treatment, his one and only regret was the fact that you weren’t there to celebrate with him.

His birthday this year happened to coincide with travel for upcoming tournaments, which unfortunately meant that you wouldn’t be celebrating alongside him in person. But just because you weren’t there in the flesh to hug him tight and sing loudly in his ear, it didn’t prevent you in the slightest from doing whatever you could virtually to make him feel good on his special day. 

At least, he had hoped it wouldn’t.

He had picked up your call eagerly on the day of his birthday, and grinned from ear to ear as you sang to him loudly and exaggeratedly. When you finished your song and exchanged all your morning pleasantries, to his absolute dejectment, you had informed Shoyo with a guilty tone that you would be unable to call or text for the majority of the day. 

“I’m sorry, Sho, something suddenly came up for work, and I’m going to be swamped. I’ll call you tonight, I promise!”

The disappointment he felt was tremendous, yet he easily covered it up with an understanding nod and reassuring words that he’d stay up to catch your call. It wasn’t like he was really expecting your schedule to be free the entire day so he can call and text whenever. Besides, he was miles away from you; it would be selfish for him to expect that your schedule would be all free for him when his wasn’t. 

So Shoyo made the most out of his birthday without you, and there wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t grinning. Enjoying delicious meals, being on the receiving end of all sorts of enthusiasm,  excitement and birthday traditions from friends, family, colleagues and fans alike; each kind birthday gesture lifted his heart to Cloud 9. 

The day concluded, after practice in the training facility when the sun began to die out in the sky, with Shoyo’s team insisting that they treat him to a celebratory dinner at some nice restaurant with some excellent international cuisine, allowing him to get a small taste of home. And Shoyo’s stomach was starting to churn, and it wasn’t like he was about to pass up a free meal…

The company took cramped spots in a booth inside the restaurant, bringing a few spare chairs to form a full circle around the large, polished wooden table jutting out from the wall. The setting sun meant that there was still some time before the restaurant could anticipate a more busy dining area.

Shoyo was spoiled with trays of meat, bowls of rice, and all sorts of other cuisine that he sampled from the plates of his colleagues. By the time the sun had nearly fully disappeared beneath the horizon, each one of their appetites was satiated, full and content with their meals.

As if Shoyo’s birthday couldn’t get any better so late into the day, it was about to become complete in the most unexpected and perfect way imaginable. Though the team was full, they could spare the appetite for a dessert, the most fitting conclusion for a birthday: because what’s a birthday without a cake? 

Shoyo’s team accompanied him home with eager conversation, yet strange occasional whispers among themselves. Perhaps all the celebration was all a little too much? 

When they arrived in a large group by his front door, Shoyo took notice of poorly hidden sly smiles and eager eyes from the teammates across from him, exchanging them among themselves as he fiddled with his keys. 

He’s the first to step inside the dark room, calling out to nobody in particular an I’m home!, as was routine for him to do. His heart suddenly stops, however, when he hears a voice answer. 

“Welcome back!”

His teammates burst out into chuckles and giggles. “Ah, it looks like our dessert is here!” One of them nodded his head toward the living room. 

When Shoyo makes his way reluctantly further into his apartment, initially confused, his furrowed brows immediately relax when he turns on the overhead light, and he feels as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs and hitched in his throat. 

At first, he thinks that perhaps he’s gotten a little homesick being without you, his special person, on his special day. He’d been thinking of you in intervals at every peak of his day. Surely now his exhaustion is crashing down on him, making him see things?

But your eager grin and short laughter as you took in his shocked expression tells him otherwise. You were here, in the flesh, standing right before him--

He all too suddenly finds himself squeezing you tight in his arms, and you immediately reciprocate with one hand coming around his neck, collective aww’s and teasing ew’s going round at the affectionate sight.

“Hold on there, Shoyo, the cake!” 

He quickly steps away when he suddenly feels an object collide gently with his side, and he only partially lets you go as he steps back to look at a box you were holding in your other hand. You grinned at him. 

“Surprise!”

He doesn’t dare let go of your hand even when you set the cake down and urge him to take a seat on his couch, taking an electronic candle you had bought on your way to his apartment and placing it at the very center. His entire team begins to sing to him once more as they crowd around him on the couch and around the table, this time with you joining in standing beside him, and his smile feels almost painful with the way it doesn’t falter for a second. 

When the song ends, a round of cheers go around the table, and you remove the candle to place it in a napkin. You turn toward each other, and you place a hand on his shoulder as you lean down to give him a kiss on his temple and mumble a more quiet, personal happy birthday. 

And just as he was about to lean over to capture your lips in an enthusiastic kiss, let thank you after thank you fall from his lips for such a grand surprise, all for him, you grabbed hold of his head, turned it back toward the cake, and shoved his face right into the center of it. 

Gasps and cheers alike went around the table, and the rest of his team laughed at the bold and sudden gesture. He could hear your own soft laughter as his face gradually emerged from the cake, and the shrills and hollers from his teammates grew louder as they took in the sight of the icing and chunks of cake sticking to various sides. They continued to bark out laughter as he wiped the chunks away from his eyes, staring at them on his fingertips before turning toward you, hiding a smile behind your hand as you mouthed over it an I'm sorry.

Shoyo rose silently halfway from his seat, leaned over toward you, and before anyone could properly call on what he was about to do, smeared the cake on his hands onto your own face, and a new wave of audible surprise and amusement went around the table.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“I hear you, Shoyo,” one of his teammates hovered over his seat as he took a large chunk of the cake with his bare hands, and immediately smeared it onto his colleague beside him. “You look better like this, anyway.”

The table erupted into chaos, with the remainder of the unassualted teammates running away from the assault. 

“Quick, scatter, before they get us too!” 

“Oh, you aren’t escaping that easily!” 

Running, breathless laughter, and shrills of alarm rang out in a chaotic symphony throughout the apartment, but amidst the chaos, only you and Shoyo remained by the couch side by side, hunched over laughing at each other’s ruined faces. Despite the ruined cake, the madness in his home, and the icing running down your faces, Shoyo’s heart thrums with love and happiness, and he steps forward to cup your cool cheeks and halt your giggles by capturing your lips in a deep and (literally) sweet kiss. 

Now, perhaps, Shoyo could say his birthday was perfect.

return to masterlist.

[gay-mooshrooms]

I fear to stain your clothes with blood/Stain them. I don't care

Chapter 1

Look.

Maybe Wilbur didn't love going to camp.

Maybe he would whine, and complain, and annoy the crap out of Phil and Techno on the 3-hour car ride.

But! 

That did not mean he hated it. 

Sure it was far from the most enjoyable experience in the world. 

But sue him, the kids gave him some small shred of hope for humanity that he was oh so desperately lacking. 

It also helped that Tommy adored Camp Essempi. He had practically grown up there, been tagging along every summer since he was 7 after Phil bought the place. 

So now Wilbur found himself in his dad's grey van, listening to The Artic Monkeys at a very unhealthy volume, while he could see Techno gesturing in the seat in front of him. 

If he had to guess, Tech was probably monologuing about some new book he read or what he was planning for the campers or something.

Wilbur didn't really care. 

Tommy was directly next to him, and his head was now resting on his shoulder, where it had been slowly creeping toward for the past hour, in spite of him claiming, "Fuck you Wil! I'm not tired at all bitch!"

They really needed to work on his swearing problem.

But that was for another day. 

Right now Wilbur had to worry about how to stay sane with 2 more hours left on this car trip.

He debated trying to read a book he brought but considering the last time he'd tried reading a book in the car they'd had to pull over so he could throw up, he decided not to risk it. 

Listen to Techno rant? Wilbur thinks he'd rather take the vomit at that point.

He eventually just decides to take the easy way out. 

Turning his music down slightly, he lays his head on top of Tommy's, stretching the blanket he'd been hogging across them both, and letting his eyes shut. 

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

By the time he woke up, they were only 30 minutes away from camp, and Tommy was still dead to the world. 

Techno had fallen asleep at this point too, his head lolling so his long hair fell over the edge of the car seat.

How he lived with it that long Wilbur would never know. 

He removed one of his earbuds and was met with the soft sound of Here Comes the Sun drifting from the radio, Phil humming along quietly. 

A few seconds later, his dad looked up and saw him awake. 

"Oh Wil!" Phil said, smiling, "Didn't see that you were up. We stopped at McDonald's about 15 minutes ago and got some fries for you, figured you'd be hungry."

Wilbur immediately brightened and maybe grabby hands at his father. 

"Gimme food," he said, with all the eloquence of a toddler. 

Phil chuckled and handed over the brown paper bag. 

"Save some for Tommy, you know he'll be starving when he wakes up, and who knows what that will entail."

Wilbur nodded solemnly, suddenly reminded of the last long car trip they'd taken. 

A few minutes into starting on the fries, he felt Tommy stir beside him. 

"Ugh, do I smell food?" Tommy asked, his voice slightly hoarse. 

"Always hungry never satisfied," said Wilbur, which was not entirely inaccurate. Tommy ate like a fiend. 

"Ey!" Tommy blurted out, his head immediately shooting up and his hands raising. "Just cus you're as small as a twig doesn't mean I have to be. Plus I heard Niki's running some of the sports stuff and I am NOT doing that on an empty stomach."

Wilbur had to give him that, Niki, one of his old camp friends and now first-year counselor, was one of the nicest people he'd ever met, but also incredibly badass. 

She'd been one of Techno's favorite campers, and he, in turn, had been her favorite counselor, which meant she was an expert in most combat-based camp stuff. 

She terrified Wilbur and Tommy alike. 

Techno too, but he would only admit that to her.

"Fine fine gremlin child take your food," huffed Wilbur, handing over the bag.

Tommy grinned evilly up at him and began shoveling the food into his mouth like an animal, a raccoon perhaps. Or maybe a possum. 

Wilbur couldn't help but grimace and turn his attention back towards his older brother and father, who, now that Techno had woken up too, were discussing camp setup. 

"Listen, Phil," one of Techno's quirks, he almost never called Phil dad. "We have more campers this year, we're gonna need to buy some more stuff."

Phil shook his head, "It'll be fine Tech. And if not, we'll go out and get stuff. And anyway, it's not so much supplies I'm worried about but space. I think we'll have to raid some of the unused cabins for cots. The last thing I wanna do is force kids to sleep on the floor, "said Phil, chuckling. 

"It would be good for them, " Wilbur chimed in, "Builds character."

Phil laughed. 

"C'mon Wil, let's not give them scoliosis too early on in the summer."

"As I just stated, character building."

"Wilbur I swear to god."

The last 20 minutes of the drive were spent bickering about random topics or singing along to Hamilton.

The latter was, of course, Wilbur's request. 

But Tommy joined in too. 

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

The sudden sound of crunching gravel alerted Wilbur to their imminent arrival at Essempi, a sound that bore equal parts joy and pain in his mind. 

It was at this point Tommy began bouncing off the walls, it was honestly a miracle he's lasted this long.

Usually about 2 hours in they had to stop for 15 minutes and just putter around a gas station.

Fortunately, Tommy had stayed up late last night with Wilbur, going over rules and his luggage over and over again to make sure he didn't forget anything. 

But once rested, Tommy's energy made a full recovery, and as soon as they had gotten their luggage out of the car he was full-on sprinting towards their cabin. 

Wilbur however, did not not follow so eagerly. 

Unlike Tommy, car trips didn't make him stir crazy, but rather tired, lethargic, and dead on his feet.

So, grumbling, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and grabbed his duffle, before trudging down the path behind his little brother. 

It didn't take long for his dad and Techno to catch up, his older brother giving him a small pat on his shoulder before moving past. 

Phil on the other hand, fell into stride alongside Wilbur and started humming Dear Theodosia, one of his favorites. 

"How are you feeling Wil?"

The words startled him, he hadn't exactly been expecting conversation. 

"Uh, fine?" he said, with a slight question in his tone. 

"I mean, a bit tired but nothing horrible."

Phil nodded, "OK. Just let us know if you need anything."

Wilbur couldn't help the small sigh that escaped him. 

He understood that his dad meant well. That he genuinely cared and wanted to help. But this was not what Wilbur needed. 

He never did well at the whole talking about your feelings thing. That was definitely Phil's department, and something he always encouraged in his kids. But somehow Wilbur never got the hand of that particular skill.

He didn't think any of them did really.

But he didn't say this, or anything remotely similar. 

Instead, he just nodded and said softly, "Alright, thanks dad."

Phil smiled, laid a hand on Wilbur's shoulder, gave a small squeeze, and then he was gone. 

Wilbur paused for a second, looking around at the slowly darkening sky, where the first glimpses of stars were visible.

He glanced at the trees, shaking in the slight breeze that was making him glad he wore a hoodie.

And finally, he looked back down the path, where beams of warm light could now be seen.

Wilbur took a deep inhale, readjusted his bag, and continued walking.

It was gonna be a long couple of months.

[thesweetestdevotion]

https://www.tumblr.com/thesweetestdevotion/761276923476361216/can-u-do-reading-for-2025-is-it-gonna-be-better?source=share

like general collective? like are we gonna get another corona etc? 🫣

i'd love to! thanks for requesting a general reading, its the first one ive done here, youre a lil trailblazer hehe!

2025 General Collective Reading

Dice: Mars, Aries, 6th house

Tarot: Five of Swords, Ace of Cups, Four of Wands, Two of Coins Reversed, Seven of Coins Reversed, Ten of Coins, Queen of Cups Reversed, Five of Wands, Strength, Three of Wands

im getting a lot of downloads right now... like back to back (usually i get a few spread out as i read) im just going to tell it how i see it and feel it, however please be aware that i am not infallible! especially with a big energy like this, im not capable of acessing all of what is going to happen next year, so ill just state what i see right now.

As i was holding the dice in my hand i saw red, literally (my room is entirely blue so...) and then i dropped the dice and got Aries, Mars, and 6th house... guys this is literally war. let me explain, Aries is the 1st sign of the zodiac and is fire, ruled by mars. With aries showing up with mars (planet of war) and 6th house (house of open enemies, the exaltation of mars), im feeling like we might be dealing with conflicts and tensions worldwide. Now this does not signify WW3, dont freak out at all. but im seeing that several countries will make new alliances with each other and we might see the rising of a new world power(powerful country) come on the global stage. This also goes along with the five of wands, im seeing arguments and small conflics here and there that are building tension in the collective energy, this could lead to a war but i just cant see that far out. i felt like spirit smacked me in the head loll maybe im trying to see something much bigger than i can describe here, also protests? i just heard. New trade deals, routes, and more are being discussed. sales of arms, weapons, artillery, these things will be prevalent as the year progresses.

now for the human collective, im seeing that our relationship to labour is coming to front stage. Two of Coins Reversed, Seven of Coins Reversed, Ten of Coins, Queen of Cups Reversed, all these cards speak to how we relate to our work and labour. Im seeing alot of emphasis on proper compensation, labourers rights, work-life balance, surging prices, costs of living, all of these topics have been relevant for a few years now, but im seeing in 2025 things are going to boil over. The sixth house is also the house of daily labour and work, and with mars showing up there, we will see a lot of sentiments about finding meaningful work that is fair and pays well and allows individuals to cover their living expeses without worries. i think the previous mentioned protests could have something to do with this, but maybe not irl protests, but just people's voices being heard and their concerns finally being taken serious. I think the collective is longing for stability (i know im one of them) and next year makes me feel hopeful that we will finally have a change in the right direction, however small it is.

Another thing im seeing is an emphasis on foreign travel. we might see more people migrating out of their countries in search for new opportunities (im not seeing a specific country just a general energy) im also interpreting this as implementing foreign inspired ideas, laws, regulations, etc. like some countries are seeing the succesful laws of overseas and saying lets give this a try. Marriage law?? this just jumped out, which makes sense with the four of wands here.

also something about women is becoming relevant, idk if it is also legislation or maybe a new collective energy being embraced by women. I feel upset rn all of a sudden ugh. something about motherhood, love, emotions, femininity, nurturing, relationships. this energy is so muddled though i cant see thru it as of now.

The overall energy is that of the Strength card, which tells me there is an emphasis on building things, beating enemies, and destroying barriers and limitations. I feel hopeful for 2025 but i dont think itll be an easy year(when has it ever been hehe)

I hope you enjoyed this reading! lets all come back in a year, you can yell at me if i was wrong lol (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[shivunin]

Hello there! ✨

New prompts? Here we go.

I was talking of Moby Dick yesterday with a friend, so of course it must be number 7, for whomever you'd like to force in the same bed with a soon-to-be LI!

Ooooh this was a really tasty one! Thanks, Arja c: I am really happy with this, and it bridged a gap in the timeline I've been fiddling with for a while.

(But. Arja, I gotta ask: as someone who has not read the book in question, is there an 'only one bed' scene in Moby Dick???)

(Tropes Prompts)

For 7. Muses are forced to share a bed:

Back to Back

(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran | 2,015 Words | CW: Canon-typical references to darkspawn/death/the Blight, alcohol mention)

The three of them stood just inside the doorway, various packs already piled off to the side. The room was comfortably warm, did not smell of dead bodies, offered two beds, and featured a fire burning already in the hearth. By the standards of the rest of the castle, it was the height of luxury. Even so, they hesitated. 

Morrigan spoke first.

“I will not be sharing, in case either of you have fostered any such foolish notions,” she told them acerbically. “‘Tis hardly fair for the Crow to have the whole bed to himself by simple virtue of gender.”

“Did I say anything?” Arianwen asked, arms crossed. When she opened her mouth to go on, the Crow in question spoke. 

“I am not so delicate as I look. Surely I can manage one evening’s sleep on stone, yes? It will still be an improvement on packed earth.”

“No,” Wen said sharply. “You are not a dog.”

Zevran turned and stared pointedly at Wen’s mabari, who’d already slung himself over the foot of the bed in question. His tongue lolled out in canine delight and his fur was clean for once, as she’d given him a cursory bath before sneaking him into Redcliffe’s castle. Wen was probably the only one who could make the hound move, and she had no intention of doing so. The poor fellow deserved a soft bed for once. He worked as hard as any of them.

Morrigan, plainly assured that she need not participate in this conversation, turned and walked away. In Wen’s periphery, she could see the witch beginning to draw some sort of sigil over the stone before the door. Good. These people were dodgy as any she’d seen.

“I will keep my hands and knives to myself if you will,” Tabris told Zevran coolly. “It is no closer quarters than we share in camp, Crow.” 

One of his eyebrows arched, but he inclined his head slightly. 

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, hunching her shoulders. “Ugh. Warden, if you won’t use my name. You’re not my servant.” 

She was certain she did not imagine the glint of mockery in his eyes when he swept her an elaborate bow. 

“As you wish, my dear Warden.” 

She didn’t like that either, but she suspected further objections would meet with further prodding. Wen ignored him and went to the far side of the bed, where she could at least shed her armor in peace.

“Not a dog, not a servant,” Zevran murmured to himself, unbuckling his armor on the other side of the bed. “I find my employment opportunities sadly diminished so soon.”

“I hear the Crows have an opening,” Wen told him, casting him a sharp look, and he grinned at her. 

“Let us hope, for both our sakes, that they do not know it yet.”

“Hmph,” was all she could muster in response. Her armor slapped the ground when she tossed it down, but the release of its burden was too much of a relief to stay annoyed. Wen sighed and stretched her hands behind her head, rolling her head first one way and then the other. When she glanced up, the assassin was pulling the covers back and climbing beneath them. 

“Ah—did you want this side?” he asked when he saw her looking, one leg on the mattress, the other on the floor. Wen narrowed her eyes at him. 

“No,” she said. “Just don’t take all the blankets.”

He smiled again and opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. 

“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” she told him. “I might still have to kill a child to save this place. Just let me sleep.”

Zevran shut his mouth and nodded, climbing silently beneath the covers. Wen joined him a moment later, thinking poisonous thoughts at the chamberlain who’d stuffed the four of them in this room. It made strategic sense to stay in one room, but…

But the nightmares were not going to be kind to her tonight. Perhaps it would be wise to warn him before…before. 

“Hey,” she said when Zevran rolled over. 

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his hair backlit by the hearth behind him. For a moment, he looked almost gilded with it—a foolish notion. Wen pushed the thought aside with a vague sense of irritation. It was already hard enough to find the right words; it did not help that he was so plainly assured of his own good looks. She certainly wasn’t going to add to it. 

“Yes?” he said, when she didn’t go on. Wen pressed her lips into a hard line and rolled over onto her side. This corner of the room was shadowed, blocked from the light by the broad lines of the bed and their bodies. 

“Nevermind,” she said instead, biting the end of the word off. “Goodnight.”

A pause, sheets rustling behind her, a quiet breath. Morrigan still sat before the door, her legs crossed, her hands palm-up on either knee. Arianwen did not know if she was meditating or taking first watch and she didn’t intend to ask. Morrigan wasn’t going to kill them while Wen slept; that was all she really needed to know right now. 

“Goodnight, Warden.” 

|

Tabris stood in a wide field, surrounded by heaving bodies on either side. They tossed around her like a river of putrid flesh, horrible syllables clawing their way from ruined throats, sick weapons waving in the air. None of them took notice of her, but they did not leave her space to breathe, either. 

If she stayed here for too long, she would surely choke to death on the smell thick in the air. Even as she knew this, she knew, too, that leaving was impossible. 

There was no way out. She was trapped on all sides. She would die here and be carried onward, like a rotting tree branch in a blood-filled stream, until all the bits that made her distinct from anyone else were worn away by the tide. She knew this with a surety she could not question or define, and the knowledge of her own death bound her hands from fighting back. 

In the distance, a beautiful song rose, as cloying and thick in the air as the smell of unwashed bodies and burning flesh. She was drawn to it even as it repulsed her, caught in the inevitability of the sound and everything that it meant. The archdemon was calling her. She had no choice but to follow, hands bound and feet heavy with the sound. She had no choice. She had—

Wen sat up, gasping for air. 

One hand dragged at the neck of her tunic, loosening the ties even as she clawed her own skin. Something shifted beside her and she flinched away, knocking her head against the carving on the headboard. 

“It is only me,” Zevran said in the darkness beside her. Tabris relaxed slightly, though she still panted for air. 

The fire had died sometime in the night, leaving darkness and a chill in its wake. She could not see him, but she could hear him, could feel the shift in the bed when he moved again. After a moment, something soft brushed her hand. 

“Wine,” he told her. “It will help.” 

Wen abruptly remembered something Morrigan had said to her when Wen had brought him back to camp. She’d said something about him poisoning them all one day and killing them in their sleep, or words to that effect. Tabris unstoppered the wineskin anyway and took a sip, letting it clear some of the thickness from her throat. She took a longer pull a moment later, then passed it back to the left. Zevran took it from her silently, his hand never once brushing hers, and she could hear him drinking, too. 

“Nightmares?” he asked. 

Wen, whose breath had finally begun to slow again, nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her. 

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he said. “I thought that might have been you several evenings ago.”

“Yes,” she said again. Her screaming had woken the whole camp. She was not proud of it and did not appreciate him mentioning it again now. But—he had given her his wine. That allowed him some leeway, she supposed. 

“All Wardens have them,” she added, touching the marks she’d made at her neck. Some of them stung, but she didn’t feel blood. That was good, she supposed. “Alistair is used to them, he said. They are still new to me.”

Zevran made a noise of acknowledgement, then swallowed again. 

“More?” he asked. 

Wen hesitated. She could feel the wine burning in her stomach, too much on an empty stomach. She hadn’t been interested in the castle’s offer of food, but she regretted it now. 

“Yes,” she said, and took the wineskin from him when it brushed against her hand.

“Every night?” he asked. 

“Most nights.”

The wine was red, sharp, faintly bitter at the end. Wen rolled it over her tongue before swallowing, tasting each note as intensely as she could. They chased the last of the nightmares from her mind, to her relief. The wineskin was mostly empty when she passed it back. 

“I’ll buy more wine on the way out of town,” she told him, the closest she would come to an apology. Zevran moved—perhaps he shrugged—but he, too, must have remembered that she could not see him. 

“There is no need,” he said. 

Wen snorted and slid back under the sheets, flicking her braid out of her way as she went. No need, he said, but she knew how this worked. She would buy him wine and she would not owe him for this. She was no fool. 

“Sometimes, in Antiva, I would…feel for a bedmate or a weapon,” he said carefully, “when I woke and I did not know where I was. It helped, I think.”

Wen said nothing and she did not move. Zevran drank again, then moved on his side of the bed. His foot brushed against her calf when he rolled over, but neither of them acknowledged it. 

“Goodnight, Warden.”

“Goodnight,” she hesitated. “Zevran. And—thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Wen grimaced at that. She rolled onto her side and held herself still for a moment, thinking. At last, she sighed and shifted backward until her back brushed against his. 

“Warden?” 

His voice was wary. Wen frowned, ready to move again. 

“You were awake, too,” she said sharply. “So—here. If you have another nightmare.”

His back was tense against hers. She wasn’t sure how to interpret that. 

“Nevermind—” she began, but he was already speaking. 

“I—thank you, I did not mean—”

“I’ll move if you—”

“No, there is no need; I was not asking you for—”

“Fine, then, shut up and go to sleep. It doesn’t have to be a whole—a whole—thing.”

Ser Grr snored loudly at the foot of the bed, startling them both. When she finally recognized the sound, Tabris snorted and tucked an arm under her head. If this was the caliber of pillow the people in castles used, she supposed she was happy enough with the rolled-up blanket she’d left in the camp. How glad she would be when they saw the last of this place. 

“This makes us even,” she said after a moment. “For the wine.” 

At last, Zevran relaxed back against her. The next breath he took pressed his spine to hers. It was an odd sensation, and not one she was entirely sure she enjoyed. Wen waited. 

“I said there was no need.”

“You did.” 

“But—very well. We are even. Save the life debt, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, though the idea of him owing her a life debt still made her deeply uncomfortable. She wedged the pillow between her arm and head and tried to make herself comfortable again. 

The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was the sound of his breathing, quiet and even behind her, and the soft pressure of his back against hers. She did not wake again until morning.

[lorelune]

im too shy to come off anon atm but tysm for the 2nd part after scrap metal. i quite literally screamed (internally, since i was with someone when i saw it) and after reading it, im well fed but just as starved for more OTL

idek where to begin w my thoughts, ugh, you write blade so well. SO WELL. like maybe ppl can write unhinged characters fine, but you. YOU. are so different with that. ill probably find the words in the future to describe what im feeling about this series(??bc it technically can be standalone) but all i can say is that im with the mind to print your writing out and eat it. like, chew it with my molars and swallow it, and then print another one to eat some more, maybe put some slices on my next meal LOLLL. idk, i want to consume it and have it in my veins.

i for real cannot come up with the words to describe this,,,,but i promise im not crazy !! (debatable tbh) i just really like WORDS and WRITING and this just made me just as insane as blade's probably feeling. it's beyond just being giddy bc one of my fav authors wrote for one of my fav charas and it happened to be a reader insert -- there is a fundamental nutrient being provided by your writing and it could have been for any fandom/show, and i probably wouldve had a similar reaction.

your writing has always been wonderful and captivating, but there is smth about the way you wrote blade's pov (brOTHER there is so much ART in the way consciousness was expressed, im frothing at the mouth--) in this and scrap metal that i think really showcased how well you write. like i said, this piece could have been for any other fandom (and i'd still read it bc you wrote it <3) and i know it wouldve hit me like a truck all the same.

this got super long bc it's late where i am but i really wanted to let you know how much i appreciate your work and the talent you have with writing, and this blade series made it so that i couldnt keep these thoughts to myself !!

ik this is only my 2nd ask but since idk when ill come off anon (bc im shyyy) i hope you dont mind me calling myself "slightly feral anon" LOLL (or if you have a better name it's up to you!!)

anon anon ANON (slightly feral anon = sfa anon FOR SHORT!!) thank you for the ask!!! and for reading and enjoying scrap metal and braised!!! 💕✨!!!! i am glad i could provide some fundamental nutrient rich chewable good brain feeling writing 🫡💓

TRULLLY blades pov is fascinating. it's what inspired me to write scrap metal to begin with!! i was thinking abt blade pov in present day game timeline and was like "damn he'd be fucking crazy :3c". i had such immediate brain worms and had to play around with it!!! the whole idea really grabbed me!! the prose hit too so hard like. this guy is not gonna think or feel in a way that is linear and its been SO indulgent and fun to write!!!

not to mention :3c i am excited to write more of these dynamics :3ccccc miss kafka does thing to me on a soul deep level and the relationship between her and blade and her and reader is so twisted and wretched and its so sexy of her. i'm excited for more of the yan olympics

SFA ANON!! thank you for this ask it has brought me much joy 🙏!! thank you once again for the kindness and for reading and sharing your thoughts, your feedback is very appreciated!!!!

[taco-night-frenzy]

Luigi and the Shy Guy Mystery

Here's a WIP I wrote at 3 AM when I should have been writing my Vivian story. I don't know when I will ever complete this, but have fun ---------

Knock knock knock! Bang bang bang–knock knock knock! Like, oh my god, knock knock!!

“Yeah?” Daisy groaned from the sofa, leg dangling over its arm lazily. Some secretary…

“Customer!!” a nasally voice shouted from behind the door. It didn’t take a mediocre detective like me to tell that whoever it was, they were in a rush. I don’t like dealing with people in a rush.

As if reading my mind, Daisy shouted back, “Can you chill, maybe? The detective doesn’t like it when people rush him.”

It sounded very sweet to the unaware reader, but she still did not move from her languid lazing like an ancient member of royalty. In fact, her screaming back only made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end more!

“Uhhh, like, not really??” the voice responded, still pounding on the door. “It’s not really a chill moment, okay?? Can you, like, just see me now?”

Daisy yawned. I felt like the knocking was coming from inside my skull at this point. “Yeah, not really liking your vibe at the moment? Don’t think we’ll be taking your case, sorry.”

I would like to make it very clear that this did not help with my stress. Guilt coursed through my veins with a heaping helping of ‘There’s-A-Chain-Chomp-About-To-Bite-Me!’ anxiety on the side. My mind reeled with potential ways to get out of this situation or ways to fix it or… ah, I couldn’t think with all the noise! What was the right thing to do!?

“Oh my GOD, are you, like, serious right now??” the voice shouted a pitch higher. This couldn’t possibly be anyone I knew, couldn’t possibly be anyone that even my brother knew. She was her own original character for sure. “I am, like, sooooo FREAKING in trouble, you don’t even KNOW, and you’re just, like, gonna totally leave me to rot out here without even listening to me?! You know, I didn’t, like, think anyone could be worse than John, but you guys are like, even LAMER!”

Daisy’s leg twitched, but she remained in her God-of-Decandancy mode, albeit very stubbornly. She mumbled to herself, “Lame? I’m not lame, I’m like… the least lame one…”

“Ugh!” the voice outside cried. “Ugh!” Its cries began to pick up in tempo. “Ugh! Ugh! This is SO lame, oh my GOD. I would have never thought that Mario of all people would leave someone, like, totally hanging like this when they’re in distress!”

“Mario’s not here!” Daisy shouted back, with more thoughtfulness for me than I realized she was capable of. I very much expected her to word that worse.

But she was right.

Mario was not here. Mario was never going to be here. It would only ever be me. Luigi. I couldn’t be expected to fill in his shoes, I shouldn’t be expected to do everything he would do.

Something cold, like a chilled pillow, brushed against my hand.Red lit up the gloom of my office as the Polterpuppy’s collar bounced and jingled by my chair’s side. He gave me an encouraging lick and wagged his ghostly tail, tongue lolling with excitement as the loud noises continued.

Ah. Encouragement. To do the right thing? The forgiveness to let me turn someone down? Or just…

Encouragement.

Plain and simple encouragement. 

Do whatever makes you happy, Luigi.

“I’ll-a-see-a-them,” I said meekly, my voice barely breaking above the shouting, stutters and all.

Daisy actually shot up at that. She turned her head to me, eyebrow raised. “You sure?”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything. But I figured this would only give me more grief if I kept trying to ignore it.

Daisy shrugged. As if she wasn’t just the laziest girl in the world a moment ago, she shot up to her feet without so much as a stumble. She unlocked the door and slammed the door open, jumping to the side as if to say, ‘I’ve done all I can do here!’ before flopping down onto the sofa again with a gymnast's grace.

The Shy Guy came barrelling in like a Twister, red robes disheveled and little nubs swinging. Was he coming to attack me?! He looked like any other Shy Guy!

“Oh my GOD–FINALLY!” With a hop, the Shy Guy planted himself firmly on the chair before my desk, shoes kicking in the gloomy wind. Polterpuppy yipped and barked at our new guest but knew (mostly) to give them space.

Just who was this Guy…? Why would what appeared to be a completely normal Shy Guy be in need of my services so badly?

“Valley Guy,” Daisy mumbled.

Huh?

She waved a wallet lazily in the air. “ID says Valley Guy’s his name.”

Agh! How many times do I have to tell her, no stealing from a potential client?! Even if it looks ‘really cool!’

Valley Guy snatched his wallet back with an angry huff before plopping down on the chair before me again. His mask barely even saw over my desk. Charlie and Marissa (my Fire Flowers) completely overshadowed his little red hood.

Valley Guy… hm… I’ve never heard that name before and never seen it mentioned in Mario’s notes either. Certainly a new person, but something felt wrong…

It wasn’t a pun. It didn’t even seem to match a theme!

No, no, something wasn’t right…

“That’s because, like, something totally isn’t right about my ID!” Valley Guy said. 

Oops. Looks like I had been mumbling my thoughts again.

“My name’s Valley Girl! I’m a Shy Girl! Not a Guy!”

Oh my Star Goddess! How rude of me! How cruel of me! I apologized profusely. I have a friend who would feel horrible if I misgendered her like that…

“Oooohh,” Daisy mumbled through my apologies, completely denying her own. “I get it! Valley Girl! Now the name makes sense.”

“Right???” Valley Girl said, excitement filling her voice. “Listen, I’m not, like, mad or anything?? I just think you look kind of, REALLY stupid for not knowing I’m a Girl?? Like, hello?? Look at my rockin’ bod? Listen to my beautiful voice? If I’m not the HEIGHT of femininity, then I, like, totally don’t know what is??”

I would just like to be extremely clear here, journal. From my perspective, Valley Girl looks like a completely ordinary Shy Guy. No bow, no pink, no suddenly long-beautiful locks peaking out of her mask, no makeup… and her voice sounded just like any other Shy Guy’s. Not that I am denying that she was a Girl! I just think that maybe I’m not that stupid.

“It kinda was obvious, Luigi…” Daisy chimed in, shaking her head. “You do look a little stupid…”

Daisy was the one who said she was a Guy! Her misinformation is the entire reas–

“Listen, can we, like, both agree that this green guy should be a lot smarter for a detective and move on?” Valley Girl said.

Daisy nodded solemnly. “Preach it, Girl.”

I just–! But–!

“Your clearly sub-par perceptive skills aside, like, we should prooooobably hurry this up?” Valley Girl interrupted my stutters, quieting me with ease.

I sighed. There was no point in arguing this. I knew better with Daisy.

I asked Valley Girl what brought her in today.

“Oh!” Valley Girl said brightly, as if she had somehow forgotten and wasn’t sure how to answer. “Hee-hee! Murder!”

M-m-murder?!

“Yah!” Valley Girl continued, throwing a cute little nub into the air. “Not, like, my murder of course! Just, like, there’s been a murder.”

Goodness! Shouldn’t she have called the police before coming to me?!

“Oh, like, that’s just the thing!” Valley Girl said, waving around her little nub as she spoke. “The police totally know about it already.”

Sirens blared outside my window, Red and blue lights bled inside my office, flicking across the walls, the ceiling, the floor. My anxiety was picking up…

“Because, like, I totally escaped from jail!”

Oh goodness.

I heard boots stomping through the entryway on the floor below.

“Dude!!!” Daisy cried out, sitting back up. “Nice one, Girl! That is Awesome!” 

Valley Girl giggled and waved her nub at Daisy. She turned back to me and must have seen a look of horror on my face.

“Oh my god, relax! I didn’t do it!” Valley Girl said. “I’m just, like, the number one suspect is all! Like, convicted of the crime or whatever? IDK. But again, like, I didn’t do it.”

But… she did break out of jail…?

“Oh yah, I totally did that.” Valley Girl held her nub out bashfully and Daisy gave it a high-five. “Anyway, looks like they’re gonna, like, totally be lame and throw me back in there? Could you, like, prove I’m innocent?”

Wait, what?! But I know literally nothing about the murder! Or the case! Could I at least get some details?!

“FREEZE!” the N.D.P.D. (New Donk Police Department) screamed as they busted through the door, Ice Flowers at the ready. A Drybones and Toad in uniform kept their plants steady, aimed at Valley Girl. “You’re under arrest. Again!”

“Booooooooo!” Daisy shouted from her seat, giving them a thumbs down. “Boooooo!”

“Yah, well, looks like I totally can’t really do that?” Valley Girl said as a pair of handcuffs clinked around her nubs. “Think you could just like, IDK, figure it out or whatever? You’re, like, the detective?? Hello??”

Umm!! Uhh!! I… I guess?!

“Cool! Like, thanks so much!” Valley Girl shouted as the police officers walked her out of my office.

My door flopped off the frame and onto the carpet with a thud!

“Door’s broken again, Luigi,” Daisy said, pointing at it like I couldn’t see it.

Thanks.

[alollinglaughingcat]

I posted 18 times in 2022

7 posts created (39%)

11 posts reblogged (61%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stealmeawish

@leafpool-loves-ashfur

@atreyu-art

@firealder2005

@mumblesplash

I tagged 18 of my posts in 2022

#rb - 7 posts

#reblog - 7 posts

#burning thistles - 5 posts

#my art - 4 posts

#burning thistles au - 4 posts

#warrior cats - 4 posts

#warrior cats au - 3 posts

#random - 3 posts

#cats - 3 posts

#warriors - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#like yessss love ur evil girlfriend and her dad so much that they do good but only for you. everyone else can die but they'd protect you

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

From a Chinese Reader

Hello Lolling,

  My name is Tong. I am a Chinese reader of "Warriors". I love your "Burning Thistles" so much that I want to let all other Chinese readers read it!

  However, Many Chinese readers don't have the ability to visit foreign websites because of Chinese policies. Also, it is difficult for them to read English articles. Therefore, I would like to ask if you could allow me to repost and translate "Burning Thistles" on Lofter and Tieba, two of the most prominent Chinese websites where Chinese readers post fan fiction.  I will indicate the original author with the article. I'm look forward to receiving your early reply. Thank you!

Tong

-----------response-----------

of course you may @tongkitten !!! please make sure to credit myself AND @firealder2005 , my co-author, as well!!

8 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

#4

im too proud of this to NOT post it here dream smp songs and statistics babey

DSMP Songs Playlist Organized by Character Link

as of 8/12/2022, the playlist has 473 songs, ~443 of which are directly songs about or based on the Dream SMP and its characters/players

The characters with the most songs about them are as follows: #1 Wilbur: 85  #2 Tommy: 60 #3 Techno: 55 #4 Tubbo: 40 #5 Dream: 35 (+1 if including DreamXD) #6 Ranboo: 34 #7 Niki: 22 #8 Quackity: 22 #9 Karl: 21 #10 Philza: 20 (+2 if including Mumza)

(Niki is placed higher than Quackity on account of the unaccounted L’Manburg anthem/L’Manburg-based songs which indirectly or semi-directly include her)

The order and entire count for the DSMP songs is as follows: L'Manburg (27)  Miscellaneous Dream SMP (25) Sleepy Bois Incorporated (6) TommyInnit (22) Tommy & Wilbur Duets (8) Tommy & Dream Duets (4) Dream (23) Dream & Techno Duets (6) DreamXD (1*+1^) WilburSoot (L'Manbur (8) - Vilbur (18) - Ghostbur (20) - Revivebur (15)) (61) Technoblade (29) Techno & Tommy Duets (4) The Syndicate (6) Ranboo & Dream Duets (1) Ranboo (18) Ranboo & Tommy Duets (1) Ranboo & Tubbo Duets (5) Tubbo (21) Tubbo & Tommy Duets (7) Jschlatt (7) Schlatt & Wilbur Duets (3) Schlatt & Quackity Duets (1) Quackity (11) / Las Nevadas (4) (15) Quackity & Wilbur Duets (3) Charlie Slimecicle (3) Philza (10) / Mumza (2) (12) Karl Jacobs (15) Karlnapity (1) The Tales of the SMP (5)  CaptainPuffy (5) BadBoyHalo (2) / & Skeppy (2) (4*) The Eggpire (5) / Red Banquet (2) (7*) (**11) Awesamedude (6) / Sam Nook (1) (7) Eret (9) Niki Nihachu (13) Niki & Jack Duets (1)  Fundy (9)  GeorgeNotFound (13) George & Sapnap Duets (1) Sapnap (6) Sapnap & Tubbo Duets (1) Hannahxxrose (3) FoolishGamers (6) Purpled (2) Purpled & Punz Duets (1) Other Characters (Punz, Ponk, Jack Manifold, ConnorEatsPants, Aimsey, BoomerNA, etc.) (6) Musicals (4) / Albums (2) (6) Origins SMP (4) Additional/Related Songs (MCC, Manhunt, Lovejoy, GNF OF, etc.) (26)

31 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

#3

fuck you *warrior cat-ifies ur gay lego monkies*

i dont know why they were so easy to turn into warrior cats. truly it should not have been this easy. and yet... i already have an entire fucking plotline in my brain, ugh

blame this line: “Have you been running around with OTHER MENTORS?!” (vid linked)

yep! it’s Lego Monkie Kid but as Warrior Cats! i feel like their warrior names are pretty self explanatory lmao (Monkey King + Sun Wukong; shadow monkey + Six-Eared Macaque). but wait, you scream, MKpaw???? thats not a warrior name!!!

simpletons. in this AU, the legendary clans are distant history, long forgotten tales told to kits. so then why do they have warrior names? because Wukong (Monkeysun) and Macaque (Shadowear) were both born into the clans, and remain one of the few survivors of it. MK is a kittypet (or stray cat) who is enraptured by the tales of clancats that his friend-slash-father-figure Tang tells him. said stories involve a certain “long-tailed cat” named Monkeysun, the warrior who “stole the stars” and “lived forever.”

yep! Monkeysun stole the stars. Literally. Because in LMK everything is literal. Well, literal-ish. By stars, I mean the powers of StarClan granting lives. That’s how Monkeysun gained immortality in this AU - instead of stealing peaches, wine, and pills, he broke the Moonpool and granted himself a million lives. of course, this meant leaders could no longer gain their nine lives, and, understandably, many cats were upset, so of course, using what power they had left, the leader of StarClan (the Jade Emperor) buried Monkeypaw (he was an apprentice at the time) underneath the earth, in the tunnels, where he would roam and starve forever until all of his lives were gone.

course, that didnt happen, and Monkeypaw was freed to journey alongside the monk Tripitaki, who would be like a guardian cat or Sisters equivalent I suppose, and he and the other gang would partake in a journey to the west/sundrown place to find Buddha (a Rock or Midnight equivalent figure). why do the take the journey in this AU? honestly idk lmao.

anyway! what about Shadowear?? well, Monkeysun (who earns that name from Tripitaki) kills him when Shadowear attempts to kill Tripitaki, but! Even tho the power of the stars are gone, the Dark Forest still lurks, and the Lady Bone Demon (prob called Bonestar, formerly Bonelily or smthn) uses her powers to give Shadowear a life, resurrecting him, so long as he follows her rules...

similarly, the Mayor is able to possess cats like Ashfur, and wants to grant the power to his Lady but he needs to free her first, which is Shadowear’s purpose (it’ll have something to do with the Moonpool probably)

so flash forward to the present and MK finds Monkeysun’s stick (bcus of COURSE its a stick in this au lmao) and becomes his apprentice, training in the way of the warriors. Mei, ofc, joins him, and Pigsy is against it, while Tang is in awe. And Sandy’s supportive but wary with his own dark history (coughgangcatcoughBloodClancough). also yep Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy are still reincarnations, and Mei has the “dragon” ancestry still (the Samadhi fire stuff i dont have figured out yet, though it might be some magic Moonpool stuff instead maybe - oh also Nezha is the guardian of the Moonpool now, and maybe Chang’e is the guardian of the Moonstone? and DBK lives in the mountains and therefore guards the Tribe’s magic cave thing?)

also here’s some warrior names that wouldnt technically be canon to this au:

Pigsy -> Pigflower (why flower? because he cooks, and flowers are like herbs)

Pigsy’s first life/Zhu Bajie -> Boarbelly (bcus he eats people)

Sandy -> Bluesand (do i need to explain this one? not sure what JTTW Sandy/Sha Wujing’s name would be tho)

Tang -> Goldenshine or Brightshine or similar (once again not sure what his OG/Tripitaki’s name would be - maybe Goldensun to parallel Monkeysun?)

Mei -> Dragonblaze (”but Dragon isn’t-” FINE, Lizardblaze)

Ao Lie/White Horse Dragon -> ...Whitehorse? or Whiteflash

Demon Bull King -> Bullfang

Princess Iron Fan -> Windstorm, Windstream, Windbreeze, Breezestorm, etc.

Red Son -> Redflame

Nezha -> Ringfire, Lotusfire or Lotusheart

34 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

#2

See the full post

46 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i fucking love Terry and i will fistfight anyone who looks at him mean

465 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[discotenny]

Ohhh I wish you luck with your assignments 💗💗💗

I thought it was just a little cold but I am amazed by the power!!! I have been blowing my nose for 8 hours and it is still going 🥲

another moment of being a little mad Jakurai is not making himself real right now I want to be pampered until this is over 😮‍💨💕

Thank you as alwags for your kind words 💗 I look forward to reading your next works as usual!

Aaa I understand the struggle anon ;_;

Whenever I get sick I push through the early days so I can still feel productive then I’m hit like a truck and am stuck in bed for days 😭😭😭 make sure you don’t get a rash on your nose !! Blowing with tissues too much starts to get the skin dry and it hurts all the more TwT

I think Jakurai would be really good at taking care of you when you’re sick 🙈🙈🙈 Being a doctor and all LOLL. Id imagine he’d have some difficulty drawing the line between caring for you like a doctor would and caring for you like a boyfriend would- but pulling him down and giving him a big old smooch on the cheek will fix his attitude right smh smh.

With all that doctor money he’d probably be able to buy the good tissues- the ones with the lotion built in 🫣🫣🫣. His hands r probably so gentle too like can you imagine anon ugh !!! He’d be so soft and treat you more soft that he usually already does :(((. Maybe he doesn’t have time to cook at home but he definitely makes the time to cook you a warm meal that’ll be sure to have you feeling better in no time !! (Or he just asks Hifu to make something and he picks it up ehe)

Thank you for your compliments anon >,< I hope whatever I have in store lives up to it ehehe. Feel better once again !!

[pieroulette]

O.M.G. YUAN YUAN! 😚 i was blushing so hard when i was reading all the asks! 🤭 to answer ur question, i kinda want 2000's ish clothes? very feminine and possibly whimsical-goth style? that would be cool ! 😋

also yuan i am so so so annoyed that tumblr does stuff like that. 😒onetime i edited on tumblr and it did the same thing it did to u! i was so mad! and my fic was only 2K so i cant even begin to understand how ure feeling. take breaks and release it whenever you feel comfortable, we are here 4 u! <3🥰🥰🥰

ANYWAY thank u so much for the compliments on the poem, i cried too! 🥹i am just blushing so hard and so thankful that you and other annonies enjoyed it LOLOL. it's my favorite piece ever! i even made my teacher cry when he read it LOLL. 🤭 

im so happy that i get to be the "intellectual backbone" of this family HAHA.😤😁💪 i will share some of my brain cells w u guys :> lets all be smart together LOL 🩷

wishing u da best!

-🧠 ANAWN!

OMG WOW- feminine and whimsical-goth style?? I LOVE IT!! i wish i could see u wearing it hehe- but nvm cuz I CAN JUST IMAGINE IT <3 YOU DAMN WELL GONNA LOOK SO GORGEOUS IN IT I JUST KNEW IT :)) also ngl this is giving me extra ideas hehe.

AND NO TUMBLR IS BULLYING U TOO?? >:(( 'ONLY'?? DONT SAY THAT. 2K IS ALOT OF HARDWORK NO EXCUSE, IM SO SORRY THAT HAPPENS TO U TOO KEZ 😭😭 it just there's nothing we can do but to keep trying and to copy it constantly so u won't lose it. tho it takes alot of effort. i am so much in pain for your 2k fic </3 they're still a whole precious gem ..

and about the poem!! you so fr deserved it, you deserve every compliments, praises, and tears <333 even a millionth rereads aren't enough cuz i have to understand them better. reading them r just so ugh, so damn fascinating 😭😭 AND YES HAHA LETS ALL BE SMART TOGETHER <3 BRAIN SOUP TEAM 😭😭

[roosterbruiser]

just read the new chapter of VV!! I loved it! The angst ugh I could cry. honestly I’m personally not the biggest fan of jake (love him but this version hurts my heart sm) the way he’s unintentionally sort of leading cherry down a certain path even though it’s sort of inevitable and as we all know she makes her own choices brings out so many emotions in me. I love rooster and the relationship he has with cherry. You write them so beautifully. I’m so excited to see where this goes and I PRAY that all ends well and roosters endgame. Love this story sm your writing is so special. 🫶🏻💕 P.S as I was reading on A03 I kept tapping it to like it thinking it was tumblr loll can’t wait till you get your blog back to normal!

thank you so much for reading!! and thank you for sharing your thoughts!!

totally understand not being the biggest fan of Jake rn!! I am definitely making him a nuanced character!!

Cherry and Rooster might be my favorite couple I've ever written....there's just something so sexy and sad about them. DELICIOUS!! Cherry and Rooster ARE endgame!!

also I do that all the time with AO3!! I can't thank you enough for being flexible and switching platforms during my trying time in horny jail!! this ask is SO sweet and I can't thank you enough!!

[ptergwen]

tom or peter reading about the 5 love languages a person can have and throughout the day he tries and incorporate all of them but make it super obvious that readers can tell? if that makes sense 😭

to be loved, to be in love

w/c: 2,082

warnings: literally one swear

a/n: ugh this is such an adorable concept thank you for sending it in :,) i haven’t written for tom in a minute so i hope i did him justice ahhhh but without further ado enjoy my loves <3

-

tom is browsing his feed when he comes across an article about love languages. he’s familiar with some of them, but he admittedly doesn’t have much knowledge of the topic. interested in learning more, he decides to read through the article.

he starts to wonder which love language yours is as he reads. it’s important to him that you feel heard and appreciated in your relationship, and catering to it would be a way of doing that. with valentine’s day around the corner, he figures now is the perfect time to start.

he’s got a few ideas as to how he’ll go about it.

❥ acts of service

you wake to the smell of pancakes and a kiss on your cheek. cracking an eye open, you find tom knelt beside your shared bed. he sets a plate down on your night table, next to a mug of coffee made just the way you like it.

“what’s all this?” you wonder, a grin pulling at your lips. tom smiles back. “g’morning, darling. i made you a little breakfast in bed,” he explains. “hope you’re hungry, hm?” he pecks your lips, you giggling. “i am. thank you, baby. ‘s sweet of you,” you beam at him, now sitting up. tom hands you your coffee.

“you’re welcome, darling. enjoy it.”

you sip the drink he so graciously prepared for you, tom joining you on the bed. he adjusts the covers so they’re around your frame and loops an arm around your middle, fingers running up and down your side. you decide to trade your coffee for the pancakes.

“ooh, let me,” he offers, retrieving the plate from you to cut your food. you watch him do so with your eyes narrowed curiously. “alright, what’s going on? what’s the occasion?” you finally question. “occasion? what’re you on about, y/n?“ tom cocks his head to the side.

he returns your breakfast to you, ready to eat.

“it’s not every day chef holland is in the kitchen. you’re up to something,” you point out, shoving a forkful of pancake in your month nevertheless. “but i’ll allow it ‘cuz these are really good,” you speak between bites.

tom chuckles, using his thumb to wipe some syrup off your upper lip.

“yeah? you like them?” he takes note.

could acts of service be your love language?

“mhm,” you mumble and bite into another piece. “where have you been hiding these culinary skills of yours?” a smirk graces tom’s features, hand shooing at you playfully. “stop it, you’re making me blush,” he jokes. you poke one of his freckled cheeks. “seriously! you should try some,” you hold out your plate to him.

“no, no. you enjoy them,” tom repeats, patting your thigh gently. “i wanted do something nice for you.”

you lean over and capture his lips in a kiss that you each smile into. tom licks the taste of maple syrup off when you pull away, humming in satisfaction.

one down, four to go.

❥ words of affirmation

“hey, love,” tom announces his presence. he’s standing in the doorway of the room designated as both of your offices. “what’re you working on?”

your fingers fly fast across your keyboard, a lengthy document displayed on your laptop screen.

“english paper. i’m trying to get ahead on assignments so i have valentine’s free,” you clarify, frowning at tom from your desk. “uni is kicking my ass, tom.”

you look like you could use a pep talk.

tom comes to stand behind you. his hands settle on your shoulders, beginning to rub them soothingly.

“i know, love. you’re doing wonderfully, though,” tom coos. “just stick with it. you can bang this out in no time.”

he peppers a couple of kisses to the back of your neck while his fingers continue to relax your tense shoulders. your head lolls back against your chair, gaze shifting up to tom.

“you think so?” you flash your best puppy eyes. “for sure. you’re a stellar student, y/n/n. i’m so proud of you,” tom praises you, kissing the top of your head. “it’s not easy, what you’re doing here. i understand there’s a lot of pressure,” he acknowledges. you nod, your head heavy.

“i mean, i never even made it to university,” tom adds to lighten the mood. “give yourself some credit, won’t you?”

his sentiment earns a laugh from you, which he considers to be a success. perhaps words of affirmation do it for you instead.

“thanks, tom. you always know just what to say,” you sigh out, placing one of your hands atop his. you bring your connected hands to your lips and kiss the back of his. “i really needed that extra motivation.” tom interlocks his pinkie with yours, his signet ring brushing your skin. “anytime, darling. i’ve got you,” he assures you.

“well, i should probably get back to work,” you complain, grip on tom’s hand tightening. “will you keep me company?”

tom grins down at you.

“absolutely.”

❥ quality time

it’s later that day when you emerge from your office. tom ventured off to the kitchen a while ago to fix you a snack, which is where you find him. he’s humming softly as he rummages through the fridge.

he sneaks tessa a piece of cheese and scratches behind her ears while she devours it.

“there we are, tess. you like that, don’t you?”

her tail wags back and forth in response, you snickering at the encounter.

tom hears this and turns around to face you, brows raised. tessa trots over to you. you squat to the floor so you can pet her, stroking at her belly.

“i was just on my way back,” tom tells you with a box in hand. “i got these chocolates you like, if you fancy them.” you scrunch your nose when tessa begins to sniff your face, tom breathing out a laugh. “sounds good. i think i’m gonna take a break, by the way,” you announce.

“mm, you’ve earned it,” tom pads over to you and tessa. “been cooped up at that desk all day.”

you rest your head on his shoulder, tom snaking an arm around your waist.

he recalls reading about another love language that’s centered around one-on-one time with your partner. now, he has an opportunity to test that out.

“how about we go for a walk?” tom suggests. “the weather’s quite nice, and some fresh air would do you good.” a tired smile appears on your lips. “sure, that would be refreshing. let’s bring tess,” you agree. his lips press to the side of your head. “i’ll grab her leash. wait right here,” tom mumbles against you.

he’s such a god send.

you munch on the chocolates and give tess more pets while tom gathers her leash. he hooks it to her collar, then the two of you throw on your coats. you’re out the door soon after.

your arm is linked in tom’s as you stroll through your neighborhood, tessa leading you both. it’s not often you’re able to share moments like this one, with your busy lives to live. you’ve missed this.

“i appreciate how much you do for me, T,” you speak quietly, nuzzling your face in tom’s neck. “i really do. you’ve been so lovely to me today, and every day. can’t thank you enough.”

you two stop on the sidewalk, tessa wanting to explore a patch of grass. tom hugs you with the hand that isn’t holding her leash.

“aw, y/n/n. you don’t have to thank me. i love you so much, you know?” tom murmurs. “i know. i love you, T,” you peck a spot on his jawline.

you continue on your walk, staying close to tom’s side.

“so, tell me more about your paper,” tom prompts you. “how’s it coming along?”

❥ gifts

“darling? have you seen my ring?” tom calls from the bedroom. he’s searching random drawers, huffing and puffing. “whereabouts is it?” he mutters under his breath.

you’ve finished your english paper at last, so your schedule is cleared for the day. you come into the room to help tom look.

“did you check your finger?” you tease, tom dramatically rolling his eyes. “haha, very funny. but i’m serious. i’ve no clue where it’s gone,” he whines. you rub his back to comfort him. “the signet ring, right?” you wonder. “that’s the one,” tom confirms, closing the drawer he had been going through.

“not again. what happened to your vow to never take it off after last time?” you shake your head. “i have my reasons!” tom defends. “just, let me…”

the ring suddenly catches his eye. lo and behold, it’s on his pinkie where it normally resides.

“never mind,” tom wiggles his fingers to show you. “oh, you div!” you gasp, pushing at his back lightly. “what did you need it for, anyway?”

tom slips the signet ring off his pinkie, shooting you a wide grin.

“actually, i wanted you to have it,” he reveals, reaching for your hand. your eyes go wide. “wait, what?”

tom read that with gifts, they should convey thoughtfulness and gratitude for your partner. it’s only fitting he gives you his signet ring. it’s special to him, and so are you.

“yeah,” tom shrugs like it’s nothing, sliding the ring onto your pinkie now. you ogle at it, your hand in his. “tom, baby. i… i can’t,” you almost whisper. “of course you can, darling,” he insists. “why couldn’t you?”

“because it belongs to your family. you should keep it,” your eyebrows knit together. “it’s yours, tom.” he grabs your other hand, bringing both to his heart. “you are family, y/n/n. it’s yours, too,” he corrects you. “it would mean a lot to me if you had it. i really do want you to.”

you meet tom’s eyes to be sure. he nods, urging you on.

the gesture is so beyond kind of him, but so out of the blue.

“okay,” you concede with a small smile. “i’ll take good care of it.”

tom places a kiss to your forehead, an arm winding around you.

“never had a doubt in my mind you would.”

❥ touch

you and tom are snuggled on the couch for a rom com marathon to end the night, in honor of valentine’s day being soon.

he’s tried out every love language to see which you respond the most to, although you seemed to have responded to all of them. there’s only one more he hasn’t yet attempted; physical touch.

“love?” tom gets your attention. “hm?” you shift your gaze from the tv to him. he spreads his legs, doing grabby hands for you. “c’mere. wanna hold you,” he requests with a dopey smile.

you giggle and climb into his lap, legs straddling him. tom cuddles your waist, letting his hands travel under the hoodie you borrowed from him. his warm palms knead at the bare flesh of your lower back. you exhale as your eyes flutter closed.

“you’ve got quite a few knots down here, love,” tom observes. “does this hurt at all?” you curl your arms around his torso. “no, feels so much better. keep going,” you encourage him.

tom carefully massages your back and kisses both your cheeks, his thumbs caressing your hipbones simultaneously. you let out noises of content, burying your face in tom’s chest. your hand moves up to his bicep and squeezes.

the reflection of the tv glints from the signet ring on your pinkie, tom biting back a smile.

“i love you,” you say against his chest. “i love you, too,” tom breathes.

that’s when it clicks.

“guess this is the one, then,” he speaks to himself. “huh?” you pop your head up, squinting at him. “what’re you talking about?” tom’s hands still in their movements, his lips pursed. “your love language. it’s physical touch, i believe,” he elaborates.

“i guess it is,” you echo. your elbow rests on tom’s shoulder, chin propped in your hand. “since when do you know about love languages?” you scoff. “since today,” tom deadpans. “i’ve been trying to figure out which one yours is. now i know.”

“i knew you were up to something!” your mouth drops open. “that’s honestly really cute, though. you’re too good to me.” you kiss tom’s shoulder. he clicks his tongue, fully enveloping you in his embrace. “come on, you deserve it.”

you feel so at home in tom’s arms, relaxing into him. his fingers glide around to your back once again.

“where were we?”

[anapotatowriter]

The Flowering Quince - Part 2

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

A/N: PART 2! ASKDSFSA, I LIKE THIS ONE! And the next part will be our ball ;)

Summary: Edmund Pevensie and Y/N L/N have been enemies ever since they met. Can a bet set aside their differences?

Contains: Enemies to lovers, Battles, fighting, Playboy!Edmund, Golden Age AU... I don’t think anything else is there, but feel free to mention it if there are any more-

Requested: No

Edmund rolled his eyes at my comment as we walked into the room, frustrated at not being able to give me a retort. I snorted and said, "Yeah, keep rolling those eyes, and you might find a brain back there." It had been three days since I had started annoying Edmund, but the lack of replies to my sarcasm was quickly beginning to bore me. "Ugh, it's no fun to bother you unless you give me a reply back," I groaned as I free-fell onto his bed. "Believe me, it's no fun for me to listen to you and not be able to reply either. It physically pains me to hold back my sarcastic comments," groaned Edmund, crashing onto the couch in the room. "Wanna play some chess," asked Edmund, making me sigh and turn around to stuff my face into the bed. "Chess is so boring. I hate it and will never play it. Let's go practice some fighting instead?" "No," stated the boy bluntly. "What do we do then? Cause I am sticking around to bother you as much as possible," I said, placing my chin on my hand and facing the brunette king. "Why can't you just leave?" asked the boy, his head lolling back, eyes closed in aggravation. "Cause the week is gonna be over in 4 days, and I'm not losing this opportunity. I would be a fool to do that," I shrugged. "Come on then, let's go to the library," said Edmund, standing up and offering his hand to me. "Finally, a good suggestion! You pick out the books, I'll get the coffee," I said, taking his hand and standing up, brushing off my pants before going to the kitchens. During our time together, the two of us discovered 2 things we had in common. Our love for reading and black coffee. I finally found someone to talk to about all the books I read. Most of the soldiers I worked with spent too much time training to bother with activities like reading. However, the extra time I spent with Edmund led to us discovering some common ground between us. 

"The usual," I commanded as soon as I walked into the kitchen, taking up my persona of the Head Guard. Two cups of black coffee were ready five minutes later. I picked them up along with the chocolate chip cookies and walked out towards the library. "Here," said Edmund without looking up from his own book, holding out another book. "Thanks, here," I said, trading the book for the steaming cup of coffee. I started reading the lovely tale of a creature, called a Hobbit, which had to carry a ring to "Mount Doom." Soon, the coffee was over along with the biscuits, the only noise being the rustling of pages. That was before the doors of the library slammed open, making me stand up immediately to unsheathe my dagger from one of the scret pockets and point it at the imposter. "Oh, Susan! Sorry," I said when I recognized the young woman, sheathing my dagger again. "Why is it that whenever someone wields a weapon towards me, it's you?" joked Susan, making me give her a gentle smile. 

"Edmund wasn't being annoying for once," I said, pointing my thumb at Edmund, who looked up for a second before glancing back down at the pages. "Nice to see that you both are becoming friends," said Susan. I grimaced and said, "Ew, no, I despise him," just as Edmund said something similar about me. "Ok then... Anyway, Edmund, we need some help with Tashban," said Susan, turning to Edmund as I sat back down and picked up my book. Edmund turned towards me, a questioning looks in his eyes. "Oh, please, go. I wanna get rid of you anyway," I said, turning to the book. "Bye, weirdo," said Edmund as he stood up and left the library. "Bye, badger's ass," I replied, looking into the book again. "Hey Y/N," sighed Susan as she collapsed onto the chair Edmund had occupied a few hours earlier. "You know, you are royalty. You shouldn't be spending this much time with a guard," I said, flipping to the last page of the book. "Please, you are so much more... real... than all the other ladies of the court. I would choose to be with you over the royalty any day," said Susan, her fingers pinching the pinch of her nose in exhaustion. "Oh, also, I forgot to mention. We are holding the Summer's Ball in a month," said Susan. "Oh! Ok, I will be there to stand guard, and I'll start preparing the rest of the soldiers to protect you during the Ball. I'll also get the positions of the soldiers into place. It's been ages since we changed them," I started rambling, the protection of the royal family a priority in my mind as Head Guard.

"Y/N," said Susan, placing her hand on my arm and making me stop talking. "I mentioned it because I was hoping that you would join us at the Ball," she explained. "Ok? I kind of have to be there to protect the royal family," I shrugged, making plans in my mind. "Y/N, you misunderstand me. I want you to be there as a party goer and friend, not as a guard," clarified Susan, making my eyes widen. "But Susan, I don't dance," I exclaimed, immediately protesting her suggestion. "Nonsense, you danced so well with Peter on our coronation night!" "But that was a ball with only Narnians! Now, people from Calormen, Galma, Terebinthina, and even the Lone Islands will be coming! Specifically royalty," I protested, my hands moving around wildly."Y/N, you'll be coming as my guest, don't worry about it!" "What if people attack us during the ball, and I am too busy prancing around in a dress to protect you and your siblings?" I asked, getting more frazzled by the minute. "Y/N, I want to see you in a dress, first of all. You always wear pants and a tunic. Second of all, it's one night! What's the worst that could happen? Third of all, I, as your High Queen, command you to attend the Ball," cajoled Susan. "Fine, I guess! If the High Queen commands it," I mocked, standing up and bowing. "I'll go arrange the system of the guards during the Ball now," I said, waving goodbye and leaving.

In the morning, I walked to Edmund's chambers. I wanted to wake him up for our sword-fighting session. I saw one of the kitchen maids scurry out of the general area. I rolled my eyes at the deeds that the youngest King had been up to the night before. "Edmund, practice, ten minutes," I yelled through the door before going to the training field. As I walked to the training field, I stopped at the bush of Flowering Quince. I sighed softly, brushing my fingers through the petals, careful of the thorns. I plucked one of the flowers and brought it to my nose, breathing in the scent that reminded me of home. I dropped the flower and went to the training area, picking up my swords. I experimentally swung my swords around, the emerald hilts sparkling in the light from the rising sun. "Morning," I called as soon as I heard the distant sounds of footsteps. "How? I literally haven't even walked in," complained Edmund as he opened the door. "Battle trains you to see and hear everything and react accordingly," I shrugged, twirling my sords around in my hands. "Have you always been fighting?" he asked as he picked up his own swords. "Ever since I was... seven, I think," I replied as I got into a fighting stance. "That's very young... You were my age when we met, around 12, right?" he asked as he started fighting, his swords clashing against both of mine. "Yep," I responded as I swung my sword at his legs, which he blocked quickly. "Why did you start fighting so young?" he said as he struck his other sword towards my neck, which I easily dodged. "Stop talking and start fighting. Your stance is horrible," I commented, avoiding the question. Soon enough, the fighting session ended. "You still didn't answer my question," he huffed, swiping strands of his hair off of his face as he placed his swords back in their place. "It is none of your business, Edmund. Stop bothering with it," I said, not wanting to talk about it. "Fine... Sorry if I intruded," he said as he walked towards the door. "Library?" I asked as he stood at the door, making him turn, smile, and say, "7 in the evening. You bring the coffee."

I walked down the narrow corridor, my eyes squinting in the windowless path. My eyes were buried in the plans of the castle so that I could arrange the guards when I collided with someone. "Fucking hell," I muttered as the papers scattered everywhere. "Sorry, Y/N," muttered Peter as he helped me pick up the pages. "You didn't have to do that, Peter. You're the High King," I said as he handed me all the papers. "Nonsense, Y/N. You're my friend," he said, flashing me a smile. "Peter, I was wondering if we can have a meeting tomorrow regarding the plans for the Summer Ball. Guard wise, you know?" I asked. "Tomorrow at breakfast then," he said before smiling and walking away. 

At 7, I reached the library and worldlessly handed Edmund his coffee as he handed me another book. We read in complete silence, reading out a few choice chapters from our book every now and then. "Done," Edmund and I called out at the same time, placing our book down on the table in unison. "Good night Ed," I muttered as I walked towards the library door sleepily. "Ed, huh?" he asked, making me realize what I said. "Don't worry, I like it," he interrupted quickly. "You know, you're not as bad as I always thought," I said before leaving. "Neither are you," I heard his voice yell, making me giggle. Wait, why the fuck did I giggle- Whatever, I must just be very sleepy. 

"Good morning Susan, Peter, Lucy," I said, bowing to each one of them. "Please, no need for formalities, Y/N! We're friends," smiled Susan, pointing at a seat next to her. "So, regarding the Summer Ball, all the main entryways to the castle will be protected by at least 12 guards. The secret entrance will have two, so we don't attract any attention. Then there will be 24 guards in the ballroom if there is an ambush. All doors in the ballroom will also be guarded," I started as the three royal members ate breakfast. "Y/N, just please make sure that they don't look off-place with the decorations for the Ball," fretted Susan, who was in charge of the decor. "It's fine, Su, I'll handle it! Y/N needs to handle the protection of the people," said Lucy, making me smile gratefully at her. "Now, there will also be guards placed at the-," I was interrupted by the door to the dining room slamming open. "Do you guys wanna see a butterfly," yelled Edmund excitedly, panting. "Sure," said Lucy excitedly, eyes flickering around the room for the butterfly. "No Edmund-," Peter and Susan said in unison as Edmund picked up the brick of butter and threw it violently. "Ethereal," I said, hiding my laughter. "Thank you," said Edmund, leaving again. "Bye idiots and Y/N," he said as he left the room. "Bye Ed," I called out, chuckling a bit at his "butterfly." 

I missed Peter and Susan's confused glances at each other. "Now, as I was saying," I continued, explaining all the plans I had for the Ball. "Thank you, Y/N. It's nice knowing how hard you are working to protect us," said Peter when I finished. "It's my duty, Peter," I said, bowing my head a little. "And remember, you will need to wear a gown for the Ball," Susan said excitedly, making me shake my head wearily. "I would not be going, but you are forcing me. I need to be protecting you," I said agitatedly. "Please Y/N," whined Lucy, pouting a bit. "I don't really have a choice, do I, High Queen," I said, mock bowing as I got up. "You do not. Bye Y/N," said Susan, laughing at my resistance. "Bye," I said, leaving the room. 

"And done!" I exclaimed as I put the pizza in the oven. "Finally... let's clean up now," said Edmund, starting to gather all the ingredients that were still out. "I guess I'll stop bothering you from now on. It's our last day," I said, plastering a smile on my face. His face fell a bit as he nodded. "You're not half-bad, Y/N. I wouldn't mind reading some more with you in the library," said Edmund sincerely as he picked up the capsicum. My heart fluttered at his words, though I didn't understand why. Maybe I was excited about the pizza? "Shit," I laughed as flour flew into my face. "How did you even manage to do that, Y/N/N? Like, half the ingredients for our pizza or on you," said Edmund, a grin playing on his lips."Oh really? Really? Take that," I yelled, throwing flour at his face. "You did not just do that," laughed Edmund before throwing mushrooms at me. Soon, there were pizza ingredients all over us and the kitchen floors. "Oof," sighed Edmund when he ran out of food, plopping down onto the ground. "Tell me about it," I said, sitting down next to him. As we caught our breath, an odd smell filled the room. "Is something... burning?" I asked Edmund, who sat up and smelled the room. "THE PIZZA," we yelled in unison, running to the oven. When we opened it, smoke billowed out of there."What's happening," called out a voice through the dark smoke, making me squint and cough as Edmund put out the fire. "What the-," said another voice, which broke off into a coughing fit. As the smoke slowly cleared, I made out the faint silhouette of the last people I wanted to see. "Peter, Susan," I gulped, making Edmund turn around and freeze. "What... the... HELL HAPPENED IN HERE," shrieked Susan, making me wince. "We left our pizza in the oven," said Edmund, shrugging. "That bitch burnt as fuck," I continued, grimacing. 

"Go to bed," said Peter firmly, making Edmund and me glance at each other sadly.  "Good night Ed," I said sadly, brushing off some of the flour from my pants. "Good night Y/N/N," he said just as sadly, waving at me. "Tomorrow, library, 8 in the night," I said, and he nodded. My heart thrummed in my chest as I walked to my room. What was happening? Was I falling sick? I sighed, confused by these feelings. "Whatever," I sighed, changing and climbing into bed. 

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[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 29

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Language, angst, insecurities, blood, darkish thoughts (self-hatred), fighting, violence Author's Note: heavy chap. if you’re having a bad day, take a moment, be kind to yourself and put off reading this until you feel better 💜

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 29: That Pet You Just Couldn't Keep

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Remus woke up to a bright, white light. He squinted, head lolling to the side of his lumpy pillow. The chair near his bedside was empty, saved from a pitcher of water along with a few potions Madam Pomfrey must’ve left for him, were placed on the stand beside his bed.

Something wasn’t right. Peter or one of the other Marauders were always there waiting for him after his transformations.

Too hot for a blanket in June, he ripped off his covers and noticed the bumpy, large material hiding beneath his nightgown. He licked his lips, letting air whistle down his dry throat while a sharp, burning sensation flooded his abdomen. Remus winched, groaning out while stretching to drink the potions and water. Although, as he brought the glass vials to his lips, he noticed that his arm was littered with scratches and bruises. Curious, he lifted the slit of the gown to see a large wrapping across his lower stomach and bruises in the shape of lopsided circles and rectangles travelling across his body.

Remus felt his face scrunch. Ever since the Marauders had become animaguses, he hardly sustained any injuries aside from the occasional limp or flimsy scratch. There was usually an absence of pain nowadays, not an overload of it.

What caught his attention was the scent of human blood. His senses were always heightened the week leading up to the full moon and the week following, so it was particularly strong. It caused his head to spin like planets performing a celestial dance.

Preoccupied with the scent, Remus didn’t notice someone slipping into the room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” A fuzzy Peter came into view. He went to sit on the edge of his bed sporting a nervous look.

“Was wondering where you were.” Remus relaxed at his appearance.

“Yeah… Erm — been busy.”

Soon enough, another sharp pain stabbed at his abdomen again. “Fuck — what happened last night?”

Wormtail sucked in sharply as he wiggled in his seat uncomfortably. “I… something terrible happened. Bollocks, Moons — I’m sorry...”

Remus felt his spine prickle with needles. “What?”

“We should wait until Dumbledore or James comes back.”

“Dumbledore?!”

Ghostly pale, Peter was on the verge of fainting. Remus took another deep inhale. This time, he smelt blood, but it was coming off of Peter and a few other foreign scents lingered on him. Was that… Y/N? And… Snape? Remus scanned Peter, noticing the droplet of red on his shoes.

“Pete,” his voice dropped to an icy whisper, “Whose blood is that?”

He remained quiet.

Remus moved to prop himself up on the bed. “What happened?”

As Peter spoke, every word made Remus recline into himself and he was left unsure of how to feel. The overload of information put him into a state of complete shock. His vision faded in and out, suddenly feeling very cold and dizzy compared to the hot weather.

He distantly heard Peter trying to gain his attention but stared blankly at the metal bed frame.

“Say something,” his friend tried, sounding desperate. He didn’t even know how long he’d been quiet for.

Remus worked through the betrayal in nine steps. It helped make sense of his emotions. To categorize them — making it easier to file away.

1. Shock & denial

“No,” he said, barely moving a muscle in his face. “That's impossible! Padfoot would never…”

Peter watched him pitifully. Remus’ eyes blinked rapidly, heart pounding. “I’m sorry.”

2. Process what happened (or try to)

“He… told… Snape?” He asked despite Peter repeating the story multiple times.

“Sirius was mad at Sniv — Snape, and he was provoked by —”

“I didn’t hurt him, did I? I didn’t hurt anyone?”

“He’s fine.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what happened to me? Why was I bleeding?”

He refused to look him in the eyes and Remus felt terror ebb it's way through his skin. “Answer me!”

“As I said, L/N and Snape got into a row… she heard Sirius tell him and she went to save him…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Wormtail took a deep breath. “You… nicked her a bit and James’ antler broke off in you because… he was trying to get you off of her…”

Remus was rooted in place. What Peter just said was unreal. His stomach twisted painfully. He blinked. “Y/N’s hurt? I hurt her?”

“Yes — no! That was Snape —” “Is she here? Did I bite her?”

“You didn’t and yeah but —” “Move out of my way.” He pushed himself up wobbly.

“You lot a lot of blood, sit —”

“Get out of my way!” He threatened. Remus pushed Peter to the side, clambered to his feet. Remus gripped the bed tightly and felt a few seams rip open and blood began to faintly seep through his white bandages.

He staggered around, ripping back the curtains until he saw Y/N. Limping up to her bed, Remus almost burst into tears when he saw her. She looked so tiny, curled up and engulfed in blankets and pillows. Her ankle was propped up, head bandage and skin dull.

It felt like Peter had poured a bucket of freezing cold water on him.

He hurt her. Almost got her and Snape killed or infected. Could have hurt Prongs and Wormtail…

He was a fucking monster.

He should be put down.

From how loud he was, running around the wing, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. She attempted to stretch, groaning out in pain. But then, her eyes flickered up to him and she froze. Her hand shot up protectively to her chest and face as instinctively went for her wand but stopped. Genuine fear flashed through her, making Remus instantly want to cry. It felt like an eternity passed as she gripped her sheets and opened her mouth.

She was going to scream — to take him away — call him a monster — to cry or yell for Madam Pomfrey or —

But Y/N’s body relaxed. A tried smile twisted and gaze dissipated with fear, replaced with nothing but understanding and softness; she even went as far to touch his hand but Remus wrenched it back.

“Ta-da!” She croaked. “I lived.”

Remus didn’t smile, only staring horrified.

“Yeah, that was a hit or miss...” Peter interjected. He stood behind him, ensuring that if he fell, he’d be there to catch Remus. He continued to stare like she grew another set of eyes.

“What?” Her grin deflated. “Am I that irresistible?”

That pulled a breathy laugh from Remus as he shook his head. Why wasn’t she disgusted with him?

“Thank Merlin, you’re both awake.” All their heads turned to James’s floating head before he pulled off the invisibility cloak.

James moved to pull Remus into a large hug, whispering an ‘I’m sorry’ into his ear. He held him for a while before breaking off, going to embrace Y/N who wheezed.

“Ouch.”

“My bad, my bad!” He pulled back and slipped into bed with her. Peter forced Remus to sit on the edge of her bed while he stood.

A million thoughts ran through his head. He wanted to get away, to run — not even be in the same room as her. Remus wanted to think, to make any sense of what happened.

What the fuck happened? He couldn’t even process it.

She remembered everything, right? Surely she wouldn’t be this calm had she.

“Oh, wait — Lupin, are you alright? I swear a deer came at you last night.”

James chuckled out loud, breaking Remus out of his thoughts as he looked at him and Peter. “I guess there’s no point for secrets anymore.”

Y/N looked at them questioningly, her eyes squinting from the bright light before Peter went to close the blinds shut. James got off the bed, smiling widely at Remus and Peter got onto the bed instead.

“Ugh — Pete? James? What —”

A loud gasp ripped from her mouth as she jerked away from James who turned into a very large stag and Peter into a fat brown rat.

Remus could almost cry at how comical her face looked.

James was so large that he had to take a few steps back to prevent his antlers from poking one of their eyes out and Remus noticed that one was gone.

He felt sick again. A hand drifted to his stomach.

“Holy shit! Oh my god!” Y/N went to graze a finger on Peter’s fur before turning to James with shaky hands to touch one of his antlers and patting him on the head. She was speechless as her mouth open several times before forcing out, “You're really Bambi!”

James turned back, taking his glasses off to clean. “I wanted to be a lion — for Gryffindor, y’know.”

“You can’t choose, I wouldn’t be a rat.” Peter grimaced.

“They’re highly intelligent. Nothing to worry about.” James reassured and ruffled his hair.

“When did you guys learn to do this?”

“We’ve been at it for three years now. We finally were able to do it in August before school started.”

She shook her head, staring in awe.

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Dumbledore came to speak to everyone later that day.

Remus had been dreading it once he came into the wing and began speaking to Y/N, a buzzing sound filling his ear. All Remus was left to do was twiddle his thumbs, waiting and completely disoriented.

When he finally approached him, Dumbledore lost his usual twinkle in his eyes. He made sure to close the long vertical blinds and again, the room filled with a low buzzing sound.

“How are you doing?” He asked. Remus, had he been in the right mindset, would have prevented the scoff escaping him. Dumbledore didn’t react but continued. “Miss L/N is recovering well and Mr. Snape didn’t receive any injuries. Just a fright.”

Remus nodded, that was good, but he remained quiet.

“Snape’s been persuaded to act accordingly for the best interest of his fellow pupils and L/N gave her word.”

Remus choked back a laugh. Snape was going to, no matter what, let his secret slip somehow.

“You’re also exempt from the Transfiguration exams, both you and Miss L/N. You’ve both sustained a degree of varying head injuries and you’ll be graded on a cumulative from McGonagall.”

Dumbledore was forcing Remus to the edge as he bit down on his inner cheek. It was useless to listen to him. “Are you expelling me?”

“No. You should not bear any blame.”

“Dumbledore, no offence, but are you mental?” Remus sputtered adding, “I endangered four students last night.”

“Yes but —” “The next time we won’t be so lucky. I’m a monster, sir. I should be.”

The headmaster sighed. “Remus, give yourself a bit of credit. Think highly of yourself.”

Remus gave a dry laugh, almost baffled at how Dumbledore was acting. Did he just gloss over the fact he could have gotten students infected? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself had he. “How can I?”

“Well Y/N seemed to think very highly of you. She made you a very compelling case along with your friends, Potter, Pettigrew and Black.”

“Black’s not my friend,” Remus countered. He didn’t care about how rude he was being.

“Remus —”

“Is he expelled?”

“No.” The answer had Remus wheeling, anger spiking. “He’s not.”

“Why not? If it isn’t my fault, that I’m not to blame then why isn’t he? He told them how to find me.”

“I understand that this is a very difficult situation and rest assured, Sirius will be punished. I can promise you. But expulsion isn’t the answer.”

Remus refused to look at Dumbledore and he must've realized he was getting nowhere with him. He stood but before leaving, he gave a pitiful look.

“I have done terrible deeds, indulged in foolish pranks that I have lived to regret, but each has been a valuable learning experience. It’s a pity that it came to this. Learn in your heart to forgive, Remus. The world is already filled with too much hate.”

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June 16th, 1976

3. Sadness & pain

Remus had been avoiding the Marauder’s dorm. He’d gone as far as begging Madam Pomfrey (who’d taken pity because she knew what happened) to let him stay another two nights before getting kicked out. Remus always healed physically faster and his wounds were already healed by the third day. Pathetically, he’d been sleeping in dingy passageways or the prefects’ bathroom before relocating after being harassed by the ghosts.

Remus had a plan, avoid them; skip classes, get longer prefect duties, never staying in one spot for too long. He wouldn’t know what would happen if Snape saw him. Although, whatever Dumbledore told him, it kept Snape quite so far. But tonight, he got tired of Moaning Myrtle sobbing.

Before curfew, Remus made it a habit of visiting Y/N, who was still stuck in the wing; both out of guilt and because she was his friend, but he couldn't stay for long — seeing her like that made him wallow in guilt.

Similar to him, Lily had visited, along with the other girls, every day. Today, Lily stayed a little longer, bleeding into the time Remus usually dropped by. He watched as Lily whisper into her ear, causing Y/N to laugh and Lily blush madly as she sat snug by her side. Not wanting to ruin their moment, Remus went to leave before they had the chance to see him.

Remus had another pressing matter anyway.

He entered one of the nearest bathrooms to give himself some sort of pep talk and stared at the mirror.

You can do this. A voice echoed in his head.

Typically, memories from the full moon came back to Remus a few days or even weeks later, his brain usually too foggy a couple of hours after and even then, he would never fully remember everything. He vaguely remembered seeing a flash of Snape’s face and Prongs but Y/N’s screams were one of the clearer memories from that night.

“REMUS! PLEASE REMUS! STOP!”

Remus looked to stare at himself in the mirror. He observed the scar on the bridge of his nose, feeling bile rush up his throat at the sight.

He was a freak, littered with scars covering himself.

He was disgusting.

Ugly.

Pathetic.

Dangerous.

A monster!

4. Anger

Sirius Black had always been loyal, so what changed that night?

He needed to leave. It was no good staying here anymore.

Remus was shaking with rage, twinged with hurt. He paced outside of the common room door and had a few options running through him. Either start a huge fight with Sirius or just… ignore it.

Avoidance.

Maybe he could ignore Sirius forever? Impossible, surely. Sirius would get bored, anxious within a couple of weeks — that was too generous — a few days sounded right.

With his mind made up, Remus crept up to his room. He could hear the faint shouts of James and pondered about just sleeping in the common room or prefects’ bathroom. Even if he did have to listen to Moaning Myrtle.

Maybe because his senses were still coming down from its peak or James was just brash, but Remus didn’t even have to press his ear on the door.

“— done ENOUGH! — hear me? You better — why are YOU crying? You bloody — understand? Understand?! You will not talk — him — best friends my —”

The only person he's told he was coming back was Wormtail and it sounded like he told Prongs.

Remus didn’t care to listen anymore as he pushed open the door. Pete was sitting on his bed, eyes wide at Remus’ presence surrounded by unwrapped wrappers. He always tended to eat while stressed.

Sirius was looking down at the floor as James stood in front of him, scolding him like a child. But, his head shot up once he walked through the door. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his eyes bloodshot, puffy and circles dark. He didn’t dare look at him.

Remus didn’t acknowledge them, instead moving robotically to the bathroom, changing into his holey yet comfortable clothes before scurrying off to bed, swinging his curtains shut before casting a silencing spell around.

He’d plan to adhere to his avoidance strategy. It worked so far.

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June 18th, 1976 | 1:29 am

“Psst… Moony.”

Remus turned over to face him. “What do you want Peter?”

“Just wanted to check up. You okay?”

“What do you think? Please, leave me alone.” And then closed his bed drapes.

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June 19th, 1976 | 11:37 pm

Peter had crept up to his bed again as Remus laid there awake, thoughts swarming him.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m tired.” He moved to turn over and forced his eyes closed.

Peter had been nothing but amazing. Always thinking about him and his needs but what Remus wanted most was to be alone and Peter's pity and worried features did nothing but make Remus feel like shit.

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June 21st, 1976

In life, there are few things that are certain. Getting older, death, taxes… No matter how hard we try, no matter how good our morals are or our intentions, we all will eventually make mistakes. It’s either as small as burning your food or writing the wrong answer down on a test, but you’re also going to fuck up pretty bad and hurt people. Say something — do something you don’t mean and it’ll end up with both sides hurt. If you want forgiveness, there’s multiple solutions to gain that back, but the two words — obvious, there, waving in front of your face — can be the hardest words to say.

“I’m sorry.” Black muttered for the hundredth time that night. His voice was pushing Remus to the edge as he kept his face straight. Dead. Not once taking Sirius’ shitty apology baits. He continued to stare down at his book, reading silently in his dorm. His teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Remus was right, of course, he was fucking right. Black had grown anxious as he ignored him.

“I’m sorry.”

Remus never really considered himself violent. Sure, he’s gotten into rows that ended with a punch or hex here or there, but Remus didn’t have violent thoughts. If anything, he prided himself on not being a bonehead like Black and Prongs. But, it took every ounce not to beat the shit out of Black right there and then.

Bastard. Scumbag. You mother fucking betrayer.

Remus never liked not being in control. Not having it scared him too much, feeling more animal than man. He did everything to avoid being violent, the wolf was already violent enough and had too much control and Remus refused to let it dictate human him. There was already too much violence, he never wanted to contribute more.

He did everything not to be a monster. But it's like the wolf roared from deep within, scratching and begging to let him pounce.

Remus wasn’t violent — anyone who met him would vouch for that. Fuck, if he saw a spider, he would open a nearby window and release it. But now, he wanted to slam Sirius against a wall and wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze.

You piece of shit. Wanker. Twat. I want you to feel as much pain as I do.

“Moony, please let me explain —”

All the words suddenly blurred before Remus slammed his book shut, causing to become still and quiet.

Sirius trying to explain — excuse his actions — pushed him over the edge. Remus sent a venomous glare at Sirius, waiting for him to talk. His quietness made everyone uneasy.

Selfish bastard.

Any sympathy Remus held for him this past year, along with any logic, evaporated to the point where he felt a rabid thump spread through him. There was a desperation to relieve himself of it — lash out, scream, cry —

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” the rest of the Marauders watched the scene, knowing not to get involved. “It was a mistake and —“

“A mistake?”

Sirius perked up at this. That was the only word he’d spoken to him since the incident. “Honest. I did it because —” “Shut the fuck up.” Remus stood, tall and loomed over Sirius. He could almost smell the fear off him.

He had never been so mad before.

“I — I… I,” stutters Remus. But instead of it being out of shyness or nerves, it was out of pure wrath that he wasn’t able to articulate his emotions properly. He took a deep breath in, attempting to regain control over his emotions but failed as he burned with deep, seething hatred. “I am the monster that mothers tell their children to keep them in at night.”

“Moony —”

“Don’t call me that!” His voice boomed so loud that everyone in the room had to take a step back and shrink down. Remus was always so reserved, only ever lashing out in annoyance close to the full moon but nothing more.

“Living up to your name, aren’t you?” There’s a sarcastic, bitter humour lilt to his voice.

Someone so in control of his emotions, someone with an unbreakable exterior, the only glimpses they’d ever seen of Remus losing control was him snapping at someone close to the full moon but would later apologize within mere seconds. But to see him like that… it was an intrusion, something the Marauders hadn’t ever seen or wanted to before.

“Please, just calm down so we can talk.”

Remus paces around the room. “You — y’know I’ve never understood why everyone lets you get around treating others like shit. First, it was Marlene, James, me, Peter, Lily and Y/N — we all let you get away with it. Outburst after outburst, we all sat back because you were going through shit. But I can’t? I’m not allowed to get angry?!”

Sirius wouldn’t look at him.

“Look at me.” Remus kept his voice low throughout the ordeal, only ever raising if Black interjected. “You coward, look at me!”

5. A lot of anger

He couldn’t meet his eyes so he settled to stare at the scar across his nose. It only angered him more as Remus picked Sirius up and pushed him against the wall as he fisted his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry is nothing but a word to you. I gave you my most trusted secrets. I confided in you. I was there for you when you needed it. I loved and cared for you like my own brother but I was nothing more than a pet that you discarded when you got bored. You’re only guilty because of the repercussions you’re facing. Your guilt isn’t nearly enough. Bastard. I trusted you. You’re a Marauder. My best friend. I would’ve done anything for you. You fucking ruined it.

“You did this! You did!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He laughs, mocking and loud, void of any emotion. “No, you aren’t. You’re never fucking sorry!”

Stupid fucking selfish arsehole.

“For years you’ve told me that you accepted me — cared for me — loved me like your own brother! That what I am — a-a monster — that it didn’t matter!”

“It didn’t mean anything, I promise! It was a shitty, fucked up prank —”

“A prank?! You used me as a weapon! A toy because how could anyone ever love a werewolf?” Remus’ voice was so low. “You’ve never respected me. If you had any, you wouldn’t have — you - wouldn’t....”

Everything came crashing on Remus at once.

6. The realization settles in

And after nine days, Remus Lupin had finally realized what Sirius Black had done. Before, everything he felt had been true but he hadn’t fully realized the gravity of what happened, as silly as it sounds.

Sirius turned his worst fear into a living nightmare.

In the background, one of James’ Quidditch posters, encased in glass exploded, shattering into millions of pieces from the amount of pure magic radiating off Remus. He didn’t even flinch at the sound.

James finally interjected, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Lay off him… He isn’t worth it.”

Remus eased off Black instantly. “You had no right… no right…” He pointed. Remus turned his face down as he felt tears build up.

“I trusted you,” he whispers. “Every bit.”

Remus stormed out of the dorm, going to sleep in the common room.

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June 22nd, 1976

7. Depression

When Remus finally let himself cry, he didn’t make a move to leave his bed. Even skipping meal times, leaving James or Pete to bring him food.

Everything felt suffocating, a gnawing feeling that made every part of him ache. Remus couldn’t handle anymore pain or emotions from ‘the prank’ as he felt himself slip into a temporary void.

He hugged his pillow tighter and closed his eyes once more.

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June 23rd, 1976 | 11: 37 pm

Remus had gone straight to bed again, effectively shutting up the rest of the dorm. James was ignoring Black, leaving Remus surprised that he hadn’t made a move to defend his actions. Nonetheless, he was appreciative still. Peter had been trying to appease everyone, not taking sides but still must’ve thought Sirius was in the wrong because he hadn’t talked to him much.

He didn’t ask James to choose between him or Black. Remus was never one for ultimatums but even then, it seemed like James picked him. He was beyond furious, seemingly more than Remus at this point who pathetically wallowed in his depression. He wouldn’t spare Black a second glance, wouldn’t talk to him, shut him down if he tried to speak to him. Hell, he’d even gone as far as to make it very clear to the entirety of Hogwarts that they were no longer friends, making sure to not sit with him, ever. Always choosing to sit by Remus.

They chose his side and a part of Remus felt elated to know they had his back.

This left Black alone, looking at them through tearful gazes. Remus had been ignoring all of them and they seemed to be understanding, avoiding crossing the wordless boundary Remus set in stone.

But, both James and Peter had been checking up on him nightly, always there and he could tell they were getting impatient.

When the lights went out, he heard James crept out of bed. Usually, Remus would find some sort of comfort in knowing who was approaching him, but now, it only left him feeling uneasy.

And then he felt the bed dip and James muttered out a spell.

“Hey, Moony.”

Remus didn’t face him. “Prongs?”

“Hey,” there was a loud sigh, “Do you need anything?”

What was he supposed to say? A hug? To talk? He’d much rather use his avoidance strategy, although he realized it left him alone with too many thoughts and nobody to confide in.

“M’good.” He felt James place a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll always be there for you. That’s what Marau - that’s what friends are for, no?”

Remus didn’t answer and felt James move to leave. But before he had the chance to slip out, Remus peeked his head from the drapes, announcing just loud enough for Sirius to hear.

“Thanks for saving all of us, James. You’re a true friend.”

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June 24th, 1976

People had their poisons.

Alcohol can make you forget. It blocks out everything and makes the rest of the world fade away until you can’t remember. People gambled to feel a rush, only to realize they dug themself into irreversible debt. Shopping, food, the high from risky behaviour…

But how we manage our poisons is up to the person.

People love to deny that they have addictions. They deny they’re hooked, they deny that they can’t put it down, they deny that they’re scared or want to stop. People only see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe.

And then the truth becomes muddled with lies that it’s hard to recognize the poisons sitting right in front of us. And all we want is more.

For Remus, his poison, his bright red self-destruction button, was smoking.

Granted, he never was a big smoker, typically only smoking when stressed or bored. But he still did it, filling his lungs with poison. But maybe he was wired like that. Besides, what werewolf lives past thirty? Might as well die revelling in the poison that brought him ease…

Remus conjured a ball of bright fire from his hand; fishing out a pack of cigarettes, slipped it past his lips and lit it. He inhaled, feeling the familiar, comforting feeling before dragging it from his lips, blowing out the thick cloud of smoke that left him wanting more.

He’d been sticking to his avoidance tactic strictly now. The Marauders were hovering over him, worry evident on their faces. A few times, Lily and James both invited him to sit. They never fought anymore, or at least in front of him, and it probably was his doing — a group effort into getting him to talk.

So even Lily knew something was wrong… Snape probably told her…

The door clicked open and Remus didn’t have to turn around to know how it was.

“Leave me alone. I’m not ready to talk.”

“Wasn’t gonna make you.”

He spun around, that wasn’t James or Peter. His face softened.

“Well… I’m not,” Y/N said simply, “But the others are about to.”

Remus groaned at that but Y/N smiled and turned around, ushering him over with a little wave. In one hand, she raised the Marauder’s map. “C’mon, I know a place and that they won’t be able to find.”

Remus was intrigued. He stepped out the butt of the cigarette, flicked it into the trash and followed her. Surely he’d already been there but being with Y/N seemed ten folds better than being around the other Marauders.

He followed wordlessly, passageways flying through his head but she never stopped by them. Instead, she climbed onto a ledge, slipping into an area under a large curtain. He followed, eyes lighting up in awe. He’s definitely never been there before.

“Get comfortable,” she said, flinging him a pillow and lighting a few candles.

They sat opposed to each other in complete silence. Y/N flicked back and forth, watching James and Peter scrabble around the castle looking for him. A few times, they passed by, each time leaving Y/N amused.

Remus tapped his leg anxiously. The question remained: Why wasn’t she disgusted with him? Why was she helping him? Why wasn’t she afraid?

Now alone together, those questions dangled on his tongue.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

She looked up at him, finally putting down the map. “Because you’re Remus.” She said, like it was the most obvious answer. “You’re not scary.”

8. Hold onto doubt

The answer irritated him. Another memory unfolded then and he blurted it out. “Why didn’t you cast any spells at me?”

Her brows rose, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m dangerous.” His voice was bleak and cold. “Why can't you grasp that?”

She stays quiet for a long time, her head turning to look out the large window. Y/N watched the owls and labyrinth of ancient trees of the forbidden forest and Remus was painfully aware of time slipping by.

“Do you remember that night on the astronomy tower on Halloween? I said that there’s bound to be someone looking at the moon at the same time?”

It takes Remus a moment to remember, but he does. “Yeah. You said that it’s like you’re not alone.”

Y/N turns around to face him. “Exactly. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He looked away, deliberating. “It’s one thing for me to be alone but then drag you and others down with me.”

“Remus, I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t scared. I was terrified. I thought that was it.” He gulped. “But I could never be scared of you. The real you - the you right now. I don’t care about what you are. You are more than just a werewolf. I feel safe with you.”

The dark shadows surrounded them as she reiterated herself. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He soaks in her words for a while. This time, peering out the window as he breathes in deeply.

Okay. He decided.

“Do you want to know how I got —” he pointed at a scar on his upper forearm. “— this?”

She nodded her head.

“When James turned into his animagus form to show me for the first time, his antlers pierced my skin. I had to lie to Pomfrey and say I fell while playing Quidditch.”

Any invisible barrier between them crashed instantly as she smiled brightly and laughed. So infectious, Remus couldn't help but flash a real grin.

He never realized how beautiful her smile was.

“Oh, and if you ever tell anyone about this place, I’ll skin you.”

“I would never.”

Remus scouted over to her, pressing his back against the cool stone as they sat together in a comfortable stillness. But then she shifted, opening her arms wide. He lent in without hesitation and her arms flung around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He felt salty tears stinging in the corners of his eyes and let himself soak in her warm.

He really needed that.

Over her shoulder, he returned to watch the stars.

9. Acceptance

Remus learned from a young age that it was better to keep people at an arm's length. Get too close, they’ll dig, find out his condition, fear him and run.

He hates to say it, but he’s not surprised that his secret slipped out. He got too comfortable, got too close... It’s just that the Sirius component was surprising.

But maybe it wasn’t surprising. Ever since the beginning of the year, especially since winter break, Sirius had been reckless more and more lately, and he probably should have seen it coming. He was wild as a result of being freed from the confines of his rigid upbringing.

Sirius Black was unpredictable.

Sirius Black was dangerous when it came to secrets.

Sirius Black was one of his best friends.

Sometimes betrayal is so profound that there’s no way to fix what was lost. The damage is done, irreplaceable, unfixable.

If Remus was sure of anything by the end of that week was that,

a) James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were still his best friends,

b) He almost killed Severus Snape and Y/N L/N,

c) Y/N knew his secret and despite everything, continued to talk to him, support him, be there for him — she accepted him,

d) His walls went up a higher, became stronger and insecurities ran deeper,

e) Lastly, Remus Lupin would never, ever forgive Sirius Black for what he did. Never.

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【 Next Chapter 】

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

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[softboywriting]

Meet The Parents | Billy Russo

Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]

 Word Count: 3.8k 

 A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

---

The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.

"Hey sweetheart."

You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.

"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"

"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."

"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"

Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."

You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"

"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"

"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"

"She tried. Even sat on my lap."

"In front of her dad?"

"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."

You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."

He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."

"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."

Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.

You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."

"Bullshit."

"Your bullshit."

Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.

"C'mere."

"No, Billy."

"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."

"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."

"Always such a good girl."

"You like it."

"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."  

"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."

"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"

You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.

"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."

You smile innocently. "See you later."

"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."

"Love you too Billy."

"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."

"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"

"Being you."

"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.

_____________________

"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."

Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."

"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.

Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.

"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.

Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."

"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."

"Gotcha."

"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.

Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"

Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."

The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"

"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."

"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."

Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."

"Well you know I-"

"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."

"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.

"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."

"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"

Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."

"Your fault."

"Usually is."

____________________

You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.

Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.

It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.

The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.

It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.

The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"

"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."

"I'm sorry."

Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."

"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."

"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"

You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."

Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.

"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."

You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."

"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."

"You know it's a little true."

His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."

"It is."

"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."

You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."

"I know."

"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"

"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"

Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"

You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.

"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."

"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."

"T-thanks."

Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."

"If you can get a word in."

"I have my ways. Don't worry."

You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.

Your parents are still bickering.

"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.

"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.

Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."

"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.

"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.

You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."

Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"

"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."

"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.

"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."

Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."

You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."

"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."

"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Dad, don't start."

Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"

"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."

You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."

"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."

"Mom!"

"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."

"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"

"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."

You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.

"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.

"I'm s-"

"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

"Thanks."

"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"

You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"

"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."

"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."

Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"

"I think I already have it."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."

_____________________

Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.

You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.

The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.

"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.

You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.

Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."

"Grab me a bottle?"

"Sure."

You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.

Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.

"Hey."

You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.

"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."

"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm."

You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."

"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."

"Oh."

"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.

You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.

"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."

The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.

"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."

Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."

"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here when I had a nightmare."

"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."

"Me too."

"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."

"Love you too."

_____________________

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

[inkykeiji]

i like the way they run, then fall, then die

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: gore/violence for torture, then smut

notes: this takes place before the events of break my bones but act as my spine! please, please heed the warnings. the entire first half of this is a torture scene. if you’re just here for the smut and would prefer not to read the torture, scroll all the way down to the three stars dividing part one from part two - you can still read the smut without reading the torture if u wanna, all you need to know is that tomura tortured + murdered a boy who had been harassing the reader at university and now he’s coming home. please please please stay safe <33 | title credit: nitro cell by city morgue

warnings: 18+, torture, murder, blood/gore, graphic depictions of violence, daddy kink, spanking with a belt, edging, mild degradation, possessiveness/generally toxic relationship

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

He isn’t usually one for torture—all this pleading drives him absolutely insane, makes it feel like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under his skin. However, when it comes to someone who has wronged you, well…that’s a different issue entirely.

Men who bother you deserve to be tortured within an inch of their lives, and Tomura will gladly endure their pitiful begging; he wants to hear them beg and plead and cry like the pathetic pieces of shit they are. He wants them to suffer, and to suffer immensely, for even thinking about touching something that’s his, for daring to utter a disrespectful word to something that’s his.

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Bleary hazel eyes open, blinking twice then squinting as they try to adjust to the bright light, a head full of orange curls lolling back heavily. It takes the boy’s hazy mind a few moments to register the fact that he’s tied to a chair, thick rope binding him to it.

Tomura knows the boy recognizes him almost instantly when their gaze meets and his hazel eyes widen in an almost comical manner, breath hitching painfully in his chest as he chokes on a gasp. A wicked, toothless smile spreads across Tomura’s face.

He’d have a hard time forgetting those ruby eyes that, impossibly, seem like they’re glowing under the fluorescent lights of the old abandoned A.F.O laboratory; those same eyes that had glared at the redhead over your shoulder only a few days ago as Tomura caught you in his arms.  

This boy had been pestering you for a while now. You hadn’t thought much of it the first day it happened, wrote it off as some overeager and overconfident college boy, but by the third day you were sure this classified as harassment. Sick of repeating yourself and firmly telling the boy that you have a boyfriend and you’re not interested, you whined to Tomura about it that night after dinner, your head in his lap as his slender fingers carded through your hair—and inadvertently sentenced the boy to death, right then and there.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life when you spotted Tomura leaning casually against the Maybach after your last class had ended, the day after you had voiced your complaints. Taking off the moment your eyes met, you ran into his waiting arms, cutting the boy off mid-sentence. Tomura must’ve given that boy an awfully nasty look, because the harassment magically stopped.

Or so you thought.

Nevertheless, the boy manages to spit out a shaky, “Wh-Who are you?” as he begins to struggle against his restraints.

“Aw, come on, you know who I am,” Tomura says like their old friends, walking a few feet towards him with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” his eyes dart around the room wildly, barely pausing on the three men leaning against the wall behind Tomura before they find his face again, big and frenzied.

Tomura’s smile spreads, revealing sharp white teeth. He isn’t usually one for torture—all this pleading drives him absolutely insane, makes it feel like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under his skin. However, when it comes to someone who has wronged you, well…that’s a different issue entirely.

Men who bother you deserve to be tortured within an inch of their lives, and Tomura will gladly endure their pitiful begging; he wants to hear them beg and plead and cry like the pathetic pieces of shit they are. He wants them to suffer, and to suffer immensely, for even thinking about touching something that’s his, for daring to utter a disrespectful word to something that’s his.

He doesn’t answer the boy’s questions, instead opting to pull out his phone and scroll through it quickly.

“You wanna see the love of my life?” there’s a slight bite to his tone as he shoves the device in the redhead’s face, pale hand gripping it so tightly it trembles a little.

The kid’s eyes fill with tears as he stares at your smiling face, tiny sobs beginning to sound from deep in his throat. His eyes flit between the screen and Tomura, an impending sense of doom looming over him.

“She’s real pretty, isn’t she?” he asks mockingly, a hint of a pout in his voice. “Pretty enough to harass, yeah? Pretty enough to render you incapable of understanding the word no, eh?”

“I’m sorry,” the kid’s already wailing, pathetic sobs beginning get under Tomura’s skin, blunt nails absentmindedly scratching at his wrist and forearm. “I-I didn’t know she had a boyfriend, I swear!”

“Ah?” Tomura stops for a moment, blinking at the kid with wide eyes, mimicking astonishment. “Now I know that’s a lie,” he smirks. “I heard her tell you, several times. Do you have hearing problems? Is there something wrong with your memory?”

The kid stares at him, mouth opening and closing quickly, exhaling shallow breaths in rapid little huffs.

“You seem to be hearing fine right now,” Tomura continues, voice still painfully calm. “And you remember her, and me, so I doubt there’s something wrong with your memory, right?” he stops, only a few feet from the kid now. “Right?”

The poor redhead can’t find his voice, only able to emit these tiny, pitiful sounds in the back of his throat, peppered between his obnoxious sobbing. He shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again, movements jerky and frantic.

Tomura’s eyebrows knit, and he tilts his head to the side. “Well, which one is it?” his voice is so casual, and he sounds almost as if he’s worried about the boy’s inability to decide.

Sighing after a beat of silence, Tomura tuts his tongue and shakes his head, cocking his gun. “Shame,” he points the gun at the kid’s head, closing an eye as he adjusts his aim, tongue poking his cheek.

“No!” the kid cries out, squirming against his restraints. “I-I—You’re right! There’s nothing wrong w-with my hearing or my memory, please—”

“Mm, thought so,” Tomura says softly to himself, nodding as he swiftly readjusts his aim and pulls the trigger, shattering the kid’s right kneecap.

The redhead lets out an absolutely bloodcurdling scream, throwing his head back as he thrashes wildly against the thick rope again, the legs of the chair scraping against the concrete.

“Ouch!” Dabi laughs from his spot on the floor, leaning back against the far wall, blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“Ugh,” Chisaki groans beside him, looking away in disgust.

Tomura takes a moment to admire his work, Dabi’s encouraging laughter inspiring another bout of confidence to surge through his chest. He had been close enough that the bullet caused the entire kneecap to explode, sending little bits of bone and flesh flying, thick blood immediately beginning to cascade down the boy’s leg, soaking straight through the denim of his jeans.

“Now,” he continues, speaking over the boy’s shouting with a levelled voice. “I’m gonna cut those pesky ears off your fucking head, since you don’t seem to use them,” he looks over at Dabi and nods once, prompting Dabi to hop up and leave the laboratory.

“But before that,” he stops in front of the kid and leans forward, his face only a few inches away. “Do you wanna know what her pussy tastes like? Hmm? I bet you do. I bet you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

He’s still blubbering, Tomura’s words barely registering, ears ringing from the gunshot. Crimson eyes search his face intently, bright with the intoxicating mix of adrenaline and exhilaration that the rush of torture affords him. Tomura wrinkles his nose a little at the snot running down the kids face and onto his lips, face red and streaked with gleaming tears.

“I’ll tell you,” he says, voice dropping into a growl. “It’ll be the last thing you hear before I take those good-for-nothing ears from you—what a treat!” he laughs a little, resting his hands on his bent knees, inching forward just a hint more. “She tastes like strawberries and honey; the perfect balance of tart and sweet. God, her cum’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, the most decadent cream…Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back with a malicious grin. “Now you got me craving her,”

Dabi returns then, coming to stand beside Tomura, and the kid’s so consumed with pain that he doesn’t even notice the little reciprocating saw in Dabi’s hands.

“Ah, thank you,” Tomura says as he takes it, a devious smile spreading across his face. He turns the saw on, testing it by squeezing the trigger a few times. “Perfect. Now,”

He grabs an ear by the cartilage and yanks, holding it taut from the head. The kid squirms, trying to wiggle his way out of Tomura’s grasp and he growls, asking Dabi to hold his head steady.

The saw slices through the ear like butter, cleanly slashing it from his head in one quick motion. Blood begins to gush from the wound immediately, streaming down the redhead’s cheek, thick, sticky drops dripping off his jaw and onto his collarbone.  

“One,” Tomura counts gleefully, tossing the ear to the side. It hits the concrete with a sickening splat! a few feet away.

“Very Mr. Blonde of you, Tomura,” Chisaki rolls his eyes as Tomura moves onto the next ear, Dabi nearly snapping the kid’s neck as he forces his head to tilt the other way, allowing his boss easier access to the second appendage.

“Oh!” Dabi gasps as the saw neatly slices the second ear off. “We should set him on fire,” he suggests, sapphire eyes glittering at the prospect.

“Oh?” Tomura looks up at him, intrigued, decapitated ear still hanging between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have any kerosene in your car?”

“Nah, but I could go get some—”

“Can we please finish this, already?” Chisaki whines, pushing off the wall and walking towards the two men. “My lunchbreak is almost over,” he checks his watch, frowning.

“Alright, Mr. Head Chemist, your lunchbreak is almost over. You have to head back to work—we are gonna find some kerosene,”

Chisaki sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. “Your father would like you at the lab today, Tomura,” he says flatly.

Tomura groans, shoulders slumping as he dramatically throws his head back to glare at the ceiling. “But the lab is so boring when there aren’t any experiments or testings going on,” he complains with a slight pout.

“I could finish him off, if you want,” Dabi offers.

“No! Where’s the fun in that? What good is torturing him if I don’t even get to see him die?”

“Look, I don’t care how you do it, just hurry up,” Chisaki spits, turning to walk away. “I’m going to my car—you better be in yours in five minutes,”

“God, he’s no fun,” Tomura mutters to Dabi, who nods in agreement.

“I heard that!” Chisaki hollers as he continues walking, not bothering to look back.

“You were supposed to!” Tomura calls in response, rolling his eyes. “Damn,” he sighs in disappointment, turning back to the boy. His face is slippery with blood, pouring down either side and streaking his neck and the collar of his polo shirt. He’s gone into shock from the pain, screams cut off into choked little whimpers and hiccups. “Looks like our playtime ends here,”

He shrugs, almost indifferent, cocks his gun again and fluidly aims at the boy’s forehead, pulling the trigger without a second thought.

Wet splatters of crimson stain the concrete, echoing throughout the mostly vacant building, the boy’s quiet little sounds cutting off abruptly. Tomura watches as the light fades from his wide, terrified eyes, watches as the hazel goes from vibrant to dull, and the kid’s head falls back, blood beginning to trickle down the bridge of his nose.

A car honks twice outside and Tomura snarls a little to himself, whipping his head around and glaring at the door to the lab, hanging half open and letting pale sunlight leak in.

His grip tightens around his gun, fingers flexing around the metal warmed by his palm. “I’m gonna kill him,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

“Nah, don’t be stupid,” Dabi laughs, shaking his head a little. “We still need him,”

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Tomura returns to the penthouse earlier than expected, startling you when large hands wrap around your hips just as you’re removing a loaf of freshly baked banana bread from the oven.

“Aw, baby, playing housewife?” he coos, breath hot against your ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth.

A sigh slips through your parted lips and you lean back against his chest, tipping your head to the side and eyes closing.

“Our bananas were going bad,” you explain softly, in a bit of a trance as nimble fingers rub small circles into your hips.  

“Oh?” he asks, as if he’s genuinely interested, lips leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck. “It’s so cute when you get all domestic,” tender hands slide up your torso, coming to cup your breasts as he kneads them gently, tweaking a nipple through the thin material of your dress.

Your back arches as you try to press into his palms more, quiet mewls spilling from your lips.

“What’s gotten—” you cut yourself off with a sharp intake of breath as teeth sink into your skin. “What’s gotten into you?”

Tomura usually isn’t this…soft. He’s affectionate for sure, but his after work affections usually include slamming you up against the nearest wall, counter, or table and almost violently claiming your mouth with his, tongue invading viciously as rough, eager hands rip off clothing.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue tracing the fresh bite. “What, daddy can’t miss his baby?” A hand snakes down your body and slips between your thighs while the other stays preoccupied with rolling your nipple between his index finger and thumb.

Little hands fly out to grip the edge of the counter as you yelp in surprise, steadying yourself as he pinches your clit. A dark chuckle sounds deep in his chest, vibrating against your back.

“Already so wet?” His fingers prod at your little hole through the flimsy material of your panties. “Did you miss daddy as much as he missed you?”

“I-I always do,”

“Oh yeah?” Moving your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers tease your slit, collecting wetness. “And did you happen to be thinking of something naughty while you were playing housewife?”

Two fingers push into you just as you open your mouth to respond, a small strangled hiss escaping your throat. It burns a little, tiny hole stretched around the digits, sucking them in.

“Hmm?” he frowns, looking almost concerned. You’d believe he was, too, if it weren’t for that wicked glint in his dark eyes, shining every time you emitted a soft noise of pleasure instead of an answer.

And then he’s curling his fingers against your spot every time you try to speak, frustration building in your chest until you’re finally able to force out, “D-Daddy, fuck me al-already!” lips set in a deep pout and eyebrows pushed together.

His fingers halt their ministrations entirely and he pulls back to look at you, ruby eyes studying your face intently, firmly pressing his lips together. It takes your clouded mind a few moments to register the words you just said, the high, whiny tone you just used…then your eyes are widening and a gasp claws its way out of your throat, shaking your head vigorously as if to say, I didn’t mean it!

“I’m feeling good today,” he begins slowly, voice even and controlled. “So you’re getting off with a few spanks for that attitude of yours. Now go bend over the dining room table,”

His voice sends chills pebbling across your skin, spikes of ice shooting up your spine. You want to protest—he can see it in your eyes, the urge tickling the tip of your tongue. You want to tell him you didn’t mean to talk back to him, promise! It’s just that you want his cock so bad! You swear! Scarlet eyes watch you sharply, daring you to utter the words, looking almost as if he’s hoping you do, just to give him an excuse to lengthen your punishment.

But you don’t want that—a longer punishment means you’ll have to wait even more before his cock’s finally inside you—so you force yourself to swallow the words and nod solemnly, sulking towards the table and draping yourself over it.

Calloused hands run up your thighs, taking the hem of your little dress with them and bunching the material around your waist. He smirks at your cute little panties, hands running over your ass and kneading for a moment before he hooks his thumbs in the waistband, pulling them down your legs. You step out of them and a low laugh rumbles in his chest as he feels the soaked material, bunching it up and stuffing it in his pocket.

The wood of the table is cool against your cheek, your heart palpitating in your chest as you anticipate the first hit.

Except it doesn’t come, and a beat of silence passes before you hear the gentle clinking of his belt buckle.

“No!” you gasp, little fingers curling around the edges of the table as you hug yourself closer to the surface, eyes snapping open and consciously forcing your head to stay pressed against it, not daring to look back at him. “No, daddy, please, not the belt,”

“Aw baby, you’re precious,” he chuckles a little, the sound making your stomach flutter. “Good girls take their punishments without complaint, and you want to be good for daddy, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, nodding against the table. He hums to himself.

“You will get twenty lashes for your behaviour, and you will count each one aloud,” Tomura explains as he folds the belt in his hands, the leather squeaking softly. “Do you understand?”

You nod again, earning yourself a superficial slap on your bare skin from the back of his hand. It still stings.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling the smooth leather in his hands.

A tense, heavy silence settles in the air, your chest swelling as you subconsciously hold your breath in expectation of the first blow, crying out when the belt finally collides with your ass. The leather cuts into your flesh, leaving thin welts across the soft skin. Sharp slaps echo throughout the empty penthouse intermittently, mingled with the soft sounds of your uneven breath and pathetic little whines.

By ten, you’re whimpering into the table, tears leaking from your eyes and sharp edges biting into your palms as you grip it.

By fifteen, you’re full-on sobbing and having difficulty staying still, hips wiggling and legs trembling as you cry out the numbers, muffled by the table.

“Daddy,” you hiccup, blinking your bleary eyes furiously to clear them from tears. “Daddy, I’m sorry,”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Tomura says a little breathlessly behind you, cock straining against his slacks. “You’re almost there baby, five more to go. Be a good girl and finish your punishment,”

The statement makes you cry harder, but you manage to force out the words, “Yes, daddy,” between your wailing.

The last five are, admittedly, the most difficult for the both of you. Your soft whimpers of “Please, daddy,” and “Hurts, daddy,” nearly enough to make him forego the final five. But an intentional brat like you must learn her lesson.

When the final hit comes, you unclench your fingers from the edges of the dining room table and flex them, feeling proud of yourself for taking all twenty. Tomura’s pressed up against you in an instant, his body folded over yours, pinning you to the table.

“My pretty little baby girl, you did so well,” the words are whispered into your hair as cold hands caress the stinging skin, using his feet to nudge yours further apart. “So good for me,”

A hand trails down and between your thighs, nimble fingers slipping between your folds. He groans a little as the pads of his fingers collect your slickness; you’re still so wet.

“Such a good, good girl, getting this wet for me,”

“Please daddy, c-can I—” a little hiccup cuts you off, the pad of Tomura’s thumb swiping across your cheek to catch a stray tear as you struggle to look back at him. “Can I have your cock now?” you whimper out, eagerly pushing your hips back and into his hand, almost as if you’re trying to grind against it.

Christ, what did he do to deserve such a good little slut like you? Your lashes are still wet, little droplets of water clinging to them, soft sniffles still catching in your chest. And you’re staring at him with those wide, glistening doe eyes, your lips puffy from crying, desperately awaiting his answer as your hips move in little circles, trying to catch your clit on his fingers.

You can feel his cock, pressed up against your ass through his pants, and it only makes you crave him more, little hole fluttering around nothing.

“Yeah?” he breathes, lips at your ear. “You want it?” he pushes his hips against you more, laughing a little when you whine and nod your head fervently, rubbing your ass back against him despite the way your sensitive, wounded skin snags on the rough material.

“Yes, yes, please, I-I want it,” you babble, your head gone hazy from the intense, heady mix of pain and desire, no longer able to think about anything else except how badly you need him to fill you up.

“Do you think you deserve it?” his voice drops an octave, smooth and low as two fingers dip into you again.

“Yes,” you respond without any hesitation.

He hums softly to himself, fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, knuckles curling periodically, pressing forcefully against your gummy walls and pulling broken, needy whines from your throat. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, intense spikes of pleasure that have your stomach swooping as your hips squirm, trying in vain to bounce on his fingers, to speed up the pace just a little more.

“Please daddy,” you’re sobbing again, words garbled through spit and tears. “Please, please fuck me,”

“I am fucking you, baby,”

And you hate how unaffected he sounds, just a slight breathiness to his voice, hate the way you can hear his smug smirk.

“With your cock!” you cry in demand, a violent shiver coursing through your entire body as his knuckles press into that spot again, hard and ruthless in his assault of your poor pussy.

“There you go again,” he says, voice fading into a growl as his fingers begin to viciously curl over and over, rapidly picking up the pace. “Being a fucking brat. And you were doing so well, too…Didn’t your punishment teach you anything? Only patient little girls get daddy’s cock in their soaking little cunts,”

“Oh, daddy, please, please, I-I’m sorry! I just—”

“Maybe I’ll fuck your throat instead,” he muses, sadistic smile spreading across his face as you weep loudly, shaking your head with vigour and chanting out the word no. Tears are steadily streaming down your soft cheeks and Tomura’s not sure he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. It makes his cock throb, laughing at the way you moan wantonly when he grinds it against you again.

“You’re a greedy little slut, y’know that?” he whispers in your ear as the tempo of his thrusts increase more. “You’re lucky daddy’s giving you anything at all after the tone you used in the kitchen,”

“Bu-But I took my punishment!”

“Oh, my poor baby,” his voice is sickly sweet, fake and syrupy and absolutely dripping with derision. “Poor thing, has to take daddy’s fingers instead of his cock, poor thing has to have her tight little pussy stretched out before she can take my cock, you poor fucking thing,” a hand collides with your ass, the resounding slap! of your skin against his palm ringing in your ears, a pretty handprint already beginning to form on your abused skin.

You nearly scream, cutting yourself off midway to bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to leave little purple indents in the flesh, breathing out harshly through your nose.

“Insatiable little whore, thinking she’s entitled to my cock,” he spits, thumb finally finding your clit and rubbing quick circles into it. He can tell you’re close, pussy pulsing around his fingers, entire body jolting with each swipe of his thumb over your sensitive bud.

“Feet apart, damn it,” he growls as he kicks at your ankles, forcing your legs to spread again.

Teeth bite into your tongue, refraining from nearly blurting out that you can’t help it, it’s too much, the pleasure is practically blinding, your thighs instinctually squeezing around his wrist.

And, God, you’re so close. He knows, of course, is able to read every micro-expression perfectly—every hitch in your breath, every mewl bubbling past your lips, every twitch, jerk, quiver of your body—and every time you’re teetering on that edge, he stops, slows his pace, takes his thumb away completely, until you’re a sweaty, shuddering mess, until you’ve gone dazed and numb from how badly you need to cum.

Finally, finally, when he thinks he’s tortured you enough, when your legs are nothing but trembling jello, when you’ve been fucked stupid by just his fingers alone, vocabulary seemingly reduced to the words daddy and cock—finally he removes his fingers and pushes the head in, and it stings a bit as your cute little cunt struggles to stretch around him.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” he breathes out, as if he isn’t the one who doesn’t ever fuck you with more than two fingers even though he knows that the girth of his fingers are, obviously, no match for the girth of his cock. Merely able to whine in response, you impatiently push your hips back, and then he really fucking snaps.

Before you even know what’s going on, your aching little hole is being filled entirely with one harsh, quick thrust.

He sets a ruthless pace immediately, growling about how much of a little cockslut you are, how you’re practically starving for his cum, how his cock must be all you dumb little brain can think about.

Your sweet cunt is clenching around him after only three drags of his cock against your spot, and the laugh he barks out is nothing short of vicious. His thrusts don’t slow, fucking you right through your orgasm, grunting about how pathetically easy it is to make you gush all over him.

The legs of the table screech as they scrape against the hardwood, Tomura moving the entire piece of furniture with the force of his powerful thrusts. And all you can do it take it, eyes rolling back as your fingers grip the edges of the table again, desperately trying to keep your legs from giving out entirely, body gone limp and bouncing vehemently as his hips piston into you.

Then he’s spilling himself into you, spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up as his hips stutter, cock pulsing, strands of silvery-blue hair stuck to his forehead and neck.

Christ, you look so gorgeous all fucked out from his fingers and his cock, thick cum leaking out of you and down your inner thigh. The head of his cock drags over your ass, smearing excess cum across your skin, an extra little reminder that you are his, that you belong to him.

It glitters under the low light of the dining room—the sun’s almost completely sunk below the horizon now, the dim neon glow of the city spilling into the penthouse through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Mine,” he says softly, just a huff of breath forced from his heaving chest, thumb swiping though the cum and rubbing it into the deep, swollen welts.

Yes, you think, too far gone to use your words, throat sore and raw from your crying. Yours, forever.